#Unfear

[amazonbooksauthor]

Unfear: Your Path to Confidence, Success, and Happiness Are you overwhelmed by fear during exams or in social, emotional, and professional situations? Do negative and suicidal thoughts haunt you? Do you struggle to deal with difficult people and make friends? If so, "Unfear" by Meera Mandakini is the book you need.

In "Unfear," you���ll learn practical techniques to:

Overcome exam anxiety and boost your confidence. Get rid of negative and suicidal thoughts. Build positive relationships, even with difficult people. Understand the main factors for achieving success, including the role of luck and confidence. Become a 24-hour champion by managing stress and anxiety effectively. Seize opportunities when they knock on your door. Identify and defeat your greatest enemy. Find reasons to smile every day and turn odd circumstances into strengths. Embrace the concept of "what goes around comes around" in your life. Meera Mandakini’s insightful guidance will help you transform your mindset and approach to life, making you resilient, successful, and happy. Whether you're a student, professional, or anyone looking to improve their life, "Unfear" provides the tools and knowledge you need to thrive.

Don’t miss out on this life-changing book. Get your copy of "Unfear" today on Amazon, available as an ebook and paperback.

[hballegro]

Nothing greater than the simple joy of watching tiny birds root through the leaf litter

[sapphic-storm69]

There is something so inherently gay about howls moving castle.

[wigglyvania]

Oh my god, I've actually done things like this! Thought of math questions as mysterious little puzzles instead of hard, boring tasks, which made it feel so much easier & faster to finish, & I lightly mitigated my fear of sharks by roleplaying an exaggeratedly enthusiastic monster hunter in Sea of Thieves!

Now that I'm aware of this info, I really gotta use this! Fuck yeah, Dandori time!

[juwaiin]

what is unfeared and what is unfed 🗡️

once again, sir lexapro 🤲🏼

[kafk-a]

yday i learned that in 1959 while traveling w her nieces my great-grandmother was held at knife point because she was adorned w jewels from head to toe (lol ?) to which she reacted by simply taking the knife by the blade in her right palm . arms unmoving and unflinching eye contact until her hand started to bleed until the man fled w shaky knees and jumped out of a moving train. like ... this is my lineage. this is what i am literally made of. i have inherited the same unfearing loving disposition from her and my grandmothers and my mother. the same courage and relentless optimism also courses through my blood. this is who i am. why should i ever be scared of anything

[ctheathy]

The Claim of an Operational Sin

Claude Frollo x Reader

Suggestive Oneshot

Is this damn priest dilf energy or nah

Author's note: Have you ever disliked a villain so much you wanted to hate breed them and make them your bitch? Read this, cuz you can :)

You're one of the few ladies the tyrannical man has taken interest in. Something he'd refer to as being bewitched by those who are innocent. Intrigue driven by his own lustful desires similar to his captivation by the beautiful dancer, Esmeralda. But unlike her, you were certainly not as lucky preventing your imprisonment and attempting to escape the minister's grasp.

Frollo/Reader [Romantic Tendencies(???)]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

!Female Reader! • Seductive/“Succubus” reader • Imprisoned reader • We're basically gonna be assaulting him WOOHOO • Threats • Reader is unfearful of death • Arousal • Teasing, but it's bordering on degradation • Desperation • Drooling/Salivating • Kissing • ...Leaking...iykyk • He's an old man who's never satisfied his primal desires, what did you expect • This entire fic and concept in general is TW worthy tbh-

I REGRET NOTHING ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“...You are a bloody!” Frollo spoke sharply. Taking a deep breath as he looked at you with a bitter gaze. His eyes were cold now, a sour expression on his face. His eyebrows were raised, as if he was trying to control his anger. He was currently in front of you in one of the many dungeon cells underneath the Notre Dame. “... How long do you think you're going to be alive? If you keep acting like this.” He said, sounding almost like he was threatening you.

And despite his subtle warnings, you kept your time in the cell undisturbed, paying no mind to his little hissy fit. To the point it looked like you were straight up ignoring him, which only fueled his already angered state. Demanding you to not even think of not listening to him whenever he spoke. But in all honesty, his constant irritation was just getting you more entertained by the man. It was like watching a child throw a tantrum. Well. You were more than ready to show him that he picked the wrong lady. That your abduction was an easily regrettable decision for him. He was stuck here with you, not the other way around.

Grinning with anticipation, you leaned against the wall with a careless posture. You couldn't care less about what series of threats he had to offer. “Mhmm? Won't that something you should be worrying about as well? Lusting after women and harassing them for centuries can cause for quite the revolution, if I may” you were sneering with sarcasm. “The most recent victim has certainly been influential. Miss Esmeralda, was it? It’s difficult to control yourself, isn’t it~?” you mocked

“... Silence yourself!” He yelled in a half-angry, half-desperately demanding tone, something that noticeably made you laugh out loud. Frollo felt a hit of shame and embarrassment by the fact that you've taken note of him lusting after her. It was a sin ...he wasn't supposed to feel this way. And it was that gypsy who has bewitched him! Tainting his purity with her alluring words and movements. At least, in the minister's head it was, blaming a fairly innocent soul for his own shameful and unholy impulses.

“Many peasants have faced the consequences of the witches’ actions through either custody or death. So choose your words carefully.” trying to warn you and keep you in line, but your reaction would be ...unexpected. “So what? Everybody will die one day.” You glanced back up to the priest and cocked your head to the side. “Perhaps nature shall take its course in the next future for me too. Who knows? Which would be beyond fine with me” you murmured with yet another chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “But atleast now you still have somebody to turn to, wouldn't you say?” He noticed you sending him a wink of mockery, but was too baffled by your sudden statement.

The eyes of the minister widened, as he heard you say that. “You... You don't value your people's freedom. You... You don't care about your own existence." He gritted his teeth. You could practically see his temper exploding. He never understood how somebody could be so unflappable towards the idea of their own very demise. He felt like he had no control over you, which infuriated him greatly. Though you remained in a calm posture, a look of disinterest in your eyes as he felt the need to mention it. “Look," you began with a bit of attitude, unconcerned about how far you might be pushing him over the edge with your next few words.

“Don't treat your lustful motives as superior over what I lack. Eventually, natural selection shall take its course for all of us anyway. And I'll greet it with open arms as soon as the time comes” you half assed with a small smirk. But Frollo? He did not like that one bit, seething with rage as he snapped

“You don't care if nature takes its course, huh!? Well, I will be the one to take its course, if you will not! I am going to give it my best to make you suffer. I shall tear you down with my own hands.”

You took in his words, as your grin slowly started to expand a little the more he went into detail about his description of how exactly he was gonna take your life. You softly chuckled at his threat, hanging your head down as your hair was resting over your eyes, covering them up as you continued to giggle with pure amusement. “Awh..~” you glanced up at the man once again, some of your teeth exposed with your grin as your eyes were smugly half lid. You readjusted your hand as you gently, yet firmly grabbed him by the jawline, placing your thumb right under his chin as you pressed his skin. “It is truly adorable how undeniably obsessed you are with me. Do you clop to the idea of hurting me too?”

You curled up your index finger as it caressed Frollo on his cheek, your little smirk becoming smaller, but still being very visible nonetheless. “I'm quite flattered, my sweet~” your prying eyes were full of glee as you fluttered your lashes, attracting the man even further if that was even possible. You took a step even closer towards him, your chest almost pressed onto him as you got further into his personal space, so inviting...

And oh dear God. Everything you just said... Your smirk, your stance. It didn't take a genius to figure out that you were attempting to seduce him. You were trying to provoke him. And it was working. “H-hngh..!?” Frollo's breathing grew shallow. Every muscle in his body was starting to tighten in exasperation. He was shaking in anger. That's right. He was angry- so unbelievably, extraordinarily angry. But, he was also... Tempted.

And though his body was noticeably still somewhat stiff, you did not miss him beginning to melt into your touch, despite the obvious death stare in his eyes. He was so easily affected and getting worked up by your shenanigans, it was almost cute. Almost. You smirked to yourself as your soft fingers continued to tease his facial features. You were completely leaning into him at this point, both breasts squished onto him as you kept the eye contact with assertion.

Your free hand even wandered over towards the back of his neck, your fingers gently digging into his spine as you rubbed them up and down, but slowly beginning to add more pressure. “You seem to be making yourself comfortable with me quite swiftly, minister...” you stood on your toes to add on height and match his level, “Is that something you enjoy? Making quick development instead of taking things slowly~?” Frollo's heart literally started beating faster. The way you were saying these things. It was so very seductive. And your finger that was caressing him? You... A-Ah...

“H-How dare you!” His tone sounded so frustrated, like he was trying to hide something. Something he wouldn't want you to find out. You could practically see the rage in his eyes, but the way you spoke? And the way you got so close to him, you could practically feel his anger, his resentment, slowly melt away. His head started to turn red, as he gritted his teeth. He really couldn't take it, you had completely caught him in your trap. And you did that so... effortlessly.

It made him feel weak and submissive, a foreign feeling to the priest. You were completely dominating him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. You made him vulnerable. You got into his... frozen and rock cold heart. You were in control now, and he was just so very powerless to your charms. His entire body was beginning to tremble. His breathing, it was slowly getting quicker and more shallow. It almost felt- the way you touched him, with such delicate care. The way you were teasing him like this. His entire body was starting to feel so hot. He felt the blood surging, pumping him up, preparing him for something he didn't dare to acknowledge.

And being less vigilant, he admitted to his thoughts much more easily. “It... astonishes me... when you... make me lose control” He said, the tone in his voice being a mix of anger and lust. Of desire. Of passion. Words that you hadn't really expected. You'd never guessed for a response like this. It was so sensual. He was clearly losing control now. The way he had just admitted to you that he was enjoying this? It felt as if he was a man on a chain. And you were the one holding it.

This was not supposed to be happening. Not like this. Frollo was... He was tempted. He was extremely tempted. He did not want to be tempted! He did not want to be lured by your feminine allure and your seducing gestures! Why. Why were you seducing him!? He was supposed to kill you, not fall for your antics dammit! He was literally getting flustered now, much to his embarrassment. And the way you pressed your body against his, as if trying to get as close as physically possible? It was really, REALLY making him nervous.

“Don't... you even DARE ...think that I am enjoying this! I... I am simply attempting to ...to” he began to trail off, unable to even think straight. And the more he was trying to desperately deny your claims, the more amused you became with the show. Without warning, you took another step forward and pressed your hips against him... pinning him with one of your thighs. Both of your bodies rubbing on one another as you adjusted your position again. Wanting to see just how hollow his words actually were.

And now he was definitely flustered. And you could tell. His breathing hastened, and he was literally going bright red. Frollo was trembling. And the fact that you could sense just how aroused he was, just made it worse. Because... Your intimate areas were rubbing against his, and there was not a single inch of space between the two of you. “S-Stop... this, you... Y-You witch..!”

His eyes widened as soon as you stepped into him further. You were just getting as intimate as could be. Your thighs and hips were rubbing against him. And it was making him... He was literally drooling now. Frollo was speechless. And he literally was making a mess out of himself. Like... He looked like a fool! One of the most dangerous people in the country, was... drooling... His mouth was open slightly, looking like he was going to say something. But instead, he closed his mouth shut again, and looked almost ashamed. As if he had been caught doing something humiliating.

Your eyes just lit up at the sight while you showed off your teeth with a shit-eating grin, confirming how amused you were by the situation. You tried making yourself even taller than before, as if trying to take away his confidence height-wise as well. You were having this heart-to-heart exchange with him face to face. Your face now literal millimetres away from his, intimidating.

But then you did something that caught him off guard, as you licked off the saliva that was dribbling down his mouth. Your tongue firstly stroking his spit-covered chin before seductively brushing it up to the crook of his mouth where the running drool started. But your tongue quickly wandered to his upper lip, sending a shock right through his veins. Your warm and sweet tongue began teasingly brushing left and right over the entrance of his lips, attempting to pry them open for a good three seconds before pulling back. You glanced at him right in the eye again, a cheeky glint in your eyes. “Aww, you poor man~ He almost spilled..~ Are you actually gonna soil yourself in front of me?” you purred with a tease.

As soon as you started licking the drool off of his lips, He got an electrical shock. A wave of pure nervousness and tingles running down his veins. The blush on his cheeks was getting redder, and you could hear his heartbeat. The saliva that was dropped, got licked up by you. You were staring at him so seductively. A warm, sweet feeling, of just pure ecstasy was flowing through his body.

And the way you were so close to him. You really were an actual princess. Or the queen of sin, rather. He looked like he was about to just collapse. Frollo... His wide eyes were now looking at your lips when you pulled back, and you could see the desire in them. And when you licked the saliva from his lips... He almost- almost let out a moan. He was literally about to melt away.

The priest's entire face flushed a deep, deep red. His blush was... it was so obvious to you, along with the fact that he was salivating at this. But the fact that you licked it off...? You could practically see his entire world begin to break down, right after that. You didn't just break his walls down. You obliterated them. He didn't know what to say. You were just... Ah, God. so, so cruel.

The way you did just that. The way you licked it. It was... Oh, heavens. You would be an absolute demon in bed. He blinked, shaking his head and basically still drooling all over himself. Damn it. What in the world.

“You... You b-bitc-... Yo-... wh-” He couldn't get a word out. He was too stunned. All of the blood in his body seemed to be rushing down to his cheeks at once. And he could feel a warm liquid start to soak into his undergarments. Yes. That thing, the thing that he desperately didn't want to get hard. He clenched his jaws shut, as he started to sweat. He didn't know how to react or respond. You were playing with him at this point. You could practically see the steam rising off of his head. And he could feel the liquid seeping into his cloth.

This whole situation was just mortifying to Frollo, both for his reputation and pride. He tried to take a step back, but he was getting too caught up in his own... reaction, to realize he had his back pressed against the wall in here. He could feel his breathing getting heavier. And just his reaction of shock was more than enough to keep you going, as your hand clung to the back of his neck, your fingertips digging into his flesh again. “I can’t help but wonder what other places are getting hot and moist for me” you purred with a mischievous chuckle, leaning in close to his face once again.

“I recommend you stay in line” you murmured with a sense of warning as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, the tip of your canine pressing into it. Your hot and damp tongue came in contact with it as you pressed it against his parted lips, teasingly tracing it against the entrance of his lips but never actually going inside his mouth... Smearing your saliva over the base of his lips, while you seductively sucked his bottom lip, just watching how long he could keep it up before losing his sense of self control

His body was quaking. His frame was like a leaf in the wind. He was being absolutely manhandled. The way you nibbled his lip, you were making his legs go weak. There were no words. There were just... sounds. Sounds coming from his throat, as the heat and moisture inside him really began to build up. The way you continued to use your tongue. The way you continued to play with his lip like a cat with a ball of yarn. It felt like this was never going to end. And he... his moans. You could hear his voice. Those soft moans, that were only for you to hear. He was losing focus, and he did not care. His body getting wet. And it was all your fault. You were doing this to him. You were teasing him, playing with him like a puppeteer.

His lips were now opening up for you. His mouth inviting. Something which made your eyes darken with glee as you got the ultimate invitation from him. Not hesitating for any second thoughts. Your tongue slowly wandered in and began brushing against his inner lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having your tongue deep into the back of his mouth. You pressed it in further, going slightly deeper as you rubbed your tongue against his gum tissue. Before reaching the inferior labial frenulum, as you teasingly slid your tongue over it. And that... that was an especially loud moan, coming from a person like Frollo, who's usually calculated and reserved. Reserved on that level, as it was clear he was enjoying this right now.

He was being completely seduced and he didn't care. His vocal groans were beginning to fill the room. The way your tongue was exploring his mouth... It was sending shivers down his spine. His eyes widening as he felt himself start to become damp. Your hand, wrapped around the back of his neck with your fingers pressing into his flesh. He liked how you were being so rough and so dominating at the moment. But your comment, about his other... moistened areas. He felt a hot liquid rushing through his body as he thought about it, as if he was being cooked alive.

He was just completely, utterly, and miserably lost in you. His eyes were staring at yours, with that warm glaze of lustful desire. And he was letting his inner demons play with his soul. They weren't being suppressed anymore. They were getting out, completely free. He was struggling to keep himself from just giving into you. He was almost tempted to just... get on the bed, and invite you on top of him. His lips were now completely split apart. His mouth was inviting you to go in deeper. To do whatever you pleased. The tip of his tongue was inviting you. And you could practically taste his wet tongue. His breath was starting to falter. The way you rubbed against his gums, the movement was so perfect and experienced. Frollo's entire body felt hot and wet. And it was making him want more. So much more.....

You could definitely tell he was getting desperate. His tongue eagerly and impatiently begging for it to intertwine with yours. He wanted your tongue at the back of his throat... And feeling eager, he desperately began to lick at you, desperate to taste you. And wanting to feed into that desperation, you began moving your tongue up and down, making the tip of his tongue rub over yours. Right before your tongue began wandering, slipping it flat on top of his. You slowly began pressing your tongue to the back of his throat, using his tongue as a guide as you slid it down to his tonsils, rubbing them. Sometimes pulling back for just a few seconds before teasingly sliding it down again, keeping him needy for more.

He was practically begging for it by now. His mouth was literally begging for your tongue to get deeper. But you were just teasing him so hard, and that's what was making this so hot. The way your tongue was moving, it was like a damn tongue dance. And you were playing the damn instrument that was his mouth perfectly. Teasing his tongue, nibbing at it and just being absolutely filthy with him. His mouth was just yours now.

You were literally eating him, was the only thing Frollo could think. He couldn't help but groan out as soon as your tongue went deeper inside his mouth, sliding alongside his own tongue. Your warm, wet tongue was rubbing against the sensitive skin in there, and you were teasing his mouth. You were making him melt. You were... making him weak. His neck and back started to arch involuntarily. The way you slid it down his throat as it touched his tonsils... The priest's body was starting to jerk. His eyes went blank, as he let out moans and gasps. It felt like you were controlling his mind and body, and that only made him feel even more desperate and in need of you.

Frollo was in a trance, practically. You were just so tempting. So delicious. His voice was turning into pure moans as he opened his mouth, letting out the sound of a beg. It was as if he was trying to say he wanted it. That this was what he wanted. His jaw was opened, his hands were hanging limp besides his body, behaving so submissively. The minister, who had been feared by everybody around him, was just completely done for.

You pulled back for a bit, as he moaned out in relief. A string of saliva now connecting your tongue with his mouth. “Don't go rabid on me now. You've been wanting this for a long, long time, hmm?” you teased him as one of your hands travelled towards his chin, before you started pressing your thumb into his mouth. You pressed your finger on his tongue, sliding it further to the back of his throat, threatening to make him gag if he disobeyed and forcing his jaw open even further. “Be a big boy and open up wide for me..~” you purred with a sadistic giggle, tempting him by sticking out your tongue.

There was no way out of this. His expression now completely rearranged from frustrated, to a look which was flaring with excitement. He was literally sweating. In one move, you had basically turned him from an egotistical man, into your own personal toy at your disposal. You owned him. Even when he got some of his control back when you moved your mouth away from him, he didn't wanna stop what you were doing. He was just hopelessly addicted to you, His brain was you. Nothing BUT you.

“You're playing under my rules now, minister.”

And he was just another piece of your collection to satisfy your needs.

[amazonbooksauthor]

Unlock Your Potential: Embrace Success with "Unfear" by Meera Mandakini

Are you tired of feeling held back by fear? Do you want to conquer the challenges that hold you back from success? Look no further than "Unfear" by Meera Mandakini, a comprehensive guide to overcoming fear and achieving your dreams.

In "Unfear," Meera Mandakini delves into a myriad of topics, offering practical advice and techniques to navigate through life's obstacles. Whether it's the anxiety of exams, the stress of social interactions, or the challenges of professional life, this book equips you with the tools to confront fear head-on.

One of the key themes explored in "Unfear" is the importance of understanding what truly drives success. Mandakini challenges the notion of luck as a sole factor and instead emphasizes the role of confidence, resilience, and seizing opportunities. Through insightful anecdotes and practical strategies, readers learn how to cultivate the mindset of a 24-hour champion, capable of thriving in any circumstance.

Moreover, "Unfear" sheds light on the power of positivity and resilience. Mandakini demonstrates how embracing challenges can lead to personal growth and strength, transforming adversity into opportunity. By learning to combat negative thoughts and stressors, readers discover the path to inner peace and fulfillment.

One of the standout features of "Unfear" is its approach to interpersonal relationships. Mandakini provides valuable insights on navigating difficult people, fostering meaningful connections, and mastering the art of public speaking. With her guidance, readers learn to communicate effectively, express themselves confidently, and overcome the fear of judgment.

Furthermore, "Unfear" explores the concept of karma, highlighting the interconnectedness of actions and outcomes. Mandakini illustrates how kindness and generosity can pave the way for success, fostering a mindset of abundance and reciprocity.

In essence, "Unfear" is more than just a self-help book—it's a roadmap to personal transformation and empowerment. Whether you're struggling with fear, stress, or self-doubt, Meera Mandakini's insightful guidance will inspire you to break free from limitations and embrace a life of courage and confidence.

Don't let fear hold you back any longer. Pick up your copy of "Unfear" today and embark on a journey towards boundless possibilities. It's time to unlock your potential and unleash the champion within.

Unfear: 

[thesleepyhollows]

This is incredibly interesting to me.

Even ignoring versions of Jonathan that have religious trauma such as year one I can still see why this situation would anger or even panic him. Fear to Jonathan is control. Its power. You can see this only a few panels before when, even if this maybe wasn’t how or when he had hoped to go out. He was alright or even happy to pass away knowing it was because of a situation he orchestrated. Because of fear he induced.

But then that gets taken from him. People are made to look at him as though he’s weak. Afraid. I wonder if this is somehow even worse to him than someone else just being scarier. Being so unfeared that others are able to give him kindness.

[theconstantsidekick]

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (8) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angsty McAngsterson!

Summary: Rhodey's down for the count, and Romanoff and Y/n are the ones to be blamed. If they'd just listened to Tony, none of this would have happened.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma

a/n: this took me a grand total of two fucking months

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (7) | Captain America:Civil War ft. Static (9) | Series Masterlist | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

He turns at the sound of the door to the observation area slamming open. But in all honesty, he feels her before he even hears her. 

“How is he?” She asks. A question thrown out into the air, addressed to no one but born of worry and desperation. She’ll take whatever she can get. He can tell—so will he.

Guilt, however, is an unfearing emotion. 

He doesn’t answer. He stares at her.

He stares at her, and he stares at Romanoff who’s shouldering her weight. He stares at his sister, desperate and pleading and all he wants to do is tell her to fuck off.

Instead he drags both women outside, out of sight, to a balcony.

“The doctors say he shattered L4 through S1. Extreme laceration in the spinal cord,” Tony replies, finally. “Probably looking at some form of paralysis.”

“Fuck,” Y/n whispers. It sounds almost involuntary, like it spilled out of her mouth without thought. Like she barely realizes that she’s said it. But then maybe the sound of her own words hit her cause inhales abruptly and screams out, “FUCK!” She’s grabbing at her hair, barely able to contain herself from pulling them out. She’s pacing up and down the frankly modest stretch of the balcony.

“Y/n!” Romanoff shushes her. She doesn’t want them to get noticed, they cannot risk standing out. They already have a target on their back, Tony knows cause he’s the one who put it there.

The rebuke, however, falls on deaf ears. Y/n seems too engrossed in her journey of self-deprecation to even notice Romanoff, let alone her plea to quiet down.

In any other fucking moment Tony would’ve felt like an absolute fucking dickwad about it but in this one?

Well, let’s just say, he’s unfearing.

“Fuck indeed, Stark!” He bites back. He watches her steps halt and her jaw clench. Her eyes shut at his tone, her head jerking away at the crudeness in it. She even takes a step back, holding on to the railings, trying to keep herself tied to the present. Tony, though, carries on without fear, “None of this would have ever happened if it wasn’t for you.” Pointing at her, he adds, “It’s all your fucking fault!”

“I know,” she replies in a small voice. “I know,” she hits herself over the head, regret laid bare in her every action. “I should have… I should have calculated better, worked faster, tried harder to slow his momentum.” She’s rambling. “I tried to—I tried to do it in my realm, but I’m not used to that place. I should have been able to control him but I barely take anyone in there. I just… Lack of practice. I was so afraid of my powers I never… I never thought I could use it to help people so I never… I didn’t…”

Fuck.

He can’t take this anymore. “I meant siding with Steve.”

That seems to shake something awake in her. “For fuck’s sake, Anthony. Were you always this conceited or did I punch you a little too hard during drills?”

“That would make this your fault too.”

Y/n smiles then.

Just like that. There she is. 

That’s his sister, Y/n Stark who’s always been synonymous to the word ‘unbreakable’ in his dictionary.

He sees her shift from being absolutely lost to something very close to livid.

She doesn’t need to hold on to the rails anymore. She stands up straight, meeting him eye to eye—her determination is back.

Tony has to adamantly remind himself that he is not going to regret his words.

She smiles and he can see Romanoff step away from the siblings—she’s the only team member who’s spent enough time with them to know to let the Stark siblings fight it out amongst themselves.

“Maybe you are Howie’s son after all, huh?” The words fall out of her mouth all twisted and angry, coated in venom. Before Tony can retort, she continues, “You wanted to lock us up to find a way to feel less shity about the fact that you created the fucking Terminator. Well, guess what? You’re on your own, kid. I’m not walking the plank for you. Not this one!”

“Oh fuck off!” Tony rebukes, cause when the fuck will his sister get off her high horse? “I never asked you to do that! I’ve never fucking asked you to sacrifice anything for me.” 

Y/n straight up laughs at him—mocking and cold. “Yes, yes. And Tony Stark isn’t Iron Man. it’s just a machine playing at being a bodyguard.”

“I never—”

“Tony, you might not have said the words but you knew damn well what you were signing me up for the moment you told the world you’re Iron Man,” she tells him. “You’ve never had to ask me to do anything for you but that’s simply because you didn’t fucking have to.”

“That’s completely unfair. Being Iron Man was my thing!” He beats his chest, “Mine.” Walking closer to her, “You shoved yourself into this gig because you just presumed I wouldn’t be good at it.”

She chuckles, hollow and unkind. “If you want to pretend that the bullshit you’re spewing makes sense, I’ll let you fucking continue but do not fool yourself into thinking you’re some undefeatable hero.”

Tony takes another step towards her. “I don’t think I am undefeatable! I just know I am more than capable of holding my own.”

“Yeah. ‘Course. That why you sporting that busted lip?”

It’s a taunt through and through. The lip’s bust cause she landed a (frankly—and Tony would deny it till the day he dies—damn near artistic) blow straight to his face. He’d provoked her to do it—thrown the first punch and then taunted the shit out of her. All this while knowing full-well she was completely on the defensive. 

She loves them all too much. 

The Avengers are the closest thing she has to a family, he knew she wasn’t going to lift a finger unless he made her. So he may have said a few colorful things, itching for a fight. 

And now, he’s getting it.

“You proud?” He strikes back—he’s never been to back down from a fight. Why start now? He’s going to meet her punch for punch, word for word. He is not in the mood to lose any more today. He doesn’t have the luxury. He backs down now, it was all moot.

“Excuse me?” Y/n asks, all her previous cockiness gone.

“I asked if you were proud of it? I mean, you must be. It was a good hit.” The tone’s so harsh he throws himself off too. He knows—well, he’s consciously aware of the fact that he is the one speaking the words but they sound distant. As if he’s just a passive listener as the whole scene unfolds.

But he isn’t.

“Tony! That’s not fair!” Romanoff speaks out, clearly shocked at Tony’s insolence.

Makes two of us, he thinks.

“What’s not fair is that my sister, my best friend, the one person in this whole fucking world who was supposed to always, always be on my side, is siding with her perky blond boytoy,” he exclaims, heartbroken. Because could this shit be any worse? No, seriously, could anything be worse than this?

He’s been repeating himself, shouting himself hoarse and he knows it seems like he’s overreacting—like he’s blowing this all out of proportion. But he is not. You have to understand that while he’s had the most extravagant upbringing, he’s always been comfortable and well off, he’s been alone for most of it. His father was—well, his father was Howard Stark. And his mother, God bless her, couldn't bridge the gap between him and his father no matter how hard she tried. Despite that he cherished it—having them—even in this broken way, he really did love his parents. Then he lost them. Both of them, together in one fell swoop.

Then there was that bitch Obediah. 

We don’t talk about that bitch Obediah.

Tony was too fucking smart for most of the people he’d met, no one could keep up. Some were jealous, while others just wanted to get closer to him to bask in his limelight. All of them, all his interactions throughout his life were always… transactional. He was always alone.

Except her.

Y/n came to pick him up from school, not because Mom or Dad had asked her to. Nope. She came to pick him up so she could take him to Chinatown and have spring rolls. If Tony ever asked her why she’d pick him to go along with her, her answer was always a confused look and annoyed string of words asking him, ‘why would I take anyone else?’

And the question was always, always genuine. Because Tony was her bestest friend in the whole fucking world.

Now, think about it. How would you react if your best friend sided with Steve ‘Golden Boy’ Rogers?

“Fuck you, man. I know you think you’re the center of the universe but you’re not. I’m not siding with him!” Y/n bites back, angry and overwrought.

But that’s not his point. She’s missing the fucking point. “You’re not siding with ME either!”

Her head falls then. “Tony,” she exhales heavily, hands on her hips. She’s wearing the tattered up remains of her clothes from the fight. If he looks for it hard enough, he can see her exhaustion, almost feel it. Even as she speaks, the fight’s leaving her, he can see that too. “I spent my entire life running away from this. I cannot go back. You don’t understand because it’s not the same for you…” He’s never seen her this… this jaded.

He can’t afford to get distracted.

“Because I haven’t had shit hauled at me?” Tony challenges, undeterred and unwilling to move even an inch. He may not have gone through what she has but he’s had his own share of shitty fucking experiences.

“I am not saying that, Tones. I’m not. I’m just saying it’s different for you than it is for us,” she explains, her tone patient and sympathetic.

“She’s right, Tony,” Romanoff cuts in. “We’re not downplaying your experiences, we’re not trying to take away from it. We’re just saying it impacts us differently than it does you. We have lived very… different lives.”

“We’re a little wary of ‘organizations’ insisting on controlling our actions,” Y/n surmises. 

What comes next is not one of his best moments.

It’s not something people will talk about in his greatest hits. Nope. Never. It will, however, make the top-three-dumbest-shit-Tony Stark-ever-did list. Fuck—Tony will look back on this moment for years to come. He’ll come back to it time and again, think and then rethink his words. He’ll spend night upon nights, sleepless and disturbed—knowing that he fucked up here. He’ll know that this was where he fucked up. His words won’t be held against him, no. Not by her, never by her. But he’ll still know it was the most horrible thing he could say.

But Tony doesn’t know that yet.

He doesn’t know that yet because guilt is an unfearing emotion.

“Aren’t you a little tired of this schtick?” Tony asks, cocking his head with a cruel, hollow smile. “Aren’t just a little bit tired of using that same old fucking sob story for every single decision you ever make in your godforsaken life?” He looks around, chuckling at the thought. It’s a chilling sound. “At some point you’d have to stop milking that shit, don’t you think?”

It’s only when he finally looks at her that he realizes he’s fucked up.

Her face is hard—harder than stone. There’s a fury in her eyes he’s never seen there before, even for her enemies. He’s never seen that look on her face in his entire life. It sends a chill down his spine. 

When she speaks, her words are low but prominent. “My trauma is not for you to use as a punchline for your baseless argument.” They leave no room for an argument anymore. They leave no room for anything but shitting your fucking pants. 

He overstepped.

Big time.

Fuck.

“Tony,” Romanoff cuts in, clearly able to sense that this discussion could lead to bloodshed. “I’d suggest you take a step back.” Her eyes are pleading him to be more cautious with his words. “Think before you speak.”

“I—” He doesn’t know what to say. He clenches his fists. Trying and failing to gather his thoughts.

The pause that hangs in the air is so heavy it’s almost painful. He thinks maybe it’ll never end.

But it has to. 

“I get that you’re scared but what happened before won’t happen again. This isn’t like Madripoor. You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it. And, I mean, com one, you might not trust the Accords yet but you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. right? So why not give this a shot too?” Tony questions in a softer voice, but his desperation persists.

“Because S.H.I.E.L.D. was mine,” Y/n insists. “It was mine and Peggy’s and Howard’s, and Colonel Phillips’. We found it, Tony. It was my home.”

“I didn’t know you founded S.H.I.E.L.D.” Romanoff notes, almost sounding bewildered. 

Maybe she sounds bewildered, could easily be any other emotion in the book cause Tony, even after all these years, has made no progress on being able to read the former spy. 

“I didn’t want to be on the books, I preferred my life off the grid,” She informs her. And the strain in her words doesn’t hurt Tony at all. It doesn’t sting. Of course not. Nope. “We made it for people like me, to protect them, help them.” She sounds like she’s reminiscing. It somehow rubs him the wrong way.

“And yet, you left that too…” Tony comments, disparaging and snide.

“I had my reasons,” Y/n provides, and just like every other time she’s mentioned it, there is a hesitance in her words. 

“Yeah! You keep saying that, and I have no clue what the fuck this elusive reason is.” He has never pressed her on it before, but well, considering all this newly spilled bad blood, why not push his luck just a little bit further? “You told me about all your missions gone wrong, even your run-ins with the Winter fucking Soldier, and it wasn’t any of that. So what possible reason could you have for quitting an organization that you created to protect yourself?” 

“Do we have to talk about this?” She asks, annoyed.

“Yes. You always feed me the same bullshit about how you just had to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. that you couldn’t trust them anymore, that it was the necessary choice but whenever I ask why, all you do is blame Hank Pym’s fucking haircut.” Tony’s anger comes back to him again, picking up right where it’d left off. “You bail at the fucking sight of a regulatory body, why the fuck is that?”

“Because Tony! I couldn’t trust them anymore!”

“And we’re back here again,” he takes a step to her. “WHY NOT?!”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. WAS TESTING MY BLOOD!” She yells out, shutting him up completely. “Without my knowledge,” she adds much quieter.

“No…” It can’t be. “No. Dad—Dad wouldn’t let that happen,” Tony tries to argue. He can’t be sure though, he didn’t know his father well enough to bet his life on it. But he wouldn’t have let it happen. He wouldn’t.

“He’s the one who was running the tests.” 

For anyone following along, Tony’s heart hasn’t been doing well since he got abducted by his own fucking father figure, but this somehow seems to break his heart all-together. He never saw that coming.

Romanoff seems to be just as surprised as him, ‘cause she looks pale and remains absolutely mute.

Y/n is the one who talks then, trying to cut through the silence. “He… He was worried. He thought if he understood my powers, he’d be able to help me. And, I mean, can you blame the guy? You house this random teenager in your house and every night you wake up to a fucking earthquake cause she had another nightmare. Anyone would want an explanation, a way to control the powers.”

“But… He was your best friend,” Romanoff says and Tony feels like he can’t fucking breathe.

Y/n, though, just shrugs, like it wasn’t a cruel breach of trust. Like Howard Stark hadn’t stabbed her in the back. Like it was any old thursday. “He was,” she agrees with ease, before turning to Tony and continuing, “and sometimes friends do stupid shit in a naive attempt to try and help.” Fuck me with a chainsaw and call me Samantha, Tony thinks. “It wasn’t all bad. He’s the one who figured I wasn’t all alien.” She says it with a smile, like it was fucking nothing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Tony manages to ask, confused beyond words.

“And give you another reason to hate him? You had plenty. It was between us, we solved it and moved on like adults,” she tells him, calm as ever. 

“Y/n! He broke your trust!” Tony argues, taking a step towards her, finally finding his voice again.

She just rolls her eyes, “He got curious, Stark. He’s a scientist, can you blame him?”

“So am I! And I would never do that!,” He yells. And only when the words are out of his mouth does he understand what he just said. “I would never do that to you,” he insists in a smaller voice, with a softer tone.

She smiles then, true and open. “I know, Tones. I know.”

It’s… It’s hard for him to process this information. He doesn’t know where to put this, how to categorize it. He has absolutely no clue what to do with this.

So he asks instead, “Did mom… did she know?” He’s scared but it’s better than the alternative of having to come to terms with the whole situation..

“No, no nooo!” Her hands move around animatedly to drive the point home.”If Maria had known he wouldn’t have been alive long enough for you to exist,” she shakes her head with a fondness he doesn’t know where to place. “No, she didn’t know. He got the ass-reaming of the century from Peggy, we burnt the leftover blood samples and called it a day.”

Fuck. “Fuck!” Tony curses, absolutely lost on what he should do now. Cause what the fuck is he supposed to do now?

“Stark,” she urges, softly, “let’s focus on the problem at hand, let’s deal with the fake doctor, let’s handle that and then we can come back to this. We’ll fight this, together, united. The Avengers stay together, we fight our way through this. We agree on a document that works for us, for all of us.”

Tony shakes his head, tumbling back. “You don’t understand Y/n, you have to sign the Accords… there are no neutral parties. There can’t be. You sign this or it’s over.” She tries to say something, but he marches on, he needs to get this out. “After what happened in Sokovia, after the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. after Lagos, the world governments are not going to settle for anything less. You have to see that.” He sighs, exhausted and man, can someone fix this pain in his shoulder please? “You can make amendments,” he suggests. “However many you want, okay? Make amendments to your heart’s content. Once you sign this, we can fight about the specifics, Y/n. We’ll have the best lawyer in the business on our side! Just sign it, Y/n. Please. They are out for blood, Ross more than anyone else. He will not let you go.”

“He won’t be able to find me,” Y/n tells him, with a straight face.

“If he can’t find you, how will I?”

He cannot lose her. 

He just fucking can’t. Not… Not over this.

It seems to hit her too. It’s only then that he notices she looks a lot less fierce than she usually does. “Tony, there is no scope for amendments.”

“Once you sign—”

He’s cut off. “Tony, read the fucking document. Come on! Have I taught you absolutely nothing? Read the thing before you sign it. There is absolutely no scope for amendments. There are too many loopholes to stop the issues from even being raised. It’s solid as a stone, I won’t be able to barter for even an ounce of freedom.”

“Y/n…” He’s fucking desperate. “We need regulation.”

“Tony this isn’t regulation… I can’t sign this.”

This is when Romanoff speaks up. “Tony, Steve's not gonna stop. If you don't either, Rhodey's gonna be the best case scenario.”

And somehow her words are harsh enough to make him angry all over again. “You let them go, Romanoff.”

“We played this wrong,” she tries. But he’s not taking any prisoners.

“'We'? Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? It sticks in the DNA,” he throws back.

“Anthony,” Y/n scolds him.

“Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?” Romanoff rebukes.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead he tells her, “T'Challa told Ross what you did, so… they're coming for you.”

Just as the words slip out, Y/n’s phone chimes. 

“Either Tony’s a fucking psychic or the Secratary of State just has impeccable timing,” she comments looking down at her phone. When she looks up at them her face is stern. “He’s on his way, he’ll be here in 5. You should go.”

“Me?” Romanoff asks her, bordering on pissed. “We should go.”

Y/n just shakes her head. “We leave together, we won’t be able to lose them. You go ahead, I’ll buy you time.”

“Y/n—” Romanoff’s protest is cut short.

“Just go. Given the fact that my superpower is straight up teleportation, I think I’ll fare much better than you,” Y/n assures her. “Go.”

Reluctance clear on every inch of her face, Natasha Romanoff unwillingly begins to walk away. But not before one last (metaphorical) punch to his gut. She looks at Tony, “I’m not the one who needs to watch their back.” With that she makes her swift exit, leaving the balcony and seamlessly blending in with the crowd.

Slowly, both siblings, without words, come to stand next to each other leaning on the railing, looking at the view ahead.

“How are you planning on buying time?” Tony asks her then.

“Will you tell on me to the teacher, Stark?” She asks, teasing.

It’s a truce. It’s temporary. 

He still thinks they should consider signing the Accords and she still believes it’s not the way to go.

But despite all that, Tony can’t help the way lips curl up. “I’m not a rat.”

“Aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Cause that’s what all the rats say,” she tells him with a mischievous smile. “I would know, I’ve been the rat.”

A chuckle slips out from his lips.

She joins him easily.

He might not be sure about much right now, but he knows for a fact that if he were to lose her, he wouldn’t survive it. “What happened to Rhodey… you know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

The smile drops from her face. “Wasn’t it?”

“You have to know it wasn’t.” He needs her to know at least that. He needs her to know no matter what happens, this was not her.

“If I’d known my powers better, had I… I don’t know. If I had not been so afraid of them, if I’d practiced once I knew I was safe, none of this would have happened.” Her head falls back, eyes closed. “If I had control over my powers, Wanda wouldn’t have been enough to break me. Would have saved us so much trouble.”

“There would still be a raging Hulk on the loose,” Tony contends.

She rolls her eyes. “People know the Hulk. They understand—scientist gets angry, becomes green and Hulk-y. It tracks in their head. But it was different for me, the first time I ever showed my powers to the world was when I was out of control…” She closes her eyes, head falling. “Maybe it would’ve been better to not hide them in the first place,” she whispers.

“We don’t know that,” he ventures, ‘cause it’s true. “We don’t know what could have happened. All we could say with certainty is that we’re both a couple of dumbasses.”

“I’ll have to agree on that one,” Ross’s voice booms as he walks onto the balcony. 

Both siblings turn to eye the intrusion. It’s Ross flanked by… Ross—the other Ross—Everett and some other dude in a suit he’s never seen before. But he looks annoyed, old and has glasses on so he just presumes the man must be important as well.

“Nice to see you too Mr. Secretary,” Y/n replies with an easy smile. But it’s not open. It’s the one she wears just before she’s about to make someone’s day a lot worse.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, young lady. You should have taken Romanoff’s approach and run when you had the chance,” Ross comments. And honestly? Yeah, Tony kinda wants to rescind his fucking signatures cause siding with this man is seeming less appealing by the minute.

But Y/n just laughs. “It’s not like you’ll be able to stop me if I were to run even now,” and just to fuck with him, she glitches an inch off to the side.

Ah, that’s where I got the innate need to be an ass.

“Now you’re just showing off,” the smaller Ross says, sounding more charmed than pissed.

The smile doesn’t leave her face, “Maybe I am.” She glitches a step closer to the group of men. “So, Mr. Secretary, did you need something from me?”

“Still a fiery little thing, aren’t you?” Ross mocks. Tony can’t help but roll his eyes at his hubris. “It’ll die out soon enough, once we get you situated at the Raft along with the rest of your team members.”

Raft? Wait… What does he mean by the Raft? Why would he put them there? That’s not—it’s not right.

He’s losing his shit.

But Y/n frowns, innocent and demure, like she knew about it already. Like she knew that’s where they’d put them. “On what charges am I getting arrested, Mr. Secretary?”

And on his part, the Secretary of State takes her mock naivete in stride. Letting out a short laugh. “Well if you’ve taken the time to read the Accords, you’d know that using your powers on the field without the explicit say-so of the UN committee is illegal.”

“I didn’t use my powers.”

That finally breaks whatever rope was holding the bridge of Ross’s anger together. “Do not play dumb with me, Stark. This might have worked with Fury, but I’m not him.”

“Don’t I know it. Never thought I’d miss that old croak, and yet…” she comments, still smiling. “But my point still stands. I did not use my powers.”

Before Ross can say something that might put a sailor to shame, the shorter Ross intervenes, “We have footage of you fighting Barnes at our facility.”

“I didn’t fight Barnes, I fought the Winter Soldier. And on that issue, I’ve got two words for you, self defense,” she tells them easily and a smile just slips out on his face. He may not agree with her on this—profoundly divisive issue, but he’ll never not be in absolute admiration of his big sister fucking around with authorities.

“You can’t be serious,” the shorter Ross throws back, with a confounded smile.

“Check the footage if you like,” Y/n takes a few steps back, leaning on the railing behind her and pulling out a box of cigarettes from her pocket. “I didn’t throw the first punch…” She puts one between her lips, casual and easy. “I didn’t even use my powers until he came at me with his fucking metal arm and his fucking enhanced strength.” She pulls out her lighter. “What did you expect me to do then? Get beaten up?” She lights the cigarette.

“Yes,” Ross supplies.

She smiles at him, taking a drag. “Might be your style. Not mine.”

“And what about at the airport in Germany?” The shorter Ross asks.

Y/n shrugs. “Never threw the first punch.” Another drag. “Besides, I was defending myself from a rag-tag group of superheroes who were after me with a vengeance.” She smiles at her own words looking at Tony on her side.

And just for that, he decides to be a bitch too. “What if I were to sue you for assault?” 

Her smile drops instantly and for a second he thinks maybe he won that round, but alas. “You could have, if you’d fucking listened to me! You should’ve let me come to you. I have told you about a million times; you are not the biggest guy on the field. You fight well but not well enough to be cocky, you are supposed to let your opponent come to you.”

“The best defense is a great offense,” Tony says lamely.

“That’s what idiots say when they have shit defense! If you let them come to you, you get the advantage of not just using their momentum against them, you also get to know the move they trust most because 9 times out of 10, you want to start the fight off on a strong foot so you use the move you’ve practiced often, but also the one that you’re most comfortable with,” Y/n scolds him, hands waving everywhere, clearly annoyed with him beyond words.

“That seems like an exaggerated statistic,” Tony tries.

He fails.

“It’s not,” the shorter Ross supplies. “She’s right.” He earns a stern look to shut up from Ross.

“You could’ve sued me if you’d just listened to me. I’m easy to provoke, especially when the person provoking me is you.” She takes another drag. “Look at me right now, I want to punch you so bad.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Today clearly has not been a day of peace thus far, so why not continue to choose violence?

“That’s enough!” Ross yells. “I’ve heard enough out of the both of you!” The man looks like he’s well past blowing a gasket. He looks at Tony, “Stark, you are well past your 36 hours to get me Rogers,” he turns and fixes his gaze on his sister, “And as for you… Stark, feel free to cry to the judge about how it was self-defense when you’re on trial. Till then there’s a cell with your name on it on the Raft, that’s where you’ll have to throw whichever fit comes after this one.” The way he speaks it’s evident he doesn’t believe that she’s a threat, not to him. “We’re putting you under arrest.”

“Oh?” Y/n asks. She waits a second and then suddenly there’s a sound of static that rings out. She is next to Tony one second and the next she’s standing against Ross, toe to toe. She pulls the cigarette out of her mouth. “You and what army?”

A vein pops out on Ross’ temple. 

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Stark,” Ross warns.

“Or maybe you’re forgetting that I might look like a young and ‘fiery little lady’ but I’m not. I have been doing this since before you were even a thought in your father’s head.” She takes a drag, slow and somber. “You best learn to respect your elders, son.”

And just like that, she’s gone. Glitched into nothing. 

Tony tries his best not to let this little spark of pride overtake his guilt.

Read the next part here. Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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hit me up if you wanna be added to the tag list. I have taken so long to update so much of my tag list has just deactivated their accounts. ouch hahahaha (cries while laughing)

[tanoraqui]

A decade or so post-canon, Tress should get an apprentice spouter who’s a young woman—let’s call her Abigail. Abigail is the sort of person best left in a small, dark room at all times, to do science in a setting isolated for the physical safety of others and the social safety of Abigail. She is extremely thrilled about spore science, to the point of being worryingly unfearful of spores, even by spouter standards. Most of her best friends are spores. All of her friends are spores.

She actually leaves the royal spore weapons research team to join Tress, mostly because she was accused of treason (rightly? framed? either works!) but also because Captain Tress of the Two Cups is a legend in the field. But in addition to being too socially anxious to evade a treason charge (she’s really very good friends with the spores!), which can perhaps be worked on, Abigail is very agoraphobic. She’s prone to panic attacks under the open sky. So the sailor’s life is kind of just a different kind of personal hell. Still better than the catty politics of the royal science academy! But not sustainable long-term, any more than evading that treason charge is…

So the Two Cups sails the Crimson Sea once more, and Tress “sells” Abigail to the dragon Xisisrefliel as a research assistant, and everyone lives happily after. Maybe as a payment, Tress requests the boon that she and Abigail—and maybe Abigail’s family, if she has one—get to keep corresponding by letter, which the dragon’s servants typically aren’t permitted.

[rocketnbenavidesfanart]

Tim art!

It's specifically for a fanfic I wrote and am procrastinating on- which is why he's got a s4 look. It's called To Be Understood is to be Unfeared on A03.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Spark To Embers. DS9. On AO3.

I haven't told this to anyone , Doctor Bashir had started; the look in his eyes dire and fire-bright. An informed choice must be made, should Bareil’s body fail. 

I haven't told this to anyone, but no one has ever needed to know as much as you, Vedek . And so Bashir had given Bareil his name, his first name, a dead child's name. It might mean a number of things in his language.

“Would I still be able to remember my faith?”

“I do not know.”

“The Prophets, my people, my -” Nerys, smiling, robe slipping down her shoulder, her hard-won laughter better than drink and rest to him. Again, lower, aching: “My people.”

The Doctor’s eyes flickered downwards for an instant, neither an accord nor a denial. “I do not know. We cannot know. I am - very sorry it has come to this, Vedek.”

Bareil found it difficult to look at him, now. Decency demanded he look away, though he knew it was not the Human way, and Bashir was not one of his faithful.

Still: he had told him a terrible truth, to ease a terrible choice. This was to be the first time anyone gave Bareil the gift of their grief, to be stared and well-kept and prayed over. Bareil's gratitude swelled against the faltering of his lungs, cleared his head with a rush of wind as sweet as the Lonar Province mountain-breeze. 

A gift, though Bashir might not intend it like that. This last service Bareil had a means to give, which came to him as a warning. Bareil took it as a warning, if only because Bashir so fiercely believed it to be: if you replace the parts to maintain a shell of the sum, the thing that remains is not alive. Not real, in any sense of the world.

“Doctor, I am of no use if I cannot serve my people. I know you understand. Major Kira always said you were very-”

“Foolish? Callow - self-centered, terribly conceited?

“Young. But a good Doctor, and a deeply compassionate man. If a little unaware of his affect.”

Bashir let out a mirthless sound. “Believe me, I am always aware. I cannot be otherwise - I was made so. As intricate and regulated as a machine.”

“I wish I could tell you I was all that. That I was a fool of the first order, an idealist, a kind medical practitioner. But I cannot know. I can't even quite tell if I'm lying, masking myself as myself, to go unnoticed and - unfeared. I am in too deep, Vedek. There is no way to know.”

“And if I do decide to have both halves of my brain fully replaced, to go with the lungs, the kidneys, the heart?” 

“Your memory centers could be transferred, the synaptic patterns repeated as well as we could. I can make no guarantees. None.”

“I would look like myself, talk like myself. But would I be myself? I can feel the difference now. Half of me is gone already. You can ask,” he added, because Bashir looked thirsty to know.

“Gone how, exactly? If you could quantify it.” 

“Distant. Time slips away from me, I think. And I am lacking in sentiment.” Sentiment had long been Bajor’s strength, its resistant heart. 

Distant, he had told Nerys, and felt her grasp on him tighten as if it were a hand he had held years ago. More a memory of a touch than the touch itself; more a memory of himself than his own mind - quick and slow, hesitant, forceful. A riverbed in drought, remembering the shape of the current, empty of life. 

Distant, a glass in between and many years too: his mother cursing the sterile soil, his sisters looking back as the soldiers took them away, dying in the cot by the spluttering oven. 

Antos, nearly a man, working in the monastery’s garden, cursing the soil, cursing the Prophets. That was the year before they were moved to Reliketh, the refugee camp with its noises, its business, its absence of birds and green growing smells.

Small fists, gritty with dirt, striking some kind Vedek’s chest, fighting consolation to fight grief. Prayer had not come easily to him, it had only ever been a punishment for his misbehavior, then a choice. The only choice.

He stretched out his hand, now. Grasped Bashir’s arm, a grounding touch, to test the reality of it. Bones, muscle, the same false wool Nerys donned day after day. Heartening, nonetheless, how the Doctor bent to him, let himself be a grounding thing.

“How do you do it?”

“My case is not equivalent, by far. Enough of a comparison that it was my only point of reference, and one I felt you ought to know about. But my alterations involved natural cerebral tissue. And I was much younger.” 

“A child,” Berail said. Not a question. Intuition, not so much the wisdom of the Prophets; this situation was so wholly touched by the Prophets his every sense was dome in their likenesses, their will guided his thinking. His own, and not.

As all things were, for those who devoted themselves to faithful service. 

More certain of that, now. That Bashir spoke as he did, was as he was: a guide. Made in perfect measure to this task, and as much a heart turned to service as his, an understanding many could pretend at, and not grasp. 

“The child is dead.” 

 “I do not know if there is a correct courtesy, what the human kindness is.”

Bashir's was all sharp movement, so tight a flinch Barel’s own bones ached with the tension of it. “There is none, for people like myself.” 

“Then I am sorry for your grief, and that as well,” Bareil said. Paltry speech. “If I may say it”

Bashir’s mouth twitched. His throat moved, soundless. He doesn’t know when to stop talking, was what Nerys had actually said. It’s maddening, it really is. 

Bareil had spoken many times in confidence with survivors of skirmishes and raids and banal, horrible violences. What words did you give to the one sibling whose sweats grew cold and then grew to nothing? All comfort was a comfort to someone who outlived themselves, but not often quite so definitely. 

 The shadows and deepening lines on his face were not unbeautiful, though it was difficult to Bareil to imagine them deliberate. Two faceless parents, deciding on a series of simulations. This, yes, my son will frown so at this age, and smile like this, laugh

They must have loved him. He had seen so many deeds done in love, during the Occupation. Bareil's own parents had gone to great lengths, so he might live; at least for a time. Great lengths. Before he chose to devote himself to the Prophets, and endanger all his family – 

This that had been done to him had been done in the Federation, for the pleasure of Federation principles and preferences, on whom Bajor depended still. Faith assured even to the last, Bareil could lie back wry and satisfied; he had done as he ought.

Peace, yes, they needed peace with Cardassia, a chance to stand on their own, with an Emissary for the transition and men like Bashir to stand as witness.

“If you were not yourself already, of course, it would be different,” Bashir was saying, words pressing against the silence. Bareil had lost time, lost the will to hold onto it. “Mechanical lifeforms are as capable of sentience as anyone else, if so programmed - there's a Lieutenant in Starfleet's flagship who is a wonder, and very much his own, and a fascinating fellow besides. I do not mean to say you would be a Borg, either, the technology is quite different. 

“Only that I would not be myself. As good as dead, no spirit, all the pagh gone out of the flesh. Believe me, the notion disgusts me also.” 

Bashir’s hand clenched, as if he wished to keep them folded his palms together, the way he did when giving dire diagnoses. Sisko did it too; so did Guls, Legates, Vedeks, the Kai.

Even poor farmers did it, when they wanted to lie about how much they might or might not owe in taxed goods. Who taught them, who taught the gestures of power and fear? Bareil’s body could not remember them now, even if he had the strength for it.  

As a child Bareil has hidden mischief behind his back. Mud cakes, stolen rations, pebbles to throw at soldiers on the other side of the fence. Flowers stolen from a doctor's office, to bring back to his family. A phaser, once. The Prophets had brought the camp's cantankerous old Vedek to rap his knuckles and twist his ear and smuggle it away, before anyone could catch a glimpse, could execute the Bareils's stupid little boy.

Immediacy had become memory, memory became nothing. His ear did not know to ache with old reprimands. His body hummed and worked with a sound nearly beyond hearing. Likely Bashir could hear it. 

“Vedek Bareil-”

“Doctor, please. You have made new half my body already. Call me Antos.” 

That same tilt of the head, conceding, half-smiling. And still he leaned closer, flickering fire in his eyes: oh, little wonder Kai Winn could not stand him, no wonder Bareil’s death had fled from him a little. 

“It must be very tiring, living as you do,” Bareil noted quietly. 

Bashir made a disdainful noise. He was not to be distracted, and plainly uneasy with the kindness. “It's only patterns. Finding them, repeating them. And deciding on what to strive towards, in terms of actions. I am certain you could do it. And you would live. Your body would continue to exist, even if you decided to go into stasis."

"If I did not chose to go into stasis?"

"I would help you, it you wished it.” 

“But you do not wish it. You do not think it a wise choice, or right.” 

Fiercely, Bashir told him, “What I think is of no consideration, for as long as we can make it meaningless. You are awake and aware now. You have a choice that can be only yours.”

Bareil's throat ached, tight and tender. Fear no longer had a taste, but he had been afraid for so much of his life that it made no difference. “I can ask for my doctor’s counsel, surely.”

“You have the right not to give them this. Already you have given so much - so much. Give yourself this dignity. Do not let her turn your muscles and your mouth into an instrument of politics!”

“Men like us do not choose for ourselves.” 

Flickering fire, fingers in his, a living hand in his living hand. Soon Bashir would go, and time would contract like a tide until Kai Winn returned with her last questions; and after that there would be nothing else. Whatever he chose, there would be nothing else.

Bareil had very much hoped to be a father, one day. What a foolish thing to think, now, when his very skull whirred, his skin strained against itself; but it was true.

“This time, you do have a choice. You must, Bareil. Antos.” A hand over his own, a tightening grasp. “You would do them a disservice, in allowing it. They do not deserve to have to suffer your sacrifice. And I will think rather less of your Prophets, if they intend to put you through it.”

Bareil laughed. For the last time, perhaps. The Prophets, he hoped, laughed with him. 

“For what it is worth, Doctor,” Antos Bareil said. “You seem very real to me.” 

Bashir blinked. Surprise, and that was good too. Bareil's mouth, drying and purpling with the weakness of his lungs, wanted to move with a smile. He felt the instinct, the impression of humor carved into his character; the execution simply did not happen. 

Bareil made his decision, then, while he could. That was in the morning; in the evening peace was signed, Bajor was promised peace. 

[anactualdump]

okay i love figuring everything out backwards, like NOW I'm getting all the Madness references, like what a s3lf means, why ui has the little arrows coming off him, the halos... sorry for being a cringe dummy in your instagram comments </3 will trawl the drive again, Later™ idk i dont have a point to this ask.. umm how about... if Unethical Spite is a story spanning decades, what's the deal with Benoît like.. he has a finite lifespan right?

oh second question actually, since its sloooowly happening... for doodles that aren't strictly related to the wogot3 story, what blog should i @ if i want you to see it? or should i always default to wogot3? sorry if i asked before 👉👈 i don't remember 😔

nuh uhhh don't be sorry, you give me motivation XDDD i enjoy anyone sharing their thoughts on whatever i make, always makes me so honoured (and in denial that is real and happening but that's just a personal quip ^w^)

ben is only introduced in episode 3 and is still a fairly new hire (so he's still a bit anxious but already unfearful of ui). the person ui calls in episode 1 was not meant to be ben, though i can see why anyone would think it's him since he's the only person you see in his apartment citadel XDD

but he actually hires others who're far away, in this case it's someone closer to the thumpers. though he manages the citadel all by himself before. the time between episode 3 to 5 would take around 1 decade so it's not super long before contidel is planned to be sunk

despite having a LOT of stories based in that time lolo. but the time polaroid is starting to remember his previous lives, it can take like a few days for him to arrive right after his previous attempt since he doesn't need to relearn skills anymore

though ben does escape to jekischear in episode 5, i'm a little worried how to handle his eventual end haha, contid life in general is pretty depressing

for your second question, you can just mention this blog talking to you right now! i might miss out in wogot3 since i don't check it as often as here

[iriysse]

. . . Alright I'm back and punchy. . . Which means "fuck it" mode is activated.

headcanon.

Aredhel was pregnant when she died, meaning both her and her child were both taken to the Halls of Mandos. Their fëas were separated, and when Aredhel was reborn in the beginning of the Second Age, Nestamíre was given a body as well. Aredhel then took the baby with her to Middle Earth, and raised her there. As a child Nestamíre proved to be much like her mother had been before leaving Valinor, though spending her time in Mandos' hall first gave her a sight of the unseen world. It also proved to make her both lusty for life, to a somewhat dangerous degree, and unfearing of death ( again to a dangerous degree at times ). For what is there to fear when you have already died?

[pillowspace]

Sometimes I like to think about how incredibly easy it would be for Moon to go to the Mortal Realm if he so chose, and yet he never will. He lives with Sun. All it would take is one single request to wear his crown. Sun would ask if he was sure, Moon would say yes, and Sun would vow to protect him should anyone find out. Everyone else insults Moon as disrespectfully unfearing of the higher gods. They both know this to be untrue, and so Sun wears his own crown, and neither of them speak a word to acknowledge it. It's an unspoken offer that never will be spoken