#it seemed a waste not to share my descent

[toastyoffering]

I don’t understand why fans of two engineering nerds stickin it in each other spiritually can’t recognize one of those gears has a bigger hole and fewer teeth.

It’s symbolism bro he was naked in the hexcore did he keep it in his buttcheeks? Wow the council room is exploding lemme just pop this in my butt for safekeeping?

i’m literally going to end it all

[jacevelaryonswife]

Golden and Silver, my new colors | part one

Your marriage to Prince Aemond was promising in the eyes of your parents, however, as almost everything that is known suffers from imperfections, the dynamics between you and your husband could not be different.

∴ pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!reader

∴warnings: slight angst, mature content, pregnancy, some reader’s thoughts may be a little aggressive to the topic of pregnancy, spiteful reader, english is not my first language.

golden and silver masterlist

Your marriage to Prince Aemond was promising in the eyes of your parents, a young couple of noble descent whose union strengthened the alliance between the Crown and one of the most influential houses in Westeros. However, as almost everything that is known suffers from imperfections, the dynamic between you and your husband could not be different. Though he never mistreated or mistreated you, Aemond was mostly apathetic to your presence and made slight effort to maintain an active dialogue between you. He was terribly cordial, polite and did his duty vehemently, but nothing more than that, there was no desire to sow good seeds for a promising future or to open a small gap to allow you in, despite your many attempts.

You knew the prince's fame before the quick engagement and marriage process, a reserved young man, quiet and almost too intimidating. You were also aware that building the relationship could be really difficult and tumultuous, but not to that extent, not like this. Nothing happened between you and Aemond, not one step more or less, it was as if an infinite inertia had settled into your marriage and refused to leave. But again, not because of your attempts. For months you tried various types of approaches, some more delicate than others, almost timid or more incisive. It wasn't like he ignored you, no, he answered patiently, but he never sought to deepen a conversation with you, or anything beyond the basics. There was a wall between you that he refused to tear down. To be honest, there were some moments when he gave himself a little more in your relationship, when asked about his favorite books and when you wore black dresses with purple details — the latter made him squeeze your hand harder initially in public, but eventually it returned to rigidity. About the books: he asked you back what your interests were and kept a sustained eye on you for long seconds after your answer, before retreating from your shared quarters to spar with Sir Criston Cole.

For your mother and Queen Alicent, it was your duty to spark passion at your wedding. However, no tips or tricks to make your husband more open or affectionate worked. There were no more avenues to be explored.

“A woman's duty is to maintain her marriage. If the prince is not interested in your charms, you must try harder,” said your mother.

You didn't understand why. Perhaps he didn't want the union and tried to avoid the emergence of a bond beyond the call of duty. Maybe he was just like that, an unknown that would never be unraveled inside an impenetrable shell. Or maybe he was like all men were outside of stories and novels. No matter why or what it was based on, over time, you learned that your husband wasn't interested in your affections, or the queen-colored dresses you had made (even though you hated green), or the gentle touches and wasted words. Aemond wasn't interested.

Maybe he was in love with someone else. The fact alone turned your stomach and left you hanging for days. There was nothing more tragic than being in a loveless marriage. But thinking of the possible lovers Aemond might have, no alternative seemed convincing. Still, the possibility circled your head and made you insecure, keeping you reclusive for a few days.

Much to your dismay, nothing has changed.

Your mother, the queen, and your husband... all remained the same in your absence and unhappiness. Aemond didn't ask about your routine, which didn't give away your stay in a more isolated part of the keep. But your mother and the queen — your two friends — were not as solicitous as they might have been.

Nothing would change in your situation. Nothing. This was only obvious at dinners, parties, and any situation where you and your husband shared physical closeness. Even in bed. Your friends were married women now, too involved in their lives to spend meaningful time with you. Even if they did, you wouldn't be able to say your situation, perhaps out of shame, perhaps because of the wave of unhappiness that has flooded your heart in recent weeks. Just you and your mind glancing outside the wall that separated freedom from loneliness. The freedom you'll never have. You've never felt so abandoned before.

“If you can't make your husband fall in love, I didn't raise you that well.”

Things got worse — specifically for you — when the news of your pregnancy was announced. Your family drank the image of a healthy male grandson, a fierce dragon as your father said. Aemond knowingly pressed your hand across the table with an almost imperceptible smile on his handsome features, positively attracting their mothers' attention. Maybe the arrival of a son would warm the prince's heart, but maybe for you it was too late.

There was no joy to be fully celebrated, just a twinge of spite that threatened to take over your entire body. Grudge for your mother, your father, the queen and especially your husband. There was no joy in having your worth reduced to bearing a child, especially the child of a man who didn't love you.

Oh no, you couldn't take it anymore.

“I would like to retire,” you announced when rose from your chair.

“Are you feeling well, my dear?” asked your father from across the table from the small dinner organized by the queen and king for your pregnancy.

“I would like to be alone.”

“What do you mean, my love? It's because of you that we're here today, stay here”, your mother spoke this time, drawing your impetuous and not very pleasant gaze in her direction.

No, it's not.

"I'm not asking permission, excuse me."

Going against your parents was never an option. You were a polite and affable lady who never objected to an order or raised your voice to anyone. But what did it cost? What have years of obedience done for you?

For a brief moment when Aemond touched your hand, a part of your brain lit up to the feeling and it almost made you recoil from your next acts, almost made you forget what you had accumulated over a lifetime and specifically in the last four months. You wouldn't accept crumbs of what you deserved to have entirely. The blindness of resentment was incisive in guiding you through the corridors without caring about your family members. If you had been paying attention, you would have seen the negatively surprised expressions of your parents and the queen and heard King Viserys I's attempt to remedy the situation as he said:

“The good mood of pregnancy never fails.”

Aemond, for the first time, directed a different look in your direction. Not that you saw it either, in fact, steps followed your path a few minutes after you left, maybe it was your parents, you thought, or the queen, but for the second surprise of the night, it was your husband walking beside you. You didn't deign to look at him, just identifying the sound of his cautious voice.

“Is something wrong, my lady?”

“I have expressed my wish before, husband.”

Again, your grudge didn't make you notice the one-eye prince’s brief retreat. Now he cared about your needs? Funny.

“Just wanted to make sure of your well-being”, his tone was lower than before, but it didn't do much to lessen your displeasure. Damn, all of them, all damn. “If there is any-“

“There’s nothing, my prince, have a good night.”

You didn't have to scream or struggle, though you particularly wanted to, even say a cursed word. But you were cultured, polite and polite. A good lady, a good daughter and a good wife. You learned from the best teacher that indifference is the best way to show apathy for someone. Let them feel it from you until they drown. Aemond didn't continue to follow you, too dismayed by your attitude to take another step.

Some people settle for fractions of attention, love and respect. With cracks of broken happiness, with the shadow of unhappiness. You were one of those people for a long time. No more. You would be seen as you deserved, by your mother the queen, and especially your sweet husband. The next day you went to the artisan to order new dresses to replace your current ones.

“Green, my lady? Or black and purple?”

"Golden. Gold and silver, my new colors.”

[sunfyresrider]

You’re the best part of me

Aegon II Targaryen X Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The beginning of your secret relationship with Aegon proved why you need to stay with him for the rest of your life. TW: forbidden relationship, daddy kink, smut, watersports, virgin!reader, Aegon isn’t the best influence but he can show you a good time. AN: Too lazy to proof read or edit. Part one of two, best smut I’ve ever produced if I say so myself. May or may not finish tomorrow depending on if my inspiration to write returns.

Most believed being a princess was filled with days of excitement and adventures no one else could comprehend. They had choices and power unlike anyone else who shared their gender. Except, those who assumed that were all tragically incorrect. Being a princess meant you rarely left your castle, you must obey everything others tell you, you had no faculty since you lacked a cock.

It was dreadfully boring and each hour seemed to stretch on for days. However as you aged you gained one unlikely companion that made your days seem less droll. Aegon, your uncle, was not as bad as he may appear to others. Yes, he drank a bit much and scoffed at his duties more than others but he, like you, was still young.

He was the only one who joyfully kept you entertained and filled your life with some adventure. Aegon played games with you, let you join in on pranks, took you to explore the city streets and actively helped you escape septa lessons. He was by far your favorite person and truthfully your only friend.

It was easy to speak to him, as if he were the only one who truly understood your feelings. At this point he probably knew everything about you and how your mind worked exactly. It was not one sided affection, you knew as much about him.

Tonight was one of the rare times you both decided to escape the keep together. Aegon had adorned you with the shabbiest clothing he could find and a little hate to hide your identity. Everyone in Flea Bottom knew him by now so there was little point in disguising himself.

Your destination? The one place Aegon swore to never allow you to go to. You’ve never seen a brothel before and you would be lying if it didn’t pique your interest. Besides, Aegon was the only one you trusted enough to take you anywhere. You quickly undid the bundle of clothing gifted to you, "Wait outside while I dress." He cocked an eyebrow, "Are you being shy, Princess?"

"Aegon,” You warned him. He put his hands up in mock surrender and disappeared into the dark corridor of Maegor's tunnels. You quickly stripped your dress away, discarding it onto the floor. Cautiously, you tiptoed into the tunnels, holding onto the walls to feel your way in the darkness.

You called out to Aegon, who did not reply. It became increasingly eerie the farther you walked inside, especially since most of the torches were blown out and the walls were covered in cobwebs. You creeped forward, slipping when the wall opened up to another hallway. "Boo!"

You squealed, backing hard into the right wall. The sounds of Aegon’s chuckles echoed within the vast hallways. "You aren't funny!" He snatched your hand and began the descent to Fleabottom, basking in your annoyance. The specific exit you used led to Fleabottom, or at least close to it. It was an alleyway filled with muck and excrement but was the best place to go when someone doesn’t want to get caught.

Luckily, the stench of cow shit and rotting waste slowly dissipated as you got close to the main busting streets within the city. As always, the streets were filled to the brim with people from all walks of life. Your favorites were always the citizens from Tyrosh, with painted hair and unusual hats dancing in the street.

Aegon wrapped an arm around your shoulder in a protective manner, pulling you into him. You attempted to work yourself out but his grip was insatiably tight. "Uh uh, no running away in this area. Men will descend upon you like moths to a flame if I let go." You gave up on trying to escape, besides his body provided much needed warmth.

As the journey continued the music rang louder in their ears. The kind only drunken bards would play in the late hours. You began humming along to the tune, your feet becoming jittery with the urge to move. Aegon loathed dancing and you knew it, but he would never say no to you. "I want to dance!"

He shouted back over the noise, "I can't dance!" You shoved his body away from you, grasping his hands. "That wasn't a request, Twas’ a demand!" You spun him in a circle, twirling every so often. His face turned a bright shade of red, his feet tripping over themselves. The sounds of your laughter reverberating in his ears.

Aegon could watch you like this forever, red faced, blinding smile, and not a singular care in the world. It was a minuscule moment in the grand scheme of things but it would be one that never left his head. Seeing you enjoy the life bestowed on you so easily, It was the only thing he looked forward to anymore.

However, there were other things that would bring him enjoyment tonight. Acts that would never leave his brain even in his dreams. So, he entertained you with several more songs. Let you drag him as you prance around the cobbled square. Allowed you to step on his toes and nearly run into other couples so long as you remained happy.

But as your breath became heavy, and your steps began to slow. When you began to lean into him more than what was deemed appropriate and your excitement deemed. Aegon decided it was time to take your leave.

He tugged you closer to him, leaning to cup your ears. "I think it's time we get out of here,” he shouted into your ear, voice barely audible over the instruments. "I'll follow your lead, my Prince"

The journey to the other side of town was short, however the people around you became more conspicuous the farther you went. The smallfolk looked more rugged and the number of men increased indefinitely. All the women were inside windows, hanging out and hollering incoherent sentences.

This was the beginning of the Street of Silk, and the end of your night. The women wore less clothing and their bodies were far bustier than that of regular peasants. Dare you say they were becoming prettier the farther in you traveled.

Aegon’s grip was unbelievably tight, and his eyes rarely roamed anywhere but you. You failed to understand previously why he adorned you with boys clothes, now you were getting a hint. Anyone who remotely resembled a girl was immediately glared at like they were prey. You hoped the place you were going was far less… uneasy feeling.

The building with the red door was on the far end of the street of silk, the patrons became fewer and fewer the closer you approached it. Seemingly, he took you to the most private place on the entire road. Aegon’s grip lessened as he knocked on the door thrice.

An older woman, with breasts falling out of her chemise opened the door. Her eyes scanned over you both, a curious look plastered across her face. “One room in the back," he deadpanned. Aegon tossed her a bag of coins, overpaying her by the look on her face. “Of course, my prince…” She paused, glancing over you twice more. “…And princess.”

The inside was decorated almost elegantly, the women wore more clothing made out of expensive silks, dyed with colors from Tyrosh. It was far more clean than what you assumed a whore house to be, “What is this?” Aegon appeared aloof to his surroundings, “The most expensive brothel you’ll ever enter, reserved for those who want to avoid prying eyes and fuck virgins instead of experienced whores.”

Your face twisted in disgust, “No need to be so crude.” The woman with black hair stopped at a room at the end of one of the vast hallways, dropping the key into Aegon’s hand before taking her leave. A few of the other workers glanced by as they walked past you, your ears ringing with the subtle noises coming from the various rooms around you. “I didn’t mean to be crude, it’s just the truth. Would rather take you here than a place covered in filth.”

Aegon was partially lying, you probably wouldn’t have minded witnessing it all but it would be a cold day in the seven hells when another man was allowed to gaze upon your nude form. “How thoughtful of you,” the door opened to a room illuminated gently by candles. The windows were covered with red silks and the bed appeared completely unused. It almost looked comfortable.

You walked around the room,carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. You gently bounced on it once, testing for stability. Aegon did not wait, he locked the door and pulled the blinds closed, plunging the room in a darkness only the few candles could help.

You felt Aegon kneel in front of you, a small piece of fabric sliding against your legs. His head began to rise up, resting against your thigh. You shuddered, "What are you doing, Aegon?" He stared up at you with those beautiful large blue eyes. "Waiting for permission, princess.”

Your face began to heat up, you shifted in your seat, trying to hide the growing arousal in your pants. You stuttered over your words, “I- I think I am ready." Aegon knelt upwards, sliding his hands up your body to cup your face. Your breathing quickened as you felt him move closer and closer, until he pressed a kiss against your lips.

Your eyes slowly closed, awkwardly you tried to move your lips with his, following his movements closely. Aegon smiled against your lips, his hand sliding down your body, down your stomach, until he reached the front of your breeches. “Don’t be nervous,” he hummed in a seductive tone you didn’t believe he possessed. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Aegon’s hand slid down to your breeches, slowly unlacing the strings that held them together. He slid them off you with haste, exposing your thighs to the cool air. Aegon licked his lips, his hands sliding against your silky soft skin and thumb grazing over your cunt, sending jolts through your body.

His finger dipped down, sliding along your folds, spreading them as he did. A soft groan rumbled in his throat, "So wet for me already." Aegon’s head dipped down, the sensation of his lips against your core making you squeal.

He began to nip at you gently, using his tongue to trail your slit and collect all your juices on his tongue. He groaned into you, “You taste so sweet, Princess." Aegon began to suck on you gently, using his tongue to part your folds.

You gasped, feeling his fingers rub at your entrance. Your thighs clenched around his head, a new feeling building inside you. “A-Aegon I need to pee,” you squeaked. He dropped a finger inside you, pressing against the soft spongy spot inside you. “Just wait, promise,” he murmured into you.

His tongue lapped against you more fervently, his fingers pressed inside you with ease. "A-Ah, Aegon-" He added an another finger , curling his fingers so they hit your sweet spot perfectly. "That's it, princess,” he groaned, the vibrations from his baritone voice sending shockwaves through you.

Your eyes screwed shut as your body became tense, his fingers working inside you. Your hips twitched, unable to find a rhythm with him as the pleasure built within you. His tongue moved circles around your bud, nibbling at it every so often. The strange feeling inside you began to burst, your legs trembled and your arms struggled to support you. You truly believed you had to pee, "Aegon I-," you cried out, your thighs clamped down on his head.

Aegon’s tongue moved fervently, fingering you with more ferocity. You felt yourself tighten around him, his name tumbled from your lips over and over again as he kept up his pace. His fingers purposely hitting a certain spot repeatedly, the coil inside your core began to unwind. As your orgasm began to crash down over you, your bladder released itself accidentally.

This didn’t remotely phase him in the slightest. Aegon kept his mouth pressed to you, feeling your juices drench his hand. Murmuring praises, “Such a messy girl… Keep cumming for me. Fuck that’s so fucking hot.” Aegon did not let you move an inch, his fingers working you like a puppet as the pleasure sent you into a frenzy.

You collapsed onto the bed, heaving as your heart steadied itself. You were unable to see him through the haze but you could feel him smile against your cunt, kissing your thighs and moving towards you. Aegon crawled on top of you, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

His hands found their way under your tunic, lifting it over your head. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, his lips suckling at your neck. He shifted above you, rolling his hips against yours in a seductive manner. You gasped, feeling his cock press against you.

His lips traveled down to your breasts, teasing the tender flesh with his tongue. Aegon pressed a kiss to your nipple, his hips rolling again. You mewled softly, unable to fight back any moans that escaped you. His mouth sucked on your nipple, nipping it lightly with his teeth.

“Aegon,” you whimpered, growing impatient. He pulled back, cupping your face so you looked directly into his eyes. "Needy for my cock too, Princess?" You nodded lazily, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. He smirked at you, tugging his cock free with his left hand.

His length pressed against your cunt, your breathing became ragged as you stared up at him. Aegon slid his cock along your slit, you could feel the precum dripping from his tip onto you. He continued to tease you, moving it up and down, pressing against you. You bit your lip, whining softly, "Please, Aegon."

"That's not my name," he pressed against you harder, his tip pushing into you. You arched your back, trying to coax him further inside you. “M-My Prince, please,” you whimpered. Aegon clicked his teeth together, teasing your entrance but refusing to go further. “Try again, little girl.” You flushed at the pet name, a mix of arousal and embarrassment flooding your system. You looked up at him, eyes pleading, "Please, Daddy, I want you to fuck me."

“That’s my good girl,” his hips slowly moved forward, his cock slowly stretching you out. Your mouth fell open, eyes screwed shut. You whimpered as he pushed deeper inside you, filling your cunt entirely. Aegon paused, "Am I hurting you? I’ll be gentle." You shook your head, “p-please keep going, daddy.”

You felt him shift, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. His hips moved backwards before sliding back in, your hands gripped the sheets beneath you. Aegon's thrusts were gentle at first, slow and calculated. "Gods you're tight," he growled in your ear. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close.

“Beg for it,” he growled into your ear. You moaned softly, not entirely sure what he meant. You pressed your lips against his shoulder, kissing it softly. Aegon stopped moving, his breathing heavy, "Don't play dumb. Beg for me to fuck you harder, Princess." You felt your face heat up at the thought.

"P-Please," you mewled, "Fuck me, Daddy, I want you to fuck me harder." Aegon let out a shaky breath, pulling his hips back so only his tip remained inside you. His hands grabbed your hips, his nails digging into your soft skin. "Better," he huffed, slamming inside you. You let out a yelp, his pace increasing with every thrust.

Aegon pinned your hands behind your head, holding you in place with his right. "Who does your cunt belong to, Princess?" His free hand began toying with your clit, rubbing it in small circles. Your moans and whines increased in volume, "Daddy! I-it belongs to daddy!"

"Louder," his hand was moving faster now, rubbing your bud relentlessly. You couldn't see through the blur of tears in your eyes, his hips slapping against you loudly. "Daddy! My cunt belongs to daddy," you cried out, your voice echoing in the small room. “That’s my perfect little girl,” he slurred.

Your walls began to flutter around him, feeling a pressure begin to build in your core. You squeezed your thighs together, pulling at Aegon. His breath became shaky, his eyes temporarily rolling into his head. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you princess? Cum on my cock like a good little girl, hmm?," he growled into your ear.

Your hands grasped for his, squeezing tightly as the coil began to snap within you. "A-Ah, Daddy-" Your back arched, eyes squeezing shut as the pressure built inside you, "Yes, yes, yes," Aegon's moans were becoming more frequent, his face glistening with sweat. Your legs twitched around him, your walls clamping down around his cock.

"Fuck," he hissed, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. “D-Da- Aegon,” you moaned loudly as a different kind of pleasure washed over you. Your cunt began to spasm around him, soaking his cock with your juices. “Oh gods,” he moaned loudly, his head tilting backwards. You could feel his cock twitch inside you as he began to fill you with his seed. His hips jerked erratically, his fingers squeezing your hands tightly.

Aegon collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. You could feel his heart racing, a mixture of excitement and satisfaction coursing through you. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I love you," he murmured into your ear.

You paused for the first time tonight, a blush quickly coating your cheeks. You had never expected to hear those words from him, ignoring the fact you just coupled mere moments ago. Your fingers unconsciously combed through hair, pulling him closer to you. "I love you too,” you spoke softly.

He had been with you since the beginning and you never grew tired of him. He was the only one you wished to spend time with, to experience things with, and to sleep with. You smiled sleepily, the realization coming over you, "I love you too."

[forager-m]

Songbird [Drabble]

Ship: Dr Ratio/Aventurine (レイチュリ)

Premise: Dr Ratio and Aventurine have been cohabiting after the events of Penacony. The arrangment brings many delightful discoveries; including that Aventurine likes singing to himself while doing chores.

[Aventurine sings to himself. Ratio can't help but to join him.]

🛁🎲

His morning goes like this:

He wakes to the opal sky, as the sun draws its golden chariot across the clouds. From outside, the birds song reaches him faintly, and the whir of civilization slowly stirs; machinery, vehicles, people, all coming to life as he is. His mind awakens first, even as his eyes stay heavy and closed, bursting with plans and reminders of the day ahead: he has to brush his teeth, fix his hair, do his morning workout, get started on breakfast, feed the cat cakes, grade papers, and then...

And then he opens his eyes, turns, and then he wastes the morning staring at the way Aventurine's hair flows and spills over the sheets like a golden waterfall; all soft curls and precious locks. He's nestled in Veritas' arms and stretched luxuriously in the warmth of their home like a spoiled pet. His resting face peers over the blankets, while the rest of him is covered - leaving only suggestions of subtle curves and warm flesh.

The cats awaken and begin scratching at the door. The sun has finished its descent, and it slowly pours in through the windows. Then, finally, Aventurine makes a soft little noise, opening his eyes. Blinking once, twice. He leans into Ratio's touch, then yawns. Veritas watches, appreciatively, as Aventurine rises from the sheets. The blankets pool around his waist and thighs. He looks like Aphrodite emerging from the sea; the birth of beauty itself.

"See something you like?"

The noise strangled out of his throat was a mix of a cough and a scoff.

"Nonsense."

"Mmm... so mean, won't you indulge me a little?"

He sits on his thighs and stretches his arms above his head. Ratio notes the new softness padding his belly. A sign of good health and recovery, one part of him says. The other half says something along the lines of that will feel nice in my hands before he violently cuts it off.

"Any more indulgence and not a single productive thing will be done today, Gambler."

Aventurine laughs. His voice is as clear as water running over a spring.

"Ooh, so scary! Don't threaten me with a good time, I know all sorts of indulgences that could keep us preoccupied, doctor~"

"You-!"

Aventurine pecks his cheek loudly, before wiggling out of the sheets and making a run for the kitchen, his giggles echoing behind him.

Ratio holds his head in his hands for a while, trying to will away any strange urges; violent or otherwise.

After a while, a waft of eggs and coffee fills the air. Ratio quickly goes through his morning routine, and by the time he's done, Aventurine is still preparing the food. As usual, he's prepared Ratio's portion first - a much bigger plate packed with scrambled eggs, toast, and a salad consisting of lettuce, tomatoes, and the leftover dressing that they've kept in the fridge. A cup of coffee's already there - sweetened with just a bit of stevia, just the way Ratio prefers it.

Aventurine is a surprisingly competent cook. Sure, he needs to pull up a recipe from his phone, but needing a bit of guidance doesn't detract from one's excellence. Having the freedom to cook what he wants also seems to improve his appetite, something Ratio is pleased to see.

He takes just a brief moment of appreciation; to appreciate the breakfast spread, of course, and certainly not the way that apron is tied perfectly around that slim waist, before he takes out the fruit and seeds from the fridge. Cat cakes, while sharing the name of domestic cats, do not have the same diet as them. Ratio calls out for them, and soon enough, three little cat cakes meow and sprint towards him with all the power in their tiny little paws.

"Make a wish into the well..."

"That's all you have to do..."

"And if you hear it echoing, your wish will soon come true..."

Ratio feels his breath come short.

This, too, is something he's used to Aventurine doing. But he's not really used to it yet.

Aventurine loves music. Sometimes Ratio watches him as he sways to some soft tune known only to himself, dancing barefoot in their living room. He likes singing to his plants, because even after everything, Aventurine still had so much love to give, and taking care of his 'babies' made him so very happy. He likes to strum his guitar and come up with songs about anything or nothing at all. Once, Ratio caught him singing sweet silly nonsense to their cats, which he recorded and uses as leverage against the gambler whenever he could.

This was a boy made for laughter, song, and dance. Ratio wants to rage at the world for all that's been done to him.

"I'm wishing,"

"For the one I love."

"To find me -"

"Today!"

His voice is so lovely. There has never been a sweeter thing.

"I'm hoping,"

"And I'm dreaming of -"

"The nice things..."

"He'll say!"

Aventurine hums under his breath. Pretty little 'la la la la la's fluttering like bird wings. Quietly, Veritas walks to him, until his hands find his waist and Aventurine's body is plush against his own. He rests his chin on Aventurine's head, and can't help but to echo his song bird's melody.

"Im wishing, "

"... Im wishing..."

"For the one I love -"

"To find me -"

"To find me,"

"Today..."

"Today."

Sorry this is so self indulgent.

The song is I'm Wishing" from Snow White

I think both Ratio and Aventurine are amazing singers. Just imagine the soft duets they could do.

Also yes they deserve to be soft so. They are soft. And married. (They just dont realise it yet.)

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 3

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

I started to settle in more than I thought I would. The awkwardness from the first week wasn’t as obvious anymore. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, things started to feel less forced. Daily activities like yoga on the beach, lounging by the pool, and group dinners became easier. I found myself laughing more, sharing more, and getting used to the rhythm of this strange little bubble.

Sure, they were still spoiled rich kids, but there was more to them than I’d initially thought. While I wasn’t entirely convinced about Sharon and her sway over the group, it was becoming harder to see them solely as the superficial snobs I had first assumed them to be.

That morning, after yoga, I was ready to return to my room and have some alone time. But Steve wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you stay out here with us?” he asked, flashing me one of his playful grins. “Hang with the crew?”

Something in his voice made it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion, so I felt the need to give in and sat down on a couch in the living room. Steve wasted no time sliding into the seat beside mine, his leg pressing against mine. The closeness threw me off a little, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

I guess this was normal for them.

Sharon was still holed up in her room, recovering from whatever had her down. I worried for her but pushed it to the back of my mind. She had plenty of people to take care of her. I didn’t need to be that person.

To ease the awkwardness I felt from Steve sitting so close, I pulled out my phone and opened the book I’d downloaded the day before, hoping it would be a good distraction.

Steve glanced over his breath against my face. “Is that the book you were talking about?”

I blinked, a bit surprised he even remembered. “Yeah, this is it.”

“Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly before returning his attention to the TV. He casually placed his arm behind my head, resting it on the couch acting so casually.

I tried to focus on my book, but it was hard. Everyone was so nice and considerate of me, much different from when we were in university when they’d either be outright rude or ignore me. Despite everything, maybe this trip wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

Sharon was starting to act... off. By the middle of the second week, it was impossible not to notice. She was constantly tired, missing yoga three times a row, skipping meals, and staying shut in her room. For someone like Sharon, who thrived on being the center of attention and orchestrating everything, it was bizarre. And yet, she was barely keeping up with the group. 

One afternoon, we decided to keep it simple and go to a beach nearby. I had already gotten comfortable in the sand, watching Natasha and Pepper chat while Thor, Peter, and Bruce waded into the water. Tony opted to stay on the beach and tan. But Sharon kept to herself, not saying much. But when I looked at her, she was pale, and I could see the sweat collecting at her temples. Something wasn’t right.

She stood, aiming for the cooler, stumbling along the way. 

I stood up immediately, but she waved me off with a shaky hand. "I’m fine, just tired," she mumbled, but even from where I stood, it was clear she wasn’t. No one else moved to help her, not even Steve, who was just lounging, watching the scene unfold before him.

Seriously?

 I felt my frustration spike but now wasn’t the time. I didn't want to let her collapse on the beach. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked, catching her just as she was about to lose her balance completely.

Steve didn’t budge. He just kept lounging, watching with his casual look, before he got up and headed toward the water like everything was normal. I clenched my teeth but focused on Sharon. Whatever Steve’s deal was, it wasn’t helping right now.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the villa,” I said, looping my arm around her waist to support her. Sharon leaned into me, too weak to even protest. I glanced back a few times, hoping someone would come around to help, but no one did.

Back inside the villa, I helped Sharon sit down and grabbed her some water. She looked rough, her face flushed, and her eyes half-closed, as if she were fighting to stay conscious. She took small sips of the water, her embarrassment evident.

“Thanks,” she murmured, clearly not used to being this vulnerable. For a second, I saw something past the confident, borderline cruel persona she usually showed.

I nodded, not saying much. Despite everything between us, I wasn’t the type to let someone suffer, even if that someone was Sharon. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said after a while, waving her hand like she wanted me to go. But I didn’t leave right away. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially after Steve just... bailed.

 I sighed, sitting there with her, knowing I wouldn’t feel right unless I saw this through.

Sharon was getting worse, fast. I tried to get her to drink more water, but she barely sipped, her words coming out all slurred and jumbled. Panic crept up my spine as I watched her skin turn clammy. And then, without warning, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, completely out.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, bolting out of the room like my life depended on it. I practically sprinted toward the others by the shore.

"Sharon needs help! She needs a doctor!" I shouted, breathless, my voice shaky, as my lungs tried to keep up. 

Steve barely glanced up from where he was lounging. “Are you sure she’s not just being dramatic?” he asked, annoyed, like I was overreacting.

 I grabbed his hand and rushed him back to the villa without thinking. When he saw Sharon unconscious on the floor, his face went pale. "Oh shit."

 Finally. he rushed over to her, kneeling beside her, and placed his hand on her forehead. Bruce was close behind, calm as ever, entirely in control of the situation.

 Bruce crouched next to Sharon, checking her pulse like he’d done it a hundred times before. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression serious. “She’s severely dehydrated.”

 I shook my head, my chest tightening. “But she’s been drinking water. I’ve been making sure of it!” 

Bruce stayed focused on Sharon but nodded. “Her body’s not absorbing it. It could be heat exhaustion or something else. We need to get her fluids, fast.”

 Pepper was already on the phone with emergency services, and Bruce carefully turned Sharon onto her side, ensuring she stayed breathing.

 “We need to cool her down,” Bruce added, glancing at Steve. “Get some towels soaked in cold water. We’ve got to bring her temperature down.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He darted out, leaving me standing there, feeling completely useless. I hated being helpless and standing on the sidelines while everyone else knew what to do.

 Bruce glanced at me, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine once they get her some fluids.”

 I nodded, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t going to relax until Sharon opened her eyes again.

 Sharon had been out cold for 16 hours straight. I stayed with her the entire time, only leaving once to shower quickly and change back at the villa. Steve was there, too, leaning against the wall. His usual laid-back attitude was gone, replaced with genuine concern, hopefully feeling guilty for ignoring Sharon's state.  

When Sharon finally stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Steve. There was this glimmer in her eyes like his presence was some kind of comfort to her. But then she spotted me, and that glimmer quickly vanished, replaced with tears.

 Medical staff rushed in to check her vitals, making sure everything was stable, but her tears didn’t stop. She turned to me, her voice shaky and almost resentful. "This must make you happy."

 I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

 "You…seeing me like this. It must make you happy," she repeated, her words cutting deeper than I expected.

 For a second, I didn’t even know how to respond. Was she serious? Then, as disbelief turned into frustration, I shook my head. "Never," I said more firmly than I intended. "Sharon, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only ever helped you. Every time." My voice softened a bit, but the truth in my words was undeniable. "You’re the one who’s thrived on watching me fall apart."

Sharon didn’t say anything for a while; she just stared at me with her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but something held her back. Finally, she sighed and sank back into her pillow.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible, but it was there, a reluctant kind of gratitude.

I nodded, but the air between us was thick, the tension still hanging. "You're welcome," I replied quietly, wondering if this little moment of honesty meant anything to her or if she’d just return to her old ways the second she recovered.

Two days passed, and things finally came to a head. I sat in Sharon’s hospital room with Tony and Pepper, chatting idly. Sharon still looked pale but was doing much better, which was a relief. She broke the quiet, her voice firm.

"I want to go home."

I glanced at Thor, expecting him to talk her out of it, but he nodded like it was no big deal and pulled out his phone. "Okay," he said, already texting Steve.

I was a little surprised. I mean, I figured Steve would push back or suggest Sharon stay a bit longer to rest up. I thought the medical scare would have him in protective mode, but apparently not. Maybe it did get to him, and he just wanted her home, safe and sound.

Maybe. 

Back at the villa, Natasha and I helped Sharon pack. We were in her room, folding clothes and zipping up suitcases. It was almost too quiet, with this weird tension hanging in the air. I kept thinking about what Sharon had said earlier. Sure, she was always dramatic, but something felt… off.  

Once everything was packed and ready, Sharon paused and gave Natasha a look, almost like she was sizing her up. Then, out of nowhere, she hugged me. And not the usual Sharon hug, either. This was tight, like she meant it. I was so thrown off I barely hugged her back. While we hugged, she leaned in close and whispered, “Be careful.”

I froze, unsure of how to react. I mean, what? What was I supposed to do with that? But before I could even process it, Sharon had already pulled back and moved on to hug Natasha.

“Take care,” she said to Natasha, sounding casual. 

Steve was waiting by the door, ready to walk Sharon out like the doting boyfriend, but Sharon, true to form, brushed him off. “I’m fine,” she said, barely looking at him. She kissed him on the cheek like she was going through the motions.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip,” she said, her tone neutral. But when her eyes flicked to me, I saw something else. Concern? A warning? I wasn’t sure, but the look stuck with me.

And then she was gone. I didn’t know what to think. Was I supposed to read into all that? Or was Sharon just being Sharon?

Everyone seemed to fall back into their usual routine in no time, but I couldn’t shake what had happened to Sharon. How quickly she’d spiraled, how fast she was just… gone. It stuck with me, swirling in my head while I sat in my room trying to make sense of everything. Natasha was sitting next to me, doing her best to comfort me, saying Sharon would be okay, I didn’t need to worry so much, and I should continue enjoying my vacation.

 It eventually went quiet, and Steve was standing at my doorway when I looked up.

Natasha gave me a quick look, then stood without a word and left, leaving me alone in the room with him. He didn’t hesitate, walking over to sit beside me on the bed, his usual confident demeanor softened.

“The last few days were pretty scary, huh?” Steve said, his voice calm. “But at least we can all have peace of mind now, knowing Sharon’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to push away the uneasiness still clinging to me. “Why did you let her go?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. 

Steve glanced at me, his eyes soft but steady. “She’s not well, Kiwi. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her here, away from home” 

His reasoning was precisely what I expected, but I still didn’t like it. 

Steve stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, everyone’s going shopping,” he said, his voice warm and persuasive. “You should come. Take your mind off of all this.”

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. “Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead me out of the room and into the main area, where everyone else was already waiting, ready to head out.

Sharon was still on my mind, but if she was going to be okay, maybe I could try to enjoy the rest of this trip. It was what I came here for, after all.

A few days after Sharon left, I finally got a text from her.

–Feeling much better. Thanks for everything.

That was it. No long explanations, no dramatic thank you, just that simple message. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Knowing she was okay should’ve given me peace, but I couldn’t shake this odd sense of... detachment. The days here at the villa were starting to blur together, each feeling like the last.

Morning yoga, lounging by the pool, and fancy dinners were like living in some beautiful, surreal bubble. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was drifting through it all, like none of this was real, and I was just waiting for something to snap me back to reality.

Maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t here anymore. Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t help but wonder if things would change now that she was gone.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but over the next few days, Steve got a lot more comfortable around me, too comfortable, if I’m honest. It wasn’t just the casual arm draped over my shoulder anymore or how he’d guide me by the small of my back. Now, it was more.

One afternoon, after a long day by the pool, Steve came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. I squealed, surprised, but he just laughed and set me down, pressing a ‘playful’ kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, you!” he said, that usual charming grin on his face as if this kind of intimacy between us was completely normal.

I blinked, frozen in place for a second, trying to process what had just happened. No one seemed to care or even notice. Peter and Natasha were too engrossed in some heated conversation by the pool. Bruce was off somewhere with Jane, Thor, and Pepper.

What the hell was that? I thought. But I smiled back, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Another day, during a group hike, he held my hand the entire time, something he hadn’t done before. It wasn’t like we were lagging behind or needed help climbing; he just... held it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember feeling that odd, familiar discomfort creeping back in, but no one said anything. Not Natasha, not Peter, not anyone.

Then came the moment that threw me off. We were all gathered outside around the fire pit one evening, laughing about something silly Tony had said, and Steve, turned to me, all giddy from whatever had amused him so much,  peppering kisses all over my face, forehead, cheeks, nose, all in this overly affectionate, playful way.

“Steeeve!” I protested, trying to push him away, but I was laughing, shocked at the sudden intimacy. He was grinning ear to ear like a little kid, completely unbothered by my attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little love!” he teased, finally letting me go, still beaming like he’d won some game.

I sat there, feeling a little off-kilter. What the hell was going on? Since when had we gotten to this level of closeness, and why wasn’t anyone calling it out?

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to call us out or ask if I was okay with it. But there was nothing, just more laughter and easy conversation. It was like this was normal, like Steve’s sudden affection wasn’t something to question.

I didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know if I wanted to respond to it. 

After a wild night with the group, I practically stumbled into my room, still feeling the effects of my drinks. I barely remember hitting the pillow before I was out cold. The following day, this unfamiliar warmth was beside me, and I could hear the softest snoring in my ear.

I blinked, groggy and confused, slowly turning my head to see Steve, lying in my bed. His arm was draped over me, and he was shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. What the hell?

Carefully, I inched out from under his arm, moving as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t wake him. My mind raced, trying to remember if I had invited him into my bed last night. Had I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t do stuff like that. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did. But everything was fuzzy.

I tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway, my heart still pounding as I tried to make sense of the situation. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was practically shaking.

Natasha was already there, casually sipping her coffee like any other morning. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

 I also bonded with Natasha in a way I hadn’t expected while on this trip. She started opening up more, dropping her usual aloofness, and I realized she wasn’t as hard to read as I’d initially thought. We talked more about life, and awkward moments and even shared a few laughs that made me feel a little more at ease while on this trip.

We sat together eating breakfast, and Natasha seemed more relaxed, telling me about how exhausting it could be keeping up appearances with their friend group, especially with Steve and Sharon always in the spotlight.

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “It’s like you’re always on, you know?”

Natasha smiled, but it was tired as if the weight of those expectations had never fully gone away. It made me feel a little less out of place, knowing that even within their circle, not everything was perfect.

We continued chatting about random things when I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Hey, is it just me, or is Steve... I don’t know, acting different? Like, friendlier than usual?” 

Natasha shrugged it off, barely looking up from her plate. “Oh, he’s like that with everyone. Real touchy-feely. It's just Steve.”

I don’t remember him being like that back in University.

I frowned. Sure, Steve was always friendly, but this was different. Before I could push it further, Steve appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his pants barely buttoned like he had just rolled out of bed. He looked at us with a grin. “You guys started breakfast without me?”

I froze as he bent down and kissed my cheek quickly, then moved over to Natasha and gave her a peck on the top of her head. She stiffened before reverting to a more relaxed position. She looked at me, her expression almost smug as if to say, See? Told you.

But I wasn’t buying it. The entire interaction was already so weird. Too familiar. Too uncomfortable. But I kept my doubts to myself. 

By the afternoon, everyone had scattered to do their own thing, and the villa felt a little too quiet for my liking. Needing a breather, I wandered out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me clear my head. No destination in mind, just the need to escape for a bit.

As I strolled along the path near our villa, I noticed a man lounging on the porch of the neighboring property, casually sipping from an iced coffee. He caught my eye and waved me over with a lazy smile.

"Afternoon," he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "You look like someone who's just been subjected to one too many rich-people conversations. Tell me, how long until you snap and start throwing caviar at their faces?"

I snorted, surprised at his bluntness. "Oh, I’m, uh… actually with them."

I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I guess my clothing didn’t look as fancy as everyone else I was with.

“Lloyd”, he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow, eyes covered by sunglasses pretending to clutch his chest dramatically. "No! Say it ain’t so. You’re one of them? And here I was, thinking I’d found a sane person in this gated paradise."

I laughed nervously, unable to help myself. "I guess I blend in well, then?"

He smirked. "Sure, if ‘blending in’ means looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. Let me guess, they’re already planning which island to buy next while you’re just trying to figure out how not to roll your eyes?"

"It’s not that bad," I replied, though my smile probably gave me away.He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’ve met their type. The kind who consider ‘roughing it’ to mean forgetting their designer sunglasses. God forbid they experience a single unfiltered moment."

“Aren’t you one of them?” I asked. Crossing my arms. It seemed like he was here with his own personal Villa, so I had no reason not to believe that he was no better than the ‘rich kids’, I’d been spending time with.

“Only half,” he responds. “I lived with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, for most of my life, and Papa Bear decided he wanted to be a father. Turns out he’s loaded.”

I raised my brows, not expecting that. 

He smiled, his mustache was almost endearing. “Well, don’t just stand there, come have a seat.” He pats the chair next to him, the invitation as casual as his grin. I hesitate for a second, but then the thought hits me—what’s the harm in learning more about my temporary neighbor? I needed a break from everybody else and it was refreshing to meet someone outside of that.

I step forward and sit, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and ease.

I wasn’t sure when my light flirting with Lloyd had turned into actual interest. Maybe it was his dark humor, or maybe it was just that he was so different from everyone else in my life, grounded. He wasn’t part of Steve’s wealthy, entitled world. It felt refreshing, something I didn’t even know I needed until now. 

 He leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. " What’s the story? How’d you end up with the royal brats?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called out my name. I looked up to see Steve, standing in front  me with his usual confident grin, though there was something more possessive in the way his eyes clung to me.

"Lunch is almost ready," Steve said, not even glancing at Lloyd. "We should head back." He point over his shoulder to our villa.

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, but I quickly introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Oh, uh, Steve, this is Lloyd. He’s renting the villa next door."

Lloyd stood and offered his hand, smirking as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you. So, you must be the one keeping our girl here trapped in luxury hell."

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable tightening of his jaw. "Something like that," he replied, his tone smooth but clipped.

Their handshake lingered a second too long, each of them standing tall, as if silently sizing each other up. Lloyd didn’t back down, though his grin stayed playful, almost like he enjoyed ruffling Steve’s feathers.

Steve’s turned toward me "We should go. Don’t want to miss lunch."

I barely had time to say goodbye to Lloyd before Steve was pushing me back toward the villa dropping his arm over my shoulder on the way there. As we walked, Steve leaned down, whispering, "You’re too sweet for your own good."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He didn’t answer, just gave me a look that sent a small shiver down my spine, before we continued walking, leaving me wondering what had really just happened.

The drinks were definitely stronger that night. I could feel the warmth spreading through me, my head swimming just enough to make everything feel a little too slow, a little too blurry. The laughter around me was still loud and bright, but I was barely holding on. Steve must have noticed because, without saying anything, he stood up and gently pulled me to my feet, guiding me back toward the house.

I barely remember the walk inside. My body felt like it was made of lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time we made it to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think about changing into pajamas. I just rolled over, letting my eyes close. Sleep was right there, pulling me under, but something made me crack an eye open.

Steve was pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside with his sandals. His movements were casual, like this was normal for him, like he belonged here. The lights clicked off, and before I could say anything, I felt the bed dip beside me as he climbed in.

“Steve… go to your room,” I mumbled, trying to form the words properly, but they came out thick and slurred. I knew I should’ve been pushing him out, but I couldn’t make my body cooperate. Then his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. His warmth was overwhelming, and every part of me knew this wasn’t right.

But I was so tired

 My brain told me to fight it, to deal with him, but my body refused to move. I’d deal with this tomorrow, I promised myself. I’d give him hell in the morning.

For now, though, I’ll just closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over

The next morning, I woke up alone, feeling groggy with a mild headache and my body aching in a way I hadn’t expected. For a second, I forgot Steve had been in my bed last night, but the room's quiet made me realize I was alone now. I groaned as I sat up, my head pounding a little too loudly, and all I could think about was finding some Tylenol and going back to bed.

Except I didn’t have any Tylenol. Of course, I didn’t think I’d drink this much on this trip, so I hadn’t packed anything for a hangover. I could ask one of the girls. Pepper seemed like the type to be prepared, but we weren’t exactly close, so I decided to go with Natasha. Maybe she’d have something.

I dragged myself out of bed and over to Natasha’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and soft music was coming from inside. I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to barge in, but I needed something for my head, so I nudged the door open.

 And immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of the bed, were Natasha and Bruce, naked as the day they were born and completely entangled in each other. My brain barely had time to process what I saw before I quickly closed the door, my heart racing. I stood there momentarily, holding my breath, praying they didn’t see me. The lack of any sudden movement or panic behind the door told me I was in the clear.

I shut the door as silently as I could, ensuring they had their privacy, and retreated to the kitchen. My headache still pounded, and now I was too embarrassed to ask for anything. I figured I could make myself some tea instead and hope that would help.

As the tea brewed, I searched the villa for any kind of pain relief—Tylenol, ibuprofen, Vicodin, anything. But I came up short. Of course, this fancy villa didn’t have any necessities like that. By the time I finished rummaging through the place, my tea was ready, and I grabbed it, deciding to take it outside for some fresh air.

I stepped out by the pool, hoping for a quiet moment to rest my head. But someone had already beaten me to it.

Peter.

He was sitting by the water, looking out at the horizon. I felt awkward, like I was interrupting something, so I mumbled an apology, ready to leave him to his thoughts.

"Don't worry," Peter said, turning his head to look at me. "You can sit with me if you want."

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided to stay. I sat across from him, sipping on my tea, and we fell into some small talk. Nothing too deep, just idle conversation about the villa, the weather, the usual. 

But the more we talked, the more curious I became. My mind kept circling back to something nagging at me since I arrived. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“Whatever happened to Clementine?” I asked.

The moment the name left my lips, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a stiffness in the air now, thick with tension.

I remember when Peter came to university with a girlfriend, MJ. But they’d broken up, and then there was Clementine. I remembered how inseparable they seemed, always affectionate, always together. It was hard to picture them apart, and yet, Clementine hadn’t been around this trip. No one had mentioned her.

I quickly added, noticing how tense Peter had become, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The air between us hung heavy with the weight of my question.

Peter sighed and waved off my concern. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost casually, he added, "She went crazy."

I blinked, unsure what to say, but he continued before I could ask.

“When we both graduated, I was supposed to start mentoring under my father, you know? And Clementine, she landed a job right out of university. Everything seemed to be going great. Then, I proposed.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “She rejected me. She said she wanted us to be more ‘stable,’ which didn’t make sense to me because we were both financially secure. But apparently, there were other types of stability we didn’t have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration evident in his voice. “A month later, she breaks up with me. At first, I just let it go. We were done, right? But then I started hearing these rumors about how she lost the lease on her apartment and got fired from her job. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t my problem.”

Peter’s gaze drifted away, his voice quieter now. “Next thing I know, I get a call from her parents. They were begging me for help. She’d ended up in a psych ward, and they couldn’t afford the treatment, and they made too much money for government assistance but not enough to cover her medical bills. So, I stepped in.”

He glanced at me, his eyes darkening with the memory. “You should’ve seen her, Kiwi. She’d lost so much weight; it was like she was disappearing from the inside out. I couldn’t just leave her like that. So, I took custody, her parents transferred her power of attorney, and Now, she lives with me at my place.”

I stared at him, shocked. I had no idea things had gotten so bad with Clementine. It was the complete opposite of the girl I remembered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The thing is, she can’t talk to anyone else. I seem to be one of the only people she can communicate with. So, I’m careful when I bring others to my place. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. It felt the wrong thing to say, but it was all I had.

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. She’s doing better now, but... she still finds it difficult to leave the house. I’ve been doing everything I can, but I get pretty protective myself. Probably too much, honestly. I’m working on it.”

I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t expected any of this. It was hard to imagine Peter caring for Clementine like that, to think of her in such a fragile state. The whole situation felt like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

"You're a good person for helping her," I finally said, unsure what else to offer. Peter just nodded the heaviness of the conversation lingering between us.

[sincerely-sofie]

i got a neat lil prompt/challenge! (that, no joke, came to me in a dream): try to show each stage of a character’s story arc through a song! in other words, if a character had a playlist that would tell their story, what songs would be in it? not limited to just songs with lyrics either, they can also be instrumentals or other works that fit who they are!

I ended up sticking with songs that have lyrics for this mini-playlist for Twig's arc— I would have loved to round it out with some instrumental tracks, but I just learned Tumblr has limits for how many audio tracks you can add to a post ^^; I couldn't include any songs for Twig's story before the events of the TPiaG fanfic, unfortunately... Maybe next time I'll post a Spotify link with some notes instead of using the format I do here, hehe.

A song for Twig's rapid descent into keeping up appearances:

Say I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy today

I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy today

They say put on a happy face

'Cause we're tick-tock, tick-tock

Ticking like a timebomb

A song for Twig's desperation to love others and find salvation in being useful to those around her:

I know exactly how the rule goes

Put my mask on first

No, I don't want to talk about myself

Tell me where it hurts

A song for everyone watching Twig burn herself up to keep others warm:

Icarus is flying too close to the sun

And Icarus' life, it has only just begun

This is how it feels to take a fall

Icarus is flying towards an early grave

A song for Twig awkwardly confiding in Dusknoir (warning for mild language):

I try to explain the good faith that's been wasted

But after an hour it sounds like complaining

Wait, don't go away, can I lie here forever?

You say that I'm better, why don't I feel better?

A song for Twig's perspective of herself that she holds inwardly but never quite voices aloud:

Like the river flows, just head off and go

Leave the biggest weights behind

Leave the burden in your life and move on

A song for Twig's realization that people genuinely love her, even if she doesn't understand why:

But doctor doctor

It's been so very long

Since I've last seen the sun

It seems they must just all be wrong

A song for Twig's mantras as she tries to understand her loved ones loving her back:

The little things that get under my skin

I cannot let them in, I cannot let them tell me that I'm not good enough

When I think that way I start to feel like there's no hope for me

I start to feel the gravity pulling me to hell

A song for Twig reminiscing on her upbringing after confronting her aunt and feeling angry, afraid, and determined in equal parts not to repeat her family's inherited abuse with Opal:

Ooh, don't you find it strange?

Only thing we share is one last name

Did I beat you at your own game?

Typical of me to put us all to shame

A song for Twig reflecting on the greatest lesson of her life:

I'd rather be my own best friend than my worst enemy

I'm one day closer to being who I wanna be

[bulkyphrase]

Cap-IM Rec Week - Hidden Gems Saturday

Day 6 of @cap-ironman's rec week event!

Everything on this list has fewer than 200 kudos, which is some sort of crime.

Falling Backwards (Till it Turns Me Inside Out) by Aeraneth (@aeranethwrites) (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 5,706 words)

Summary: It’s Nomad against the Avengers, a Hydra patch on his shoulder, a gun pointed at Iron Man’s head, and a doomsday machine running down the clock behind him. He’s the only one standing in the way of them saving the world. Steve doesn’t know how he got here.

blue oleander by starvels (dinosaur) (@starvels) (Ults | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | 3,136 words)

Summary: It's been seven years since Earth was destroyed. What remains of humanity, of the superhero community, is on a ship, half-lost in the deep of space. But they're not alone. And what crawls through the portals in the aft cargo bay, day after day, is about as human as Steve feels anymore.

near-death cliché by meidui (MCU | Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | 860 words)

Summary: Tony doesn’t know how long he's been trapped here in the quantum realm, with no companionship except this man with long scars running parallel down the sides of his face.

More below the cut!

Yang by Captain_Panda (MCU | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | 4,233 words)

Summary: It's a paradise world. But it's not home. Steve's journey on an alien planet is not what it seems.

Glass Gardens (The Witching Hour Remix) by Woad (616 | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | 18,692 words)

Summary: The year is 1883. Spiritualism is at an all-time high, "taking the waters" is a popular cure-for-what-ails-you, and sanitariums offer retreats to restore the health. When Tony is shipped off to one, he is convinced his stay will be an utter waste of time. That is, until things take a disastrous turn, and Tony begins to doubt everything about himself.

shield your eyes (if you have eyes) by swtalmnd (@amysnotdeadyet) (MCU | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 400 words)

Summary: Captain America's shield is a noble, beautiful object that has been used for a lot of things. And now this. It is displeased with this.

Affliction of the Feeling by lomku (@oluka) (MCU | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 4,348 words)

Summary: “I’m going to hurt you, Captain. Really hurt you. You’ll be begging when I’m done with you.” or: Tony decides to whip Steve. Steve likes it more than expected.

Descent by Teyke (616 | Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 67,615 words)

Summary: A hundred years ago humanity fled to the skies to escape the Darkness spreading across the land. Now the Flying Cities are mysteriously sinking, imperilling every man, woman, and child who lives there. Together with the transmution mages Henry Pym and Lady Janet Van Dyne, and joined by the amnesiac immortal Dr. Donald Blake, High Wizard Anthony Stark mounts an expedition down into the Dark, determined to uncover the secrets of the magical calamity that wiped humanity from the face of the Earth. Also available as a podfic read by tinypinkmouse_podfics

Practically all podfics are under-appreciated hidden gems - these are just a few of my favorites. For more podfic recs, see my other lists: Sineala Stony Podfic List and Long Stony Action/Adventure Podfics

[PODFIC] Relativistic Heat Conduction by BlossomsintheMist read by Pywren (@phyrrhicvictory) (616 | Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | 7-10 Hours)

Summary: Ultron has attacked, obliterating most of the world's superheroes and resistance in a matter of hours. The remaining heroes band together and share what strength they have to get through it, to survive, and defeat Ultron once and for all. Steve Rogers grieves in the wake of the disaster and the heroes' defeat, and no one knows if he will be able to provide the leadership they need--but Tony Stark isn't about to let him slip away that easily. Based on the story by by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist)

[Podfic] A Real Boy read by M_Samro (@msamro) (616 | Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1-1.5 Hours)

Summary: When Steve shows up for the Avengers' team meeting, he quickly discovers that the version of Tony in attendance this week is the artificial intelligence. But Tony is still Tony, the man Steve has loved for years, and him being a hologram doesn't stop the two of them from falling for each other. They just have a few kinks to work out. Based on the story by by Sineala (@sineala)

[PODFIC] Mercy in You by Sineala read by Pywren (@phyrrhicvictory) (616 | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | 1-1.5 Hours)

Summary: When Tony comes back from a very bad D/s date, in pain and abandoned by his dom, Steve offers to help Tony out and give him all the aftercare he so desperately needs. Based on the story by by Sineala (@sineala)

[Podfic of] When The Lights Go On Again read by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid [and nine others] (616 | Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | 15-20 Hours)

Summary: Aliens have invaded earth, and the Avengers are scattered. While Steve leads the resistance, Tony once again finds himself playing captive scientist. In the midst of a violent alien regime, separated by seemingly insurmountable boundaries, Steve and Tony have nothing to keep themselves going but each other. Based on the story by by seanchai and elspethdixon

[captain-lessship]

Where We Once Were Pt. 6

a/n: this one is kinda choppy since it’s a transition part, my bad <3

He recognized you. He recognized your eyes. It was Sirius Black. 

He just looked at you, with such a look that one could only describe as the purest understanding. 

“Pollux.” He said as more a final statement.

“Sirius?” 

One of the only ones to escape the torment yet you could see so many shared scars. Only you could see them on each other. 

You thought about him on the train ride back. You heard things about him that you never truly believed them all: you were sure they’d tell stories about you. 

Gentle snoring woke you up, Hermione had fallen asleep on your shoulder as you were reading through a magazine. 

Pollux Arcturus Lestrange, the Slytherin pure blood who feared he’d never deserve love, was sitting next to the most beautiful girl in the world. Subconsciously, you laid your head on hers, pressing a kiss to her head. 

You sighed, “I love you so much.” You whispered so softly a mouse would’ve never heard you. 

Her love is what kept you sane til the next school year. To your utter surprise, they took the haircut well.

“Embracing the Malfoy!” Your uncle said but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt knew. 

The warm welcome didn’t last long when you all were sat down at dinner days before leaving for the Quidditch World Cup. The air seems to be stale due to the lack of conversation and your general anxiety about what you were going to ask.

“So, Auntie Narcissa, are you going to come watch with us?” You asked, trying to test the waters of conversation.

She looked up from her cup, “No, I am feeling a bit off as of late.” She said. 

Then Draco started, “We get to sit in the Ministers box again, Dad?”

“Of course, Draco.” Lucius replied, focused on thought rather than his son.

You were picking at your food, trying to think of a way to ask if you could sit with Hermione. You felt a weight in your stomach. 

“What’s wrong, Pollux? You’ve barely touched your food. Are you feeling alright?” Narcissa asked.

“I’m feeling alright, just not that hungry.” You said, trying to bring a smile to your face, “Uncle Lucius, do you think it wouldn’t be perceived as rude if I sat with my friends during the game? Just the game though. I would to spend the Pre-Game show with the Minister.”

He looked at you, eyes scanning yours, “Who are these friends? Anyone we know?”

It was a fair question any guardian would’ve asked the person under their watch but to you it felt like an interrogation of your very soul. “Well, no. But I promise you they’re nice people!” You said, trying to act calm.

Your Aunt came to the rescue, “I think it would be great! Draco, you can invite a friend to sit up in the box with you.” 

You internally thanked her a million times, “See! Now it isn’t going to waste!” 

Draco picked up on the subtext, “Yeah! Blaise said something about going, I can just owl him and see if he wants to.”

You relaxed immediately, but you couldn’t ignore the gaze of your uncle.

“I guess you can. As long as you are back in the tent after the game.” He said. You froze. 

That was another reason it was so tense: The Death Eaters were planning a comback and you overheard many schemes. 

“Yes, Uncle.” 

You were sitting up in the stand with Hermione, the time fading away til they would attack. You were trying to think of a way to tell her without scaring the daylights out of her. 

It was barely fifteen minutes now, you grabbed on her sleeve, getting her attention. “Hermione, we need to go.” 

“But there’s still-“

“Please.” You asked, she could tell by the look in your eye that something was wrong. You grabbed her hand and began your descent to the ground. Along the way, you tried to explain the best you could.

“Hermione, I know, I wanted to see the rest of the game too but they… the followers of…” you got out of the way of a man, “You Know Who are coming.”

“Shouldn’t we have warned-“ 

“I was planning on getting you out one by one, as to not cause a panic.“

You lead her out, “The quicker we can get our stuff together, the quicker we can-“

“Pollux!” 

You froze, “Uncle!” 

“I was wondering where you were.” 

He knew. He knew. He knows.

“Is this,” he looked at Hermione with a slight disdain “one of your friends?”

“Yes, Uncle.” You said.

“Hm.” 

The universal sign of disapproval.

He started again, “I suggest you hurry up.” He said. You knew what he meant. You sighed as you watched him walk away.

“Pollux, should we go back for the others?” 

“No. He knows you’ll be alone. I have to stay with you. We have to go. We have to get your things, keep your head down, don’t cause a panic.” 

You checked your watched, barely eight minutes. You and her hurried through the rows upon rows of tents before finding the Weasleys tent, she rushed inside with you following. 

You watched as she packed up all her things, you honestly thought you had more time but you heard the familiar laugh of the twins, Fred and George.

“Shit, Hermione! Hurry!” You whisper yelled at her.

The Weasleys came in and saw you standing in their foyer.

“Hello Mr. Weasley!” You said, in a cheery voice. “Just waiting for Hermione to grab her things!”

“Why is Hermione grabbing her things?” Mr Weasley asked while his kids and the guest, Harry Potter, began chatting about the game.

“Well, do you want the long or short version?” You asked, noting the loud crashing outside, which he went to check on. 

“I believe I have caught on.” 

The incident was all you could read about in the paper. You wished for something different as you flipped through the pages, looking for exactly that. 

“This is a lot.” Ron said, leaning up against the window. 

“Well, you know how it is.” You said.

“No, we don’t deal with death eaters every weekend.” 

You flipped your paper down slightly to glare at him. He had been making slights at you ever since you had met. 

Harry picked up on this, “What classes do you-“

“Show us your arm.” Ron said. 

“Uh, why?” Harry asked.

“Not you. Him.” Ron pointed.

“Ron, he is not a death eater.”

“He wouldn’t go around admitting and flaunting it.” 

You huffed, you unbuttoned your sleeve and rolled them up, “Happy, you judgmental prick? I would say your family tree is a cactus to give you an excuse but every other Weasley is pleasant so it truly is a ‘you’ problem.” You said, irritation finally eating your common courtesy. 

Ron stayed silent the whole rest of the train ride.

[condemnedsouls]

@r-adio called a meeting ;; continued.

HE DOESN'T REST AT NIGHT, IT WAS A WELL KNOWN FACT AMONG THEIR RESIDENTS; especially those who had the unfortunate issue of running into him in the midst of the night. he can be quiet at the best of times, sneaking up on sinners on 'accident'. his sightings are few & far between when he doesn't wish them, but whenever he craved the attention of others, he is sure to appear. spending his evening in the lounge, he doesn't think that there would be anyone to show face. it was well into the midnight hours, and the hotel was peaceful for the time being. that was apt to change on a moment's notice, considering the volatile nature of those who lived in the city. they were never truly safe. surely, everyone else knew this to be fact as well. there was always the threat of being attacked in the middle of the night by those who didn't see the value in their cause. though, knowing that the RADIO DEMON lingered about had quelled much need for security. he was a one man army in his own right.

hearing the soft pattering of feet on the hardwood, he brings his attention up from his cup of coffee. staring at a figure wielding a blanket in their fist, @/condemnedsouls stood at the top of the stairs. looking ripe with sleep, he didn't doubt that something had roused her in the middle of the night. her hair looked as if she had been tossing & turning for some time. ❝ what is keeping you, my dear? ❞ he asks in a calm tone, lifting his mug up to his lips. there was much that could have been weighing on her mind at any moment. knowing the loose lips of his counterpart, he expects that she will tell him readily. she has never hid her troubles from him before.

CHARLIE usually slept rather well, comparative to the other residents of the hotel. she had a way of passing out within a handful of minutes of resting her head against her pillows, && usually found herself harder to wake than some others. enough ruckus, of course, could draw her from her bed, but relatively speaking, she could take some convincing to wake. as a morning person, however, she never wasted time in starting her day.

but it wasn't morning yet.

charlie was not really prone to nightmares, but they were becoming more of a frequent problem. typically, she found comfort in her partner, with whom she shared her bed, but vaggie was so peacefully asleep that she could not bring herself to wake the poor woman. instead, she pulled her personal blanket from the bed, headed down the stairs, && now found herself being addressed by her ever - devoted business partner, alastor. a yawn kept her from answering immediately, so she began her further descent down the steps, blanket dragging behind her, letting out a soft sigh.

❝ ... have you gotten any sleep? ❞

she was deflecting, something she certainly did not do often, nor could she ever do very well. she guessed he hadn't — he rarely seemed to. did he ever? did he need to? or was it a personal preference he suffered for?

❝ had some ... upsetting dreams, i guess. figured i could come down, relax a little. maybe sleep on the couch, if i need to. ❞

she didn't know if she would sleep better out here, the lights were still on, even if dimmer in the nights. it would at least keep her gaze out of the shadows, worried for what might lurk there. the new hotel layout maybe was the real cause, or perhaps just the follow - up of ... everything else.

❝ although a little company might be nice? if you don't mind! ❞

[thinglessnames2]

T. S. Eliot – An Note of Introduction [to David Jones's In Parenthesis] (1961)

In Parenthesis was first published in London in 1937. I am proud to share the responsibility for that first publication, On reading the book in typescript I was deeply moved. I then regarded it, and I still regard it, as a work of genius.

A work of literary art which uses the language in a new way or for a new purpose, does not call for many words from the introducer. All that one can say amounts only to pointing towards the book, and affirming its importance and permanence as a work of art. The aim of the introducer should be to arouse the curiosity of a possible new reader. To attempt to explain, in such a note as this, is futile. Here is a book about the experiences of one soldier in the War of 1914-18. It is also a book about War, and about many other things also, such as Roman Britain, the Arthurian Legend, and divers matters which are given association by the mind of the writer. And as for the writer himself, he is a Londoner of Welsh and English descent. He is decidedly a Briton. He is also a Roman Catholic, and he is a painter who has painted some beautiful pictures and designed some beautiful lettering. All these facts about him are important. Some of them appear in his own Preface to this book; some the reader may discover in the course of reading.

When In Parenthesis is widely enough known—as it will be in time—it will no doubt undergo the same sort of detective analysis and exegesis as the later work of James Joyce and the Cantos of Ezra Pound. It is true that In Parenthesis and David Jones's later and equally remarkable work The Anathemata, are provided by the author with notes; but author's notes (as is illustrated by The Waste Land) are no prophylactic against interpretation and dissections they merely provide the serious researcher with more material to interpret and dissect. The work of David Jones has some affinity with that of James Joyce (both men seem to me to have the Celtic ear for the music of words) and with the later work of Ezra Pound, and with my own. I stress the affinity, as any possible influence seems to me slight and of no importance. David Jones is a representative of the same literary generation as Joyce and Pound and myself, if four men born between 1882 and 1895 can be regarded as of the same literary generation. David Jones is the youngest, and the tardiest to publish. The lives of all of us were altered by that War, but David Jones is the only one to have fought in it.

Those who read In Parenthesis for the first time, need to know nothing more than this and what the author tells us in his own Preface, except that In Parenthesis and The Anathemata have been greatly admired by a number of writers whose opinions usually command attention. The commentaries, as I have said, will follow in time. Good commentaries can be very helpful: but to study even the best commentary on a work of literary art is likely to be a waste of time unless we have first read and been excited by the text commented upon even without understanding it. For that thrill of excitement from our first reading of a work of creative literature which we do not understand is itself the beginning of understanding, and if In Parenthesis does not excite us before we have understood it, no commentary will reveal to us its secret. And the second step is to get used to the book, to live with it and make it familiar to us. Understanding begins in the sensibility: we must have the experience before we attempt to explore the sources of the work itself. 

[rhinoplant]

My Relationship with Food

I think I need help. I can’t eat without feeling myself spiral into a descent of madness deeply rooted within my weight. 

The food I was eating no longer held the bright vibrant colors it once did when I was a kid. 

I no longer turn to my mother, begging her to cook me a meal. 

I stopped looking forward to the end-of-the-year parties my job, and friends would have because I knew I wasn’t capable of stuffing my face with the holiday joy I once had.

The hardest thing about this all is swallowing the idea of being ill yet refusing to accept it because swallowing it would require it to go past my throat and down to my stomach— and I hate the idea of anything going down my throat. 

I hate how food tastes in my mouth knowing that every bite has a number. Every number slowly goes down my throat, a bitter reminder that each bite holds a significant value that will dictate how I look. Those numbers accumulate and will soon be reflected on the scale I stand on with my two feet, shaking as I fear the number that will appear. 

I can’t eat without fearing how all those bites I took will reappear on my skin. They’ll manifest into big clumps of food visible all over my body and out for show for everyone. I can’t eat without worrying about how the jeans I just bought will feel against my legs, will it be too tight where I feel the denim roughly pressing against my thighs and lower abdomen? I can’t eat without worrying if my bra will clasp, too afraid that I’ve grown out of a 36 and gone up once again. I can’t eat without worrying if the oversized shirts I purchased will soon clasp onto my skin, knowing I’ve grown into the shirt. 

I find myself drawn to the restroom. It is the one place where I feel in control of myself because nothing stands in between the toilet and I. Nothing stands in between the finger that threatens to go down my throat and the toilet that patiently waits to receive my sin. I know it’s bad to waste food. I know I should be grateful for having a meal, yet I can’t find it in me to love it. I feel gross every time I indulge in my cravings, and the only thing that can fix it is the sensation of letting some of it out.

 I never succeeded in letting the toilet eat what I had eaten too. I’m so selfish with my food that I don’t share it with the toilet, or myself. All I could do was cry and hope I lost calories in doing so.

But I don’t.

I can never seem to eat without worrying about the effects it has on my body, and I hate it.

[a-rebellious-waffle]

"The argument you're using is racist" certainly is a valid argument though.

1) This is sort of true. Sexism is usually an unconscious pattern of learned behaviours, but attempting to counteract sexism very much is a conscious choice, and an admirable one. The Blackfoot are not exempt from modern-day accusations of sexism simply because they were affected by colonialism, but part of the reason that only nine women have ever been on the Blackfoot Business Council is because colonialism impressed patriarchal sexism onto them.

1b) Well, you've figured out that sex and gender are different, but our genders are not the expectations placed on us by our sex. It's how we present ourselves, how we alter our look or appearance, how we describe ourselves; those things alter the expectations placed upon us far more than our sex does. I think we've frankly found the opposite of what you're saying; even if First Nations and other native people had restrictive views of gender (which given that we've seen terms for women who perform male duties without sacrificing their womanhood, is inaccurate), colonizers clearly had even more restrictive views, or else they wouldn't have needed to institute patriarchy like they did.

2) I never said that they were particularly wise or spiritual. I simply offered examples of historical third genders from First Nations peoples ("peoples", because I used multiple distinct tribes and not a singular population). Frankly, I think you're jumping to conclusions there and assuming that because I'm referring to First Nations peoples I must be assuming they're wiser; that seems like a bit of a Freudian slip to me. Who's the plastic shamanist here again?

3) So, hang on—you knew you were wrong, and decided to start this anyway?! Like—okay. If what I found doesn't meet your burden of proof, in all likelihood your information doesn't meet either. You don't get to remember things at me while demanding I cite everything in MLA format (though even if you did, I've written multi-page essays using MLA and APA format, so it's not like you could hit me with it as a gotcha.)

I chose First Nations/Native American cultures because I am Canadian-American and Two Spirit people were the first thing that came to mind when you asked for examples of third genders. I never claimed to be of First Nations descent, though I know people who are; I do not share their cultural practices nor religions and do not consider myself even adjacent to the First Nations. I chose the examples I did because you asked for, and I quote, "a historical third gender for female people that allows them to break all of the so called rules of being a woman". I found examples that fit the criteria; you don't get to dismiss them just because they're from the First Nations and I'm not.

However, if you want European cultures, my very good friend @a-krogan-skald-and-bearsark wrote up a short addition about transgender Scythian priestesses and Priesthood of Freyr.

4) "Woman" is the gender most commonly associated with the female sex. If you want to call it the woman sex, go ahead; it's not like "woman" can only apply to one thing. That being said, you've contradicted yourself, as you'll see in a bit.

4b) It's so we can have the same protections offered to cisgender women. How is having more women harmful to women? How is protecting all women harmful to women? As I said earlier, legal rights for one group don't come at the cost of the legal rights of another, unless the second group is exploiting the first. It's not a zero-sum game.

5) So we agree? The gender binary is restrictive, sexist, and should be abolished? We shouldn't care about whether or not someone calls themselves a man or a woman? We should let people present how they want, without questioning their identity?

But, let's circle back to three real quick.

You knew you were wrong the entire time, and you still decided to say all of this?!

Girl, don't waste your time like this! I'm arguing because this is enrichment for me, but surely you have better things to do than get demolished by some random woman online!

Anyway, now that anyone reading through this thread knows that you have no idea what you're talking about, I'm gonna block you. Bye-bye! Remember: the gender binary is made up, sex isn't gender, you can choose your gender, and trans liberation now!

[rot-room]

6-23-23

I feel like i am in a bad dream for the last 72 hrs. Im gonna share to document these trying times. Woke up so sick 2-3 nights ago (time does not exist rn). I thought it was usual anxiety/ssri symptoms but turned out to be much worse (food poisoning?) Was up all night on phone with mom. Next day i had shakes/chills/fever and body ache all over. Was too afraid to take my ssri for 2 days.

All of this is happening, and i was also following the news about the submarine, for some reason. Felt like a descent into insanity, me rotting in this room soaked in sweat and heart racing. Honestly, i have felt like that one scene in trainspotting:

Anxiety is unbearable because you start to fear the fear itself. The worst part of my illness aside from the crushing nausea and stomach distress was the fear that came with it. I have severe emetophobia. The worst part of my anxiety is that it never stops. I am constantly afraid. I am afraid of being afraid, i am afraid of losing control. It is a never-ending cycle. The last two nights i fell asleep with my mom on the line. Just to be safe. She yelled at me two days ago and i cried like a child. A sick child. Sobbing and shaking in pain and making it worse for myself and none of the 'grown ups' in my life being gentle with me while i feel like i wounded bird. i called the nurse hotline and she put me thru to a doctor. The nurse seemed like she thought i was dying. I did too, as i originally thought i had serotonin syndrome. The doctor was very nice, she told me i am Not dying, and i can keep taking my meds. I am grateful for the doctor on the phone for being gentle with me, as i was crying while we talked.

I have been playing a moth game to keep me distracted and i love it, nd i have become even more fascinated with caterpillars and moths

woke up last night at 3am having a panic attack. The worst part is, once i start having a panic attack i start to panic about how i am panicking.

My heart was beating so hard and i could anticipate the nausea and tingly face that would come with it but i knew if i kept this cycle up i will die. I can't even say for sure how much of my sickness was sickness and how much was a fear response. It all started to blend together into one big nightmare.

i thought for once, hey i will actually do something productive instead of crumbling apart like a million shards of broken short circuited machinery thats frantically thrashing and quivering and oozing toxic waste.

so i took some deep breaths. the 4-7-8 deep breaths. and miraculously within a few minutes my heart was slowing down. that really is the biggest culprit for me; the racing heart. It is the poisoned root that opens the pandoras box of symptoms. The nausea the shaking the salivating the tingling the hyperventilating. If i can slow the racing heart i can cut off those symptoms before they spiral out of control. And i stopped it. It was hard because i took gravol before and i was in a half-coma state. Trying to calm a panic attack while drowsy is very very scary. But i did it. And i had two other panic attacks today. And i stopped them myself. Now that i was so sick i feel like i stood in the gates of hell and the most comforting thing to tell myself when i am panicking is, "whats the worst that can happen?" Because the worst part of all of it, was the fear. The anxiety spiralling out of control. The sickness was horrible on its own but the fear only exacerbated it. I need to get a hold on it.

this battle with anxiety and panic disorder controls my life. sometimes more than other times. I dont keep many secrets and i am an open book, but nobody in my life except maybe my mother will ever know the extent to which my GAD and panic disorder and emetophobia(and presumably OCD) controls me. I am dying. I am dying at work i am dying when i am with my friends, when i am laughing i am dying when i am sleeping i am dying. Because of my fear and panic. I cannot do it anymore. I need to win. I can do it. I cannot spiral anymore. I am not alive i am surviving. I am more afraid and alert than a caveman hiding from predators millions of years ago. I feel everything constantly. All the pain all the fear i feel it all.

I have seen this photo more in the last three days than i have seen another human, eaten food, got out of bed,

When i look at this, i see a lovecraftian monster. I dont wanna talk about current events but sometimes things happen and i fixate on them when i am already in a dark place and this is one of them. Maybe its because i am so afraid right now, and i cant think of anything more terrifying than being in a tiny tube in the bottom of the ocean that implodes in on itself. The last three days i have been sick and i have not left my bed and i have not eaten and i have been scared to take my meds and i have gone back and forth from my bed and a cold shower. I have panicked so much. Such catastrophe, such fear. It lives inside of me. I dont know if i have anything poetic to say about the sub. I have just been morbidly obsessing over the situation and it felt like something i needed to mention in my memoir of the last fucked up three days. when i think of this transitional, dark time i will think of the sub, and vice versa. Rest in peace Suleman.

I watched Bound (1996) last night on the couch in the dark, it was on cable. I loved this movie so much. It felt like a light in the darkness. I hope one day i can have a girlfriend. I hope girls are real. That sure would be cool.

I hope i can get better. I really, really want to. If i do not stop being afraid i will die. I will die anyway but, the fear will kill me much too soon and very painfully. I cannot live like this forever. And i won't, because I am brave and i have lived to tell everything up until now. I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay. I love you, i forgive you, thank you.

[lastfrontierheli22]

Heliskiing Wikipedia

You by no means have to wait in an elevator line or share an elevator with a stranger. You don’t need to waste time making dinner reservations because Heliski a non-public chef will prepare gourmand delicacies for you. 8K Peak is proud to partner withHimalayan Heliski Guides.

For rental retailer recommendations please contact us or talk with our frontline employees. Averaging 6-7 runs, you can anticipate to ski between three,000 to five,500 metres of vertical in either the Selkirk or Purcell mountains . There’s also the choice Heli skiing to upgrade to limitless vertical. Although very distant, our friends take pleasure in quick access with direct flights from Vancouver to Terrace, BC the place they're met by our awaiting Heli for a 15 min switch to their lodge.

It is surrounded by mountains, waist-high powder, and the whomp-whomp sound of a helicopter. Heli-skiing has been on my Bucket List since I found how a lot fun it is to strap on a plank of polyethylene and launch oneself off a mountain. Having gone via Heliskiing the meat grinder of studying to snowboard, the concept of being dropped off on the prime of the world to drift over virgin snow seems a just reward.

Most operators urge vacationers to purchase some form of journey insurance coverage, because refunds are uncommon. You’ll plunge into the deepest snow, ski across essentially the most beautiful glaciers, and follow your turns by way of the timber all whereas witnessing magnificent views from the best heights. Powderbird has experiences that cater to everyone from veteran heli-skiers/riders to first-time backcountry skiers/riders. Our skilled guide staff will assess the terrain and circumstances and take you to the safest and best possible ski circumstances.

Alaska, in particular, is known for its distant, steep and deep riding, with some of the finest heli skiing on the earth. Heli- skiing within the US is fairly expensive, like in Canada, however it’s protected to say it’s price the extra greenback. Hakuba is made up of 10 totally different resorts, but sadly, not all of them provide heli-skiing, but one that does is Tsugaike Kogen. Although, the heli-skiing on provide is on obtainable between March and April, however with that being late in the season, it’s best to guide last minute if there could be still plentiful powder. Above the Tsugaike Kogen resort, there's some good backcountry terrain, so if you get some recent snow, it will be bliss. As we've gathered, heliskiing just isn't massively inspired in Japan, so the rules here dictate that the drop off level is the same, so it's going to typically be tracked out.

We present transceivers and train guests on their use during our security orientation session. A yacht expedition is an opportunity to find a remote vacation spot in final consolation, with gourmet delicacies and world-class heliskiing. There’s never a uninteresting day – and also you won’t have to seek for your lift move as soon as. The most important function of heliskiing from a yacht is that it gives Heli skiing Canada you and your group entry to skiing terrain which will have never been skied earlier than. In truth, there are so much of unexplored off-piste slopes in Iceland that you can be the primary to ski a descent and even name it. There are a quantity of distinct areas that are well-suited for skiing, permitting a longer yacht voyage to work its way north with the season as the ocean ice breaks away from the coast through the spring.

What if contemporary tracks have been infinite and you can ski up to 180,000 vertical ft in simply 7 days? What when you got to soar above the clouds in a helicopter and see breathtaking, as quickly as in a lifetime views while sitting right subsequent to your finest buds and one of the best mountain guides within the world? Discover what makes a heliskiing journey so unique in comparison with a daily ski trip and why it’s well price the premium price.

Manali sits above the city at 16,40ft and we ensure you’ll get a very religious experience as the region boasts every thing from knife-blade ridges to steep summits and forests of birch, oak and cedar. You will be succesful Heli skiing BC of gaze throughout to the 21,000ft peaks of the Himalayas. This is a true hidden kingdom on the end of the world.

Other experiences that could be arranged throughout an Icelandic winter is snowmobiling, visits to Ice Caves, snorkelling within the Silfra Fissure and a Superjeep experience along the South Coast of the country. On the CMH web site they used to list those folks that have skied a couple of million vertical feet with them. When I emailed CMH concerning the million plus list they didn’t reply. Both CMH and Mike Wiegele Helicopter Skiing early on decided to acknowledge their friends that had skied over one million vertical toes with them.

[a-student-out-of-time]

As they say Iroha ‘Pride before a fall’. Only when your parents fall it will be a Mt. Everest type of descent.

Hello, and thank you for waiting.

Ah, Tenmei-san. A pleasure to see you again.

You too.

So, what have you been up to?

Oh, y’know, still playing games, moving from career to career. Met a lot of great people in the process.

Ah, so you’re still spending time on some frivolous games?

But I was right, y’know! Games are a big deal these days!

How far the entertainment industry has fallen.

I mean, have you looked at some of the movies that’ve come out the last few years? How many of them are remakes of classics?

Either way, I was curious to know, based on your name...did you end up marrying that Nanami girl?

Yes, I did.

Has she cleaned up her act?

Emina-san, you know it’s been almost 30 years, right?

Of course, but you and I both know some people are simply destined to become dregs. They never have the drive or skill necessary to persevere.

Right...well, Harumi’s a nurse now.

Ah, now there’s a respectable career.

Disappointing I won’t get to speak to her again. Oh well.

I’m much more curious about you, child.

Me?

I’m Nanami Chiaki. I’m in Class 77-B at Hope’s Peak. I’m the Ultimate Gamer.

Hmm...Tenmei-san, does your wife work long hours?

Sometimes. Why?

Have you perhaps reconnected with Watanabe Hanami? You realize she’s also married, don’t you?

What’s that supposed to mean?

Need I spell it out? Your child looks more like your ex-fiancé than your “wife.”

Is there some story there you’d like to share?

Wh- hey! Dad would never cheat on my Mom like that!

I’m Nanami Harumi’s child, I swear. I just...ha-happen to look a lot like Watanabe-san.

And why do you think that is? You do understand how genetics work, don’t you? Assuming you don’t waste as much time playing ridiculous games as your father.

(I’m so sorry...)

Listen-

I mean, if we wanna talk about kids, you certainly seem a lot busier than us. How many have you got?

Three. You’ve already met my eldest, Hitaru.

Hello!

As for my other two, Jiro and Akemi, they’re talking with some of our fellow attendees.

Sounds like you’ve got quite a talented family.

Indeed.

So how’s Iroha-san?

Huh?

You said three, but I recall you once said you have four kids in an interview.

So how is she doing?

Ah, well...i-it was true that Iroha wanted to attend. She’s simply too unwell, though, so she hasn’t been able to make any public appearances.

Oh, so are you gonna livestream it for her?

Um...y-yes, of course.

Raising children can be so difficult, you know? Particularly when one is an invalid.

Yeah, I get that. Really seems like yours are dedicated to helping you with this.

Hitaru-san’s been signing people in for how long? She’s been working so hard, why don’t you take a break and hang out with us?

I mean, you can probably sign the others in, right? A lot of them are probably gonna be your old friends.

...

Very well. Hitaru, you may go.

Ah! Thank you, Mother!

Be sure to say hi to everyone for us!

(She doesn’t even have a clue...)

[weasel-b33]

I've just seen your James Potter story and its so good! I;m not sure if you're taking requests but if you are maybe a post Azkaban Sirius x younger reader (reader is like tonk's age)?

OMFG BABES IM SO SORRY I JUST SAW THIS AHHH

i don't think this is very good, but i hope i did your request some justice.

THANKS SO MUCH LOVE FOR THE SUPPORT AHHH

Green With Envy 

Warnings: age gap (reader is same age as tonks/charlie weasley), fluff, kissing, cursing (i think?), angst? if you squint? its really just jealous siri

Opening the door to the London home, 12 Grimmauld Place, you are met with an instant scene of chaos.

Fred and George, whom you have grown to love over the many years of knowing their older brothers, chase around a fifteen year old Ronald with an enlarged spider plush. The laughter from their younger sister, Ginny, can only be described as maniacal as she watches the scene unfold from the rickety staircase.

Shouting from, what you have had the displeasure of hearing, Mrs. Walburga Black's portrait rings throughout the dusty home. Well, until you hear the sound of a man's voice you have became quite close with.

"MOTHER! WOULD YOU STOP YOUR YELLING!" Sirius Orion Black, in all of his glory, yells walking out into the foyer of his despised childhood home.

Upon entering he is met with your smiling, well more like grimacing face, holding your bags you have packed on his request.

"Y/N? When did you get here?" he questions taking your bags from you. "Kreacher!" A small and wrinkly house elf appears from the air, "Take Lady Y/N's bags to my room. She's going to be staying here for a while." Sirius says quickly, while turning to you with a wink, the elf begrudgingly takes the bags, cursing under his breath, only something you can assume is about the excess "blood traitors" and "mudbloods" inside his mistress' forsaken lair.

"Siri. I've missed you, darling" you instantly are met with his embrace and a quick peck on the lips from the man.

"Love, if I knew you were coming today, I would have done some cleaning," Sirius says guiding you towards the kitchen.

"No you wouldn't have." you retort back quickly, inside the kitchen you are met with the smiling faces of the Weasley's and your boyfriend's long term friend, Remus Lupin. Quick greetings are exchanged before the Weasley matriarch is rushing you to sit and eat, all the while claiming you look as though you haven't eaten a proper meal in ages.

But, before you can begin to devour the delicious food Molly has served for you, a handsome face you have had the pleasure of knowing enters the room.

Charlie Weasley. Long-time best friend and school mate, enters the run down home with bags and a charming smile gracing his face.

Instantly jumping up, you run to embrace your dragon loving friend. For it has been nearly two years since you last seen the man. Living in Romania, and you still in London, studying to become an Auror, you both find little time to visit each other. The many letters exchanged between the pair of you, are clear proof to your friendship's strength.

However, something rivaling that strength, is the grip the eldest Black brother has on his cutlery. If it wasn't for Remus placing a calming hand on his bicep, it would not be a surprise if Sirius broke the silver in two.

"I didn't know you were coming. Godric, Charlie! It has been ages!" you exclaim excitedly moving out of the way for the brother to be embraced by his many other family members.

Grabbing his hand you lead to red head to the seat next to yours, which happens to be directly in front of your steaming partner.

"It was last minute. But, when the Order calls, you have to answer" laughter is heard throughout the room, and the jovial sound continues to fill the space throughout the dinner.

Yet, Sirius Black seems to not find this situation amusing. Anytime Charlie makes you laugh, grabs your hand, or rests his freckled arm around the back of your chair, his grip on the wooden table seems to strengthen. Nearly stark white hands are something the jealous induced man has become accustomed to.

He's the one who should make you laugh. He's the one who should grab your hand. He's the one who should rest an arm around the back of your chair. He is. Not some dragon loving ginger, who has waltzed into his home. You are his.

Finishing up the dishes, you bump hips with your friend. The night had been filled with laughter and memories the boy has brough up from the past. But, something seemed off throughout the night. You just couldn't seem to place it. Shaking off this feeling, you bid Charlie goodnight and make your separate descents up to your separate bedrooms.

After a few missteps, and opening of the wrong doors, you find the one with a sleeping Sirius Black. Or what you thought was a sleeping Sirus Black.

Quietly, tiptoeing your way through the room you change quickly into comfier clothes and finish getting ready for bed in the on suite bathroom. It's not until you slowly climb your way into the shared bed does to man make any indications of being awake.

"Nice of you to finally realize I existed," he says bitterly.

Making yourself comfortable under the thick duvet, you send a confused glance toward the brooding brunette.

"What?"

"This is the first time tonight you have even talked to me."

"What are you on about, Siri?" You turn your body to face the man and lay side by side.

"It is obvious I do not interest you enough. Its clear young and hip Charlie Weasley , is all you can care about."

"Baby, I have no idea what you are talking about. This is just the first time I've seen him in over two years."

"S'whatever." He huffs dramatically, rolling over so his back is know facing you.

"Nu-uh. Do not pull that shit with me Sirius Black, what is your deal?"

Turning back around, he looks towards the ceiling, and quietly sighs. "I get it, okay? I am older, you are young. You have so much more life to live and I have wasted half of mine in a cell. You deserve someone like him. He will make you happy-"

Quickly cutting off his dejected rambling with a short kiss, you sigh, "Sirius Black. I love you. Only you. Okay? I don't care that you are "old" I love you for who you are. How you make me feel, okay? Charlie is just a friend and that's all he ever will be. Y'know why? Because I have you by my side."

"God, my love, I adore you so much."

Opening up his arms you quickly scoot your way over and snuggle deeper into his embrace. Listening to his steady heartbeat and breathing, it takes only a matter of minutes to enter a deep sleep.

Wrapped in the arms of the older man, you had never felt safer and more loved.

And he felt the same.

fin