#as in ‘i hate you but we need to [blank] before we can get rid of each other and until then im stuck in close quarters with you 24/7’

[anantaru]

You think rape is funny? Maybe once you fucking experience it you won’t. Fucking cunt.

hello. so I'll just jump right into this. tw. discourse tw. mentioning r*pe.

@saetoru made this claim about me:

saetoru, could you add proof at least? i can not remember a time where i would repost a joke like that so i'd love for you to show me proof please, this is all I'm asking.

also how was it on your dash, on your own dash and @dottores dash, when you have never followed me? + but maybe it was the for you feature that was the same for the both of you.

accusing someone without proof is not okay, again, i can not remember doing this so if you have a screenshot add it so i can remember and apologize, but i can't do anything because i don't remember saying a joke with SA in mind.

before that i just want to mention: i don't think r*pe is funny, i'm not a dark content blog either so i do not really reblog dark content things because i'm sure most of my readers don't want that + I'm just not into that as well. the only joke i was "called out" for once is when i used a "i want xyz character to smack their laptop on my face or tits" which i got from an andrew garfield interview where he read his thirst tweets out loud, at that time i just deleted it because it's alright.

dottores, your mutuals, two of them to be exact, have sent me multiple of your personal blog hate posts about me and not once, have you made one where you talked about me saying an SA joke. you have only claimed that i am a cunt and that i am a gatekeeping bitch hence why i believed this must be the reason why you would suddenly hate me despite the fact we never interacted.

now, I want to address this next, this is from @dottores post which when i got it sent to me, i would've wished she just tagged me right away and said it with her chest, more so not let saetoru talk about her experience but just handle this with me.

^ this is cat @dottores saying i got it wrong.

^ this is why i believed she meant it just like i said it, why do you go through blogs that grow really fast's notes in the first place? where do you take the right to police other blogs like that when i'm sure your blogs aren't empty of blank blogs either. it is hard to get rid of all of them but i'm sure we all try at least, we don't need you to make us feel bad or come off as belittling, if you have found out a way to get rid of every blank blog, do enlighten us please.

+ at that time of this reblog icks?? post that saetoru added, my blog was blowing up so when a moot of mine (which was also theirs at a time) saw this, they had sent it to me.

"creators that grow really fast" and nowhere has she mentioned she only went through only her own moots notes, aside from that apologies but i still find this weird, i don't think you should invest so much time in other people's blog but this is my opinion.

this is the next thing she said:

i don't know if dottores meant me there but i have never once harassed you nor sent you hate anywhere, again you cannot just accuse me of stuff like that when you have also never reached out to me. The things i claimed about you guys in your callout, i have text messages of the person (your moot) who sent it to me.

but back again, the only thing i did do was block dottores on tumblr and then later ao3 when i saw you in tags, which you made fun of me for later:

also i got this ask that time:

"who blocks on ao3?" i do, ao3 is the platform i use the most so why is it funny when i use the block button? + i just like to point something out here, "they must've clicked to read and realize it was me" you can think that if you want i don't mind, but let me ask you this: i have seen you in tags hence why i was able to block you, but how did you notice i did? you can't see me in tags so surely you didnt click on my work, so you must've searched up my user for whatever reason?

and i know this is about me because she added the "this person called me chronically online" i couldn't find the post but what she was talking about is me calling other writers who reblogged that one "ick post" with not needed things such as "when writers cant characterize a character" or "when they only write headcanons", i have plenty of screenshots of that post but since i don't want to use up all my space here, i don't see why i should show their reblogs from this.

there were plenty of people like that, which reblogged horrible things there so i called everyone under that post chronically online, not just you dottores.

yeah :) like people making fun of someone for blocking them for their own comfort. i just don't want to see you, that's all, but i have never send you hate asks nor harassed you, the only thing i did was block the blogs your own mutuals exposed to me.

next:

^ this is after i felt bad for you after the callout.

this is coming from your own mutuals, i have never alone claimed you guys are jealous of me nor is there anything to be jealous about. i am just a blog, this here is not being popular, no one knows who i am and i do not need to pride myself in having a big blog on tumblr.com, and my readers know that. we are all the same here.

next:

i didn't mean you here saetoru but i understand that it sounded that way, the phrasing was a little off, for that i apologise that i made you upset with this, english is not my first language, i'm french, and when it comes to this callout post i was so fed up with it that i just posted it without looking for grammar mistakes etc. + this is about one of your friends who deleted their personal the second i announced i got their user, that was something with kaeya, when they sent me a hate ask. i won't expose it here but that person was also the one who blacklisted a friend of mine for liking itto.

i think there is a lot more but i will stop it there, this could've ended differently and i'm sad that it ended this way. I wish you all the best and i mean it, i hope we all can learn from this and move on, write on tumblr for our favorite characters because it's fun and stay away from drama. If you made it this far thank you 💓 — yoru

[ghostwritermia]

Pairing ~ Remus Lupin x blacksister!reader (slytherin reader)

Word Count ~ 988

Summary ~ With a haunted mind you look for solace in books, when you really needed it from your boyfriend, and he happily gave it to you

Warnings ~ Beginner level writing, angst, mentions of evil Walburga and Orion (they can literally just leave), Remus being a sweetheart, unedited

Note From Mia ~ Second time writing on here....I hope you like it, but I understand if not lmao

You had always been more on the reserved side. Where Sirius had chosen to leave the tortures from 12 Grimmauld Place behind him when the Black Siblings returned to school, you and Regulus had been the opposite.

You couldn’t forget. It wasn’t possible. The horrors you always faced at home haunted you every night, leading into early in the mornings, leaving you restless the rest of the day. The only peace you got was when you could sneak off into the library to bury your nose in whatever book you had your hands on. Whether that was a reread or a completely new genre, it didn’t matter. It was an escape.

So, that is exactly what you were doing now. You had been curled up in an armchair in a secluded corner of the library, reading, for almost an hour now. No distractions. Mind blank. Peace finally washing over you.

Letting out a soft sigh, you flipped the page, getting ready to read another chapter when a shadow loomed over you.

“Hello, Dove,” Remus whispered from above you. “Having a bad day?”

You and Remus had met in the Library on a rainy afternoon, and just sat together in silence while reading. Over time you had started small talk, and that led to conversations, which then led into a friendship, turned secret relationship.

It’s not that you wanted it to stay a secret, however, Remus and you were both scared of backlash from Sirius, and you were terrified of your parents; therefore, they could never find out.

Remus notices that you’re too far, too deep into your book to notice him. To pull you back into the present, he carefully rests a hand on your thigh and rubs gently, coaxing you back into the real world.

You flinch slightly at the contact before looking up to see your boyfriend. “Oh, Rem, hi. How long have you been there?” You ask, shutting your book to give him your undivided attention.

Remus ignores you, smiling gently, not sympathetically though, because he knows by now that you won’t accept it. “What do you need from me, Dovy? To talk?” He’s more than aware that you are not actually going to open up right now, he can see it in your eyes from a mile away.

“Can you just hold me?” You whisper, your words laced with vulnerability. 

Remus’s eyes soften before he shuffles you around, sliding onto the chair behind you, and situating you onto his lap. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds you, gently stroking your hair, occasionally leaving a kiss to the crown of your head. 

When he thinks you're almost asleep, you speak again, “Nothing ever lasts forever, Rem.”

“I know, love. What are you referring to?” He asks, dread filtering into his mind. The lycanthrope has a love-hate relationship with your deep thoughts. Some bring on deep meaningful conversations, whereas others are filled with unnecessary insecurity and doubts.

“Us,” You mutter the exact words that he was dreading.

“No.” Remus says sternly, a tone you rarely hear him use. “I will always love you,” He turns you so you’re sitting sideways in his lap, him making direct eye contact with you, making sure that you hold it. “We’re not doing this, you need to get rid of whatever negative ghosts that are haunting your mind, because we are not breaking up. If I need to help chase those ghosts away, then so be it, but you cannot let them dictate our relationship. Ours, not theirs.”

You nod, burying your head into his neck, breathing in the calming scent of cocoa and old books, mixed with a hint of pine. 

“I want to hear you say it,” He whispers, nudging you with his shoulder.

You lift your head from the crook of his neck and smile weakly. “Ours, not the ghosts.”

“Exactly right, Dove.”

Remus leans in and gently presses his lips to yours, and you reciprocate before he leans back, pulling you into his chest. “I love you,” He whispers, again, knowing you needed reassurance. “And I always will.” 

You nod, “I love you, forever and always.” It comes out in a whisper, but Remus hears it anyway and presses his forehead against yours, but not before pressing a kiss to your nose.

He slowly reaches up and presses the pads of his thumbs where he knows your dimples are and where he knows they should be right now. “Can you smile for me, Love?”

And you do. Because you love him, more than you thought you were ever capable of. You smile crookedly, showing Remus that it is indeed a true smile, and he leaves a kiss on both dimples before pulling away and smiling back at you.

You bring your own thumbs to his face, rubbing gently over the hundreds of freckles scattered along his face.

He kisses you gently once more before grabbing your book, “Now, what were we reading before I interrupted?” He questions teasingly. 

“Well, I was reading that,” You admit sheepishly, pulling out a quill and ink container from your bag.

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?” Remus raises a teasing brow.

“Oh hush,” You shove his shoulder. “I was in the mood for something different and it was in the muggle book section. It seemed interesting.” 

“No judgment from me then, Dove.” He whispers, opening the book at your marked spot.

And that is exactly how you and Remus spend the rest of your day. Him reading to you, and you drawing thin vines, small flowers, and a variety of constellations on his various scars while you listen to his soothing voice tell the story of a girl with a dog that somehow got sucked into a tornado and transported into the world of Oz. It didn’t make sense to you, but Remus was reading it, and that was all that seemed to matter to you at that very moment.

[dootznbootz]

I was thinking about that Odysseus gray hair headcanon of yours (which i btw love and painfully sob about) and consider:

Penelope seeing him cry in bed, having the realization that when he's lying on his back while crying his tears follow the exact patch of his gray hair. Penelope being out for blood because of that.

Actually, he hates lying on his back after everything... It's something he cannot do anymore. He lies on his side most of the time. Or lies on top of Penelope. (His "favorite bed is made of bone." 😂 As the Water Wife is smaller so when he rests his head on her chest, he's basically right on her sternum. She's fairly flat. She gets SOME squish as she gets older and after pregnancy ofc 😌)

Having a weight on top of him is very upsetting. He usually flips them over or moves. He can no longer be the little spoon either. Penelope cannot lie on his chest. It's just something that has...changed :')

One thing she notices, is that he has 4 little cresent moon shaped scars on his triceps. (some faded ones on his palms too). Then she sees him crossing his arms and realizes they're from him digging his fingernails into himself. Something he used to do while crying on the beaches. The ones on his palms are from the times he was on his back in the cave.

Something that will eventually kind of come into play, is that for Helen, Paris and Deiphobus are dead. She can always be reassured they won't come to get her. For Odysseus, they're GODDESSES...Immortal and can't be 'punished' (nor should they considering they're immortals). Odysseus kind of lives with this fear deep down that they'll somehow come back into his life. They don't. Because THEY DON'T. But he can't shake that fear.

It reassures him that Penelope looks and feels so different. Penelope's smaller, she's fairly cold to the touch, he knows her birthmarks and scars, etc. Calypso was an Oceanaid while Penelope is a Naiad. He hates saltwater for many reasons. Circe felt too hot and felt like burning despite taking Penelope's appearance. Penelope's so cold. etc. Penelope is RIGHT.

Unedited Unfinished snippet of a random wip. Context: He had a bad nightmare.

Shaking with a blank, tear-stained face, Odysseus sat looking away from her. His nails dug into his biceps, the four crescent moon scars proving how often he did this while away. On his palms as well. The tapestry that he tore off the wall (the rod being what broke. Not her own craftsmanship, of course) wrapped around his waist and back. Protecting himself…

Penelope is soooo protective of him though. For example, once while talking with Penelope and Telemachus, Telemachus brings up Calypso (he knows from Menelaus) and asks his dad how he escaped her and how 'dangerous' she was. Was she like Scylla? Odysseus freezes. He doesn't want his son to know of such things. Stuff like that.

Penelope swoops in with distractions and a way for him to sneak away if he needs or to just shove his face under her neck to hide it for a bit. Water Wife is able to get rid of any tears shed so he can look "fine" and keep up appearances.

Odysseus hid his face in her throat, his hands clutching her waist close to him on their shared throne. Another tear spilled out from where it rested upon his lid only to be immediately pulled away. Penelope casually flicked it to the side. Cold hands cupped his face as she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "We can sneak out if you need-" "No." He pulled her closer. He swallowed and steadied his breathing. Vision too blurred to look at the dancers anyway. He had a prettier sight beside him. "I already made a scene." Penelope started to say something before stopping and took a deep breath. "Whatever you need, my Joy." "You," he rasped. "Just you."

I wrote this very quickly just to kind of give the vibes I guess. I also have a headcanon that after Odysseus made their bed, he made a throne bench because these two freaks were constantly squirming and were leaning over so much that it got annoying. It also felt very empty for 20 years :') )

People talk about him. About his episodes of PTSD and his lashing out. And she shuts them down. "He's not mad. He's been through all pains. I'd like to see you do well after going through what he's gone through."

She's out for blood on people who question or mock him. Don't talk about her Joy that way. You don't know anything.

[libertybri]

Fo4 companions + Maxson react to accidentally falling into worm hole and getting sent to the past for a week and end up meeting their younger self. (Danse meeting himself as M7-97)

So this was one super interesting, lol! I had to get a bit creative for some because I didn’t want to leave anyone out + I added Strong and Dogmeat!!

Cait

The moment her former self was in currently, was what Cait then believed was the peak of her life. She felt the strongest she ever was due to her own raw strength and the unmentionable addictions keeping her going at a hundred-percent all of the time. Being loved was a foreign concept and there were no thoughts of ever inheriting a real friend or someone who cared enough to save her. Even if she were to speak to that version of herself, Cait knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to her then. There was really no point of exercising the thought to her that there was good in the world willing to take her in. That was left up to Sole, for she believed only they could ever be the one to get through to her no matter her state.

Synth!Codsworth

“Oh dear, was I always floating about this rusty in the beginning?” The new synthetic-bodied Codsworth stands ashamed of his former self. The robot floated before him with his rusty exterior and only motive to try and rid the world of its new radiated filth.

“Um, did you say I? I do believe you are confused, sir. Perhaps all of this radiation is altering your thought process. My Sir and Mum should be back any minute now and they would love to help you!” The robot version of himself gleamed at the opportunity to help someone in need, not realizing the person before him was actually himself in another time and body. He was also mistaken about the timing of which only part of his family would return to him. The synth decided it wasn’t in his best interest to tell the robot all of this information, as he always remained hopeful.

Curie

The synth looked upon her former robotic self with two strong feelings; one of relief and one of sorrow. She was of course relived to be able to roam free among the world and view it as a human, for which she loved humans very much. However, part of her was longing for the former connections she had while in this state. The scientists she was built up with and the experiments she held while as the robot were dear parts of her past that she held closely to her synthetic-heart. Though with all of the reminiscing, she is able to remind herself of why the change happened and how she can move forward with her new connections and experiments that she also appreciates.

Danse

Danse doesn’t quite understand why he sees the synth with a blank personality, meant to take his own. He doesn’t remember his life before it was stolen, but meeting him, who took his own life. The version of himself now was standing before that same version. “You know you aren’t me.” He is still astonished with the entire thing, hoping this thing doesn’t yet have his personality.

“I am supposed to be Paladin—“

“M7-97.” Danse cuts him off sternly. “That’s who we are… We become Danse with time.” Though still struggling to understand himself after learning of his true identity, he doesn’t allow this to be a setback and instead finds satisfaction in seeing himself as a synth in an earlier stage of creation. It gives him peace knowing that he has the freedom to write his own story now.

Deacon

Deacon absolutely loathed seeing his past self. The younger leaving destruction in his path. He had no desire to speak to him or allow him to know of his future’s presence. Instead he only watched from the shadows intently, forcing himself to endure what he thought he deserved. Watching himself completing ravaging tasks was torture to his new role. He swallowed back all of the hate and anguish for that version of himself until this wormhole was done tormenting him with it.

Dogmeat

Dogmeat is overjoyed seeing himself as a puppy and immediately wants to play! He can’t even remember what it was like being that small, but that doesn’t matter now. He is content with just playing chase with his younger self until they’re both too tired to run any longer.

Gage

Seeing himself before the corruption of being a raider was like a punch to the gut for Gage. He saw optimism and light in his younger eyes, bliss from what he believed was protection then. What was soon to come for him was an awful awakening and the Gage now knew that, so he felt more sad than anything. He assumed anger would have been his first emotion, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with the past any longer.

“Things turn out alright for us… eventually, at least. You’ll meet so many shitty people ‘long the way, but one’s gonna come around and change all that.” Gage makes sure to tell his former self about his admiration for the Overboss, no matter their current relationship. He owed his newfound happiness to them.

“Thing’s get serious with this ‘one’?” His former preteen self giggled at the ‘old-man’, teasing at any hints of a relationship of some kind.

Gage chuckles and shakes his head, “They’re alright by us an’ that’s all that matters.”

Hancock

“Yeah, I figured the day’d come.” The smooth-skin John chuckled a his later state. His eyes scanned over the ghoulified version of himself dressed in historical attire, but wearing it with definite swagger. “Say, that brother of ours ever come around? This fight worth it?”

“McDonough’s a lost cause, but the fight’s always worth it. Lot’s a people come around for you because you never lose sight of what’s right.” Hancock smiles as he reminisces on the upbringing of his people. A lot was sacrificed along the way; his skin being part of that recklessness within the upbringing. In his mind everything happened in its place for a reason. He had to be the mortar for his people and for that, he absolutely held no regrets.

MacCready

There’s so many things MacCready thinks to tell his former self, but when it actually comes down to meeting him, he can’t bring himself to relieve the munchkin of knowing the future. Those unchangeable experiences couldn’t be passed through stories, so instead he interacted in the only way his 12-year old self knew.

“Hey butt-muncher, you got cave fungus all over your upper lip.” He chuckles, getting on his own nerves very easily.

“Can it, mungo! This is a mustache!” MacCready can’t help but to laugh at himself. Though he made plenty of bad decisions in his childhood, growing that ‘mustache’ was quite possibly his worst small mistake he ever made.

Maxson

Squire Maxson was quite the sight to the older; having only aged 8 years since then, however appearing to have fought many battles that physically aged him tremendously. The young boy was still in training by his predecessor Sarah, yet untouched by the cruel world. Two years to come for this boy before his entire world changed and he would become the war-machine that he now knows so comfortably. Elder Maxson was struggling to find the words to convey to him former self, knowing nothing would change. He cannot label feelings neither, for that was a difficult task. The younger fears the man before him but not because of appearance but instead his demeanor. There was a darkness that loomed over him and despite only being 12 years old, the younger knew things were not well for himself later in life. “I become Elder…” His voice trembles slightly only then realizing what that means for Sarah. “Oh.”

“I do what’s best for the Brotherhood. I know what’s best.” Maxson says to himself, though it comes out more as if he has to convince himself of that. There were a lot of battles in his life but none bigger than the self-battle he is always going through. He wish things could be different for the young boy, but with the greatest responsibility among his shoulders, nothing could ever change for him.

Nick

Nick’s former self is a prototype synth, factory fresh and one of the first of his kind. As a prototype, his personality still wasn’t fully there as the Institute were attempting to develop prewar people into their synths. Nick realizes he never knew himself as a separate personality then, he has no memories before Nick Valentine. The image before him didn’t feel like him, so he merely watched as the Institute performed more experiments on him. Experiencing this wormhole creates more doubt in his mind as he tries to understand himself as his own Nick of his time.

Piper

The urge to approach her younger self and warn her of upcoming events was very hard to fight for Piper. She knew no matter what there was no changing the past but part of her hoped if she could just spiel enough knowledge to her younger self in this worm-hole, she would be able to break through the wall and change the order of events. Solemnly, she decides to instead nurture the young Piper as she needs.

“How different are things in the future? Is the grass greener? Do we find love? What is Nat like?” Her younger self, full of ambition and curiosity bombards her with several questions.

Piper cringes at the truth and does her best to mask the truth; “Uh, well, things are actually a lot different, but it turns out alright. There’s people there for us and we take care of them too… We’ll be okay.”

Content with this answer, the younger Piper goes back to drawing a portrait of her little family with the newest addition of baby Nat. Piper was only happy the innocence still had a few years before it would be lost.

Preston

In a nightmare-like tone, Preston was sent to himself at his lowest point. Though it wasn’t too far into the past for himself to see noticeable changes in his appearance, he was able to instantly notice the change in demeanor. His past self held no hope for the future or himself, he was lost in all ways and ready to give up. “The good fight is worth all of this sacrifice.” He tells himself. Seeing the future and what it holds definitely brings a twinkle of light to his former self, however he was still at a loss in his current state. “Good people give their all so the Commonwealth can stand for the future generations. You give your all.”

“What other choice do I have? These people are counting are counting on me.” The past Preston chokes back on his words. They come out a lot more confident than he felt in himself at that moment. He knew in his heart it was the right answer, as his fight will always be for the good of the people. Finding the courage was becoming onerous, but he was finally willing to accept the help of those around him to guide him.

Strong

“So this is what I become…” Strong’s former self wasn’t as shocked at the sight of his future as he was now knowing what would eventually happen to the world. “They actually did it, damned us all.”

Strong studies this human timidly, still not fully convinced at one point this was him. He decided to instead lecture himself for being sad about his current state, “HUMAN SHOULD BE HAPPY. HUMAN STRONG AFTER BOMB.”

Human Strong crosses his arms, “Human was strong before. I, er, you worked out a lot before… this. At least you still take pride in your athleticism.” Though the human version of himself was glad that teeny bit of self-sense was still there, he was still deeply distraught at his outcome with life.

X6-88

Depending on the path Sole takes, X6 meeting himself in his early stages of creation could be broken down in two ways;

A) Sole “rescues” X6 from the confinement of the Institute and he lives at a settlement after the Institute is blown up.

—X6 is faced with a version of himself that is no courser to the institute, but merely just a test subject of a synth. This version has plenty of training to endure before he could ever be a courser. While X6 thought he would be disgusted, or even envy the given fresh start, he felt nothing but pity for his former self. “One day you will be freed of the Institute’s reign. Your savior is powerful and compassionate enough to forgive a synth like you for all of the trouble you have caused them.” He tells his younger self, stating fact of what he knows now. However, this version would hear none of it and he knew that.

B) Sole becomes director of the Institute.

—X6 feels nothing when meeting himself in the early stages of creation. He knows from that point to where he is now, things would never change for him. This was his destiny after all; A machine made to serve and kill.

[j0die101]

I love how Illya and Napoleon just seem to take turns saving each other's lives. And also, how they would have kept ending up dead if not for the moment of "I hate this dude but guess I gotta save him, only for the sake of the mission of course" when they saved the other one before. Especially at the beginning of the movie.

See under the cut for a very detailed list 😅😅

~Illya holds onto the car Napoleon and Gabby try to escape in~ Napoleon could have very easily killed him right there, clear shot, no distance at all, but somehow it just doesn't seem fair (N "saves" I)

~ Public bathroom scene: Illya refrains from suffocating Napoleon after his boss tells him to let go.~ kinda not sure whether that counts. Saving his life by not killing him (?), guess he could've just ignored his handler and go all in. I'll let it count. (I "saves" N)

~ breaking into the satellite facility part 1: almost getting caught because Illya is too slow to pick the lock -> Napoleon picking the lock for them (N saves I, or well saves them both)

~ breaking into the satellite facility part 2: Illya figuring out a way to escape when everything goes to shit. (I saves N, or well also saves them both)

~ The best, funniest and most epic scene in the entire movie if you ask me: the harbour and Napoleon's little truck-picnick~ now see I really love this scene because it is incredibly comedic while being incredibly dramatic and angsty and a major turning point in the story. They're being chased - they're out in the harbour on a boat - all escape ways blocked - Napoleon holding on to the top of the boat. They're being shot at - a lot. Illya takes a sharp turn - Napoleon falls off the boat into the water, or does he let go on purpose ?- Illya doesn't notice right away. Turning around a few moments later he only sees the entry holes of the shots, right where Napoleon used to hang on. What conclusion does this lead him to? Surely he must think Napoleon got shot, fell off the boat and is drowning or bleeding out or both somewhere on the water. He is on his own. So he tries to get away, but is fighting a lost fight. Meanwhile, Napoleon swims ashore, finding the picnic basket on the truck and just enjoys a little break, while Iliya is being hunted down.

Now here comes the part, which I consider the major turning point in their partnership. It's a tiny little moment. Almost unnoticeable. Almost.

Illya's boat is now on fire, and it's sinking quite rapidly. The hunt is over. Napoleon starts the engine of the truck. He's about to just drive off, in the chaos no one would suspect their own truck driving out of the harbour. He could just tell their handlers the truth. Iliya was killed by their targets. Get rid of him easily and move on with the mission by himself.

But then, he changes his mind. We can see how his expression changes. He's like "damn, somehow I can't do that. Why do I have to be like this? Why can't I just let him be done with?" Kinda being annoyed by himself really.

And so he turns the truck, drives it into the water, right onto their opponents boat, sinking all of them. Using the headlights to locate Illya. Saving his life by dragging him to the surface and ashore. (N saves I)

~ the chair: Napoleon is trapped, tortured by a nazi psychopath, no way of escaping. He believes Gaby has sold them out. He has no idea whether Illya is even still alive. And yet, somehow there he is, getting him out of a hopeless situation. (Also if anyone is ever shocked by electricity, get them to the hospital immediately!!! Heart failure can happen from this as well a day after as right away. They need to be under medical observation!!! Don't let the media tell you otherwise!!!) (I saves N)

~ the iconic motorcycle scene. Illya is hurt, trapped under his own vehicle after a crash that, lets be honest, should have killed him instantly. Napoleon is trying to save Gaby from the crashed car and is ambushed, about to get shot point blank while on his back on the ground. Yet somehow Illya doesn't just manage to get his motorcycle off of himself, but continues to throw it onto Napoleon's assailant. Guess Iliya's in the lead now (I saves N)

~ And finally: the stand off about the disc. Illya feels betrayed, he is struggling, he doesn't want to kill Napoleon, but needs to finish the mission. He is close to a psychotic episode. There is so much pressure on him, who wouldn't be stressed to their total limit. By now Napoleon knows him, he is excellent in reading people. He would have been able to shoot first. Maybe even resulting into killing Illya. But instead he decides differently and is able to de-escalate the situation. By showing care and kindness (aka surprising Illya with the watch). Thereby he doesn't only save his own life, he probably saves them both. (N saves I, I guess)

~ together they are able to make the only logical decision. A decision that is probably saving millions of lives. They burn the disc. Disobedience against their handlers. A decision based on what is right. Together. (N&I saving loads of people together)

[cuntry-r0ckst4r]

I’m Holding You Back

Pairing: KiriBaku x AFAB! GN!Reader ( Uses they/them for the reader)

Requested: maxifantasitque ​

Summary: Reader thinks they might be pregnant and is scared to tell their boyfriends

Warnings: Pregnancy, poly relationships, cursing, illusions to smut, female anatomy, not proofread.

A/n: This is gonna suck ass, sorry. I also kind of rushed the ending cause I gotta do missing work lmao.

NOT MY GIF CREDIT TO WHO MADE IT

“No, no! This can’t be happening!” You said while mentally cursing yourself. Here you were in the bathroom opening another pregnancy test. The first one: positive, the second one: positive. Then it all hit you at once. They wouldn’t wanna be with you anymore if they found out you were pregnant, you guys JUST graduated high school! They wanted to focus on being heroes and you were in college, but you just had to fuck it up by getting pregnant. That’s when you saw the results of the third test. 

Positive.

fuck.

how are you supposed to tell your sweet and bittersweet boyfriends this? Of course they would tell you its okay, but what would they actually think? Would they think your trying to hold them back from being heroes? 

No, of course they wouldn’t. Get out of your head. What are you talking about its Katsuki and Eijiro. You’ve known them since you were 5. Before you were dating you were bestfriends. They would definitely support you. 

...Right?

About an hour after (successfully) getting rid of the several positive tests you were sitting on the couch with a tear stained face. You were terrified how they would respond. How would you even tell them? Which of them is the father though? Last time you all had sex there wasn’t a condom at all. You started crying again. As soon as you started crying that's when you heard door lock start to rattle. You looked up at the door dumbfounded, tears still streaming down your face as they walked in. They saw you crying. Elijio's big bright eyed smile was quickly dropped into an empathetic look, even Katsuki’s very subtle smirk dropped in an instance. 

“Babe? What’s wrong? Are you ok? Do you need something? DId someone say something to you?” Eijiro asked while walking over to you. 

You were wiping your tears away, “No, I’m fine. Just a little stressed with school that’s all!” You forced a smile.

Katsuki just stood there, not buying one bit of what you just said, “What’s the actual reason you’re crying, dumbass?” it sounded like more of a demand  to be honest. 

“u-i-um-s-i-” you cut yourself off after stammering so much. You could see the pity in Eijiro’s eyes. 

The tears started falling down your face again. Katsuki then slowly made his way over to the couches you two were on. He sat right next you, making you in between the two men.

“u-um so, remember last week? Well um- so- ever- ever since then I’ve just been feeling sort of... off? Anyways, I took some tests thinking they would all be negative and I just have sort of stomach bug. I just took them because it’s better than to be safe than sorry! Uh- but um they- the tests- they were all positive...” You blurted out. 

Their faces were blank. No expression, no feeling in their eyes. Just blankness. That’s when you realised you ruined this. You just ruined this whole relationship and they hate you now and they want to break u-

“So do you know who’s it is?!” Eijiro asked excitedly, cutting off your thoughts while having an excited expression on his face.

“U-uh, n-no, no not yet...” you said confused. Why wasn’t he mad? Why was he smiling his ass off?

“God, I’m gonna me a dad, Kat is gonna be a dad, you’re gonna be a parent!” He squealed, “I love you so much” 

He hugged you tight and kissed you on the cheek.

“Wait, so you, don’t think I'm holding you back?” I asked, slightly confused.

“What the shit kind of question is that? Obviously not. We have talked about kids before, just me and Eijiro, but we thought you didn’t want kids so we never brought it up. Yeah it’s a little unexpected right now, but we can make it work!” Katsuki replied.

“Exactly!” Eijiro said in an agreement.

God, I love these men. I am so glad I get to have this child with them.

[magicalmyths]

Polites continues to stumble on looking for Odysseus, ignoring all the other frantic crewmembers wandering around. The only thing he can think about is that he has to see Odysseus. At last he spots him out on deck watching out for some of the crew. Polites runs up and grabs his friend tightly before all but collapsing against him. Soon he feels arms wrap around him, keeping him steady and he starts sobbing. “Hey Polites, it's okay everyone is alive and safe. I'm right here okay?” Polites eventually calms down and slowly stands up again wiping at his face to get rid of the tears. “I'm sorry about that. I'm sure others need your help too.” Polites glances around at the crew, many of them collapsed on the deck and others staring off into the distance, eyes blank. “Did you also have a realistic dream?” Polites glances at his friend before nodding “yeah. Does that mean everyone also had one of those dreams?” Odysseus sighs “Yes it would seem so. I have been gathering accounts on what they dreamed about because this is obviously of divine nature. What was your dream about?” Polites flinches a bit at being reminded of his dream. “A group of us were fighting a cyclops and we were actually winning. Your plan was sound as always. But something hit me hard and I remember reaching out towards you before something hit again then I woke up. You face though…you were so horrified and pale I hated it.” Polites shivers and Odysseus hums pulling him into another hug “Don't worry i won't let that happen. I will make sure you and everyone else is safe. I know it was hard but thank you for sharing your dream.” Polites nods and Odysseus lets him go “I'm sorry but I have to go help other members of the crew. Will you be okay?” Polites smiles not as brightly as usual but still comforting and warm. “Of course do what you need to do” Odysseus nods and walks off and as he helps more of the crew listening to their dreams. The dreams often include the same scenes, the most common one being drowned by Poseidon. With a slight frown Odysseus thinks on what he was told in his own dream. Were these visions of the future? Odysseus has a gut feeling that these dreams are important. He gets to work piecing together the dreams creating parts of a bigger picture. He needs to know what will go wrong so he can stop it from happening. He will keep everyone safe, he has to.

I LOVEEEE THEM SM *starts giggling and kicking my feet like the fangirl I am*

[bababaka]

Part 2 of rewriting Naruto's women(it's actually just Hinata and Sakura)

Girl Sakura is on Part 1

Now. Onto Hinata we go.

My beautiful babygirl Hina. I am feral about her. She HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAAAAAAAAL!!!! WHY KISHIMOTO??? WHY/YYYYYYY

Du.de.

Ok.

Let me list.

Hinata is:

Shunned by her family for being weak and not "fitting" for the role of the heir. SHE IS THE HEIR OF ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING AND COOL AND BIGGEST KEKKE GENKAI CLAN! KDNFKFNFKFKDKD

FUCK MY LIFE SHE COULD'VE BEEN A FUCKING AWESOME HEIR TO THE HYUUGA CLAN AND YOU TURNED HER INTO THE STAY AT HOME MOM???? INTO THIS BLANK FUCKING CHARACTER??? I HATE LIFE!

...continuing...

Heir to the Hyuuga Clan. Likes Naruto. Is shy. Is "weak". Has a bad relationship with her cousin, my babyboy Neji.

Ok. What i'd love to do to her story is the following.

At the begining of things we'd have Hinata just the same. She is too shy, gets beaten up by her cousin, shunned and critized by her father and clan, is weak. Then, she sees Naruto. She thinks of how he is just like her.

Shunned by people, beaten up by others. Scorned and hated. And yet. He still had a smile on his face. He still had dreams.

"I'm gonna become a Hogake, Dattebayo!"

He, who had it like her but thousand times worse, still fought. Still had believes.

He wanted to prove people wrong. That he could be someone. Someone good. Someone strong. The strongest.

She sees that, and is not only in awe of him, her little heart beating fast, admiring him from afar, but his determination fuels her.

She believed in Naruto. And if he could do it, so could she.

So. It would begin. Hinata's dream to be the leader of the clan Hyuuga would start there. She wants to prove everyone wrong. She is not a waste. She is not undeserving of being in the main family. She is not lesser than her cousin.

She would train. Study. Try to control her shyness(which by the way, i won't rid her of it. She will be shy! Let Hinata be a shy powerful leader!)

Before Naruto Shippuden, she pretty much fails at all of those.

She still gets beaten up by Neji, but each time, again and again, she stands up.

She has problems expressing herself, stuttering, giving up entirely on saying what she wanted, talking too quietly, not being audible.

But, little by little, she starts getting better.

And after Neji's defeat against Naruto, Neji and Hinata talk. And they get close.

"I am sorry they've put you through this. You didn't deserve this. Your father, my uncle, didn't deserve this. I promise you, i will give my all to be the best leader i can be and prevent this things from happening."

"Thank you... Hinata-sama."

"You are my cousin, call me Hinata."

"...ok... Hinata... This feels weird..."

So, now, instead of being just humiliated by Neji, he will actually help her improve her taijutsu and ninjutsu and byakukan (idk how to write it).

She starts getting over her shyness, now she speaks up. Yeah, still stuttering a lot. But she says it. A win in her book.

She isn't one of the main characters, so her development would happen a lot off the screen. Which, okay. But we would still see the changes she goes through.

But we would see the main changes when Naruto comes back to the village after his training.

She would be more confident. Stronger. And people would see this. Her father realizes this. So, he starts to hold on hope that maybe she is a fitting heir. And would train her. Would give her responsabilities within the clan so she could get a feeling of leadership.

But Hinata still is shy. She has this turn of personalities. When she needs to be in battle or in charge, she becomes someone else. But when she comes back from this state, she gets back to this shy girl. I would definly would make this a running gag. Specially with Naruto around Hinata.

In Naruto Classic, she would still pass out near him. And, when he gets back, she gets beet red.

"N-Naruto-kun got even prettier! Akdnfjsks"

And it would be funny.

Naruto is there, eating rameen with his friends and they are talking and catching up about what had changed during his training and at some point they'd metion Hinata, saying how she was the one who evolved/changed the most.

And Naruto would get confused, "what do you mean Hinata changed?? She is still the same shy girl. i talked to her yesterday, she got so red!"

And while people got sweat drops on their foreheads and Sakura and Ino were about to call him idiot for not noticing the obvious crush Hinata has on him, Naruto runs his mouth and continues talking.

"Don't get me wrong, i don't think its bad. I think is cute how she is shy and gets red"

And then bum. Wow. How to write a shipp. Take notes, author that i do not remember the name. Unless the shipp was indeed Naruto and Sasuke, in that case my bad. You did an amazing job.

Anyways, obviously, Naruto and Hinata would have to go on a mission later so Naruto could see her in action.

At First, he gets so worried. He has to protect her. Hinata!!! But then, she just ignores him and beat every crook down and Naruto is like... oh... uh... ok... that was so cool. And we would see Naruto and Hinta fighting back to back. Covering each others back. Ah! Beautiful.

And as Hinatas grows and progresses, she starts losing by so little to Neji. Then, she starts tying. And finally. She beats Neji. At first, she thought it was a strike of luck. But she wins again and again.

"It seems, Hinata, you no longer need my mentoring. But if you would allow me so, i'd still be honored to keep advising you and protecting you"

She gets so emotional when that happens. She beat Neji. She did it. She can do this. She is evolving. She can br the leader of the Clan. She is capable.

At the great war with Madara, we'd get amazing scenes with Hinata being a badass leader and organizing things with her clan and just being awesome.

At the end of the anime, we'd have Hinata being the head of the clan Hyuuga.

Amazing.

Sure sure. She marries Naruto and all later. But that's it.

If you agree or disagree, lets talk about it. Remember to always be kind.

And, this is only for fun.

Anywyas, thx for reading it, that'll be all.

Edit: Also, Neji wouldn't die.

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

All The Time in the World - Chapter 1

Part 1 Devoir

Birkhall, January 2020

I wake with the howling of the wind and curl so that every part of me is cocooned in the warmth of the blankets but my nose is exposed and complains about the temperature. Reaching my hand across, I can feel that the other side of the bed is empty, although the compression of the pillows tells me that my husband came to bed last night. Sometimes he falls asleep at his desk and that leaves him with pain in his back and a niggling disposition best avoided. I grimace as the wind fights its way into the house and I hear the lash of rain against the window panes belabouring them. Today will be difficult. He acts like the incarceration in the house is the fault of everyone around him rather than the inclement weather. I settle back into the covers and shut my eyes to postpone commencing the day.

“Your Royal Highness, Ma’am?” The knock against the door is tentative. I hate being disturbed prematurely and this house is meant to be where we take our holidays, not where I should be harassed at indecorous hours of the morning. “Why are you in my room, waking me up?” “So sorry, Ma’am, His Royal Highness, The Prince of Wales has asked for you.” “The sun hasn’t risen. He knows not to wake me before then.” I’m being petulant. The sun never rises early at this time of year and certainly not this far north. “Sorry Ma’am, he asked for you.”

The initial irritation dissolves into unease. “Fine.” I wriggle out of the covers and prop myself up on the pillows. The air cools through my nightdress and brushes my bare shoulders like frost, making me shiver. Almost immediately, the lamps are switched on in the room and I find a thick cardigan placed around me, a cup of black tea in my hands, warming them. “Tell me, Martin, what exactly is wrong with my husband?” “He’s most perturbed, Ma’am.” “Meaning?” Martin colours most magnificently when he’s embarrassed. Watching the shade of his cheeks, I can sometimes work out the truth before he’s admitted to it. He doesn’t look at me and I repeat my question with a Grandmotherly sternness I know works well with him. “He’s striding around his office, shouting at anyone who enters.” “What’s happened?” “I think The Prince would want to tell you himself, Ma’am.” As I raise my eyebrows at him slightly, I see his endeavour to remain loyal to my husband waiver at my expression. I just need to probe correctly to break him. “Is it that Chinese virus?” “That what, Ma’am?” “Corona Virus?” His blank face tells me it’s not. “Harry then?” I watch his face rouge, not able to lie to me and then crumple as he folds. “You need your iPad. There’s a message on Instagram.” “Tell me. I don’t know where my glasses are. I don’t even know how to work Insta-whatever-it-is, I just scroll through the pretty pictures.” “It’s Their Royal Highnesses, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex. They have announced they’re stepping back from the position of Senior Royals.” “Get me the iPad.”

It’s a strange emotion that hits my stomach. The anger is instant and prickles my skin, and the grief for my husband settles down in my heart as an old companion. Swallowing, I attempt to rid my mind of any unfavourable comparison but my stomach is churning, a contorted mixture of unease born of wounds from long ago, and guilt from what feels like a different age, salted in a deep-set resentment. I feel leaden as I read the message four, five times over, memorising it before removing my reading glasses to look at Martin. He’s worried about my reaction but I’m not my husband. I sigh heavily, not wanting to get up, but one benefit of my position is that someone will aid me with everything, especially when my bones are too old to move quickly at this time of day. “Send for Emma.” My poor husband. Anger laps at me but I know I have to be calm, even as my stomach pangs. I bet Charles hasn’t eaten yet. “And tea for his office…” “Yes, Ma’am.” “And something sweet.” “What sort…” “...Duchy biscuits are fine,” I snap, then pause to correct myself and continue with a more neutral tone, “Ready for when I get there. And toast and honey. Send Emma up now.”

Dismissing him, I breathe in deeply, feeling the air inflate my lungs, feeling my blood disseminate the oxygen around my body, to my tired muscles, calming me, preparing me for my job, my vocation. The lifetime I’ve spent talking gently to my husband, teasing him, bullying him, calming him down. There is never the time to process each new disaster with his family and sometimes I feel reminiscent of a firefighter, faithfully attempting to extinguish one crisis as several others ignite around me, but it seems churlish to complain when we’ve spent so many years striving for what we have now.

~*~*~*~*~*~

2000, Highgrove

We turn on the television to listen to Big Ben, to hear the countdown and watch the fireworks and I feel his hand reaching for mine. I clasp it firmly. The camera pans onto a closeup of his mother’s face and I smirk. Sat there with the Prime Minister, she looks as pissed off as her public persona allows. He kisses my cheek and I know he’s noted my expression. “She looks happy.” That makes me chuckle and I pull away from the screen and turn to face him. The hubbub around us is quieting now to the hush which always accompanies this precise moment in time, that pause before the countdown to the New Year begins. “I wonder if the telly’s going to crash at the stroke of midnight?” “Perhaps everything will go down?” “Your mother will be trapped in the dark.” “That would be funny.” “Do you think the little bug thing will crawl out and take over, reign over us?” That makes him chuckle and he reaches down to kiss me. “Last kiss this year.” “Last kiss this century.” “Hold my hand. I want to enter the new millennium with you.” The countdown starts but I’m looking into his eyes. I want his eyes to be the first thing I see. Or the last, if the world does indeed come to an end in five seconds time. But, of course, it doesn’t and I’ve almost completed saying the obligatory blessing before he kisses me again, then presses his forehead against mine. I can hear the celebrations around me. The corks popping and the choruses of ‘Happy New Year!’ We’re jolted slightly from side to side as our friends turn and greet in the new year in the time old fashion but I can’t draw away from him. Not until I feel people tugging me, grasping for my hand and then the spell is broken and I’m back on earth, singing along with all our friends, laughing with them, bouncing our arms to the beat of the song, grimacing at the sound of my voice as I warble along with them.

The deep boom of fireworks exploding outside sets off an excited chatter and I find myself hastily bundled into a coat, his coat. My nose burrows to inhale the scent but I’m manhandled outside and his arms hold me to him as I try to watch the display. “Start as we mean to go on.” “Being shoved outside, you mean?” I hear him chuckle against my ear and then his lips against my neck make me giggle. “Resolutions, Darling.” “Oh, I’m dreadful at these. I always say the same things. I’ll give up smoking. I won’t drink as much… One week of January and the sheer tedium of the month bores me straight back to my old habits.” “That’s because you had no intention of ever giving them up and you’ve said it for show.” “Probably.” “My resolution is to be with you.” “You are with me, Darling.” “To fight for you until there’s no longer any need.” That makes me smile. It will be another millennium before people accept our relationship. “What’s my resolution, Darling?” “You’ve got to make it. I can’t tell you what your resolution will be.” I feel his fingers poking in my side to tickle me and smile. “I resolve to love you through everything.” “You can’t resolve to love me! You’re meant to already love me!” “I do ‘already’ love you.” I turn my head to kiss him, to reassure him and manage to find his chin. It’s rough against my lips. “I said I will love you through everything. Through everything that hits you, hurts you, damages you. I will love you through every crisis. That’s the resolution.” “I think I’m getting the better deal.” “You most certainly are. You need to up the stakes with yours.” “I can’t. The only thing you want, I’ve done for the past thirty years, regardless.” “What do I want?” “You want to be loved and to feel loved. I can’t resolve that I’ll always love you. It’s just a part of who I am. I’m far too old to change now.” “Don’t change.” “When have you ever known me to change?” “Well then you best make up for the discrepancies in our resolutions!” “I will make you my Queen, Camilla.” “Whether I want it or not?” “Something like that.” “Sounds like a threat.” “It’s meant to be an honour.” “Let’s just concentrate on the moment. The bug hasn’t taken over, has it?” I turn in his arms so I’m facing him and bat my eyes at him, making him laugh. “Don’t sound so hopeful!”

His eyes sparkle at me but even my joke can’t distract from what he’s just said to me. The crowd around us seems to me to be separated from us by an invisible force, hushing the noise, and I feel like we’re suddenly so far away from the rest of the world. “Your resolution isn’t about me. It’s about what you want.” “It’s also about you being treated with the respect you deserve.” “That isn’t important to me.” “Only because you’ve learnt to live without it. It is still important.” “I’d prefer to be with you than to be ‘respected’.” “I want you to have both.” I know he does. I won’t let him shatter traditions and demand it happen now; I’m not sure that would even work. But I know he means it and once he makes a decision, he sticks with it. “It would be nice to not be the most hated woman in the world…” “I wish people could meet you. Then they’d love you as much as I do.” “This is the perfect time for wishes. Make them to your heart’s content and then hold onto me tightly and just savour that we’re here together.”

I hardly dare allow myself to wish for anything. It feels like tempting fate. Turning my face towards the spectacle in the heavens above me, I push my head back against him and wish for time together. Just us. But even as I wish for it, I know it will never happen. Ironically, we saw far more of each other when we were married to other people, almost a different lifetime ago, when we both had fewer scars, before the trauma of the past few years. I’ve got a better wish. My wish is that I can make him happy, that I’ll be allowed to do that. At the moment, everything is an uphill battle for acceptance, dodging the grenades thrown at us from his own family, riding the wave of public contempt. I don’t desire to be a part of the Royal Family, I never have; I would happily flee the country and live out the rest of my life with him. A simpler life. No responsibilities. But it would break him and put the responsibility onto his son’s shoulders, shoulders far too young for that weight. So perhaps, instead, my wish is for the strength I’m going to need in order to make him happy when the world is desperate for us to be ripped apart. They don’t realise it’s far too late for that. We won’t be parted from each other now. I wrap my arms around him and pull him close to me. We are starting the new millennium as we mean to go on. Together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

1970, London

His body tenses as I wrap my arms around him but I ignore it and I feel his hands gently pat my back. “Do people not usually hug you, Sir?” I pull away, my eyes grinning at him. He is bright red, his cheeks so flushed they match the rouge of the wallpaper behind him. “Usually I initiate it. People don’t tend to assume they can hug me.” “How dull.” That makes him laugh, a little giggle which sets his face alight. This has been my challenge all evening, to see if I can make this very serious young man loosen up a little. The giggle is almost apologetic and he brings his hand up to his face to hide behind. I want him to laugh openly with me. I’m not sure why. Objectively, he’s very attractive, if you’re into princes. He’s got the education, certainly, some of the topics of conversation have tested me to my limits tonight but he seems to have enjoyed himself and he appears to have been a very good distraction from the mess my love life is currently in with my on-off boyfriend Andrew and his various conquests. Lucia, our mutual friend, was naughty but right to introduce us and her little soiree has been an unmitigated success.

“Careful you two,” Lucia draws on her cigarette to drastic effect, “you have genetic antecedence…” She blows the smoke out to form a perfect smoke ring and I’m more than a little impressed. “Sorry?” He’s really sweet when he’s confused. “I think, Sir, she was referring to the fact that my Great Grandmother was your Great-Great Grandfather’s Mistress…” That makes him blush, from his cheeks and up his ears. “He had a great many mistresses, which particular one are you referring to?” “Alice Keppel.” “Oh… That one. She was considerably more than just his mistress, wouldn’t you say?” “I suppose…” “According to my sources, she was the love of his life. You certainly had best watch out. I apologise in advance if I fall in love with you. I won’t be able to help it, you see. Genetic antecedence.” “She was also meant to be exceptionally good in bed.” Lucia’s drawl makes me cough out my own inhalation of smoke and turns his cheeks a deeper rose colour, although his eyes are sparkling at me. “Is that genetic too?” I laugh and watch his face break into a great smile. “Would you like to know? Or are you destined to be a virgin until you’re married?” “There are no rules about me being a virgin.” “How unfair.” “I guess it is, rather. Tell me this, Miss Shand, how is it that you are single when you talk such tantalising talk?” “Apparently others find me less attractive. Perhaps it’s all a facade and I become boring the more time you spend with me? Then you require more variety?” “Somehow I doubt you’re ever boring. Andrew’s an idiot, by the way. My sister is a wonderful woman but she will drop him like a stone when she’s finished with him.” The fact that he knows about me and Andrew shocks me but I don’t let it show on my face. Perhaps Lucia has told him. The other, inconvenient truth being that Andrew’s current squeeze is Princess Anne, is evidently public knowledge and I ignore the pang of pain which goes through me. “Oh, I’m quite sure he’ll survive. If he doesn’t already have someone else on the go, I’d be really surprised.” “Then it appears I meet you at a fortuitous time.” “How’s that?” “Well I take it that you’re very much ‘off’ with Andrew?” “Very much so.” “Hence the fortuity.” “Oh, well, I only had eyes for him and he only had eyes for everyone…” “That explains why you fell over a cliff.” I look at him, recognising the line and seeing his eyes looking at me, anxiously willing me to laugh, “You rotten swine, you!” “You have deaded me!” That does make me laugh. “Foiled by President Fred!” “Quick, get behind the screen, Gladys.” His mimicry is so on point, he leaves me with tears rolling from my eyes and I’m doubled over with laughter as he recites line after line of my favourite radio show with perfect accuracy. In the end, I have to stop him, to allow myself space to breathe and just looking at him sets us both off again, laughing all my makeup off. Neither of us noticed Lucia disappearing and it’s only her reappearance later which switches our conversation to something else.

I like the way he looks at me as if he’s searching for my approval when he speaks, checking that I agree before continuing. I can’t quite believe how funny he is and how interesting his stories are. I could listen to his soothing voice for hours. Not that I’d admit that. The time dissolves whilst we talk and I don’t notice the fading of the light, nor the various candles which appear around the room until we run out of time and Lucia shows us out of her flat. We saunter down one flight of stairs together. “Goodnight, Miss Shand.” That makes me giggle; it’s so antiquated and suits him to a tee. Now I can feel myself flirting with him. “Goodnight, Sir.” “I’ll walk you home.” “It’s just down the corridor. I can surely manage.” “I’ll walk you anyway.” “Then you’ll know where I live.” “Yes, I will.” “I’m not sure that’s entirely suitable.”

I can’t stop myself from flirting with him, batting my eyelashes, glancing at him sidewards, ensuring he sees that I’m looking. The darkness of the hall is illuminated by the glow from the moon as all the lights have gone out in the power cut, a sign of the times which is usually irritating, but today seems romantic. It makes his skin glow with a silver sheen and I want to reach up and touch his face. I don’t, of course. Instead, we linger by my door, leaning against the wall, talking, giggling quietly as I unsuccessfully attempt to desist with the flirting. “Can I kiss you goodnight?” “Of course not.” His question shocks me and I kick myself for my immediate knee jerk answer. “Well, would you come dancing with me?” “You’re a Prince. Can’t you just order me.” “Possibly. I’d prefer you not to come by force, however.” “Would take some of the fun out of it…” He giggles, nervously, and it makes me smile. I pretend to consider, my eyes meeting his and seeing the fear in them. “Not tonight.” “No, of course not. Tomorrow?” That makes me chuckle and I nod, turning the key in my door. “When shall I pick you up?” I shrug and slip into my flat. “Seven thirty?” “Yes.” “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I close the door in his face and smile to myself. I feel slightly giddy at the thought of him calling on me. This should be fun.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Chapter 3: To Learn is to Know

A/N: Enjoy!

Warnings: not a lot. Info dumping I guess 🤣

Word Count: 4.8k

Masterlist

When you got back to the cabin Hux went and stood near the fire pit looking out at the forest that bordered on the edge of your little garden.

“It’s still out there,” you called to him and he turned slightly. “The thing you landed in.” He looked back at the trees, hands clasped behind his back as the wind flared the tails of his greatcoat.

“Do you remember where?”

“Well it was dark,” you huffed at the weight of the bags before turning and kicking the rear door of your truck shut. “I’m sure we’d find it.”

He took a moment before almost reluctantly following you inside. You handed him the clothes and told him to go and make sure they fit. Moving around the kitchen you put away all the food and made another coffee before flopping down at the table and opening your laptop once more to stare at the blank document. You typed a sentence and instantly hated it, deleting it you tried again only to wince at yourself. The first sentence was always the hardest and let’s face it, your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes flickered up when the bedroom door opened and you inadvertently inhaled sharply at the sight. He had the smart shoes on, comfortably covered by the hem of those smart black trousers. You found yourself straightening in your seat, your gaze travelling up to the impeccably tucked in black shirt, the belt looped perfectly and was sitting nicely on his hips. He held his arms out as though testing the length of the sleeves before adjusting the cuffs with his long fingers to make them more comfortable. He’d left the top button undone, his hair drifted over his brow and you saw with a flip of your stomach he hadn’t shaved even though you’d grabbed him a razor.

“Do I blend in?” He asked haughtily.

“Yes,” you had to clear your throat and try again. “Yes, you look…” handsome? Just my type? Gorgeous? He looked up at you waiting for you to finish your sentence. “Good,” you finished lamely. Sinking down in your seat you bit your bottom lip as the scent of the aftershave you’d bought him wafted across to you making your entire body tense. “Do you like it?” You coughed subtly again trying to rid yourself of the husky tone to your voice. Your reaction was ridiculous.

“If it is your planet's custom to dress in this way then I have no choice.”

“Yes. Yes, it is our custom.” You tried to concentrate on the screen but it blurred as your eyes lost focus.

“Your clothes look more comfortable,” he pointed out, jealously eyeing your chunky knit cardigan and black leggings tucked into your thick thermal socks.

“Well I’m a Princess I can wear what I like.” He huffed lightly through his nose and went to stand at the window, looking at the outside world. He put a hand in his pocket and you felt yourself melting at the fine image before you, which was ridiculous.

“I need something to do,” he announced suddenly.

“What kind of things did you do in your down time on the ship?”

“I didn’t get down time,” he snapped. “What are you doing on the datapad?”

“It’s not a…” you were going to correct him but honestly it was pointless. “I’m trying to write a book but I can’t shift my block.” He came to look over your shoulder, his eyes roaming over the laptop and you desperately tried not to react to his closeness and sniff him.

“I wish to learn these,” he said, running a hand lightly over the keys. “Your written language is different to mine.”

“Wait,” you looked up at him with a surprised look. “It is?”

“We write in Aurebesh and speak Basic.”

“I speak English and write in English.”

“How…original.” You rolled your eyes at his dry tone.

“Let me dig out some pads and pens and we can get started.” You had some lined pads and a leather bound journal that someone had got you as a gift but you never got round to using it. Running upstairs and grabbing a couple of pens you skipped back down the stairs finally feeling like you weren’t the stupidest person in the room for a change. This put you both on an even level and you were going to show him you weren’t entirely useless. You made some coffee for you both, highly aware he watched what you did with a vigilant eye. The smell of fresh coffee made you smile as you settled back down at the table, moving the laptop out of the way and he accepted the cup you had filled for him. Sliding across the pad and pen you didn’t miss the slight set line in his lips, the subtle flex of his jaw and you knew something was wrong.

“What’s up?”

“Up?” He enquired, his nose wrinkling in a way that expressed his utter displeasure at something, which you kinda liked.

“Apologies General. What seems to be the problem?” You asked, trying to match his accent and he frowned clearly deciding if you were mocking him or not.

“I haven’t written for quite some time. All the higher ranking officers are taught of course. But I am afraid to say it is a skill I have let slide.”

“What do you do then?” You asked with a slight frown.

“Well everything goes into the datapad.”

“So you don’t write anything? No little notes or reminders, a shopping list?”

“No, no little notes, I don’t need reminders and I don’t need to do any shopping. The droids cook and the lower staff deal with all that.”

“How the other half live,” you mumbled. “Right well this is a pen and this is paper…” you watched as he curiously lifted a single sheet, the paper slipped through his fingers and drifted back to the bulk of the pad.

“How does the ink not bleed through such thin sheets?”

“Because it’s not that kind of ink. Watch,” you leaned over your paper clearly writing out the alphabet in capitals and you could almost feel his curiosity grow. “Now you,” you said pointing to his pad and he picked up the pen, twisting it between his pale fingers before finding a comfortable hold. He was slow, much slower than you but each mark on the paper was precise and finally he sat back. You put both pads together comparing the different alphabets. “You have 34, we only have 26,” you observed.

“These ones are combinations like cherek and enth.” He pointed to a combination of ch and ae. You listened as he spoke, drinking in everything he told you, watching the way his eye flitted over the paper only to hold your gaze in the next moment. You forced yourself to focus and not get lost in the intensity of his pale green eyes, or the way he subconsciously brushed his red hair out of his face. You had no idea how long the pair of you sat there comparing words and letter combinations until your stomach rumbled and you were forced to look at the time.

“We should eat,” you suggested leaning back in your chair and stretching. “Oh I did find this though.” You passed him the leather book. “Maybe you could make it into a journal you know, write about your time on Earth. So you don’t forget.” Me. You wanted to say it but something made you stop.

“That is very thoughtful,” he murmured and you turned before your face could give away how pleased you were. He moved over to stoke the fire like he’d seen you do before and you busied yourself in the kitchen making some pasta for dinner, trying not to watch him as he settled in a spot on the sofa already writing. He stayed there the whole time you cooked, curiosity niggled at you but you were fairly sure he was sketching something as well as making notes. Biting your lip you found yourself moving onto your tiptoes only to turn abruptly when he sat back with a sigh.

“Dinner,” you announced as you plated the food up and he came over to the table, the book under his arm when you laid the food and drinks down.

“There is one thing I do enjoy about this planet,” he commented. “It’s your cooking.” You felt the heat flare up in your body and cleared your throat slightly.

“My cooking is nothing special.”

“The food is much nicer than what I’m used to.”

“That’s what you get for letting droids cook,” you mumbled. To your surprise he nodded in agreement.

“You’re probably right, also our supplies are limited to the bare essentials. Just things the body needs to survive and nothing more.”

“It sounds rather miserable up there.”

“On the contrary. It’s the only place I’ve ever belonged. Leading the charge on planetary liberation. My troopers have the best training the Galaxy has ever seen, we aim to serve and provide. We offer aid to less wealthy planets, planets who cannot sustain themselves, planets on the brink of civil war and governmental collapse. Some planets are ravaged by crime, the Hutts, Crimson Dawn, Guavian Death Gang…”

“A death gang?” You exclaimed, swallowing the food too quickly and coughing abruptly.

“No one can withstand the might of the organisation I helped build,” as he spoke, his eyes misted over slightly. “Even the Resistance, no matter how hard they try.”

“How did you come to lead?”

“I was born into it. I took over from my father after he…unfortunately died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said quietly. The loss of your parents still hurt you even after all these years.

“Don’t be. My father was not what you would call ,conventional.” Frowning, you sipped the wine before asking your next question.

“How so?” He pushed some food around his plate, a tiny sneer lifting the corner of his lips.

“I don’t think I know you well enough to have that conversation,” he repeated what you’d said to him before and immediately you understood. You wanted to ask more questions but you’d both forced an unspoken rule on your trauma. Because that was no doubt what it was for him and he was probably the type to never admit it.

“What do you have for currency?” You asked, changing the subject and he attacked the topic with relish.

“The widely used currency is Credits. The Outer Rim territories use something known as Wupiupi. The First Order is aiming to unite the Galaxy under one organisation so then things like inter-currencies would be obsolete.”

“Your organisation?”

“Of course,” he responded quickly. “What about Earth?”

“We have so many different currencies, each country has its own form of money. We here in America have dollars but over in England they have pounds and in Europe they use the Euro. They are all worth different amounts too so what is, say, one dollar here would be something else entirely in China.” Hux drank in every word and you imagined he was itching to make a note of it in his journal.

“All on one planet?”

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, drinking some more wine.

“Nothing surprises me about this planet anymore. It’s so…different.”

“I would have thought you’d be used to different?” He seemed to ignore your question and carried on talking almost to himself.

“It’s almost like many planets have amalgamated on one rock and all learned to coexist. Fascinating.”

“So is Basic the most used language?” You wanted to keep him talking, to learn as much as you could even though none of it sounded real at all.

“There are too many languages to even know where to start. Each race has its own language, the Hutts have Huttese, the Twi’leks speak Ryl, Rodians have Rodese.”

“These aren’t…humans?” His jaw tightened and now you felt like you were annoying him, but his need to educate you drove him to keep talking.

“No. Humans are the most wide spread race in the Galaxy and what the Imperials and now the First Order are made up of.”

“So to find a whole undiscovered planet full of them is pretty shocking,” you chuckled, taking a sip of wine.

“That is certainly a resource I did not consider.”

“You can’t call humans a resource!” He drank from his own glass, his eyes on his plate.

“No I suppose not,” he finally murmured. The rest of the meal was finished in an awkward silence and you tried not to think too hard about who was sitting at your table. But everything he said was outlandish and unrealistic and yet he was so sure of himself. Getting up you held a hand out for his plate and he passed it over, watching as you moved over to the sink. You debated what to do next, you didn’t fancy sitting up in your room.

“Do you want to watch some tv with me?” You asked him drying your hands and seeing he had some notes in his journal already, all neat and precise.

“What kind of holovids do you have?” You shrugged, motioning for him to follow and flopped down on the sofa while he carefully sat in the armchair.

“What do you fancy? We have factual, fictional, magical, some based on real life. What did you watch on your, you know? The ship.”

“I never had time to waste on the holonet so I never got into anything. Mitaka used to tell me about something but the details escape me.”

“Mitaka? You had friends?”

“He was…is my Lieutenant.” You flicked through the channels trying to fight the urge to put something spacey on because he’d no doubt moan or point out some inaccuracies and you just wanted to relax.

“How about NCIS?”

“If you’d like.” You swung your legs up, pulling them to your body as you smirked lightly. Man could be a politician with his vague answers.

You got through two episodes before he opened his mouth, pointing out how they seemed to clearly break rules and protocol left right and centre. You leaned back to watch him gesticulate wildly at the tv, his third glass of whiskey balanced on his knee. It struck you how odd this all was but also how easily the pair of you had slotted together in your little cabin. Yes he gave the impression he was eccentric almost and some of the things he said blew your mind but you were enjoying having him in your space. Sometimes you wondered if he was just as lonely as you on that big space boat and that’s why you’d just settled into an easy rhythm so quickly.

You were starting to feel tired but he still seemed wide awake and you wondered if he slept. Glancing over at your laptop an idea formed in your mind and you strode over to pick it up off the counter. Hux looked up, interest flickering in his gaze.

“This is a computer, if you click here you can get the internet up and it has everything you could ever need to know about….Earth. Us. Humans.”

“I am a human.” Right.

“I meant Earthling humans you’re a…an arkanisian?” You winced as you butchered your way through the word.

“Arkanian.” You nodded, fully accepting the correction.

“I’m going to go to bed, feel free to browse what you like. Goodnight General.”

“I’d say, Armitage is just fine.”

“Armitage.” There was just the faintest clench of his jaw but it was swiftly followed by a forced smile which you guessed was progress. You trudged upstairs hoping he didn’t get into too much trouble while you slept.

—

The next day was cold, the threat of rain rumbled over the horizon and you scurried downstairs to rebuild the fire. Your steps slowed as you took in the scene before you, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit your nose and you saw the fire was crackling nicely.

Armitage was sitting at the kitchen table, his hair slightly tousled and he clutched a cup of coffee in his hands. He was still on your laptop, his eyes wide as he read the screen but what shocked you the most was Millicent. Your oaf of a pet was taking up his entire lap and he was running his long fingers through her soft downy fur. They both looked up as you stepped off the last step, one set of green eyes and one set of gold.

“Not the tooka you were expecting?” You asked, surprising yourself that you’d even remembered anything he said.

“Much more pleasant than a tooka. Also I figured out your caf contraption.” His voice sounded tired, a slight gravelly undertone and you shivered from the sound of it.

“Have you slept at all?” You asked even though you could guess at the answer. His shirt was looking a little disheveled, the top fastenings undone but he looked very relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived.

“No, I've been reading about Earth, your people, your history. Your lack of understanding.” You choked on the glass of water you were drinking but he ignored you. “You’ve only travelled to your moon? You send probes out into space and you still find nothing yet you have a telescope that can see other galaxies? How do you live like this? It’s so basic.”

“Basic?” You gasped still trying to clear your lungs of water.

“No droids, no intergalactic travel and yet you have all these sci-fi programmes that are all utterly preposterous. As if there are stargates and all the other stupid notions you Earthlings imagine. The only one that’s the closest to actual space travel is Star Trek.” He looked up at you from his rant taking in your slack jawed expression and let out a breath of annoyance.

“You really have been up all night.”

“The First Order would implement regulations that could make this a prosperous planet indeed. Mainly your food trade, you don’t really have anything else you can offer the Galaxy.” You sank into a chair still trying to process everything he’d previously said.

“You think we have nothing else to offer?”

“Your technology is rudimentary, your travel is archaic. The knowledge you possess is basic at best. I've seen some underdeveloped planets in my time but this is something else. I mean not even any planetary defence? How do you protect yourselves? How have you gone unnoticed for so long?”

“When you’re quite done insulting my home world,” you murmured, hiding your face in your hands as you leaned on the table. He snapped his mouth shut, still stroking your cat who purred shamelessly into his ear as she headbutted his cheek. “So you've come to the conclusion you’re stuck here?”

“It would seem so.” He looked resigned, his fingers tightening in Millicent’s fur but she just purred harder.

“You should probably go and sleep.”

“I find sometimes it is not a necessity.”

“Suit yourself. I thought we could take a walk today and see if we can find your pod.” Millicent mewled from his arms but made no move towards the bowl of food you were preparing. “Millie. Breakfast!” Her tail swished and she glared at you but still made no move away from Hux. “Stupid beast,” you sighed. “What did you think?”

“Do you have tools?”

“Of course I do. What do you think is in my shed out there?”

“In all honesty, I dread to even contemplate what could be out there.”

“Come and see for yourself but I would, ah, suggest a change of clothes.” He looked down at himself just as Millicent moved.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going into the forest and your nice shoes and thin trousers are not going to cope. I’d suggest your boots and the blue jeans I got you.”

“Is that what they’re called,” he grumbled, dislodging Millicent much to her displeasure.. You pulled your coat on and headed outside to the shed. The lock was slightly stiff but you were used to it, giving it a wiggle and finally the light of day flooded the small space. You had inherited all your dad and grandads tools and you didn’t have the heart to throw them away. You weren’t sure what tools he’d need or why so you just pottered about until he appeared like a looming shadow at the doorway. You swallowed discreetly at the sight of him in the t-shirt and Levi’s grateful that his greatcoat hid how form fitting they were on him, tapering off into his tall black boots.

“Welcome to my shed. What are you going to need?” You felt a little thrill at the way he meticulously picked up almost everything, eyeing the end or flicking his thumb over a certain tool. He looked to be running an internal monologue as he made his way round, passing screwdrivers and spanners of varying size, cable cutters, pliers, also a mini hook and pick set. You carefully put them in a canvas tool bag you found holding it open as he slipped more tools in. You heard him muttering to himself at one point as he concentrated, murmuring about parachutes and thrusters. You were not a very practical person, you had enough knowledge to get by, maybe put up a shelf and make furniture but this was next level and you felt your curiosity rise to new heights.

“I think that’s everything I might need.” He followed you back outside and you pointed in the general direction you remembered from that night.

“What are you going to do?”

“The technology within the escape pod belongs to the First Order,” he paused speaking for a second and all you could hear was the crunch of your feet over the stick ridden ground and the clank of the tools in your bag. “It could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“Right, alien tech. Gotcha.” Looking up at the trees you felt slightly disoriented in the day but you were fairly sure you could easily find your way. “Try and be quiet around here,” you whispered, peering through the trees. “There’s a bear that lives in these parts. I don't know how he’d feel about us visiting today.” You noticed that Hux moved with a fluidity you hadn't seen before. He suddenly became quieter than you, his eyes piercing the gloom between the trees and even his coat seemed to know not to snag any twigs and make extra noise.

“You need to teach me to do that,” you muttered.

“There is much I could teach you.” You rolled your eyes and continued to lead him deeper into the trees. The tracks from your truck the other day stopped abruptly but you carried on, picking your way and finally seeing the smooth alloy side of the capsule.

Armitage crouched before it, running a critical eye over the pod, the door was open still and you could see where nature had explored it. Muddy tracks were all over the glass and metal, even on the inside which you finally got a decent look at. It was large inside, able to house at least 6-8 people, seats lined the sides and one seat was near the front which you guessed was for a pilot. A panel of dials and buttons with what you assumed to be flight controls filled the front of the cabin.

“The parachute didn’t release. Being in the hyperspace lane must have fried the mechanism…how did you get me out?” He asked curiously.

“You don’t remember landing?”

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking would I?” He bit at you in exasperation.

“Well I saw it land, I followed the path of trajectory and when I got here you opened the door and rolled out. I ran back for my truck and managed to get you back to the cabin. You weren’t very responsive but you listened to some things I asked you.”

“Such as?”

“Can you hear me? Are you alright? The usual for someone who just fell out of the sky.” He looked up at you almost puzzled for a moment before rising gracefully to his full height.

“You didn’t ask me where I was from or question me for information?”

“Armitage, you’d just fallen out of the sky! You were bleeding and clearly suffering from concussion. Why would I then interrogate you?!”

“Knowledge is power.” He adjusted his gloves before ducking down to get into the pod. It frustrated you that he always seemed to assume the worst, almost as though he’d never been shown a kind hand. You got the impression this was a man that had to claw his way through life, fighting for every moment. You followed him, gingerly stepping inside and trying to take in everything at once. You were in a freaking spaceship! You touched the black panelled sides flinching when one opened automatically.

“Oh I’m sorry!” You cried out lifting your hands up as the panel fully opened and exposed what was inside.

“Bacta.” He told you absently. “It’s a med kit.”

“This is the famous bacta you tell me about whenever you get the chance?” He ignored you, ducking down under the control panel to rip open a section, wires of all different colours spilled from inside and deftly he began to unplug wires, separating some out.

“Clippers,” he demanded, holding his hand out and you complied with a soft sigh. You crouched down and just watched. Being the daughter of a practical man who almost built his house from the ground up you were aware of how skilled Hux actually was. He knew his way round this ship like he had a mental map in his mind and soon pieces were beginning to pile up between you. Dials, wires, buttons there was barely anything left on the control panel by the time he sat back in the seat.

As time passed you felt your attention drifting and you had taken to sitting near the door scrolling through your phone, still toying with the idea of telling Sage what was happening right now. You hadn’t heard from her in a couple of days and it was unusual but no news was good news you supposed. Next he moved around emptying the compartments letting out a huff of annoyance at a small cylinder in his hand. He pressed the button but only static sounded and he tossed it into the pile.

“What’s this?” You asked, freeing a black piece of fabric from under a seat. “A hat?”

“Yes. My hat.” You put it on, putting the hat at a jaunty angle you looked up at him and pouted slightly as you posed.

“How do I look?” He gave you a slight smile that turned up the corner of his mouth and you had to give him a brief one back. He looked so nice when he smiled.

“Like you’d fit right in,” he murmured, holding his hand out for it. Reluctantly you handed it over watching as he swiped a thumb over the insignia on the front. It matched the one on the sleeve of his coat.

“I feel like I’m going to need to get the truck to take all this back.” He glanced up and just nodded before going back to what he was doing. “Alright then,” you mumbled, turning and leaving him to his brooding.

To your surprise he helped you load the truck, you expected him to treat you like a worker and carry everything but he seemed to be relishing this task even if he barely said a word. You slammed the trunk shut watching as he positioned branches and leaves strategically over the pod to hide it from view.

“You say no one comes out here?” He asked firmly.

“Absolutely no one.” Hux looked around grimly, pulling a face of displeasure.

“I am still loathed to leave it here.”

“I promise Armitage, the only thing that could happen is a bear will find it and hibernate in it.”

“Not possible, the door only activates from the inside.” He followed you to the truck sliding in next to you.

“How do people get you out?”

“It’s to stop people pulling you out, what if I had landed on a hostile planet and the natives wanted to kill me? I could have stayed in the pod until my ship arrived and I would be rescued.”

“You talk about fighting and death like it’s a way of life,” you muttered.

“It is.” You debated asking him more but from the look on his face he was done talking.

[cutepastelstarsalior]

STFU about noir Peter being Felicia! You butthurt losers didn’t made an eye when marvel made norman and Gwen a thing! Nor do you care about that cancer ship known as spideypool! Learn to fuck off and stay away from other’s enjoyment!

Anon hate!! Wow….this is new.

Ok so, anon, I’m going to explain to you why I don’t like the whole noir being with Felicia thing, but first I’ll address the two other “ships”

Norman and Gwen thing. That from the Amazing Spider-Man comic, Sins Past. Not going into details, 1 Gwen was a teenager during that plot and is still bad since Norman was adult, and Gwen lost her dad..2 that comic was from 2004, and I don’t think many people know or read that issues, hence why many people “don’t make eye” with it. 3 literally so many people who read that issue hated that story plot that it became retcon. Aka not canon.

As for the spideypool, idk how the fanon works for the ship, but I do know in the comics both Peter and Wade are adults…

Ok noir stuff, mark for spoilers

Ok so the reason I don’t like it because in my other post, Noir is probably younger then 20.

This was around the time when Noir got bite and became Spider-Man

3 weeks ago, Ben was alive and he and Peter meet, then Ben introduces Peter to Felicia.

See this image? Yeah, she addressed him as kid and don’t believe he’s old enough to drink. Now before the Prohibition era (1920-1933) there wasn’t any legal age drinking law, but in the Prohibitions that change to have to be 21 to buy/drink alcohol. That mean in this comic, Peter is younger then 21.

Fast forward to Eyes comic, Peter been Spider-Man for 8 months. And in this comic, he and Felicity have sex.

Sure we can believe Peter had a birthday around this time, at best case he’s 21. At worst he 18. Felicity is an adult, who was had relationships before and is a sex worker, who slept with implied teen. Yeah I know felicity didn’t want to be in a relationship with Peter, and even tells Peter to find a nice girl to settle down (but then proceeds to tell Peter that if he needs to he can sleep with her again) but it’s still kind of weird to throw in a random sex scene that doesn’t really help with the plot???

“But wait! Peter and felicity had to sleep together, if they didn’t it wouldn’t have led to felicity becoming White Widow!!”

Felicity became WW after (drawing in a blank for the bad guys name) shifty boyfriend found Peter’s bloody shirt in the laundry basket. (After Peter got beat up by sandman) If you get rid of the sex scene and just have Felicity and Peter stay as friends who bonds over a mutual friend’s death and then work together, the whole felicity becoming WW would stay the same. Hell, it probably be more dramatic and sad, since after getting attacked by the shitty boyfriend, she didn’t want to be around Peter after that.

[diabollicallyangelic]

Here it is! My completed list of Lovejoy quotes that stuck to me :]

ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

------

[Taunt]

-

[One Day] 

"And time and time I play the empath, I don't know why"

"Oh baby, isn't life so fucking inconsistent."

[Sex Sells]

"So will you do what's easy? Or will you do what's right?"

"How's it feel to be so loved yet so alone?"

[Cause For Concern]

-

------

PEBBLE BRAIN

------

[Oh yeah, You gonna cry?]

-

[Model Buses]

-

[Concrete]

"All this, over a kiss."

"You know it's always the same, it's all just a game."

"How can you look at yourself in the windowpane without wanting to hit yourself."

[Perfume]

"Left your heart on standby"

"It seems like all our friends abruptly fell in love."

"So she learnt to lie, she learnt how to pretend."

"Why can't you be a dick? Why must you be so nice? It's hard for me to move on when I don't really hate you."

[You'll Understand When You're Older]

-

[The Fall]

"I look to all of you and see a different fucking species"

[It's All Futile! It's All Pointless!]

"I lost the passions that comes with living."

"I don't miss you. I miss the thought of what we were."

"Cause this is the part where I shut up, and let you infest my brain."

"You'll never get rid of me. Oh, I'm like a fucking disease."

"And what was your thoughts when you realized you'd never feel naive love again? Was it pain or was it sickness? Were you proud of who you'd been?"

"You held his hand, it felt like flying. Now he's just another man."

"It's okay, anything to make me feel less numb."

------

WAKE UP & ITS OVER

------

[Portrait of a Blank Slate]

"I feel at some point I broke my mind. I'm always searching, the silent type."

"How do you all make it look so easy? You open your hearts up so quickly, it scares me."

[Call Me What You Like.]

"You can call me what you like, as long as you call me."

"And you could kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good."

"Just place your bets on who's lost their minds"

"I'm not made for you, but what else is new?"

"This just in; I am a total fucking dumbass."

"I'll be spending the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia."

"And I'll proceed to bang my head on every doorway and doorframe you seem suitable for us to go through."

"I'm not paranoid, I'm a realist."

[Consequences]

"Do you ever feel like you fell off, for about a year?"

"Cause I haven't slept in about a week, I stay up thinking I will die."

"I wish I tried more, wish I tried more, wish I tried."

"Whats this? The consequences of my actions now?"

[Warsaw]

"She's broken up with him inside her head. She's just waiting for the moment, the precious moment, to let him know."

"I hate to say I told you, but your habits wreck your head."

"You can try and try but you're just a cog in a machine."

"Apathy comforts me like a cell comforts an inmate."

"It won't get better, I assure you. Make no mistake, we're all going to end up in the dirt."

[Scum]

"I feel I've reached the end before I've reached death"

"I'm scum, I'm waist, I'm what you want."

[It's Golden Hour Somewhere]

"Is this what it's worth?"

"They'll tell you this is normal. They'll tell you this is love."

"They'll sell you the rope by which you'll hang yourself."

"I'm not sure if the stuff I want is even worth the price it costs."

"So tell me, is it normal, To totally lose your mind? I won't announce my sheer descent but holy FUCK there will be signs."

------

[Knee Deep at ATP]

"They say, it's not what you like it's what you're like as a person."

"Well I need new hobbies, that's one thing for certain."

------

------

[Normal People Things]

"Oh, what a blessing to meet someone like you. With eyes as dead as mine, it's fine."

-------

[akuaya-stories-tl]

Angel of Sorrow Sings of Love, Chapter 4

Fiori: We couldn't find Seramu...

Kai: Miss Fiori. Please stop there.

[rustle]

... You're hiding in the grass's shadow, aren't you? Come out now.

[gets out of the tall grass]

Seramu: Mister Angel...

Fiori: Thank goodness, Seramu...! We were worried about you.

Kai: Why did you act rough to Snow back then?

Seramu: ...I don't know.

Kai: You don't know—

Seramu: I really don't know...! I somehow get annoyed and my mind goes blank!

Even though I know I shouldn't have done that. Even though Snow is my important little brother, he's my only family now...

Kai: Little brother... I see, so you two are siblings.

Seramu is regretting his actions. He couldn't control his emotion, and ended up harming his brother...

???: Poor you...

Kai: Mr. Director...?

Institute Director: Seramu, you've thrown heartless words towards Snow before, haven't you?

The reason why you hate your precious brother is because you've been possessed by a "bad heart".

If this continues, the "bad heart" will grow out of control. We need to treat it immediately, shall we do counseling first?

Seramu: A-Alright... If it can get rid of my "bad heart"...

Institute Director: Excellent. Let's go to the consultation room then.

Kai: ...Please wait. Is there really a way to change a heart that easily?

Institute Director: Indeed. Please leave it all to me. Seramu will soon become a "good child".

Kai: ...

Tis: Ah, Kai. You're here! Did you find Seramu?

Kai: We did. We're waiting for him to finish his counseling session with Mr. Director now.

Tis: ...! You mean the counseling—

[door opened]

Seramu: Bad children aren't needed... This world doesn't need them...

Kai: Seramu, how are you?

Seramu: M-Mister Angel...!? I-I've acted like a good kid...!

Kai: This is...

Miss Fiori, could you bring Seramu to where Snow is? I'm sure he wants to apologize now.

Fiori: Oh, you're right... Come on Seramu, let's go make peace with Snow.

Seramu: Okay...

Kai: Master Mere, I have a matter to talk to you.

Mere: ...A counseling to turn them into good children, huh.

Kai: Even for Angels, we cannot control others' emotions on a whim. It's impossible for a mere human to remold someone's heart that freely.

There's definitely something weird with that Director...

Tis: About that, Kai. We've heard something from Snow—

Tis: —There are also kids who have had a similar problem with Seramu before?

Snow: Yeah. Each of those kids also received a counseling session from the Director.

Soon they stop causing problems, but on the other hand, they also stop looking so energetic anymore...

Before anyone knows, they all disappeared from the hospital...

Tis: Don't you think this is weird?

Kai: I don't want this bad feeling to be true, but it seems like this place is using the children for something sinister.

Mere: Aah... Mere is moved. You two perceived through the lies, and grabbed a hold over the truth... Both of you have truly grown.

Kai: ...Master Mere, you know all of this since the very beginning. You also have been watching over the Director's actions, haven't you?

Mere: Mere is sorry for keeping quiet all this time, but Mere thinks it's also important to watch over on the sideline for the sake of your growth.

That man invites his patients over a session of counseling. There, he forces them to sign a malicious consent form. And then, he nips off their precious lives.

Mere is guessing he sold those farmed souls to the Devil Realm. It looks like he's filling his own pocket by making a deal with the Devils.

Tis: Uwah, he's done some low-life things~

Kai: ...The word low-life can't even begin to describe it.

Master Mere. Purifying the Earth is also an Angel's important duty, am I right?

Mere: Indeed. Let us rain down Heaven's judgement to the one with the haughty soul.

[To Be Continued...]

[always-andromeda]

Meda please tell me why I keep having a dream about getting knocked up by Joby Taylor and us trying to co-parent. Like. It’s always a mess but we pull together for the kid and there’s tenderness and anger and fights (I wasn’t going to tell him about the baby he found out) and. Why. Why does my brain want this

𝐉𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: lmao poor baby stomping storm is gonna get a notification that I used one of his gifs and it's for this. I am sorry, my beloved. but I couldn't not use one of your gifs; they are too beautiful <3 also lmao thank you, delaney, for giving me an excuse to share these headcanons bc I also think about this kind of scenario all of the time. because truly. this has no right living rent free in my head.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: vague allusions to sex, pregnancy, Joby is a clueless dad (and I guess we're just eating that slop up), nothing else I can think of!

One usually doesn't try to purposely entangle themselves with Joby Taylor. Joby Taylor merely happens to you. One day you're internally groaning over how he's looking at you from under his heavy eyelids and baring that smug smile from across the bar and the next you're holding a positive pregnancy test and debating whether or not you tell him.

You decide not to. There's no reason to get him involved. He'd probably want you to get rid of it anyways, and you're not interested in that. So you go radio silent.

But Joby isn't entirely clueless. He notices how you seem to be distancing yourself. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but when you don't answer his calls, he gets that pang of jealousy. He wonders for a moment if you might be seeing someone else.

Though he's far from being exclusive with you, something about that makes him twitchy. He likes to believe that you wouldn't need anyone else other than him. So, he becomes clingy. In an attempt to figure out why you won't see him, drink with him, or sleep with him anymore, he'll go directly to you.

And you'll never forget the dumbstruck expression on his face when he starts saying that he's been calling you for weeks, only to be caught off guard by the small bump that's forming on your belly. Now, he is intimately familiar with your body. And he knows that isn't just a pouch of fat.

Joby flies into hysterics. He'll exclaim, "Wait a second, what the fuck is that?"

Don't even bother trying to beat around the bush with him because he will straight up demand to know, "Is it mine?"

And though he hopes that the answer is no, he knows deep down in his bones that he would never be lucky enough to dodge that bullet.

When sent into fight or flight, Joby's first urge is to flee; to protect his ego. The old Joby who had never met his first child and who only cared about his career wouldn't have given a second thought before waving you off and going his own way. The easy way.

But he isn't the old Joby anymore. And as much as he loathes his truth, he resolves that he must live it regardless. For the benefit of you and this child, he'll be there.

Him being there is difficult, both for him and you.

First of all, getting him to quit smoking and getting him to drink less would be a feat. Drying Joby out is worse than most symptoms of pregnancy. Because he's stubborn, he'll insist that he needs it and only begins to soften when you remind him that you want the baby to grow up in a sober home.

Decorating the baby's room and preparing with all of the supplies you'll need, he mostly leaves that bit to you. He'd watch you paint the bedroom with a blank expression, just watching the pastel blue slowly cover over the plain white walls; a sign of the times if he'd ever seen one.

When you start to wobble on the ladder, he'll break from his trance and rush to your side, quietly chuckling about how he thought your balance would be better with the low center of gravity and everything.

You'd give him a little grimace, knowing full well that you look different now and hating that he seems to be aware of it too.

But if there's one thing that Joby doesn't struggle with, it's the way that bump grows through the months. Bodies are bodies in his eyes. He doesn't really have a preference exactly.

As long as he can still figure it out similar to how he did before you were pregnant, he'll be happy. And in that way, Joby is the most comforting through those insecurities; after all, he will never pass up the opportunity to tell you that you're not his favorite MILF before giving you a cheeky, sloppy kiss.

Actually raising the baby is the really difficult part, obviously. A life on the road with his bandmates really hasn't put him in the prime position to know what to do when the baby needs to be changed or burped or fed or nurtured in almost any way.

That leaves you teaching him as you go for the first few months. It also means that there's lots of conflicts. Not a week goes by where you're not arguing with him over him not doing his fair share to keep everything running.

The way that he apologizes is...unconventional...to say in the least. He expects you to read between the lines. Getting a verbal, "I'm sorry," takes a lot. He shows his remorse through random trips to the gas station convenience store on the corner and bringing you back your favorite snack and drink. He also shows it through offering physical touch.

Because Joby loves touching. Whether it's him rubbing your shoulders and easing the tension from your muscles with his skilled fingers or it's him rubbing a climax out of you at the end of the night; he hates the idea of you going to bed angry at him.

He'll lay in bed, watching the back of your head and wishing he had a clue what was going on in it. At least when you're relaxed under his hands, there's a better chance that there's no seeds of bitterness being sown inside of you.

That's another pill that's hard for him to swallow. He hates thinking that he's ruined your life. He's done it once before; and though Claire seemed to be just fine the last time he saw her, he'll never get over the fact that he brought life into the world and ignored it for the longest time.

Some of that guilt helps to fuel his efforts. It's what brings the deals into fruition. Because making those little promises forces him to keep his word and keeps him accountable.

"I'll clean up the baby food if you get the baby in the bathtub."

"Deal."

"How about you cook dinner and I'll do the dishes?"

"Deal."

"Let me take a nap for an hour while you play with the baby."

"Deal."

Each deal gets sealed with a handshake and maybe a kiss if he's lucky. Because at the end of the day, you're a team. You're in this thing together. And no matter what you feel for him, you're both determined to do right by this kid.

Joby does something that he never thought he'd do: he settles into a stable routine. One that doesn't include any substances or blackouts or lapses in judgment that make him hate himself. Through hard work and dedication, Joby becomes a functioning human being; a man who is actually trying his best.

And as much as he once hated the idea of planting himself firmly, he doesn't mind being potted right beside you. With the way you bloom, Joby makes sure that even during the moments where you don't like each other that much, you still respect each other. And Joby hopes that'll never change. Because maybe he didn't ruin your life. Maybe, though, you saved his.

[citrous241]

Ok we need to talk about this suit.

TLDR here: It kinda sucks. Here are my ideas to improve it:

1) Cover the hair, at least partially

2) Put the hood up, or just remove it if the hair is fully covered

3) Make the mask black

4) Add red webbing to the mask

5) Make the blue lines on the torso thinner and double the amount of them

6) Give the torse the colour of the black and red suit style

7) Connect the blue lines on the legs to the torse ones

8) Recolour the Adidas for the love of God

It's another outlandish Insomniac endgame suit. I personally like Anti-ock but ik it's not the best Spider-man design. In Spider-man 2 (which I haven't played yet I just do not care about spoilers) I thought they'd actually improved with Peter's Anti-venom suit. It's objectively a good suit, an original idea and a cool design. And just like the Anti-ock suit, we see it's creation and it's background and all of the steps and reasons for it's creation.

Then Miles just lands next to Peter in this flaming mess.

Like, I don't hate it because I'm not the kind of person that hates media really. But it's the closest thing I'll tell you that. It suffers from over-design, I don't even think MCU suits are over-designed so me admitting that this suit is shows you how bad it is.

We're gonna start from the top; the hair. Now Miles's hair out on his suit can work, and I get that he wants to show off his snazzy new haircut - but not like this. Its so out of place with the rest of the costume. His hair out can look good, as one of my favourite suits in the game and the only good deluxe edition suit imo is this:

The hair is dyed to match the suit's colours and with the hood it makes it not so overpowering. The worst thing is the Evolved suit has a hood, and it's just there. The hood looks like a hoodie, but it's fully a part of the spandex costume to??? Like what??

Next: the mask. Why did they get rid of the face webbing? That's one of the major defining features of a Spider-man costume. All the good ones have some form of it or at least a few lines to signify it. Here: nothing. Just this weirdly itchy-looking mesh-like grey. It's just bland and makes the rest of the suit looks worse.

The torse looks extreme but next to the blank mask it looks even worse. The blue lines are cool, but it's really hard to unsee them are being 4 legs for the spider logo. It's supposed to be their outlines as the legs but I have to force myself to see it. Other than that it's probably the least terrible section of the suit.

The legs are fine really, I don't like that the blue lines on the side just start randomly and don't connect to the other ones at all even though the rest are all connected to each other. I've heard people say that it suffers from the whole thing of Insomniac just never detailing legs, which is true they do do that.. for Peter. Miles has always had just plain black legs, in fact this suit gives more detail to the legs.

And the shoes. They're another thing that clashes to go along with the hair and mask. I did find it kind of weird that people hated him wearing these shoes. They're not bad shoes, and people loved when Miles wore Jordans in Spider-verse. But that's what I was saying before Adidas started selling the whole suit for about $400 total. That, combined with the fact that the shoes also will not change depending on the suit style and the fact that the only real store in the entire game is a high definition Adidas store is just... yikes.

And finally, the reason for it existing:

None, there's nothing. It has no reason. Miles just appears wearing it. And his reason is because he wanted his own original suit. Was he not there when he made his own suit in Spider-Man: Miles Morales? The one that actually looked good? And its not even original it literally has a Peter colour scheme. The red, blue and white being the main colours?

So that's Miles's new suit; a loud and ugly design, with each component painfully clashing with each other, no rhyme or reason for it's existing other than "to be orginal" even though it looks like every deviantart spider-sona in existence. And the cherry on top its a walking advertisement for a clothing brand. Bruh.

And now it may actually be Miles's permanent suit going forward?! It's the only endgame suit that wasn't taken off when the evil was defeated. Ig Peter can't really take off Anti-Venom but he's retired now.

I'm still gonna play Spider-man 2 when it drops on PC. And tbh this is the only thing I think is bad and its an optional cosmetic. That's pretty good going Insomniac.

[dearestaeneas]

a mini-series of short horror stories, inspired by the fears my friends have shared with me. [SPECIAL!]

I’ve debated uploading this one for a while now, and if it even counts under the categorization I’ve created for myself with this mini-series. This one is for me! The conflict I feel with it is that it isn’t necessarily a fear, but it falls in line with a lot of the themes I like to add to my horror! So who can really say. (Me. And I can only say “I’m conflicted” so many times before one of you comes and beats me to death with a hammer. So here we are).

My other issue here is the fact that in my duties as a real life freelance archivist (every day I appreciate how funny my title is) I’ve been relistening to/finally properly finishing Magnus, and I hit MAG 74: Fatigue and went, “oh, fuck, @jonnywaistcoat wrote about my own thing better than me” and had that all-too-human experience of remembering You Have Never Had An Original Thought. [I say, as if being Jonny Sims when I grow up isn’t the goal. Why else would I take the chance of bothering that cool guy like this. Get REAL]

But anyway! Here’s my own thing! Maybe eventually I’ll do an actual fear of mine! Something else is coming on Halloween, so take this now! Consider it a way to celebrate TMA 2! Wheeee!

---

The man downstairs isn’t my friend. I feel that I should start with that, above all else. What we have isn’t friendship.

I don’t remember when I first met him, although I do remember the first time I saw him downstairs. It was late, a time of day popular for stories such as this. Everyone was asleep. To be the only person awake in a slumbering house is a different kind of loneliness. A safety net exists, but utilizing it feels worse. You respect tiredness, you feel it yourself.

Tip-toe down the stairs, listen to their screaming protests despite your care. The lights in the living room are off, the hallway is black, and yet the pin-prick of light from the oven acts as a beacon. We glide through the hall towards that heavenly yellow-stained circle, thinking of the treats that await us: a full water bottle, maybe even a snack depending on our need for adventure at that moment. So enveloped in this walking dream, I almost didn’t see him. He sat at the kitchen table, between me and the light that was no longer warm and inviting. He was handsome, I think. A crisp black suit, a hauntingly white dress shirt. Dark hair. Forgettable.

Forgettable, and yet, I know him. Why do I know him? He watches. Are his eyes dark? They look like mine, I think. I think. He’s hard to ignore, but you do. Filling a water bottle, checking that the oven is OFF. You forgot once. You all forgot. Is the oven OFF? We go upstairs. He stays.

Every night. The house is quiet. Dead. You aren’t. I never talk to him. I think about it, though. Every night. I wonder what his voice sounds like. He always looks the same. Dark suit, perfect snow-white dress shirt, dark hair, familiar eyes. Blank face.

“What did you do today?” He asks. Our conversations are always mundane. “How did it go for us?” A smile. I don’t know his smile. I imagine it’s like the Cheshire Cat. “Not great,” I reply. “Good!” I replied. “I can’t do this,” I will reply.

I don’t think he wants to do this. I don’t think he wants this. I can’t let myself believe this is what he wants. I don’t know what our relationship is.

I no longer have a downstairs. He still sits at the kitchen table. What do I call him now? He sits. He watches. He whispers. We still don’t speak, and yet: “Are you sure?” “Tell me.” “Speak.”

Do I hate him? Do I need him?

He sits comfortably. If I were to sit and share a dinner, would I be comfortable? Most likely not. He is perfect. He is too at ease. This is not his home. I do not know this familiar man who has my eyes.

I would kill to be rid of him. The question of “who?” changes with the wind. Spite would say him. Justice would say him. Anger and despair and embarrassment would say him. He would say me. Self preservation is a concept he does not know. He only knows me. A kind of sadness fills your chest. The sadness of seeing a child lost in a grocery store- we pity helplessness. And yet, this child does not need me. This child does not care if I live or die. This child is simply using me, making me its vessel.

I do not know my relationship to the man downstairs.