#i love the look and construction of her pieces but i always have to ignore them when they show up in my feed cause i am not doing all that

[muirneach]

petite knit makes some very good and clean looking patterns and her works always have lovely drape and fabric but without fail the patterns are always yarn held together lace/fingering. and i see why she does it and it looks very good. but is she allergic to just using one type of yarn at once

[rosquinn]

One of my Dorian Gray hot takes is that there was absolutely nothing in Dorian and Basil's relationship that was healthy. I keep seeing posts like "Basil's love for Dorian was so pure, that's why the portrait was so pretty and the real villain of the story is Wotton because he corrupted it"

As I see it, yes, Wotton did corrupt him, but saying Basil's feelings for Dorian were pure is simply inaccurate to the story. Basil says himself he merely sees Dorian as an artistic ideal [Dorian Gray is to me simply a motive in art. I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. That is all; ch1] and admitted he (a 10 year older man, who had power over him) tried to isolate him from other people and "keep him to himself". Furthermore, Basil also plays a big role in the way Dorian sees himself and his beauty, by painting him everyday and not maintaining any conversation with him, he's indirectly reaffirming what Wotton tells him: people only care about you because you're pretty and young. There is also this scene from the second chapter:

Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. "I believe you would, Basil. You like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.

The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak like that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was flushed and his cheeksburning.

"Yes," he continued, "I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses one's good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself."

Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. "Dorian! Dorian!" he cried, "don't talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have suchanother. You are not jealous of material things, are you?-you who are finer than any of them!"

Dorian is even dealing with a suicidal ideation over what Wotton has told him and the way Basil sees him, he needs emotional validation, he's asking to be told there's more than him than that, and Basil's reaction is just─ no. You're prettier than any other object (indirectly comparing him to one, too).

Basil's view of Dorian influences how he sees people as much as Wotton's. For example, to Dorian Sybil was only what she pretended to be, he loved her performance, her acting, how she did exactly what the public wanted (which can apply to Dorian himself), not the real her. She was only an artistic ideal to him, she meant to him exactly what Dorian meant to Basil. He ignored her desires, pain and everything not related to what he wanted to see, since that's what he's been taught he must appreciate.

I also disagree with the interpretation of the portrait as a "pure" reflection of Basil's love (I would personally rather describe it as an obsession, though) and Dorians soul because it's not. At least not entirely. Part of the point of the book is that everyone only saw the part of Dorian they wanted: the portrait represents Basil's idolized version of him, what he wanted to see and how he refused to see Dorian as a person instead of an artistic ideal. That's why he tried to make him redeem himself, because he hated seeing his version of Dorian shatter into pieces. It was never Dorian entirely, not even after aging terribly because that's the result of Basil and Wotton's influence. The portrait was not his real soul, it was a modified version of it other people played with because nobody cared about the whole thing, and the influence was so big those parts became his whole being. It was just an idolized, molded version at first but turned into his real self with the time and the sins. Dorian's soul (the portrait) was constructed upon what others appreciated about him, so when Wotton motivated him to sin, because Dorian's potential to be terrible was what mattered to him, it became ugly and terrible. There was absolutely nothing pure about that portrait since day 1.

[highhhfiveee]

mint

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: you’re abby’s mint chocolate-loving babysitter. mike takes notice. wc: 1.3k tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff. *minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is* a/n: oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike!  i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night 

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max). 

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert. 

���you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world. 

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face. 

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please." 

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more." 

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's. 

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike. 

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly. 

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs. 

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave. 

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something. 

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret. 

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously? 

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey." 

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet." 

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet. 

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off. 

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car. 

you didn't know how long you could go on like this. 

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader)  all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

[elryuse]

THE SCENT OF JASMINE FLOWERS

WONYOUNG X MALE READER X GAEUL

TAGS : LOVE TRIANGLE, CHEATING WONYOUNG, LIGHT YANDERE GAEUL, ANGST, HAPPY END, FLUFF

The city lights blurred past the taxi window, a kaleidoscope of neon mirroring the turmoil within me. Each raindrop hitting the pavement echoed the hammering in my chest. Wonyoung was gone, not physically – she still shared our apartment, a ghost haunting its familiar walls – but emotionally, her heart stolen by a cruel mirage.

Sunghoon. The name felt like a curse word on my tongue. He was everything I wasn't – loud, flashy, the center of attention. Wonyoung, my sunshine, my Wonyoung, had been lured by his supernova glow, leaving me in the cold, desolate space he left behind.

We were the perfect couple, or so everyone thought. Public appearances, stolen kisses on award shows, our social media a testament to a love people envied. But behind the curated feed, cracks had begun to show. Her lingering glances at Sunghoon, the whispered conversations during interviews I couldn't decipher.

I buried my head in the sand, clinging to the illusion of our happiness. Until the day I saw the message. A careless text left open on her phone, a single sentence that shattered our carefully constructed world.

"Meet me tonight, baby. Can't wait to see you again."

The phone slipped from my grasp, crashing onto the coffee table like a gunshot. The once-sweet scent of her perfume in the air turned suffocating.

Days bled into weeks, a hollow space where Wonyoung used to be. Calls went unanswered, texts ignored. The guilt gnawed at her, I knew, her apologies echoing in a phone call that replayed on a loop in my mind. But the words, laced with a desperation I no longer recognized, rang hollow.

My saving grace, my lighthouse in this storm, was Gaeul. Wonyoung's best friend, always a presence on the periphery of our relationship. Now, she was the constant by my side, a silent pillar of support.

Nights were the worst. Sitting in the living room, the echo of our laughter bouncing off the walls like a cruel ghost. Gaeul would sit beside me, a warm presence against the chill that enveloped me. Her hand, a grounding force.

One night, as sobs wracked my body, a flicker of something new sparked in her eyes. Not pity, but a hesitant understanding. A silent confession we both acknowledged but couldn't yet voice.

Wonyoung returned, a broken bird with tear-streaked cheeks. Her apologies were a torrent of words, a desperate attempt to rewind time. But the pieces of our love were scattered, impossible to reassemble.

My heart, once overflowing with love for the girl with sunshine hair, was now a barren landscape. The thrill she craved had left her empty, the excitement a fleeting mirage.

Gaeul was different. Her love was a quiet flame, a steady warmth in the storm. Her eyes held a depth I hadn't noticed before, a quiet strength that complemented my own.

As Wonyoung packed her things, a ghost leaving the life she'd built, a flicker of hope ignited within me. It wasn't the same fierce love I once held for Wonyoung, but it was a spark nonetheless.

Looking at Gaeul, her hand resting on mine, I finally found the words that had been lost, choked by sorrow.

"Gaeul," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I think… I think I might be falling for you."

The rain outside had stopped, replaced by a sliver of moonlight peeking through the clouds. A new beginning, fragile but hopeful, stretched before me. The love I once had for Wonyoung, a vibrant flower, might have wilted, but from its ashes, a different kind of love bloomed. A quiet love, a steady flame, waiting to be nurtured.

Timeskip

The scent of jasmine, once a sweet reminder of Gaeul's calming presence, now made my stomach churn. It clung to the air like a ghost, a stark contrast to the cloying perfume that filled the apartment when Wonyoung reappeared.

"Y/n," she breathed, her voice trembling like a teardrop. She stood in the doorway, my name a soft plea on her lips. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The Wonyoung I knew, the vibrant sunshine girl, was gone, replaced by a fragile wisp of a woman desperate for redemption.

"Wonyoung," I mumbled, unsure of what to say. Gaeul was away for the weekend, visiting her family. A selfish part of me, a flicker of the love that still flickered like a dying ember, welcomed this unexpected visit.

"Can I come in?" she pleaded, her voice a mere whisper. I hesitated, the image of Gaeul, her hand intertwined with mine, flashing in my mind. But Wonyoung's watery eyes were too much to bear.

"Just for a bit," I muttered, stepping aside.

She moved like a wisp, collapsing onto the couch I used to share with Gaeul. The scent of jasmine mingled with the heavy perfume, creating a suffocating mix.

"I miss you, Y/n," she confessed, her voice barely audible. "I miss us."

My heart clenched. The memories flooded back – stolen kisses in backstage corridors, whispered secrets under a blanket of stars. But that time had passed, replaced by Gaeul's quiet strength, her unwavering support.

"Gaeul..." I started, but she cut me off.

"Gaeul is kind," she said, her voice laced with something bitter. "But she doesn't understand you like I do."

She took a step closer, her hand brushing against mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, a betrayal of the fragile peace I'd found with Gaeul.

"We could try again, Y/n," she whispered, her voice husky. "Forget Sunghoon, forget everything. We can be like we were before."

Her words were a siren song, a desperate attempt to rewind time. The Wonyoung I once loved stood before me, but the ghost of Gaeul's hurt loomed large.

"Wonyoung..." I began, searching for the right words.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Gaeul stood there, framed by the entrance, a dark cloud behind the veil of her hair. Her face, usually radiating warmth, was set in a mask of cold fury.

"Gaeul," I stammered, the air thickening with tension.

Wonyoung, sensing the shift in atmosphere, whipped around, her eyes widening in surprise.

"What's going on here?" Gaeul asked, her voice devoid of its usual gentleness. It was a voice I'd never heard before, a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

Wonyoung, flustered, stammered an explanation. But Gaeul cut her off, her gaze fixed on me.

"Y/n," she said, her voice a chilling whisper. "Is everything alright?"

The question hung in the air, an accusation disguised as concern. The possessiveness in her voice, the way she clung to the words "everything alright" like a lifeline, was unsettling.

"Yes," I lied, my voice thin. "We were just… catching up."

Gaeul's gaze never left me. It was an intense scrutiny that made me feel like a bug pinned under a microscope. The jasmine scent, which once offered solace, now felt like a suffocating prison.

Wonyoung, sensing the hostility, opted for a graceful retreat. Mumbling a quick goodbye, she practically flew out of the apartment, leaving an unsettling quiet behind.

Gaeul turned to me, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions. The love, the possessiveness, the anger – it all swirled together in a terrifying cocktail.

"Don't let her manipulate you again, Y/n," she hissed, her voice tight with barely concealed rage.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. The Gaeul I knew, the comforting presence, seemed to have vanished. In her place stood a woman I didn't recognize, a woman consumed by a love that had turned possessive.

The night that followed was a blur of accusations and justifications. My apartment, once a haven of peace, became a battleground. The love triangle that had started with Wonyoung's infidelity had now morphed into a suffocating web of possessiveness, with Gaeul as the spider at its center.

As the sun peeked through the blinds, casting harsh light on the wreckage of the night, I knew things couldn't go on like this. My once cozy apartment, filled with shared laughter and the scent of Gaeul's jasmine tea, now reeked of tension and the cloying perfume Wonyoung had worn.

Gaeul sat on the couch, her back ramrod straight, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Gone was the gentle touch that used to comfort me, replaced by a cold, unyielding demeanor.

"Gaeul," I started, my voice hoarse. "We need to talk about this."

She finally looked at me, but not in the way I craved. Her eyes, usually sparkling with warmth, were hard and calculating.

"What is there to talk about, Y/n?" she spat. "Wonyoung just waltzes back in after breaking your heart, and you're ready to fall for her all over again?"

"No," I said, trying to defend myself. "I just... I don't know what happened last night. It was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Her lips turned into a thin line. "Sorry doesn't fix things, Y/n. You need to make a choice. Me or her."

The ultimatum hung heavy in the air. The Gaeul I knew wouldn't have issued such an order. This possessive stranger felt like someone I barely recognized.

"Gaeul," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "We haven't even…"

"Haven't even what?" she snapped. "Haven't confessed our feelings? We've been there for each other through everything, Y/n. Isn't that enough?"

Her voice cracked on the last word, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the facade. But the possessiveness remained, a dark cloud clouding her love.

The truth was, it was enough. Gaeul's unwavering support had been a lifeline during the storm of Wonyoung's betrayal. Yet, the way she was acting now felt suffocating. Did I love Gaeul? In the aftermath of Wonyoung's heartbreak, maybe it was a form of gratitude, a comfort zone I'd settled into.

"Gaeul," I tried again, "I need time."

Her eyes narrowed. "Time for what, Y/n? To run back to Wonyoung's arms the moment she bats her eyelashes at you?"

"No," I said, more firmly this time. "Time to figure out what this is, between us. This possessiveness… it scares me."

The anger in her eyes flickered momentarily, replaced by a flicker of sadness. "Is that all I am to you, Y/n? Just a possession to be claimed or discarded?"

My heart ached. The Gaeul I knew wouldn't have spoken like this. The love that bound us, now twisted by her possessiveness, threatened to unravel completely.

"Gaeul, you're not just a possession," I said, trying to reach her. "You're my friend, my support system. But… but this isn't healthy. We both need space."

She stood up abruptly, her movements jerky and tense. "Fine," she spat, the word laced with hurt and anger. "Have your space, Y/n. Just don't come crawling back to me when you realize you threw away the good thing you had right here."

With that, she stormed out of the apartment, leaving me alone with the ghosts of the night and the deafening silence in its wake.

The following days were a blur. Neither Gaeul nor Wonyoung contacted me. The space I'd craved felt more like a desolate wasteland. The apartment, once a haven, felt empty without the comforting scent of jasmine tea or the familiar warmth of Gaeul's presence.

As the days turned into weeks, a strange realization dawned on me. My feelings for Wonyoung, once a passionate inferno, had dwindled to embers. The betrayal had left an indelible mark, a permanent scar on our relationship.

What about Gaeul? The possessiveness that had initially scared me, now felt like a twisted reflection of the love she held for me. A love that, however distorted, was genuine.

One evening, I decided to take a chance. Armed with a bouquet of jasmine flowers, I stood outside Gaeul's apartment, my heart pounding a nervous rhythm against my ribs.

After a long wait, the door creaked open. Gaeul stood there, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed.

"Y/n?" she said, her voice thick with surprise.

I held out the bouquet, the jasmine flowers radiating a comforting scent. Gaeul's gaze softened, a flicker of recognition replacing the initial shock.

"Gaeul," I began, my voice rough with emotion. "I messed up. Big time."

She didn't say anything, but her eyes held a silent invitation to continue.

"I was scared," I confessed, taking a deep breath. "Scared of losing you, scared of letting go of the comfort you offered. But my fear twisted your love, turned it into something unhealthy."

The vulnerability in my voice seemed to resonate with her. A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek.

"I don't want Wonyoung," I continued, my gaze meeting hers with newfound clarity. "The woman I miss is the one who brought me jasmine tea in the mornings, the one who held me through the night when my heart ached. The woman I love is you, Gaeul."

A hesitant smile bloomed on her face, as beautiful as the first flower peeking through winter's frost. She stepped closer, the scent of jasmine mingling with the warmth of her body.

"Gaeul," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Can I… can I kiss you?"

Her eyes fluttered shut, a silent permission. As our lips met, a spark ignited, a gentle flame rekindled by honesty and second chances. The kiss wasn't fiery or passionate, but filled with a quiet understanding, a promise of a future built on trust and love.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of apologies, forgiveness, and cautious exploration of this newfound love. We talked for hours, peeling away the layers of fear and misunderstanding.

One evening, as the city lights twinkled outside our window, casting a warm glow on the apartment once filled with tension, I knelt before Gaeul, holding a small velvet box.

"Gaeul," I said, my voice thick with emotion, "You were my friend, my rock, and now you're the love of my life. Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, a radiant smile breaking through the dam. "Yes," she whispered, her voice choked with happy tears.

The following year, surrounded by friends and family, we exchanged vows. The jasmine scent filled the air, a symbol of love, comfort, and a second chance. As I looked into Gaeul's eyes, brimming with love and joy, I knew I had found not just a wife, but a partner who understood the complexities of love and was willing to work through them.

The love triangle that had threatened to tear my life apart had ultimately led me to the one person who truly mattered. And with each passing year, the love we shared, nurtured by honesty and trust, only grew stronger.

[warriorofthought]

Part 2 I did love you, always!

Summary: Bucky broke up with you but the Winter Soldier still loves you.

Word count:  2189

Warnings: sad and sentimental Feelings 

Winter Soldier x Reader

You had, with Bucky as the winter soldier controlling his body, two wonderful weeks until his mind slowly started to slip back, bit by bit into Bucky.

You and Winter didn't talk about how you both will manage it when Bucky comes out again, just ignoring it and making the best out of it. It's foolish, you both know it. 

Deep down in your heart you know you can't lose Bucky again, but you don't care in which mind you have him but to lose his individual again will shatter your heart in thousands pieces again and never will heal.

Currently you walk from the stable into the living room, carrying a few Wooden blocks to throw into the fireplace as you see Winter sitting on the sofa a bit lost in thought, his phone in his hands.

You throw the Wooden blocks in the oven and then walk closer to him. “Are you writing someone?” You ask and see him slightly flinch, which surprises you.

You look a bit more focused on him and see, in winter's eyes, that he slipped a bit back into Bucky.

“Bucky? Who did you write to?” You ask gently. 

You see him frown, then his eyes set on you. 

“Sharon.” 

You nod, swallowing hard. It's what you have expected to happen.

You watch him, and see how Bucky's eyes flicker before they are Winters again.

“I'm sorry, my love. But Bucky has written to Sharon.” 

“Don't worry, it's alright. Are you feeling good?” 

“I'm, my flower”

“Are you sure? Can I do something to help you?”  you ask concerned and pat his thigh.

Winter grabs your face, soft but firm. You grasp slightly and watch him, his eyes piece into yours with a deep frown.

“Everything is alright, Winter.” You say comforting.

The Winter Soldier relaxes his grip and kisses your forehead.

He is silent for a moment, just holding you. But then he whispers.

“I know you are right, but somehow that makes everything tougher… Sharon loves the real Bucky. But you actually love me, the other side of him and him, you love us both equally.”

“I know, don't break your head with this thought alright, I will love you, no matter what happens.” You promise him.

“Just let us enjoy our time, hmm?” 

You see Winter nod gentle at you.

You grab his hands and walk over with him to the sofa, there you put on the tv. It's Winter's favorite show, you let it play.

In the meantime you watch Winter, his features. You still see the emotion from the killer machine that Hydra produced, but he is surprisingly soft in everything he does as long as you are present.

But then you also see how Bucky starts to appear slowly more often. His eyes start to lose the Winter Soldier touch.

Then one night without your knowledge as you sleep, Bucky writes Sharon.

Bucky sat at the kitchen table, the glow of his phone illuminating the room in the quiet of the night. The message to Sharon was crafted with care, each word heavy with the weight of his decision. He glanced over at you, asleep on the bed, your face peaceful in the dim light. You were everything to him, the anchor that kept him grounded. Yet, here he was, pretending to love Sharon, a facade he had built out of fear and confusion.

His relationship with Sharon was a facade, a fragile construct built on lies and deceit. She was ambitious and driven, but her love for him was shallow, lacking the depth and understanding he found with you. He knew he had to end things with Sharon before the charade became unbearable, but the thought of hurting you in the process filled him with guilt.

Then he start writing:

Sharon,

I can't keep living this lie. I'm leaving. I'm sorry.

Bucky

The message to Sharon was written, and his thumb hovered over the send button. It felt like he was about to detonate a bomb.

Then he hit send. It feels so heavy.

He set his phone down, his hands trembling as he fought back tears. He couldn't bear to face your disappointment, but he knew he couldn't stay here any longer. He quietly gathered his belongings and slipped out of the farmhouse, the night swallowing him whole.

The next morning, you woke to find Bucky's side of the bed empty and his belongings gone. Confusion and fear gripped your heart as you searched the house for any sign of him. 

“Winter?!”

“Winter, come on, where are you?” you still don't hear anything.

“Bucky? Bucky, are you here?” but still you get no answers.

When you found nothing, you reached for your phone, your hands shaking as you dialed his number.

But there was no answer and your heart sank. You knew then that he was gone, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken promises.

As the sun rose, casting a warm glow over the farm, you stood alone on the porch, your heart heavy with grief. Bucky had vanished without a word, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart alone.

The sound of a car approaching broke the silence, and she turned to see Sharon stepping out, her expression a mixture of confusion and anger."Where's Bucky?" Sharon demanded, her voice sharp. You met her gaze, your eyes filled with sadness. "He's gone, Sharon. He left last night."Sharon's face twisted in disbelief. "Gone? What do you mean, gone? He sent me a message to come here."

Your heart ached as you watched Sharon read the message on her phone. You knew the pain and confusion you felt mirrored Sharon's own emotions. Bucky had left them both behind, with nothing but his lies and deception to show for it. 

“That coward," Sharon spat. "He ran away and left you to deal with this? Typical."

You stand your ground. 

"He was scared, Sharon. He made a mistake. We all did."

Sharon's eyes blazed with anger. 

"Don’t try to justify his actions. You knew about us and still kept seeing him."

You feel a pang of guilt but you keep your  voice calm. “Sharon, Bucky is in a conflict with himself, the winter soldier is still fighting to stay.” Sharon scoffed, shaking her head. She doesn't listen. "You’re pathetic. Both of you." 

With that, Sharon stormed back to her car and drove away, you felt a profound sense of loss wash over you.

You watch as the car disappeared down the road and step inside the farmhouse again with a heavy sigh.

Bucky Barnes stood in the middle of an icy, snow-covered field, the frosty air biting into his skin. The winter sun cast long shadows, and the quiet was almost eerie. In his mind, a battle raged between the memories of his past and the life he was trying to build.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the appearance of a figure he knew all too well: the Winter Soldier.

It was like looking into a twisted mirror, seeing himself in the cold, unfeeling eyes of the assassin he once was. 

The Winter Soldier stood still, his expressionless face partially hidden by a black mask, his metal arm glinting in the dim light.

"You can't run from me, Bucky," the Winter Soldier said, his voice a mechanical growl.

"You think you can hide behind new memories, but I am always a part of you."

Bucky clenched his fists, feeling the weight of his past pressing down on him. "I'm not you anymore," he replied, his voice firm but strained. "I've changed."

The Winter Soldier smirked, a chilling sight. "You think you've found love with Sharon, but you're lying to yourself. You know who your heart truly belongs to."

Bucky's mind flashed to memories of you, the woman who had been a beacon of warmth in his life after he was freed from Hydra's control. Your smile, your laugh, the way you made him feel like he could be more than just a weapon. But then there was Sharon, dependable and strong, someone who understood the world of espionage and danger.

"You don't know anything about love," Bucky spat back. "You're just a ghost."

 "You can't hide from me, Bucky. You can't hide from what you really want." Bucky squared his shoulders, trying to steady his racing heart. "I won't let you control me anymore," he replied, his voice resolute. "I'm not the Winter Soldier."

The Winter Soldier's lips curled into a mocking smile. "You're right. You're not me. But you can't deny the truth. You can't deny who you truly love.”

Bucky's mind flashed to memories of you, the warmth of your smile, the gentleness of your touch. But there was also Sharon, strong and dependable.

He had tried to convince himself that being with her was the right choice, the safe choice. Yet, the Winter Soldier's words cut through his defenses.

"I care about Sharon," Bucky insisted, but even as he spoke, doubt clouded his mind. The Winter Soldier took a step closer, his gaze piercing. "But you love y/n. You know it. I know it. You're just too afraid to admit it.”

Bucky felt a surge of anger and confusion. "Why do you care? You're just a remnant of my past. You don't know anything about love."

The Winter Soldier's expression softened slightly, a rare hint of emotion breaking through. "Because I'm a part of you, Bucky. I know everything you feel, even the things you try to bury. You can't run from yourself."

Bucky clenched his fists, the internal struggle tearing him apart. 

"I don't want to hurt Sharon. She's been through enough."

The Winter Soldier shook his head. 

"You don't have to hurt her, but you have to be honest. With her, with y/n, and with yourself. You owe them that."

Bucky's resolve wavered, memories of you flooding his mind. He remembered how you made him feel alive, how your presence had brought him peace in the chaos of his past. He had been trying to build a new life, but it was a life without the one person who truly made him whole.

"How do I do it?" Bucky asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do I make things right?"

The Winter Soldier stepped back, his mission complete. "You start by being honest. Go to y/n. Tell her how you feel. Fight for her. You have to be willing to face the pain to find the happiness you deserve. Then we can be one and live happy."

Bucky watched as the Winter Soldier faded into the snowy landscape, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Leaving the snowy landscape behind, Bucky set off on a journey that was both literal and emotional.

He traveled across snowy landscapes and through bustling cities, driven by the hope of making things right. 

When he finally reached your doorstep again after he was on the farm where he left you behind and didn't find you there, his heart pounded in his chest.

He knocked and after a few moments, the door opened. You stood there, your eyes widening in surprise and uncertainty. "Bucky? What are you doing here?”

"I came to see you," Bucky said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I need to tell you the truth. I made a mistake, y/n. I thought being with Sharon was the right thing to do, but it was a lie. I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn't move. "Bucky, you hurt me. You broke up with me, without a good reason. Then as you fall back into the winter Soldier mode, you suddenly remember me?" 

"I know," Bucky said, stepping closer. "And I'm so sorry. I was scared, confused. But I can't hide from my feelings anymore. You mean everything to me, y/n. Please, give me another chance to prove it."

For a long moment, you just look at him, your expression unreadable, even a bit disappointed. Then, slowly, you nodded. "It's not going to be easy, Bucky. You've hurt me deeply."

"I know," Bucky said, his voice filled with determination. "But I'm willing to fight for us. I'll do whatever it takes."

You took a deep breath, your eyes searching his. Finally, you stepped aside, letting him into your home and, tentatively, back into her heart. 

“That is your last chance, Bucky. You can be lucky, I love you.”

“I promise, to do everything, you earn your trust. I love you too, so so much.”

It was the beginning of a new journey for both of them, one that would require patience, trust, and a lot of healing. But Bucky was ready to face it, knowing that this time, he was fighting for the right reasons. And as they sat together, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cold outside, Bucky felt a sense of peace. He was no longer running from his past. He was embracing it, using it to build a better future. For himself, and for the woman he loved.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

this is literally all i could think about on my drive to work today so i present to you

what cars would vox machina drive?

keyleth: you know she's a subaru girlie, olive green and dented (bc lbr keyleth would not be the best driver) and covered in just ALLLL the bumper stickers, for state parks and liberal politicians from like two decades ago and charities she doesn't even remember donating to (she has three different "who saved who?" bumper stickers and she doesn't know how she got any of them). there's a rattle that starts whenever she gets over 40 mph but she's choosing to ignore it.

percy: this is an old money bitch so you know he has a bunch of cars, mercedes and aston martins and bentleys, but i think his go-to is a brick of a rolls royce, dark gray bc black is too obvious

vax: an olllllllld black thunderbird that is absolutely falling apart, just a complete hazard to have on the roads, but vax pours any excess dollar he has into keeping the piece of shit running bc he loves it so much

vex: a sensible, clean honda civic sport (blue) that has every single bell and whistle offered but that she negotiated down to $10k below the sticker price. she will drive this thing into the fucking ground before she gets a new one. the back seat has a special protector/sling thing for trinket.

pike: just the most absolute unit of a gargantuan pick-up truck you can imagine. something that no self-respecting construction professional would even drive, just so fucking mammoth that the TIRES are taller than pike. she has special electric stairs that descend so she can get in. she has this because a) she is a monster and she deserves it and b)

grog failed his driver's test (both written and practical) six times before just giving up, so he just goes wherever pike goes

scanlan: a tricked-out cadillac he had specially painted the most gnarly shade of purple with sparkling gold rims and LED lights along the undercarriage that are linked to his illegal stereo that he is always bumping way too loud with the windows down. just a fucking pimpmobile of a vehicle. leather seats that you do NOT want to look at under a black light and special hidden compartments for the contraband he insists he has but absolutely does not.

tary: this twunk drives a gold porsche 911, and he hates giving his friends rides when they need one but when he does, he makes them take their shoes off. do NOT ask him for the aux, it is a waste of your time. he is an insanely reckless driver, and once he finally wrecks the porsche for good, he's shocked to learn how much they cost (this one was a gift), so vex drags him kicking and screaming to honda to get him a civic of his own (not as nice as hers bc without daddy's money he definitely can't afford it).

[the-lark-ascending69]

Scoops Ahoy Ronance AU?

Ooh I like this 👀

First off I want to say that one of the things that attracted me to ronance when I first watched s4 was the fact that Nancy seemed to be so annoyed with her, lmao. Idk what is it about it but I love it when they can't stand each other at first. That's why I feel like a good ronance story begins with Nancy wanting Robin to stfu.

Now, unlike Steve, who was mildly annoyed but didn't pay her much attention at Scoops Ahoy, I think Nancy would be fuming whenever Robin tried to pull any snarky shit with her. I don't think she'd outright make a board to count how much Nancy sucks like she did Steve, firstly because Nancy doesn't have the same cringe material that Steve does, and secondly, I don't think Robin would act like that with a girl. I just think she's nicer to girls. Still, she's still in her S3 mode, porcupine energy, pretends to not care and be above it all while still pretty much not liking her coworker.

I think she'd find it bitterly funny and really unfair that Nancy doesn't seem to know they even went to the same school. Excuse her, she was Barb's friend first, Wheeler. Show some respect. But she doesn't see the point in telling her because she doesn't care about it, anyway. She just has this aloof, standoffish attitude with Nancy all the time. Rather than making fun of her, she's ignoring her, or telling her to stop bothering her, she's trying to read.

The truth is that Nancy is insufferable here. She feels it's undignified for her to be working at Scoops Fucking Ahoy for the summer, but she still tries to make everything the way it's supposed to because she's already going through the shame of working at Scoops, she's not going to humilliate herself by doing it poorly, too. Plus, she genuinely wants to be nice to clients, until they stop being nice to her. Still she keeps a tight smile whenever they come make her life a living hell, something her coworker can't seem to pull herself to do. It's as if Robin didn't care that people could tell she was tired or annoyed, and she's seen her fight with Erica more times than she deems appropriate. She doesn't appreciate Robin hissing like a cat at a 10 year old girl.

Nancy is just... confused as to how she even got to this point and who did she anger to get paired up with Robin Fucking Buckley. Yes, she's trying to make some money, but truly, how could this have been the only place that called her?

So she's always giving Robin a hard time, scolding her for not smiling enough and condecendingly showing her how it's done (which only earns her the most dead of stares from Robin), or telling her to just go to the back of the store to keep playing with her language tapes if she's not going to do things correctly. Robin just rolls her eyes at that.

She doesn't mock her as much as she does Steve, but when she does, it's her way of challenging her in her flaws, it's constructive even if neither of them realize. Nancy will ramble about how Robin clearly doesn't care about their job and she's sorry if she doesn't need it as much as Nancy does, but she won't let her become an obstacle, to which Robin responds by raising her eyebrows, throwing her head back and saying "wow, Wheeler, that was so inspiring. I mean, I knew the Wheelers were dirt poor but I didn't think it was that bad. Hey, look, we have that in common!" Nancy doesn't like being undignified, but Robin isn't afraid of shaking her a little - mostly making sarcastic comments whenever Nancy does something she wouldn't expect Nancy Wheeler to do, in a way that is unfair because it shows how little she knows her and how many ugly things she assumes about her. That's another thing that drives Nancy mad too, because she's still so full of pain and fear and anger, and now this weirdo is poking fun at the fact she owns guns (plural) as if it were some kind of punchline and not another piece in her trauma puzzle.

I think they surprise each other by how well they work together while cracking the code once Nancy stops scolding Robin for running through the mall and standing on a table, spinning around while talking to herself. She's shocked by the fact she speaks four languages, and even more shocked when she cracked the code when Nancy couldn't. That's when she stops seeing Robin as an apathetic weirdo who's made it her life mission to annoy her, and starts seeing her as an incredibly intelligent young woman whose brain works in mysterious ways. Nancy almost wants to take her brain out of her head and study it, because it's as if she were hanging upside down, looking at things backwards and reading secret patterns no one else can see. It actually inspires Nancy to try to solve problems the way Robin does. It surprises Robin to no end when Nancy is suddenly taking her seriously and asking for her opinion. She's so shocked she doesn't even make sarcastic comments about it.

I think Robin starts seeing Nancy differently as she starts to open up, slowly. She tells her the essential only at first - different dimensions, girl with powers, monster hunting, demonic possesions, now apparently russian spies as well. Whenever Robin asks how she even got involved in all of this, Nancy gives an obviosuly incomplete explanation about helping a friend find his brother (Robin sees through it immediately - why go so far for someone she didn't even know? It'd make a little bit more sense if she did it to help her own brother, but that's not what she said, so she's obviosly hiding something). Robin is still shocked that Nancy Wheeler owns guns. She's even more shocked when she gives one to her, as if she knew what to do with it, and even more when they get intercepted and Nancy fucking shoots and kills one of those guys. Robin did not expect her summer to go like this. It must be some weird kind of dream.

It happens slowly. Robin shows more of her charming nature without quite opening up. She manages to trick an agent by speaking a little bit of russian, she manipulates one of their torturers so they won't hurt Nancy, she bravely talks back despite Nancy begging her to keep her mouth shut and somehow it works. Somehow these people are convinced, somehow, that it's more convenient for them to keep them alive and with all their bones intact. It's like Nancy has been thrown into a whole new reality, in which making yourself small and try to politely convince people to listen to you isn't compulsory, in which you can be defiant and cunning and determined and win. Make them listen to you. Even if the victory is small, it's still a victory. Thanks to Robin, she gets to keep all her nails. Maybe talking so much wasn't a flaw after all.

She opens up slowly - about Barb, and her guns, and the violence she's seen and all the pain inside her heart, and Robin feels so stupid for thinking she was a priss. Nancy is profoundly touched by grief and loneliness. She lost a part of her heart at 15 she's never getting back.

But Robin doesn't open up back. She apologizes for being mean and reassures her that they'll both see Barb soon, and she won't be alone when that happens. All she says about herself is that she feels, you know, like she ruins everything. Nancy doesn't understand, but what Robin means to say is that she has only thought about Tammy Thompson once since this all started, and it was to say to herself, I don't even care if I never see her again, if I get to die next to Nancy Wheeler. And she feels like that is even more forbidden, somehow.

They're drugged. They talk. They're rescued and they get sick and they vomit most if the drugs. Most of it. And they ask each other things. Nancy asks why so many languages, and Robin tells her about Operation Croissant, thinking Nancy will make fun of her, but it seems she just finds it cute. She asks Nancy about Jonathan. She tells her she doesn't think their relationship has any salvation, after she made them lose their previous job. That's stupid, says Robin. Weren't you right after all? Your boss is a piece of shit, by the way.

I dragged him with me. He shouldn't have lost his job because of me.

Fuck that. I'd say it's on your boss. Didn't that guy send you to solve the mystery of the missing mustard?

My boss? Yeah, something like that.

Nancy asks her then if she's ever had any boyfriend. She can't imagine anyone being unable to fall utterly in love with Robin once they get to know her. She expresses this sentiment to her, and Robin gets somber all of a sudden. You don't actually know me, Wheeler, she says.

I like to think I know enough to mean what I say, Nancy replies.

Well, you're wrong. People just... don't know me. No one does. I don't know if you've realized, but I don't have any friends. I'm not the kind of person who's known by other people. Or has friends.

It breaks Nancy's heart a little to hear that.

Robin, do you think we could be... friends? She asks. She normally wouldn't say something like that so directly, but she's still under the influence of drugs, and she really wanted to be Robin's friend.

But Robin feels like becoming friends with Nancy while knowing of these newly developed feelings is a crime. It is if Nancy doesn't know the truth.

There's something you need to know before we're friends.

What is it?

You're not gonna like it, and you're not going to want to be my friend after you hear it.

Robin, you can tell me.

Do you remember Tammy Thompson?

And so she tells her. She tells her almost everything: that she's always felt out of place, always a stranger, always an outsider, always unable to keep friendships and always feeling something she shouldn't. Worrying about what people were gonna say, what they were gonna think, if they were going to hate her, if she was simply too much and had something fundamentally wrong in her that made her unloveable. She dumps all of this on Nancy, expecting her to be annoyed or disgusted, or to simply realize she didn't actually like Robin all that much, in the end.

But Nancy just takes her hand says, Robin, listen to me. That is not true. Any girl would be lucky to have you.

And in that moment, it feels like she's breathing in for the first time in her life. Like there's a small puzzle piece being sloted into a hole in her heart that she'd forgotten was there. She feels her nose itch, and her eyes water a little bit.

Can we be friends, then? Nancy shyly asks, like a kid at the playground. Robin laughs weatly and nods.

Uh... yeah. Yes. I'd love to be friends, actually.

Nancy smiles, and to her surprise, she raises on her knees and hugs her. It's been a long time Robin has received a hug from anyone other than her parents, and she's never felt this happy.

[thatguythatdrawsalot]

RWBY Redesign Critique Ask.

https://www.tumblr.com/divinecomedyproductions/734986950335938561/it-is-with-great-pleasure-i-get-to-show-you-all something to review on my redesigns which I commissioned a friend to do for my reimagined AU, he’s a great artist so if any criticism comes I feel it should be towards me since I gave him the direction

——

Sorry I took a bit long to respond and critique! I’ll talk about the redesigns in chronological order of team RWBY. You mention this as being part of an AU of sorts but I’ll just critique it as just outfits for the girls’ character.

——

Ruby Rose.

I hope you guys know when I critique designs I do my best to not sound rude. I’m only harsh/very constructive towards the artists and directors who get PAID to design characters as they’re making money off this by plastering said designs onto merchandise. A character designer who works for a show’s company is gonna have higher expectations compared to a commission piece that’s out of fun and joy- So please don’t be upset if I say something that sounds mean.

With that out of the way, Ruby’s look is cute but simple. She’s the safest design of the four. Ruby wearing silver earrings is again cute but this does remind me too much of her Volume 2 look. I obviously can’t judge since last I redesigned Ruby she was just a culmination of her Atlas and Vale look but more slate color. I’m guessing Ruby was the hardest to redesign for this one.

Her look isn’t bad but overall just a safe design.

Weiss Schnee.

Shea is giving me magical school girl vibes I don’t know why- Revolutionary Girl Utena!!!

Okay jokes aside I absolutely love how modest Weiss looks, I can’t totally see her wearing this if she ever attended Atlas instead of Beacon as her huntress attire. She has the perfect amount of red and black in where the placement of it should be, but as for the blue, maybe replace it with just white? As the blue, red, white, in this look does sometimes remind me of AMERICA FLAG!!!!!!!!!!

But if it did just get replaced with white than blue it wouldn’t look too much like her Volume 2 outfit. So don’t worry.

Blake Belladonna.

Oh my god…. YES! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Okay right off the bat, color placement is perfect, she’s got primary black with a good chunks of white and purple, plus the cute gold buttons to balance her eyes. I love it! Colored to perfection! She isn’t a black blob, she can look east to see where her limbs are if ever in combat.

With her hair back into a ponytail it doesn’t mess up her colors much anywhere like her original look almost did. I love the return of the bow now helping her show her ears than hide them, as it now pulls her hair back. I love her aesthetic as it still screams ‘a Blake outfit’ as sometimes people find it tricky to design for Blake. I always think that Blake just needs to have no sleeves in order for her outfit to work, but here is an exception. She’s my favorite of the four.

Yang Xiao Long.

Oooooh!! Okay it’s a tie cause I bias-

Yang actually looks like someone you can hang out with on a motorcycle! I love her aesthetic but what I love more is that she isn’t wearing ugly browns but instead black, making the yellows pop out so much more! Trust me if Yang just wore black instead of brown in the actual show, she’ll have a good outfit or two already in the show canon than just her Volume 2 design.

Though I think it’s too much yellow… I know you can have some purple somewhere to balance her eyes out. As for the yellow on her jacket sleeves it can just be black instead. A fourth color is definitely needed for this than just yellow, black and gold. But overall it’s so minor I’m willing to ignore it.

But I can’t really ignore the hat, it’s gonna turn into a crisp since I think hats would be in the way of Yang’s semblance, best to just ditch that part.

——

In summary, these outfits are fun. I can tell your friend really had fun designing the girls and had an actual vision to what aesthetic the girls should have. I’m still gonna encourage you play around with Ruby the most because Weiss, Blake, and Yang are absolutely stunning that just radiates their personalities and vibes well. I know they can do the same with Ruby.

[koukouture]

Hello please perceive my Azem OC

Okay thabk ye for looking at her I will now ramble abt her under the cut

So Lucifer's whole deal is that she inspired Emet Selch a lot as his senior. Like, his theatrical nature largely comes from her and so did quite a lot of his ideals. That is to say, we should be glad that Lucifer didn't survive the sundering bc uh... that would have been messy. I mean she'd be super unpredictable and she just generally has very off-putting vibes.

She's Emet Selch and Hythlodaeus' senior- not by a lot but enough that she still kind of sees them as kids/younger siblings lmao. She always used to kind of baby them... much to Emet Selch's chagrin lmao.

Anyways ON our dearest Emet Selch-

He puts her on an unrealistically high pedestal to kinda parallel how everyone holds impossibly high standards for WoL. See, the thing is, he probably shouldn't have put her up on such a high pedestal because she's highkey a sociopath. Yeah uh, he knows and elects to ignore it. Emet and Hyth both think they can fix her and yk what good for them but they look like a fuckin construction crew lol.

I'm only slightly exaggerating when I say that Emet got all of his problems from her. Like A LOT of his Solus persona comes from Lucifer. Like it's not healthy at all lmao. He is imitating her as a (fucked up) form of love and also to remember her. His love for theatrics and the arts? Lucifer. Fat fucking liar? Lucifer. Sadism? Lucifer. General apathy and/or detachment? LUCIFER. Seriously the degree to which he looks up to her you would think she was a SAINT. Something something, when someone dies you only try to remember the good things about them.

As for Hythlodaeus, at least he's aware that something is wrong with her and actually wants to help her. Emet kind of just bought into the persona she put up and while Hyth did to an extent as well, he tries to dig deeper.

Hyth has actually seen Lucifer be vulnerable, but only sort of. Honestly, Hyth is the therapist friend oftentimes to his own detriment. He gives that vibe to me. And about Lucifer being vulnerable; it's not exactly her unloading her sad baggage (bc you best believe she has it) but it's more of her being a little more honest about the fact that she just doesn't feel anyway about anything. She is very self aware about that whole thing but she also struggles with whether or not all of the stuff she says while putting up her act is genuine.

To an extent, Lucifer did genuinely care for those in her circle. She genuinely liked being around Hyth and Emet, and she genuinely respected Venat as her mother/teacher figure. It's just that she's never really honest with them, you know? Listen, Emet, Hyth, and Lucifer have been friends since they were teenagers but if you asked either of them any questions about her that go deeper than the surface you would get nothing. Lucifer on the other hand, despite her troubles with empathy and general emotions, is a little too good at recognizing what makes people tick. She is kind of a piece of shit in this regard because she will use that knowledge.

She uses this knowledge to gain favor with others, to get information, and even to preserve herself. Venat especially is really good at recognizing this and it's something they tried to work on when she took Lucifer under her wing. Key word tried bc you'd best believe when she deserted the Convocation during the Final Days she guilt tripped Emet to hell and back.

One other thing about her I want to highlight is that Venat, Hyth, and Emet are her moral compass. Not exactly in the "I love you and I will follow you" type way, but in the "oh okay you don't like it when I do this" type of way. She has no real concept of right or wrong nor cares much for the moral codes of others, she just kind of cares about how it makes her look and if it'll make her fit in.

Like, maybe she creates a concept and it's dangerous. She doesn't see a problem with it unless Hyth or Emet go "Hey girlypop, this is a little fucked up" and then she'll do a complete 180 and be like "oh haha yeah I guess it is" but she won't destroy the concept. Because why would she? A little personal project won't hurt anyone...

As you can probably tell by now, she is not the ideal person to be Azem. But of course, nobody actually knows what's going on in her noggin and by virtue of being very likable and appearing to enjoy helping other people (it's really just her trying to copy normal human behavior) to the average outsider. Does the Convocation think she's messed up? Yeah, they're not blind- but they think she's just depressed/despondent or something not that she's a high-functioning sociopath.

Now, given all of the above information, we should all be happy it was Emet Selch who survived the Sundering because Lucifer would be much worse. I think out of their little trio, Emet was actually the most merciful outcome because I also think Hyth has the capacity to be a terrifying villain. Dude just think about it; you could either have the sociopath, the one that attaches his entire identity to his friends (who would be dead in this scenario so where does that leave him) or the guys who's just a little grumpy. Shockingly enough, Emet is the most well adjusted one in this polycule. And that is saying a lot.

Lucifer would be worse than Emet because hey, at least Emet has something resembling a moral compass and only works to restore the status quo and get all his friends back. Lucifer? She'd do it for the hell of it. Everyone guiding her morals is fucking gone, what is she going to do? Without them, she has no idea what qualifies as right and wrong anymore. No she doesn't care about restoring the star or whatever she just wants her ego to be fed again. So she'll sort of go along with whatever the hell the Ascians are doing.

Anyways yeah that concludes this essay. In my next one I will go over her parallels with my WoL.

[dashinhfuzzydeer]

Chapter 5

The scent of burnt roses lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the opulent dining room where the King family and the Heathens, had just witnessed Landon’s dramatic act.

Landon, his face a mask of barely controlled rage, had incinerated the bouquet Vaughn had presented him, a declaration of war more than a rejection.

He’d turned on his heel, ignoring the calls of his family, and retreated to his room, the door slamming shut with a resounding thud.

Vaughn, however, remained unruffled, a picture of composure amidst the chaos. A gentle smile played on his lips as he turned to Levi and Astrid, Landon's parents.

"I apologize if my actions were wrong to offend him"

He said, his voice smooth as silk as if apologizing for the scene he knew he caused all under his wish.

"Perhaps if you could point me to his room, I could speak with him privately? There's no need for anyone to be bothered".

The room was silent, everyone still reeling from Landon’s outburst. Even the notoriously composed Heathens seemed taken aback.

But they were also keenly aware of the dangerous game they had been made a part of, with Vaughn standing at its center, dancing dangerously with Landon.

Nikolai, ever the optimist, gave Vaughn a thumbs up while hugging Brandon, Landon's twin and said,

"Maybe you should vi-vi, your 'wifey' seems very angry on you"

He got hit on the arm by Brandon for that while Vaughn gave him a look that told Nikolai to not call Landon that, the yellow mask Heathen however was lost in eyes of his lotus flower.

While Killian, who never took anything seriously until he saw danger, smirked, his arm protectively around Glyndon’s waist and said,

"Yeah, maybe take some dark chocolates because he looks like he is on his periods"

Glyndon gave him a glare for this but he just kissed her cheeks with a smirk that earned him a glare from Levi and a giggle from Astrid.

Annika offered him a small, cautious wave, and Cerighton, her boyfriend, hugged her close, looking sleepy like he always does.

Gareth, ever the diplomat, gave him a knowning nod as he continued his conversation with Landon’s parents to distract them while Jeremy and Eli, Landon’s older cousin, looked like they wanted to be anywhere else.

Even Aiden and Elsa, Landon's uncle and aunt, couldn't hide the looks of warning they sent his way. Each family member conveyed the same unspoken message – 'be careful of what you do' as Eli spoke up, giving Vaughn the direction he needed to know.

"The fourth room on the right to the second floor"

Vaughn nodded at him with a small thanks, gave them all a final, assessing look, a silent promise of his intention to win over, not just Landon, but his entire family, before excusing himself.

He knew he was walking into a storm, but he was never one to shy away from a challenge, no, infact he was that bison who loved to walk right into the storm. He made his way through the expansive house, his footsteps deliberate, until he reached Landon's door.

Without knocking, he pushed it open, stepping inside.

"You Heathens really have no manners do you?"

Landon said, his back to Vaughn, voice laced with sarcasm as he delicately shaped the wings of the morning star he was bringing to life.

Vaughn chuckled, closing the door behind him as his eyes roamed the Landon’s beautiful abode of a room, filled with unnaturally beautiful and meaningful sculptures, each piece a mystery to decode with their unique construction.

"Common Wifey, soon we will be married. There's no need for such formalities between us. No need for barriers, I mean, we're going to be sharing a bed soon"

He however was meet with pure ignorance from Landon who refused to acknowledge his existence, lost in his statue and finding it more worthy of his attention over his fiancee.

His workshop was Landon’s sanctuary, a chaotic symphony of clay dust, metal tools, and the raw, potent energy of creation. But today, it felt suffocating. He was hunched over his current project, a towering sculpture of Lucifer, the fallen angel, his face a mask of intense concentration.

Every line of muscle, every feather on the sculpted wings, was a testament to his meticulous artistry. He ignored the footsteps that echoed on the concrete floor, the presence of another man in his domain.

Vaughn, however, was not easily ignored. He moved with a quiet confidence that belied the storm he carried within him. He paused before Landon's earlier works, the discarded pieces that stood like silent sentinels of their creator's journey.

The first was an angel, weeping, cradling a sword that looked too heavy for its fragile hands. Vaughn reached out, his finger tracing the contours of a sculpted tear. It looked so real, so raw.

"These are incredibly detailed"

Vaughn murmured, his voice a low rumble that cut through the heavy silence.

"What’s your favorite food, Landon?"

Landon’s head snapped up to look at Vaughn, his dark blue eyes narrowed in annoyance as he scoffed and said,

"Why bother making small talk asshole? You probably already know the answer. Isn’t that what you people do? Dig up every scrap of information?"

Vaughn’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile at Landon’s comment as he spoke up.

"Indeed, I know a great deal about you, Lyubov. All the data available with a little digging, your family history, the art schools you attended before Royal Elite University"

He paused as his hazel eyes shifted to Landon who continued to work on the sculpture as he spoke with an unknown intensity dripping down his tongue.

"But that’s not knowing you, is it? Not knowing you as intimately as I should, considering you're my wifey. I should know everything about you"

He let the word roll off his tongue like a delectable piece of forbidden fruit. Landon bristled at the endearment and the implied ownership.

"Don’t"

He growled, turning back to his sculpture, his hands working the clay with renewed ferocity. He didn't dignify Vaughn's words with an answer.

And Vaughn didn’t press. Instead he surveyed the workshop, his gaze lingering on a half-open box of cherries tucked away in a corner.

His steps took him to the trash can at the end of the room as he pressed the paddle under his leather boots to open the lead and peaked inside, taking note of dried cherry pits along with fresh ones coated with saliva, indicidating that Landon had savored on them not long ago.

They were accompanied by a bunch of cigarette buts and broken sculpturing tools, roughed papers or broken art pieces.

"Let me guess, it's cherries right wifey?"

A genuine smile softened the sharp edges of his features but the knowing look in his eyes were speaking otherwise.

Landon froze. His head whipped around again, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and suspicion as he looked at Vaughn looking up at him with a innocent smile, as if he didn't figure out something in few minutes that took even his family almost a year to figure out.

"How did you…..?"

Vaughn chuckled, pointing to the cherry box by Landon’s bedside as he spoke up,

"I can see them. And that reminds me, my own favorite food happens to be beef stew".

Landon blinked, looking between the box and Vaughn before turning back to his sculpture. He could feel Vaughn’s gaze on his back, a tangible weight as he spoke,

"You are one observant fucker, aren't you? And nobody asked"

Vaughn chuckled again at Landon’s comment, a low, rich sound that vibrated in the small space. He moved on, now stopping before the sculpture of a man kneeling, his face hidden in shadowed hands.

"Yes, I am, Very observant"

He began to pace slowly, his eyes cataloging every detail of Landon’s domain, observing it carefully as he casually strolled around and spoke to words that seem to fall deaf to Landon’s ears.

"Infact, I’ve noticed a few things about you, wifey, in the short time I’ve been here. For example, You smoke when you're stressed, I can smell the lingering tobacco clinging to the air even now"

He paused, circling around another sculpture, this one a soaring Pegasus with beautiful detailed wings of a angel and details of each and every strand of fur created on top of it as he continued to speak,

"You love your McLaren more than you love people, you stayed in middle of nowhere bleeding to make sure it won't get stolen"

He paused again as he looked around the room, taking a brief note of each and every single sculpture as he spoke with a calculated analysis,

"You express your emotions through your sculptures, I can tell the pain and rage in it the lucifer you are working on"

His words send a shiver of danger down Landon’s spine who tried to remain indifferent but the more Vaughn spoke, the more the hair behind Landon's neck started to stand up.

Vaughn turned to Landon, his gaze piercing, focused on the bandage on Landon’s head, covering a wound he caused as he spoke,

"You know flower language. You understand the meaning of the Bouquet I gave you, didn’t you?"

Finally, his eyes flicked to a dressing table across the room, where a bottle of perfume sat, its scent subtly permeating the studio and radiating faintly off Landon’s skin.

"And you have a very distinct scent, a mix of petrichor and sandalwood. Probably from that perfume you are using recently"

Landon’s hands stilled on Lucifer’s wings. He felt a chill run down his spine, a stark contrast to the heat that had been building within him from rage. He turned, his eyes wide with a dawning horror of every detail Vaughn was picking.

"How…?"

Vaughn smirked, a flash of something dark and dangerous crossing his innocent face, behind his glasses as he spoke,

"What’s wrong, wifey? Did I discover something you wanted to keep hidden?"

He took a step closer, his presence filling the space as he stood closer to a statue of the demon that Landon had created last week.

The pieces started to clicked into place.

With each observation, each detail unveiled by this terrifyingly perceptive man, the truth began to form a horrifying picture in Landon’s mind.

The meticulous precision of the Bratva Heir, the calculated strategies, the ruthless efficiency…it all pointed to one man.

And now, looking at the smirk on Vaughn's face, Landon saw the pieces of the puzzle fall into their rightful place.

The forced marriage, the sudden accept from the criminal underworld on their company's good, the sudden fall of the King Empire's shares and their disappeared money......…it was all the handiwork of Vaughn, the man standing before him.

The man who called him wifey.

Landon’s breath hitched in his throat. Vaughn Morozov, the charming, observant, eerily attractive man who had claimed him as his fiance, was not just some heir to a mafia empire.

He took a good look of Vaughn, he was clearly less built than the other Heathens thought much taller, showing that physical fight, altist the raw, brutal one aren't his pluse point.

Those glasses worked to accompany his eyes that had detoriated due to heavy focus on studies or technology probably.

He was the architect of his misery, the puppet master behind his forced engagement, the man who had engineered the complete destruction of everything Landon had known.

His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. He had been so caught up in his art, so consumed by his grief and anger, that he had failed to see the predator hiding in plain sight, the wolf disguised as a lamb.

The workshop, once his sanctuary, now felt like a cage. Vaughn wasn’t just observing him, he was dissecting him, taking him apart piece by piece.

And the realization that all of this was intentional, calculated to trap him, filled Landon with a cold, gut-wrenching dread.

He wanted to scream, to fight, to lash out, but he was frozen, caught in the web of Vaughn’s carefully constructed game.

He knew, now, that he had been played, and he had been played brilliantly. And the worst part of it all was the horrifying realization of how deeply Vaughn already knew him, far better than his own family did.

How had he fallen for this?

How could he not noticed what is in front of him?

He stared at Vaughn, his mind racing. This wasn't a marriage of convenience; it was a calculated move, a power play.

He was a prize, a trophy, a possession in the hands of a man who saw him not as a person, but as a tool in his grand chess game probably.

Vaughn's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light, at this moment, even Jeremy Volkov looked like a less difficult obstacle and Nikolai Sokolov looked less of a trouble compared to this man who was nowhere near their built, but definitely more intelligent than all of the Heathens combined.

"Cat got your tongue, wifey?"

Vaughn asked, his voice a silken purr that sent shivers down Landon's spine as his Hazel eyes observed ever muscle that twitched in Landon's body.

He had only just begun.

Landon knew, with a sinking feeling, that his nightmare was only just beginning.

And he was trapped, completely and utterly trapped, in the web of the man he was supposed to marry.

However, Landon wasn't the one who gave up before putting a fight to death. He will crawl his way out of this mess if he must.

Landon scoffed, finally turning to face Vaughn completely and abandoning his sculpture, fury blazing in his eyes.

"You orchestrated this, didn't you?"

Vaughn raised an eyebrow at him, his amusement evident as he took a step towards landon.

"Orchestrated what, exactly?"

He was met with a annoyed snarl from the living greek god everyone in the Brighton Island flawed over.

"Don't play coy with me, Vaughn Morozov"

Landon snapped, stepping closer with his fists clerged tightly from anger, veins popping from the adrenaline.

"You are the one who stole more than nine billion dollars from my grandfather’s empire. You were behind the Bratva’s seizure of those cargo ships. You hold more than thirty percent of my family's market shares"

Landon’s eyes twitched as venom dripped down his lips that could burn the world down.

"And this…......this marriage? You were the one who proposed it"

He finally stood infront of Vaughn, being slightly shorter than the other so he had to tilt his head up a little to look at the future Pakhan as he accused with hundred percent accuracy.

"You planned all of this"

Vaughn's composure faltered for a split second as Landon spoke those words. He was honestly impressed. Landon had pieced it all together, and so quickly, too, not even his fellow Bratva heirs could do it so quickly.

He allowed a unhinged, predatory smirk to creep onto his face, finally showing Landon the Bratva heir hiding in the mask of a innocent finance as he didn't even deny it.

"You are astute, my little wifey. How did you deduce all that?"

Landon crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clerged as the sound his teeths gritting inside his mouth was audible in the room, his gaze sharp on his fiancee as he spoke.

"The timing of it all was too perfect. The King empire almost collapsing, the fall starting right after i had first put your psycho doctor on his place, the Bratva swooping in to save us, not with money, but with…....marriage, yeah, like you guys are that kind"

His blood boiled inside his veins at the sheer audacity of this man to not even deny any of this, just standing in his room casually, relaxed and smiling at the volcano of emotions boiling inside Landon.

"It was too convenient. And then there are my siblings and cousins and their…....love for Bratva heirs. I get it now......You did it so that they would all be bound to the stupid mafia heirs they love, and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it"

Landon took a step closer, grabbing Vaughn’s tie and tugging on it harshly to bring the two of them closer as his deep blue eyes pierced into the hazel ones while he asked,

"Right?"

Vaughn let out a low whistle, admiration for Landon's sharp wit completely clear in his eyes as he spoke up,

"You're right, Wifey. You truly are a genius. And yes, I did do it to make sure my bratva brothers and sister got what they wanted – to be with their Kings without you being a thorn in their side"

Landon scrowled, holding back the urge to punch this man squeeze on the face and causing a trouble for his entire family and their empire by angering this fucker's father,

"So, why me?"

Landon asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge and showing to have no patience to beat around the bush as he spoke up,

"Why did you go to your father, the Pakhan, for this marriage of all things? Why not just let me play the field with Mia?"

Vaughn’s smile turned sly as he shrugged casually and dropped the bomb as if they were talking about weather.

"Niko and Kill didn’t want you dating their precious sister and cousin, so here we are"

Landon rolled his eyes and really held himself back from going downstair and punching those two barbarians who have their hands all over his younger siblings as he spoke up,

"So, it's alright for your Heathens to date mine, but not me? How hypocritical is that?"

Vaughn laughed, the sound rich and genuine but the words contrasted his tone as he spoke up with sarcasm dripping down his lips,

"We’re mafias, we don’t play by the rules. Isn’t that what we do wifey? Dig out all the dirty information and do whatever we want to do?"

Landon’s spoke back, his voice was drenched in sarcasm to shoot it right back at Vaughn as he tsked,

"And that’s it? That's the only reason the future Pakhan wants to marry me? To keep me away from one of the Bratva Princess?"

Vaughn took another step closer, his proximity making Landon's breath hitch. Up so close, he could smell Vaughn’s aftershave still lingering on his skin along with his cologne that smelled heavy of a scent he couldn't pin-point, probably some strong russian perfume.

His eyes met Landon's, and there was a spark there that wasn’t entirely amusement, but something darker, more intense and twisted than anything else Landon has ever seen.

"No, Landon. I don't want you as my other half to keep you away from some bratva princess. I want you."

For the first time since they met, Vaughn said his name and it send a visible shiver down the sculpture's spine. He tried to hide the shudder of his shoulders and but failed as Vaughn seemed to notice it, a smirk tugged in his lips for getting this reaction from Landon.

He placed a hand on Landon’s cheek, his thumb caressing his jawline and smuging some clay sticking to his face across the sharp cut of his face as he spoke up dangerously,

"Landon King, the man who can single-handedly trouble all the Bratva heirs and walk away unscathed. The arsonist who walked past all of Heathens's security and set the mansion on fire. Who kidnapped not one but two Bratva heirs for getting tangled with his siblings and walked unhindered into their den to declare his interest in their princess........I want that Landon by my side. I want you, the chaos, the unpredictable storm, to rule with me, over Bratva one day"

The words were spoken like a vow.

Like a unhinged universal fact.

Like a declaration of of a emperor that can't be denied.

Vaughn, for all his veiled words, spoke these ones with so much rawness that they took away the the air from Landon's lungs.

"I want your chaos to control Bratva one day, Wifey"

Landon stared into Vaughn's eyes, feeling a strange mix of fear, intrigue, and something akin to excitement.

He was left speechless for a second, searching Vaughn's hazelnut coloured eyes for any tint of deception and he found nothing but the naked, confident truth in his words.

Landon was taken back, for having the world reject him for his chaos, it was a first for him who tossled the universe around to have Landon’s chaos.

For people trying to calm Landon’s storm, this was the first time who wanted Landon to unleash the full strength of his strom.

Landon had always been a whirlwind. A beautiful, destructive cyclone of brilliant ideas, impulsive decisions, and a heart that beat so loud it threatened to shatter his ribs.

He’d grown used to the world recoiling, to people wanting him to temper his edges, to quiet the storm that brewed within. He was a masterpiece of chaos, and for most, a masterpiece that needed reining in.

He was taken aback. The world had always sought to tame him, to mold him into something more palatable, more predictable.

Yet here he was, this man who will forcefully hold his hand for the rest of their life, wanting him with every chaotic, fractured piece of his being.

It was a first for him, a universe he had tossed into a frenzy, now embracing him in his rawest form. Vaughn didn’t want the calm after the storm; he wanted the storm itself.

Landon found this situation so fucking unbelievable and so ironic that he couldn't help it, throwing his head back and laughing.

His eyes wrinkling as he laughed till his stomach hurt, clutching on his stomach as the genuine laugh that echoed through the room while Vaughn just stared at him.

When he finally calmed down a little, he looked up at Vaughn, meeting his lion like eyes with his own that held the depth of ocean in them as he smirked, a unhinged devilish smirk that everyone in the Brighton Island feared as he spoke,

"Careful to-be-pakhan, you don't want to open the pandora's box to unleash a plague on humanity now, do you?"

Vaughn however returned his smirk with his own devilish one, stepping closer and leaning near Landon’s face as they held a unbreakable eye contact with their smirks never leaving their lips as he spoke up,

"As a matter of fact wifey, I am really eager to open the box. You see, I am a very curious man and a very selfish one who cares less about the world and more about himself"

Landon stared into Vaughn eyes silently for a brief second, taking note of how his pulips worked before stepped back, turning around to go back to his sculpture.

The smirk however never left his face as he spoke up a challenge very smoothly,

"Then you'll have to win me, future Pakhan, because Landon King belongs to no one."

Landon invited Vaughn on a dangerous dance of manipulation and domination.

And act of annihilation and destruction.

A rhythm of pure chaos with his demons that he ruled.

And Vaughn’s smirk widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he stepped on the dance floor where their genius minds will clash and dance together in a fiercity that can burn the world down.

"Game on, wifey"

The tension in the room was thick, a magnetic pull between two powerful forces.

This was no longer a forced union, a calculated move on a chess board - it was a battle of wills, a dangerous dance of desire and ambition.

And Landon, despite his anger, found himself drawn into the game, a willing participant in the chaos that was about to explode. The scent of clay and burnt cigarettes still hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the fire that had just been ignited.

[canichangemyblogname]

When I started therapy, I was actually hung up on the fact that I didn't seem to have ever experienced dysphoria, which is a lie that has its origins in part in the fact I had no fucking clue what dysphoria actually is. I've since found that it's actually kinda hard to explain, and that's why these narratives that dysphoria is when trans people are revulsed by their body and agab, or when they "hate" their past self, persist. It's also why these "trapped in" bodies and "wrong" bodies narratives exist.

Like. I'm in my body. My body is my body. My consciousness isn't in another person's body; it's in my own. And I know myself. I know myself well enough to know that I am not a woman despite society telling me that my bits, pieces, and parts "make" me one. And how else do I explain this to someone with no frame of reference for this? I liken it to "Freaky Friday," despite the fact that's- technically- what it isn't? It’s like having an out-of-body experience. You're looking at your body. You know it's your body. But there's also a disconnect. Something's missing, and something's there that makes no sense.

I also don't think I could ever hate the girl my parents tried to raise or the woman I wanted so desperately to be. That wouldn't be very kind to me. She really tried her damnedest. And she's not "dead" because she's a vital part of my past. I, quite technically, wouldn't be trans if "she" never existed. I'd be a cis man if I was never afab. "Trans" is an important part of my lived reality.

Was I ever a "girl"? A part of me still has no idea. I know I truly believed I was, but the reasons I believed I was weren't healthy.

I held on to a lot of sex-essentialist ideas for a good portion of my youth. Why? It was all that connected me to the identity society and my family was trying to raise me into. When my cousin gifted me a uterus pin with the words "Women's rights" on it, I wore it proudly. It was a very tenuous connection to womanhood, and it was a connection I needed to critically rethink when my mother and grandmother were both diagnosed with cervical cancer (I was 11). I knew that it ran in my family and that, one day, I might need to go through the same surgery they did just to live.

I asked my mom what connected her to womanhood, and she replied: motherhood. I was never, ever going to be a mother, so I returned to the drawing board. I asked my grandmother what connected her to womanhood, and she replied: standing up to violent men and men who denied her and other women the opportunity to work; community. And I realized that I had never been extended the same community my grandmother always had been. Part of the disconnect I felt was due to violence (sexual and not) I had experienced in single-sex, "women's only" spaces. Girls in "girl's only" spaces made it clear that I was not welcome, and, at the time, I didn't understand why they singled me out and picked on me.

Even though my family was trying to raise me as a girl, the society around me saw me as nothing more than a "failed" girl. I was an "unwoman," not "woman enough," for reasons such as what I preferred to wear. But it's not like in marking me as "unwoman," they made me into a man, far from it. They sorted me- on the basis of my queerness- into some other third category. Something of a eunuch.

And it seemed like the only thing I had was some sex-essentialist, cisgender pretense (I absolutely loved the linked blog post as I found it quite striking, even though I was *never* trans-exclusionary, and I never supported those ideas about trans people) to sort of reassure myself that I belonged in society. Every time I usurped or rebelled against our sex/gender norms, I would work to distract myself from how I constructed my body into a binary and thus ignore how being made into a girl was wrong for me. I literally disconnected myself from parts of my internal self & internal thoughts, and I denied myself the opportunity to construct an identity. I was constantly gaslighting myself and consistently engaged in thought-stopping. In part because I was terrified of being "different."

I so desperately wanted to be just like every other girl that I ignored the fact that I likely never was (and that there is no such thing as universal woman/girlhood). With that realization, I could hear the words of my school-yard bullies from years ago, words which, it seems, many trans masc people have heard in their lifetime, "What's wrong? We're all girls here, aren't we? We're all alike."

I've been unable to recognize my own dysphoria because I have spent my whole life purposefully ignoring and distracting myself from those moments of "huh. something's off." I spent some 23 years of my life essentially disassociating from myself (I'm 26 now). I felt detached from my body and detached from the world around me. It felt as if everyone else was moving, but I was floating in place. I disconnected myself from my thoughts and emotions in an attempt to be accepted by a society that finds queerness disgusting.

I literally felt like I was watching my life and body unfold without my consent rather than me unfolding it myself. So, I liken my experience to "Freaky Friday" because that's also what it is.

[phantommaws]

🔞 Chapter Preview - Insurrection

!!WIP LeviHan Smut!!

AKA idk wtf I am doing because I’ve never written anything like this before.

NO MINORS

It is what it said on the tin, my first EVER piece of smut. Never written anything this descriptive before, but without further ado, I present whatever this is. Constructive criticism and feedback is incredibly appreciated.

Hange looked up as Levi walked into the room, wearing nothing but his sleeping shorts as he carried two cups over to the bed. She carefully placed the book down on the bedside table before taking the cup offered to her, catching the soothing smells of chamomile and valerian root as she gave a sigh of contentment.

“Is it really a good idea to be reading, Four-Eyes? You yourself complained about how bad that headache had felt earlier.” Levi said as he slipped under the sheets beside them as they looked at him over the rims of their glasses.

“You know me, shorty. I like to read before I go to sleep – helps settle my mind.” Hange took a sip of the tea, their eye closing in bliss at the soothing flavours. She loved the new routine that she had devised for herself, revelling in the fact that she no longer had to stay awake all night the way she had in the past.

“Although, we do have the house to ourselves tonight – Onyankopon is out visiting family. I think you know what that means…”

Levi’s eyes widened in shock as he almost choked on his mouthful of tea. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned to face Hange, seeing the look of pure lust in her deep brown eye as they looked at him over the rims of their glasses. He felt his cheeks flushing, mind running wild as he imagined all of the different things that would possibly happen.

“Quit looking at me like that, Four-Eyes.” He said quietly, trying to ignore the sly smirk that Hange was throwing his way. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore their presence beside him, nor the growing heat and tightness between his legs.

“Like what?”

“Like a wild animal stalking its prey.”

Hange chuckled at his statement, and Levi felt his heart leap. Fuck, he thought as he grasped Hange by the waist, pulling them so that they were sat straddling his hips as she squealed in shock, it’s been far too long since the last time.

“Damn, shorty,” Hange teased in a sultry tone as their hands wandered down his torso and ever closer to the hem of his shorts, “I didn’t realise that you would be so eager…”

Levi merely grunted in response, pulling his lover close and planting a kiss on their throat, and all Hange could do was bite back a breathy moan at the gentle touch. His tender kisses felt like they left trails of fire on her skin as he moved to her collarbones.

“Oh…Levi…”

Hange’s eye closed in bliss, breath hitching in their throat as she felt the palms of his hands wandering across her back under the oversized shirt that she was wearing. Levi always had such incredible ways of making them feel so beautiful and sensual, and now was no different.

“You’re so beautiful, Hange,” Levi breathed as he worked the shirt off, revealing the curves of Hange’s body as she sat above him and chuckled; he shivered in anticipation, and Hange smiled warmly as they reached back and released their hair from the ponytail – strands of their rich brown locks cascaded down, covering their shoulders slightly as they stretched their body out with a smile. Levi didn’t know if it was possible, but it felt like his face was growing even redder as he took in the sight before him - their soft, supple skin; the slight, elegant curve of their back.

Levi reached up and began to gently stroke the skin of Hange’s stomach, and they practically melted under the gentle attention. Both his hands and his eye wandered further down, reaching between her legs as she leaned in for a gentle kiss. Hange’s breath hissed in as they felt his fingers toying with them through the shorts, fighting the urge to grind themselves against his hand.

“Take the shorts off.” Levi practically growled into Hange’s ear with a smirk as he pulled his hand away, making them groan in annoyance at the sudden disappearance of stimulation. The brunette eagerly wriggled out of the garment, tossing it to the side before leaning back down again, crushing their lips to Levi’s in a passionate embrace. Once again, Levi’s fingers began to trace teasing circles around their clit, and Hange could barely contain their moans.

“Oh…Levi! That feels so good!”

Hange’s eye remained closed, and before she could register anything else other than the intense sensations, they felt Levi push them down so that their back was pressed against the softness of the sheets. She moved to look up, but the sudden presence of a tongue against her most sensitive spot accompanied by Levi’s fingers rubbing against her entrance swiftly stole away whatever words she was trying to form in that moment, replaced only by a cry of pure pleasure.

“Hnnngh…fuck…Fuck! Aaah…aaaaaahh…”

Hange’s face was flushed, feeling the warmth building in their lower abdomen as she grabbed fistfuls of Levi’s jet-black hair, her cries and desperate whimpers growing in pitch and volume. He was eagerly lapping at them with the flat of his tongue, fingers threatening to make her come undone at the very seams.

“Levi…I…”

Levi couldn’t help but smirk slightly as he continued his work on his lover. Their gasps and desperate cries were music to his ears, and from how much her body was clamping down on his fingers, he knew she was close. Hange was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and their entire body was trembling as his attentions brought them ever closer to climax as her back arched off the bed.

“Fuck! Levi, I’m…I’m gonna…!”

The fire pooling up in their lower abdomen exploded into an inferno, and Hange could no longer hold back her screams as the pure, unbridled pleasure overwhelmed her entire being. It felt like there was electricity coursing through her entire body as Levi continued his motions, helping her ride out the waves until she was left gulping for breath, collapsing against the sheets.

That’s all I have for now as I’m still working on it. Will be uploading the whole thing once it’s finished.

[ingravinoveritas]

u know michael has spoken out against people bashing/speculating about his relationship and anna multiple times right? even blocking some “fans” for doing so

Hello, Anon. I'm guessing this is in response to this Anon, which I answered recently.

I'd first like to clarify one point, which is that I don't consider what I wrote to be "bashing" Michael's relationship. I've noticed that people seem to characterize any commentary that isn't enthusiastic, over-the-top praise as "bashing," which in turn leaves no room for nuanced conversation, which is what I was trying to do with that post, by responding to a question that I felt I could answer.

Second, there are only two instances I am aware of involving Michael speaking out about or blocking people for talking about his relationship with AL. One occurred four years ago and sounds as if he was under tremendous pressure/had no other choice. The other took place three years ago, and what I think often gets overlooked is that this was during lockdown, when Michael was already not in the best frame of mind. It was a time I seem to keep seeing folks on Twitter refer to as "feral Michael" (such as the incident where he had an interaction with a fan over the bees in his house), but that I think is more accurately described as "unhinged."

The distinction between the two is that "feral Michael" is the Michael who was on the GO press tour making cheeky comments about Aziraphale and Crowley and brazenly flirting with David and basically being the world's biggest Ineffable Husbands shipper. "Unhinged" Michael was the side of him we saw during the pandemic, and the very difficult time we were all having. He was clearly, visibly depressed and struggling (it was especially noticeable during the second season of Staged), and it was frustrating to see everyone ignore that, and seemingly still ignoring it three years later.

That being said, aside from the above mentioned incidents, I'm having a difficult time recalling Michael ever speaking about his relationship with Anna, let alone defending it. He's talked about her during paid interviews, where the interviewer prompts him to do so (such as in the PR pieces that were published in the Australian media ahead of him appearing in Amadeus a few months ago, and this interview promoting LTTC at the end of 2021), but he has not and does not bring her up unprompted. (Again, in sharp contrast to how he constantly brings up David in multiple interviews without the interviewer even saying a word.)

There were also multiple opportunities for Michael to talk about AL publicly on social media over the past few years, and yet he's seemingly chosen not to do that. He didn't promote LTTC with her (and in fact if you look at their tweets promoting the film side-by-side, there is a stark difference). He didn't mention her or their appearance together in that one episode of Sandman, and he didn't at all promote Staged 3, which was released with almost no advanced notice in November of last year and has barely been talked about since.

I have to admit something, Anon: I am disappointed. You could have come in here and said you disagreed with me, and that would've been absolutely fine. I'm always open to hearing other opinions and people who don't agree with me, and we could have had a discussion and shared opinions in a constructive way. But when you come in here without any receipts and make comments that sound a lot like barely veiled threats, I know that your aim is to intimidate and shut me down, because you want me to stop talking.

I believe that Michael is welcome to cultivate his online space, and so are we all. My intention is to keep a respectful dialogue going because I don't believe shutting people down is the answer. I'd love for you to be a part of that, Anon...but if you don't happen to like what I am writing, it costs nothing at all just to block me and move on.

[letitiaslabyrinth]

M A S T E R L I S T

Hey!! My names luxen!!

Feel free to leave constructive criticism/feedback! If you'd like, you can add me to your tag list or asked to be added to mine.

Rules:

1. I do not write for real people (Letitia Wright, Dominique Thorne), only fictional characters (Shuri Udaku, Riri Williams).

2. Any and all x readers will be POC.

3. I will not write incest, r/pe, or any kind of unconsensual sexual things.

4. I do not and will not write anything that has to do with Nashuri.

5. You can vent in my ask box if needed <3.

6. I only write for women(this may change).

7. If you ask for a certain fic and it doesn't get done in a certain time frame, please remember that I've got a life outside of Tumblr and that I will try my best to start or finish it!

8. I don't write smut. I’m too young for it.

9. As of now, I only write for Shuri and Riri.

10. Do not rush me to finish any pieces of work.

MY WORKS

SHURI UDAKU

Shuri Udaku headcannons

lovesick!shuri who's a softy. She loves you. You know she loves you, she knows she loves you and she'll be damned if she doesn't let everyone in all of Wakanda know, too. Shuri isn't afraid to show you off when the two of you are in public. She doesn't get too territorial when it comes to you because she knows that you're hers and she's yours.

Keep me close

"It's a promise ring," she says quickly, "I know you're not ready for marriage yet, my love."

You put the ring on your ring finger, a smile on your face.

Shuri kisses you on the forehead and places one of the onesies in your hands. "You take a shower and I'll make us something to eat, alright?"

Grief

Shuri sits up slowly. She breathes in deeply and unlocks the door. "Why're you here?" Her voice is low and raspy, surprising both of them. It had been a while since Shuri had actually said something out loud.

"I heard you weren't doing so good so I came to check on you," Riri says. She's worried. Shuri can see it all over her face and hear it in her voice but she doesn’t want to be a burden.

Addiction

There were times when you would get upset about her drinking while she was drinking and she would always talk you down. Not in a bad way, Shuri doesn't like yelling to resolve an argument or a disagreement. It doesn't solve anything to raise your voice, it only makes you and the situation more hostile. Shuri would wait for you to stop talking and then politely ask if you could lower your tone. She doesn't do it to guilt trip or make you feel guilty or anything, she just can't stand yelling. And if you do actually lower your tone and calm yourself down, the two of you talk reasonably for hours. You tell her what happened, why you're mad, and how the situation escalated to the point where you had to raise your voice.

★

RIRI WILLIAMS

Stay with me

You open the car door, smiling at the red and pink bouquet of flowers on your seat. You look over at Riri, who also has a smile on her face.

"Ri, when did you have the time to get these?" You finish your sentence while getting in the car, the flowers on your lap, "They are literally stunning."

"I got em while you were napping during your foot massage. Figured it was the only time I had to disappear for minute without you noticin'."

Something new

You stand there for another minute or two before deciding that since she wouldn't address her absence then you would. "So, we're not gonna talk about the fact that you just up and left, again, this morning?"

Shuri shrugs and sits down on the couch. "What sense does it make? You ask, I ignore you and the cycle repeats? No thanks."

"Why can't you communicate with me?" "For Bast's sake, y/n." Shuri groans and rolls her eyes. "Here you go, again."

Gf!Riri hcs

She falls asleep whenever you two are watching a movie or even when you two are just alone. She feels safe with you at all times so she knows to lower her guard.

She is 100% a homebody. She likes leaving the house but she also doesn’t. If she has to choose between staying home and going out, she’s gonna pick staying in and especially if you're staying home with her.

Nervous

"Tryna get drunk already, Ri?"

"Thats what we came here for, isn’t it?"

"You do know that shit is gonna give you a nasty ass hangover, right?"

Riri shrugs and chugs her drink. It only takes a few seconds before she starts coughing quietly. It was spicy and left her throat a little sore but she liked it. She filled her cup again while Shuri watched.

"Don't come to me tomorrow morning begging me to make you something to eat and drink, you know? I gave you your warning."

You haven't seen my girl

The way Riri always looked at you with love in her eyes made you melt. It’s like she’s a cartoon character with hearts for eyes. Whenever she talked about you to somebody she’d always say “My girl”. You liked that. Being called her girl was something you lived for.

There weren’t enough words in the English language that could explain how much love Riri has for you in her heart. Every time she looks at you, a love song plays in her head. It’s not a sexual love song. It’s a slow, romantic one. Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey. That explains her love for you. That plays in her head whenever you’re in her view, and honestly, it makes her fall even deeper in love with you each time.

Just seeing you smile, seeing you write, cook, draw, seeing you do things that she knows you love, makes her fall even more in love with you. It’s not the fact that you do things that you like, it’s the fact that you do them with a smile on your face. Cooking, writing, and drawing all bring you happiness, and for Riri to be able to experience that in real-time makes her heart flourish.

Trust in her

"Rianna?" She moves closer. "That's my name now?"

"I'm not callin' you Riri when you tryna play wit me." You put your lipgloss on and look at yourself in the mirror. You look good and you know it.

"You look good, mama," Riri says, coming behind you and kissing your head. "You sure you don't want me coming with you?"

"So you can beat the hell outta some nigga that look at me the wrong way?" You laugh, "Nah, Ion want no drama tonight, but if you promise to behave then you can come with me."

You see her smile. "Aight, I'ma behave."

★

SHURI X RIRI

At the end of the day

Shuri put her hand in chest and sank to the floor, crying. "Griot," she says softly.

"Yes, my queen?" The A.I answers.

"Call Riri. Tell her it's an emergency."

"Calling Mrs. Williams now."

Riri rushed into the lab, frantically looking around for her wife. She stopped for a second and heard crying. It was soft but she was able to figure out where it was coming from.

Riri kneeled down next to Shuri, "Baby, what happened?"

Roller skating

Riri wraps her hand around Shuri's waist to hold her upright. She's clinging on for dear life. They move slowly towards the counter. Once they've made it, Riri notices how Shuri is slightly less tense but still scared. Riri asks for the trainer and gives it to Shuri. Shuri feels embarrassed having to use a trainer to skate, like everyone's gonna be staring at her once she's in the rink.

"You're okay, my love." Riri says softly. "I know you're scared but I'm not gonna let you get hurt."

Shuri closes her eyes and breathes in deeply and opens her eyes. They're on the rink. She didn't even feel them move.

Riri stays behind her the whole time, hands on her hips, moving her forward when needed. "Keep moving, ma, you got it." She says proudly.

Vacation (coming ???)

Didn't deserve

“Are you hungry?” Shuri asked Imani from the kitchen. No response. Shuri rolled her eyes and went over to her girlfriend, standing in front of her. “Can you just tell me why you’re ignoring me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you should remember. It’s not my fault your memory is shit.”

“And it’s not my fault that you’re having this one-sided ass fight over something I don’t even fucking remember, Imani. We're dating, aren’t we? We’re supposed to be able to talk to one another when we have issues but instead you're pushing me away and ignoring me.”

Didn't deserve part 2

"Imani?" Shuri says, causing her to turn around. She looks… different. A good different. But Shuri won't let herself fall for that trick again. "Why're you here?"

"I came to apologize." Her voice is different, too. It sounds more mature than Shuri remembered. "I was tryna reach out to you last night so that we could actually schedule a day that you weren't busy so I could come by but you didn't answer so I figured an apology in person would be better."

Shuri keeps her guard up while Imani talks, her arms folded over chest. "I don't forgive you."

Imani stays quiet for a few seconds. "What? Shuri, I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, and I do not forgive you. You put me through hell, Imani, and I know you didn't seriously come here thinking that those two words would make you forgive you for everything. And, to be honest, I would tell you how fucked up in the head I am because of you, but knowing you, you'd probably use it against me in the future, if we even talk. So, why don't you just save both of our time and tell me why you're really here."

[dr-lizortecho]

Hi! I searched (stalked?!) your blog for Simon/Daphne content since I love that you ship them too but couldn't find any posts on their mbti types, so I'd love to hear how you would type them and your general thoughts on how Simon and Daphne's similarities and differences. Only if you want to, of course :)

Ohhh!! I’m always up to type and discuss characters I love <3

So Daphne screams ESFJ to me, because she leads into almost every social interaction with very strong Fe and with a fallback of Ne (this is more so used as caterer to her Fe since it’s tertiary function). This can be observed through just the way she tries to connect to her suitors, through trying to forge an emotional connection and when it fails switching tactics quickly and with ease, to how she interacts with her family (Elouise in particular!). Leaving her Secondary function as Si and her inferior as Ti. Her Si is strong and one of the first traits/qualities the show depicts, which is her clinging to knowns and her striving for a “traditional” looking lifestyle. While she fails to understand the allure of something non-traditional (or queer) it takes her kicking back against this secondary function with her tertiary (Ne) paired with her desire to connect and love (Fe) to combat its more set in stone nature. And her inferior function is Ti, which we don’t get to see too much of since it’s her weakest function (and she lives in a society that doesn’t necessarily encourage women with sharp minds or for them to orchestrate anything), but it does appear in how she handles Nigel Berbrooke, because she handles it with nuance and an understanding of her place in society, watching all the internal mechanisms and understanding how they will play out. Because Ti is so difficult for me to explain- we’ll just say it’s a logical system that views all new information as part of a larger whole, a piece to be added to the algorithm vs an individual thing to be deconstructed and reconstructed.

As for Simon I have been known to bounce back and forth between ISTJ and INTJ and ISFP, because I feel like my take on his functions change with each watch of the show. Primarily it’s currently a battle of whether certain choices and actions are by products of Fi and a stronger presenting Te, or high Ti and a lack of Fe development…

But one thing that is for certain is he contrasts and compliments Daphne in position (that being a man- but also being a man of color, because they both of station in life but different societal threats to that station) and in how the process and view societal obligations. Because Daphne sees their falsities and complexities, but she sees those through the lense of them being constructed for proprietary and with good intent. While Simon sees them as a hoax, something to be ignored or a game to be won. Both as by products of the positions they were raised in- and reflective of their familial contrasts. Also! I could go insane talking about how though vastly different in love and raising they are both shackled by expectation for their stations in life. Because Simon was viewed as not worthy of his title and Daphne as a pawn to marry up (however lovingly and blinded by society as it was). But that’s for another day.

[la-pheacienne]

What are your favourite greek classics? or in general from the greek literature canon? I'm not greek so i confess that i only know the ones that date back centuries that i needed to study from my classic greek classes :) I read antigone and i like it

And, aside from les mis, have you read any other french classics? or any that are now encapsulated as "european" (spanish, polish, romanian etc?

Sorry if any questions sound weird. Do not need to answer if they make you uncomfortable

No it's not weird at all, thank you for asking!!!

Unfortunately, I have read far less greek classics than I would like. My first response will be kind of basic, I think one should always, always, start with Homer (with a slight preference for Odyssey). Odyssey is truly magical. There is nothing quite like it. Thematically, conceptually, narratively, stylistically it is just so flawless. It is like a dream of adventure, love, monsters, good and evil, loyalty and treason, and longing for home of course.

Then since you have read Antigone you could try Oresteia, this is a trilogy (I think the first trilogy ever created?), so it's three consecutive tragedies, and it's amazing, I think this one particularly appeals to someone who is looking for a more, let's say, morally dubious world. It's less idealistic, it's a story about a rotten royal family tearing itself to pieces. What's cool is that every single POV has more or less valid reasons for doing what they are doing, and your opinion on the characters really changes when you go from one tragedy to the next. Everyone is partly right and partly wrong (some more than others), but in the end the gods intervene to settle this affair once and for all. It's really cool. Then Oedipus Rex has of course the OG "trying to change my destiny and making it happen instead" arc which is a really powerful theme, used consistently ever since in any type of modern media, films, tv shows and books.

But since you ask about Greece, in case you are interested in reading modern greek literature, I have a soft spot for the Murderess of Alexandros Papadiamantis (you can find it in Amazon), I think it's the best modern greek novel honestly. It's about an old woman who slowly becomes deranged and starts killing little girls, starting with her newborn granddaughter, because she feels that girls bring only misery to their families (and will only experience misery themselves). Then I will also include this quite niche recommendation (this one will be more difficult to find but an english translation does exist), its The End of Our Small Town by Dimitris Hatzis, it's a book with many beautiful and heartbreaking short stories/portraits of different social types of people in Greece during the period between the first and the second World War.

So, from Europe I have read french, russian, and english literature. And also Kafka, that's it. So I can only speak about this. From french literature, I would recommend a less talked about novel of Balzac, Le Cousin Pons, that is one of my absolute favourite books. Balzac is the contrary of Hugo in the sense that Hugo is a Romantic, he talks about society but aiming to inspire people, to put it simply, while Balzac is a Realist, so he wants to present society exactly as it is, and it is not a good portrait. Where Hugo is hopeful, Balzac is resigned, so it is a really depressing book. But still, hands-out the most in-depth portrait of french society, 100 percent relevant today, and the appeal of it is that it makes the modern reader feel akward cause the things he criticizes are still prevalent in the modern way of thinking. I guarantee that you will find people you know that are exactly like some characters in that book. It is the story of an antique collector that is ignored and scorned by his superficial bourgeois family because he's weird and he only cares about his hyperfixation (his collectables) until they realise the true value of his collection and they construct a plan to steal it and basically destroy him in the process.