#more exciting stuff is going on BUT THE TANGIBILITY OF IT ALL DEPENDS ON HOW THE PROTAG HANGS HIS CLOTHES
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prosebushpatch ¡ 2 months ago
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My dear friend, I write to you now in the highest regard and with deepest affection - hangers for clothing are also fashioned from wire.
haha with much humility and gratitude, I thank you for your wisdom. My following concern is what and when came before the hook and shoulder shape we have now?
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emilykaldwen ¡ 10 months ago
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Huzzah! Chapter 16 is done! (except for the cute Daeron and Floris moment that'll be quick, I just don't know how to word it.
I'll make the announcement on this week's chapter, but I'm taking hiatus early - so this week's chapter is the last until May (and then we have 6 chapters left. Maybe 7 depending on if I feel we need more breathing room) So this'll take us to the S2 premiere in June, and then we'll launch right into The Princess and the Dragon Knight, which will pick up immedietly after the end of this arc. (I'm still going to refer to this whole thing as Maiden, since that's the series name as a whole).
I just didn't expect us to get S2 in June. I had hoped to have some time to take another month off, but well, here we are, and I want to be able to start posting Arc II while the show is airing and we're all excited and in it. Luckily, summer is slow at work so that's nice too.
Gonna spend the next month and a half doing what I did during november break, and that's writing as much as possible/getting words down so I can then polish up the chapters in post. Which does work pretty well. Before I started posting Maiden, I had eight chapters written.
I do well working on a schedule, it keeps me accountable, I like having goals that feel tangible. It's why this isn't one whole story, and instead broken up into three parts. I like the feeling of accomplishment (and your own mileage may vary). Especially because these three arcs are so largely different, there's so much going on.
I am pondering about putting a link to a google form up for a little Q&A. If not for the story itself, but any questions on writing long fic and stuff?
Anyway, thoughts for today. I feel accomplished. Now to work on Aemond's chapter.
Happy Sunday!
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kosmicdream ¡ 2 years ago
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has the "ending" of ffak ever changed? I'm sure the middle bits have, just from how long it's run. but what about your like, Original Idea 💡 🤔
I mean yeah, it has a ton lol. But like the “original idea” for the ending was a bunch of like.. very vague concepts that i built on over the years played in my head like a very epic AMV. There was really no other option for it than to change, but the essential ideas have.. Stayed basically the same? I guess? Even then, theres a lot of visuals and aspects to the "ideas" for its ending i just dunno if it will be possible to include. But i really dont know how things will go until the comic has ended, or is closer to being over. I know NRD has changed its ending before, and even for slugmom i ended up altering the ending once it was down to the final scene. So I kind of expect that to happen too, with a comic as large as FFAK with as many characters as it does, the ending would also end up unpredictable with all those experiences behind all the cast. plus the very nature of the comic is to change constantly even as its being made, so it would be realistic that the ending would also be like that. The stage might be set in the more-or-less same plan, but the outcomes might end up changing depending on what i feel is best in the moment. I also like to keep my mind open to new ideas that might be more exciting, but I guess nothing has gripped me as much as the ones ive worked on so far, for whatever reason. I think i am just very attached to the visuals and scenes I want to make. Hopefully i’ll get to draw it! then i can discuss what ended up changing or what stuff i just totally didnt think of until i got there lol I will say that at this stage, FFAK is totally written out in script form. including all of HELP, After Dinner Treat, and several other bonus comics i havent started drawing yet (Including the long awaited Jacket-focused one.) It took me a few years to even get the ideas all out of my head/random pile of notes & written out/organized, but there's a lot more like.. tangible structure on the rest of the story at this point than during most of arc 1. :)
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pdamndiabolical ¡ 1 year ago
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commiseration, not advice: i think the struggle regarding fanfic and plot is that, even more than in regular fiction writing, you start out with a fully-formed idea and interpretation that's really interesting and exciting and important to you and that doesn't really REQUIRE you to write a plot to express it - or any fiction at all! fiction is just what makes it tangible.
so it's essentially a matter of delayed gratification to go, ok, how can i write AROUND this idea? what if i absolutely COULDN'T give it to you straight, through narration or dialogue, at least not until it's hanging so heavy in the air that the thread's just begging to be cut? how does it materially manifest in the world if i can't just come out and say it? only then does writing plot, imagery, setting become necessary and exciting to me.
of course the fact of the matter is that usually this writing-around-the-point is what CANON is doing, intentionally or not, which only heightens the urge to get it all out there. this is the perspective that imo perfectly justifies analysis-based fic writing, after all it's always gonna be a paratext situation. but i do think think you've been "materialising" your internal character stuff, and i honestly think developing that sensibility is enough to lead to plotting abilities.
the alternate direction is to think of events and settings FIRST and then see what themes and ideas you can find in them, and i think that's more common for original fiction, but for me that only happens if i'm applying a framework i already know, like oh, time travel au, wrestling au, i know what's in there, i only have to see how it interacts with the characters. but then it usually ends up with too big a scope for me to ever realistically write it at all lol
True I guess in some ways a plot for fanfic is vestigial, depending on what you want for you and your audience. And with the last thing you said there, I’m always compelled by emotion or theme first and then aesthetics and location and plot second. So far at least. It could change if I wrote more than a couple times a year, lol
For me I was enjoying writing but wanted to tell a story where the story was more than internal and small scale interpersonal. All of my early one-shots are like “two people talk in a room”, “two people argue on a rooftop”, “two people argue in an alleyway” etc. I’m proud of all of those and I think they’re satisfying enough for both me and my audience but I wanted to do more. So it becomes “two people are separated into a parallel dimension and have to find each other, and they have to try to resolve the conflict between their mirror selves, and they have to figure out how to get home, and to do this they have to figure out the why and who of how they got sent there” which is about 1000x more challenging and not inherently more fun to write. In fact it’s less satisfying cause I can’t just write 3k words then post it lol. I kind of miss it being just dense psychoanalytical stuff BUT it’s like a sandwich where the bread is plot and all the toppings are emotion and theme and character analysis, and it’s so long it becomes like a scooby doo sandwich, even if I never write a fic like this again it’s pretty satisfying for me at least. Story, feelings, story, theme, story, etc, feels more watered down in some ways vs turbo dense psychoanalytical prose but I’m getting better at it and it’s fun to weave in and out and ideally build to something REALLY big.
I’ve been listening to the audiobook for Wired for Story and while a lot of it is borderline cringey and I’d even call some of it anti-intellectual (there is this whole segment where she just shits on any experimental art and talks about how nobody could ever like reading Ulysses(????)) it’s making me think a lot more about plot and character supporting each other as a more cohesive whole. As a neurotic who is very self-critical about making every word and moment in a story count that stuff is fun to think about for me
Thanks for such a thoughtful ask and for indulging me asking about big brain writing stuff!!
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lavenoon ¡ 2 years ago
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Hey there, friendly reminder that you are awesome, amazing, and astoundingly talented! <3
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Aaa hi Fan!! Making me melt too, I see 💜
🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?
I get to reread my own stuff, in more detail than if I just tried to remember an idea or daydream, and it feels much more tangible written down! I still reread fic I never published because it's just for me, and sometimes surprise myself with scenes I had entirely forgotten! So I'm very glad I wrote them down <3
There's also definitely the engagement/ interaction for published fic. Like yes, I shouldn't make anything dependent on that, but it's just so so validating and fun to hear from other people, and to enjoy something together! I'm very happy I get to share my ideas, and have people be excited for them <3
💋 when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer?
Answered a bit more in depth here, but in short, I definitely enjoy it! I never want the author to feel pressured though, it's just a little bonus treat <3
🕯️ how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?
There's the difference between worth and validation - you may know as a writer (or artist, creator of any kind) that your work has worth, but the validation is what makes you want to share it. If you don't feel like anyone reads your work, why would you continue publishing it? It doesn't mean you necessarily stop writing, but to post something you created means being vulnerable and putting a piece of yourself out there. If there's just no engagement, it feels like rejection.
Fandom is about interaction. We all want to share thoughts and ideas and theories, and it is vital to engage with what is there. That doesn't mean everyone needs to comment on everything! But if you read something, and you enjoy it, you definitely should leave some sort of "I liked this" reaction.
For the socially anxious folks, or people with few social spoons, there's always the options of likes and kudos - as long as these people don't make up the vast majority of a fandom, engagement will easily continue flowing even without explicit words from them! There's also anon options, or those pre-made html codes for more kudos, or other very simple comments (like just "extra kudos!" without any html) that still let an author know you liked it!
Plus, especially if it's anxiety making the engagement hard... The author did the same? Bearing a piece of themself for others to see, and as long as you don't waltz in and just point out all flaws without saying anything else, why would they not enjoy hearing from you? Comments give the author an idea what was good, what might need elaboration, and what ideas resonate!
Some people feel more comfortable on tumblr, some more on discord, some more in a different constellation - but please, please make an effort to engage. It's what keeps things going - you can't just "consume" and not give anything back, if everyone did that, creators would burn out like a flash fire and stop publishing things. I know I did. It's worth the anxiety, it's worth the effort, and a little bit can go a long way. I'm anxious any time I post, and I still do it! So as a creator I just want to hear from people that it was worth it for me, too, that it's received well. Find a form of engagement that works for you, but engage - otherwise, in time, there won't be anything to engage with.
🧿 what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?
Uh, admittedly, not too many. My rsd and anxiety unfortunately tend to make me catastrophize, and mostly it's damage control, not prevention.
What I do do is look at what engagement I did get - every kudos/ comment is a person, and even if it doesn't seem much, those are real people who like my work. Every bookmark means someone wants to see more. Those already mean a lot, and I remind myself to not get caught up in numbers - with private bookmarks, all the people who bookmarked AU might not even fit into my home! That's so so many people! Even my other fic, which runs at 16 bookmarks - that's a lot of people in a room!
So in short, I visualize the engagement I get as actual people, remind myself that was a real person who took time out of their day to let me know they liked my work! It's really never happened to me that there's no one who interacted with my work, and even if there were... Well, I already write a lot for just myself or friends, things that I don't necessarily share with the wide public, so I know where to go to find the validation I crave, and sometimes that validation is just keeping things entirely to myself and reread them again and again <3
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bokutoslittlebird ¡ 4 years ago
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UHMMM EXCUSE ME BUT BOKUTO X ONEE-SAN IS JUST 😳🥵. I'm a different anon from the last one but omg, is it okay to ask more??? Maybe an MSBY Bokuto now or idk what if his onee-san finally gets pregnant (if you're okay with that). Thank yoy so much!
I got like four fics where the reader ends up pregnant I’m definitely fine with writing pregnancy lmao I’ve looked it up so many times I have a notebook of pregnancy symptoms and baby delivery. I do need to start writing down baby names tho bc my computer keeps asking me when I’m expecting
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Mission : Corrupting Onee-san ; Bokuto, part 3
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Kōtarō was a bit upset a week after the.. incident. You weren’t showing any common signs of pregnancy.
He researched it at least six different times, expecting to match something in your behavior to one of them. Each time he realized you weren’t pregnant, it was hard on you. Well, he was hard on you. Forcing his cock into you while you thrashed and tried to get him off, only to be met with the brick wall that is your little brother. He hardly even noticed you, often off in his own delusions until after he spilled his load into you. Even then, your fucked out face and overstimulated hole always had him raring to go again, this time with his focus on how good you made him feel.
With it being a month into his stay at your house, you wondered if your family would get suspicious about it. When he told you he’d be trying out for the MSBY Black Jackals, it fell into place. That’s why he was staying at your house, with the added bonus of being there if you needed anything. From someone else’s perspective, it would seem like he was a golden child with a heart of gold. In your eyes, you just saw a monster with a goal and determination to see the goal through. Kōtarō never shied from any questions your son had, either. Answering every question quickly and maturely, as if he knew the kid would ask it. He’s able to manipulate you and your son but you can’t do anything to stop him, not when he holds power over you.
Kazuki loves his uncle, his Oji-san a lot. You know he does. He’s always enjoyed visiting your parents’ house to see Kōtarō who would tell him stories, but you find he often lets his adoration for Kōtarō blind him. In his eyes, Kōtarō is a perfect human being and can do no wrong.
“Oji-san?” Kazuki’s little head pops up from under the table. You jump at his sudden appearance, especially if he came from under the table. With Kōtarō having you firmly placed on his lap, you wonder how your son would see the situation.
“Yeah, squirt?” He still smiled at Kazuki, not seeing anything wrong with the situation. Not seeing anything wrong with the way he has a steel grip on your hips and keeps rubbing his hardening cock into your clothed pussy.
“When you both go to bed, why does mommy scream?” Your eyes widen at his question, panicking. How do you answer that? He’s so young—
“Oh! Mommy has some bad nightmares, but it’s okay! I’m there to take care of her!” Kōtarō wraps his arms around your middle, warm hands sliding along your stomach. “Isn’t that right, mommy?”
“Yes, Kōtarō, it—“ your words were interrupted with a shriek, feeling Kōtarō pinch the skin on your hips.
“Mommy, are you okay?!”
“Yes, dear. I’m fine. Uh, daddy just startled me, that’s all.” With the new situation and lack of anyone else, Kōtarō wanted to fully move into the ideal family life. Including his title. Kazuki didn’t bat an eyelash, just nodding and eagerly going to play with his toys. A present from Kōtarō.
“We talked about that, nee-san,” Kōtarō’s breath tickled your ear, a warm tongue licking the shell of it. A shiver went down your spine, feeling his bulge get harder underneath you. “Kazuki needs to see me as a father figure now. Especially since he’ll have a baby brother soon,”
“What makes you so sure it’ll be a boy?”
“I have faith. Need strong boys to protect mommy while daddy’s busy at work,” the talk of you having his offspring has him raring to go, a dark cloud covering his eyes as he ruts up against you. You find yourself face down on the dinner table while Kōtarō eagerly strips off your panties and your jeans. It’s nothing for him to pull his cock out of his sweats, eagerly rubbing the mushroom tip against your folds. Even if your mind and heart don’t want it, that doesn’t stop the slick from pooling into your panties and coating your folds. Your hole is nice and wet for him, ready for his fat cock to split you open.
“Kō, we- we can’t! Zuki-“
“If you keep quiet, he won’t know,” he hisses in your ear, his hand digging into the fat of your ass. It’s a warning to be quiet. Kōtarō usually enjoys your voice, how you scream and beg when he’s filled you to the brim, but now he needs you to be quiet since you’re on the table.
Pushing his cock into you is something he’ll never get tired of. He loves the warm feeling of your cunt and how tight your walls are around him, you’re all sticky and wet, allowing him to slide right in. He doesn’t stop, not for a moment, feeling you holding back your moans as he bottoms out. Even with your hesitance, your body knows he makes you feel good. It has him slapping his hips to your ass while he cages you to the table, pressing you down with his chest. Your nails scratch the table, trying to find something to hold on to when his hands snake up under them, squeezing while he rams into you. It’s enough to squeeze his hands while he brings you to an orgasm, his balls slapping against your clit while your walls squeeze around him, sucking him in.
“K-Kō-chan, I-“
“I’m almost there, hold on, baby,” he whispers, his mouth right next to your ear. You don’t know whether he’s talking to you or the possibility of a child resulting in this, but you find his hips stuttering, a low groan as he stills inside you. Your walls milk him dry, another orgasm as you coat him in your own release. He doesn’t pull out, keeping still inside you while you both come down your high.
“It’s Kazuki’s bedtime. I need to tuck him in,” You break the silence, squirming as the feeling of Kōtarō’s cock in you, and his cum, has become awkward.
“I’ll do it,” he presses a kiss to your hair, removing himself from you. He’s quick to pull your panties and jeans back up, keeping his cum from mostly coming out. “After all, I gotta be a good dad, don’t I?”
With Kōtarō constantly leaving the house for practice with the Black Jackals, he leaves you alone. Taking care of Kazuki was your only chore, really. With Kōtarō earning plenty of money and you having the insurance money from your recently deceased husband and daughter, you were not financially unstable. Most of your money had gone to special pills to prevent pregnancy, making sure you had one each time after Kōtarō spilled inside you. Labeled as vitamins, you easily took them all the time in front of Kōtarō as he didn’t bat an eye. They seemed to work, suspending the pregnancy as each day you turned out and took the test, only one line popping up.
You thought you were safe.
When your vitamins went missing, you didn’t know where to turn. After the table sex and the bedtime routine, you needed those pills. Looking through each cabinet, you couldn’t find it. When you asked Kazuki, he seemed innocent enough. The only possibility was that Kōtarō had found out and taken them out. You had to wait until he returned from practice before you could confront him.
When he finally popped through the door, Kazuki went to go hug him. “Oji-san!”
“Hey, hey, hey! We talked about that, squirt,” a darkness looms in his eyes, but his smile is bright and blinding.
“Sorry, daddy. I’m not used to it,” he looks downright guilty, as if he did something wrong. Kōtarō’s big hand plops on top of Kazuki’s head.
“It’s alright. You’ll get used to it eventually, especially once you have a little brother,”
“I’m gonna have a little brother?!” Bouncing on his feet, Kazuki turned to you. The smile you sported was more of a cringe, but you nodded.
“That’s the plan. Daddy, can we talk?” Kōtarō eagerly follows you, handing a new toy to Kazuki as if he doesn’t have over 20 new toys. Kōtarō doesn’t stop in front of you, rather hugging you close to him as you feel his hardened cock rubbing against your leg. “Kōtarō we need to talk. About serious stuff.”
“If it’s about those Plan B pills, I flushed them down the toilet,”
“Wha- flushed? Those were my vitamins!”
“You aren’t taking anything that risks serious health problems if you don’t take it. Not only that, you’re not under any prescription medications. From now on,” he says, voice low and commanding. Pulling from you, you look into his eyes to see something sinister in them, as if his delusion is becoming tangible. “You’ll be taking what I give to you. No more caffeine, no more wine before bed, yes I know you drink a glass while getting ready, and no more vitamins without my permission. After all, our future is dependent on this.”
With his declaration of claiming you, officially deciding to prevent anything that could stand in his way, you felt sick as you took another test, the single line being joined by a matching one. You couldn’t hide it, you couldn’t throw it away, he’d know the truth regardless. You always showed him negative results, so the test going missing would mean he knew it was positive. Kōtarō waits on your bed — his, too, now — as you weigh your options. With shaky hands, you open the bathroom door as he perks up, his face smiling as if he knew the answer already. With his hair down and still damp from the bath, you see how attractive he is, his muscles flexing as he gets up to see the result. Showing him the plastic piece, he can’t hide his excitement.
“I’m gonna be a dad! You’re gonna be a mommy! Well, we are, but this time for reals!” He’s so excited, it’s easy to find yourself smiling with him, caught up in the excitement. When he puts you down, it’s on the bed and he’s quickly crawling to cage you in. “I say this is cause for a celebration.”
“Kōtarō, what about mom? And dad? And our sisters? They’ll find out eventually, won’t they? We’ll be disowned,” your panicked voice stops him, straddling you as his hand goes to his chin. As if he’s thinking.
“Well, lets just cut ties with them. I’m a member of one of Japan’s Division 1 volleyball teams. I make enough money for us to be stable comfortably, not to mention the money you have from insurance. That way,” he licks his lips, leaning over you again, “I can have you all to myself,”
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mostlysignssomeportents ¡ 4 years ago
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Consumerism won't defeat Georgia's Jim Crow
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In the 1970s, progressives discovered a shortcut to political change: the boycott. Boycotts had been around for a long time, to be sure, but with industries in relatively weak states, with lots of competitors, the threat of lost business could spur fast action.
Politics were slow and unreliable. Lawsuits were expensive, slow and unreliable. Boycotts were fast, and involved direct, tangible steps that every person could take: redirect your spending from one company to another, make the change.
But as progressive movements ceded the political realm, reactionaries conquered it. Reagan and his successors (including pro-business Dems) enacted laws and policies that encouraged monopolies and weakened labor unions.
40 years later, boycotts are dead.
Hate excessive packaging?
Good news: the grocery aisle has minimal packaging alternatives you can vote your dollars on.
Bad news: these "alternatives" come from the same companies as the high-packaging products you're "voting against."
Boycotts only work when there's competition. As this Simpsons screenshot demonstrates - Duff Lite, Duff Dry and Duff all come from the same pipe.
Likewise: Fox Studios, who made the Simpsons, are now part of Disney.
Don't like Fox? Vote with your dollars on Disney!
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Right-wing politics have a problem. If your fundamental belief is that a small number of people should have more (money, power, influence) than everyone else, then by definition, your politics only benefit a minority, and you win elections with majorities.
The right has three tactics to overcome this.
I. It relies on antimajoritarian institutions, like the Electoral College and the Senate. That's why the Dems should *absolutely* kill the filibuster, which protects Senate power, which is minority power, which is plute power.
II. It suppresses the votes and power of working people, through gerrymandering, poll taxes, voter-roll purges and anti-union rules that shatter the collective power of otherwise atomized and powerless workers.
III. It convinces turkeys to vote for Christmas. Performative culture-war bullshit, white nationalism, transphobic panics, etc - none of these are intrinsic to the right-wing project, but they bring a lot of scared bigots out to vote for dead-eyed corporate rule.
The new Jim Crow law just adopted in Georgia is a perfect example of how these three tactics deliver power to corporate power. It's a voter suppression law, passed by a gerrymandered statehouse that represents a minority of Georgians, which exploits white nationalism.
Remember, the reason corporate America is worried about Georgia is the Black, working-class-led political machine that threatens to enact majority rule in a place whose state and national leaders are essential to inequality-boosting, plute-enriching, worker-destroying rule.
The reason all these red states introduced nearly identical voter-suppression bills is that they all get their laws from the same place: ALEC, a business-backed thinktank that writes and pushes "model legislation" in state- and local governments.
https://www.salon.com/2021/03/27/conservative-groups-are-writing-gop-voter-suppression-bills---and-spending-millions-to-pass-them/
ALEC finds its wins in GOP legislatures, but it gets its funding from a broad cross-section of corporate America, including companies that publicly brief for racial and gender justice.
https://www.commoncause.org/democracy-wire/who-still-funds-alec/
Now, ALEC has faced something of an exodus, losing members like AT&T and Google, but that doesn't mean that they've divested from ALEC policies.
The politicians who carry water for ALEC are 100% dependent on campaign contributions from orgs like the Chamber of Commerce.
These politicians brief for policies that hurt the majority of Americans, and can only get elected through voter suppression, gerrymandering and appeals to bigotry. There's no other way to win electoral majorities while espousing antimajoritarian policies.
This doesn't mean that corporate execs and employees aren't horrified by Georgia's New Jim Crow law - it just means that they can't do anything about it. Companies that halt donations to the GA GOP will *still* financially support them, through their industry associations.
It's a perfect macrocosm of the consumer's dilemma: if you rely on money, rather than politics, to accomplish political change, you will never make a change that reduces the power of money in politics. It's impossible to spend your way out of monopoly capitalism.
At best, it's merely useless. At worst, it's a net negative, sucking up the hours you could spend on political change with comparison shopping. As Zephyr Teachout points out in BREAK 'EM UP, what you do matters more than what you spend.
https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up
If you're organizing to support union drives, don't waste time shopping to "buy local" for posterboard and markers - they're all manufactured by anti-union monopolists, no matter who sells them. Get whatever's easiest and then go fight the companies in the *political* realm.
Stop conceiving of yourself as an ambulatory wallet, whose only power comes from where and how you spend - if you only vote your dollars, you'll always lose, because the rich have more dollars than you and so they get more votes.
Keep your eyes on the prize: smashing corporate power. Far more exciting than the MLB boycott of Georgia is the Republican response: GOP hardliners want to take away baseball's antitrust exemption.
https://twitter.com/matthewstoller/status/1378103553437360131
If this happens, it will be the absolute best possible outcome - because it represents the shattering of the coalition that makes antimajoritarian politics possible. If the right starts siding with bigots and AGAINST companies, they'll cut their own supply lines.
The voter suppression, gerrymandering and bigotry that the GOP relies on is expensive. It can't exist without corporate power. The reason it exists in the first place is corporate power.
Reinvigorating antitrust as an act of performative culture-war bullshit is the political equivalent of pointing a gun at your own dick to own the libs and then blowing your actual dick off.
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https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/27/literal-gunhumping/#youll-shoot-your-eye-out
These are the fracture lines we need to exploit. They've been proliferating for years. The modern antitrust revival comes out of these fracture lines.
It's an open secret that much of the money and energy for anti-Big Tech trustbusting comes from the cable industry.
Comcast and AT&T hate Google and Facebook, but not for the same reason you or I do. In their view, the billions Googbook make from surveillance, rent-extraction and manipulation have been misapproriated from the telecoms industry.
They have made the catastrophic blunder of betting that if they awaken the slumbering antitrust giant to smash Big Tech, that it will then go back to sleep - and that it *certainly won't turn on *them*.
This is such galaxy-brain idiocy. Like the public will watch a new army of trustbusters arise to rip apart Googbook and then say, "You know what? I just *fucking love Comcast*, so whatever you do, don't give them the same treatment."
A bet that after the dust settles, the hard-fighting lawyers, activists, politicans and workers who smashed corporate power in Big Tech will realize that they were only worried about "surveillance capitalism" but were totally cool with all the other kinds of capitalism.
Consumer power is a dead letter. Political power is a live wire. Boycotts are a distraction, even - especially - when giant corporations engage in them.
But the other stuff - strikes, trustbusting, ending financial secrecy - that's where change comes from.
The problem with the world isn't where you shop.
You're not an ambulatory wallet and don't let anyone convince you that you are.
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astrologysvt ¡ 4 years ago
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Vernon’s Ideal Type - Natal Chart Reading
For ideal types, I’m not going to be doing specific placements of their ideal partner. Instead, I’m gonna be listing personality traits I think would mesh well with them, as well as focus on their needs and the kind of person who could meet them. I’m looking at all of their placements, specifically their moon, venus, mars, and any aspects related to those planets.
such an interesting mix with all of that water, aqua, and then that cap venus. 
i definitely see him as being someone who is focused on finding someone who he feels he has a very intimate and personal connection with, above all else
like he has so many placements that bring such a strong emphasis towards non-physical values 
his aqua placements that value individuality, intellect, and authenticity.
then his scorpio that craves that emotional depth and connection 
and his pisces mars that comes in and brings in this kinda of spiritual influence in valuing that kind of intrinsic compatibility and bond. 
and so he’s really out there looking for a soulmate in the most simplest terms 
i do think that he is a realistic person because of his logical aqua and cap, so he may not see it as a “soulmate” situation as in “fate”
but he wants to feel that intellectual, emotional, and spiritual harmony with his s/o in ways that may be hard to define and aren’t super tangible
where they can connect with each other, value each other’s minds, and feed each other’s energies and passions 
where there is that very “soulmate” esque understanding of each other where they balance each other out and read each other well 
so with all of that being said, i def think his s/o should be someone with similar values 
someone who isn’t so focused on immediacy, on the material, and on the concrete aspects of the relationship.
someone he can feel connected to, and not just attracted to or committed to. 
someone who appreciates the simpler, more meaningful things in life. 
also to a great degree, i think his s/o should be someone who is able to relax and enjoy silent moments and the little details 
i think someone with too antsy an energy, who is too mentally active and can’t slow down to appreciate each other’s company and ambiance and — I’LL SAY IT —  vibes 
would probably frustrate him and feel like they weren’t really on the same wavelength
his pisces mars especially is such a feeling and observant placement, and can often times get overwhelmed by those who are too excitable or fidgety 
he has such a calm energy about him between all of that water and his super harmonious aspects with his moon — and he is so sensitive to those energies 
so much so to the point that i think he’d easily pick up on that restlessness and would make him uneasy in turn. 
so yeah someone super chill lolol 
because honestly he probs wouldn’t be able to keep up with a super energetic partner either
he also wants someone who is super open-minded 
i think especially with all of that aqua that he’d be very adverse to someone who was more judging, or wasn’t open to viewing things from other perspectives, or wasn’t open to discussion 
i imagine too he’d be very frustrated with someone who was so convinced in their opinions that it came across oppressive
the fun of opinions for him through that aqua is in the potential for discussion, and so that door always needs to be open for him
and with that i imagine he’d find someone who is open, accepting, and progressive very attractive. 
and so then returning to this whole concept of focused more on non-physical values as a whole
this also more than likely means he isn’t super concerned with looks
i highly doubt he has a type, and if he does it’s probably either vague or pretty consistently broken or changing.
i also think this gives him a very unorthodox appreciation of beauty
and so he probably is either drawn to someone with very unusual or thought provoking looks/style, or he just generally pays little mind to those things when it comes to attraction 
i also think that aqua influences comes in and points that attraction specifically towards his value of individuality 
so he’s more than likely going to associate beauty to specific traits as he gets to know them and understands them as their own person 
but then his cap venus comes in, and this is a very literal and very material influence which is a huge contrast to the rest of his chart
he wants someone competent 
someone reliable, and someone put together 
so while he may not care TOO MUCH about looks or appearance, whatever style his s/o has got going on should at least be presentable to a degree lol 
cap influences (or really earth influences in general and especially in venus) usually point towards a strong attraction to those with a career, goals, and ambition 
so that’s something he finds very attractive 
as well knowing that they’re very driven, are able to make plans and stick to them, and are super hard working
i also think with that mix of aqua and cap that he probs thinks it’s SUPER hot if his s/o has a very specific interest they are passionate about 
like an expertise/art they’re very proficient in 
and would love being able to pick their brain and collaborate in that sense. 
this cap influence can also make him drawn to those older than him
someone who has a great deal of experience, and someone who he respects and looks up to.
loyalty and consistency are huge factors for him, especially between all of the fixed energies he’s got going on and then that cap venus 
he needs someone he feels he can trust
not only to be present in the relationship, but to also take the commitment seriously and be very dependable. 
there is so much in his chart that is both very committed, and also super all-or-nothing 
once he knows for certain that that relationship IS IT, he is there for the long haul 
and he more than likely has complete tunnel vision on his s/o 
like doesn’t even have a single thought in his noggin to look elsewhere 
and so he’d feel really assured if his s/o thought very similarly
and if they were someone who could lean into that emotional intensity and attachment 
cuz that scorpio moon can GET ATTACHED. 
i think he’d be frustrated if his s/o were super flighty, who struggled to commit, who he felt he couldn’t pin down
he really needs to feel secure in the relationship
and with his pisces mars especially, he’s the type to be very giving and committed even if the object of his affection isn’t reciprocating 
which can lead to him getting lost in the relationship and losing track of his priorities. 
at its worst it can even create a dynamic where he keeps on giving and giving with the hopes that he’ll then “earn” that commitment and affection
and so he needs someone solid he can lean on who is very open and upfront with where they stand to ensure he doesn’t get completely absorbed/lost in that manner. 
as that is a super, super common occurrence with pisces influences regardless of how logical the rest of the placements are 
and i feel like i need to say that: i know aqua placements are known for their need for independence and freedom 
but between the fact both his moon and mars are in water signs, i think that this aquarian desire for freedom is going to be more concentrated to his desire for intellectual freedom 
where as romantically i think his placements crave too much a sense of exclusivity, intimacy, and loyalty that they kind of overpower that aqua need.
beyond that general sense of commitment however, he also wants to feel he can trust his s/o in confiding in them 
someone he feels he can communicate both his playful hypotheticals and his more intense thoughts to 
scorpio influences in general bring such a strong emphasis to both privacy and control 
and he is very selective with what he lets others see and know about him 
and to a degree a huge desire that he may have because of that, is in feeling as though he can trust his s/o enough to kind of break down that damn and let the floods loose 
the scorpio influence also brings a great deal of possession 
and he wants someone who will let him feel like they are his person 
and that he’s let them into his inner circle and vise versa
and so someone who respects but also kind of cultivates that dynamic where they’re both very open and receptive to each other’s thoughts, no matter how crazy
and also very protective of each other would be great 
someone who he can be his authentic self around with no filter
where there is confidence that his s/o wont judge him if he divulges them in his more out-there thoughts, or when he decides to be vulnerable and communicates darker parts of himself 
he really wants to feel like there is a limitlessness in the relationship 
with that, too, he wants someone who is simultaneously realistic 
someone who can dream up and play along with his creative ideas and thoughts, but also someone who is clearly down-to-earth and rational 
like as much as he wants his s/o to appreciate him and all the weird stuff involved, he also doesn’t want them to be completely out of touch with reality 
which circles back to that cap venus need for someone who is reliable and competent. 
and with all of this talk about him wanting to be with someone he can be himself around — all the good, bad, beautiful, ugly, and weird — he really wants someone who is also very open and honest about themselves. 
his aqua placements and pisces mars really make him drawn to super unique individuals which i touched on before 
but he really vibes when someone is clearly walking to the beat of their own drum 
and he loves the confidence that’s associated with that 
which i think is emphasized by his cap venus 
and even though this placement is often associated with conventionality and tradition — i think mixed with the rest of his odd ball placements, this influence really just means he’s looking for someone who has direction, acts with purpose, and can be a very rational person while also sticking true to their individuality and values
and by all means, with everything else, the weirder the better 
and that weirdness plays into his scorpio moon and that “circle” i mentioned where he feels that camaraderie with his s/o where they respect and appreciate each other’s oddities and perspectives and bounce off each other in that sense 
which again backs ALL THE WAY up and plays off this concept of him being more focused on those non-physical attributes/values. 
finally i really want to touch on the importance of emotional intelligence for him 
i think i’ve honestly mentioned it for every single reading because i do think it is an important influence just for the sake of a healthy relationship 
but for vernon i really think it’s an absolute pillar in terms of his relationships 
between his scorpio moon and pisces mars — and especially since he has these two planets trine each other — he is a very emotionally intuitive, feeling, and sensitive person 
yet that trine aspect brings a great deal of emotional control and harmony as well
he would really struggle with someone who had a temper, or was overly fast to react and resort to confrontation 
someone who couldn’t think objectively in the heat of the moment, or who couldn’t read themselves well and understand when they’re upset and not thinking rationally
and that is because that trine aspect makes it so that he is a very introspective and composed person when it comes to turbulent emotions, and he’d really need a similar mindset in his s/o where they both can approach disagreements and emotions with a very level head 
i also think emotional intelligence is super important in terms of how feeling he is 
i think his s/o should be very good at reading him and at reading energies
i think his reserved and thoughtful nature can make him a bit of a loner (which we know and i’ve talked about before in his chart first impressions) but because of this i think it’s good if his s/o is very understanding of this sensitive and fluctuating nature in him 
he has waves and phases, and is a very dynamic person
and so someone who understands and respects this aspect of him is great who can read him and act accordingly 
either giving him space, amplifying his energies, encouraging his enthusiasm, straight chilling, or giving him that emotional stability
SO YEAH 
i think it’s always super surprising to look at nonie’s chart cuz he has such a hard to pin energy about him 
he’s so hard to read and i feel like his common perception is very contradictory to the energies of his placements, especially in terms of romance 
but behind all of that he’s definitely a very committed, loyal, and protective person 
and craves that emotional closeness and intimacy regardless of floaty and vibey his energies are normally 
such a genuinely sweet boy. 
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mantra4ia ¡ 4 years ago
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NBC Debris, episodes 1-9: overview of high hopes and adjusted expectations
*Mild spoilers ahead*
I'm rooting for this show guys, really I am. The premise and the two main characters / actors are interesting, or at least try very hard to be. But this series has been slow off the ground despite my excitement during preseason teasers and here's why, in my view.
Pros:
An intercontinental alliance gives room / potential for some interesting spy craft, I just wish it was slightly more artful, less heavy handed.
Alien debris having potential to do good things is also a fantastic promise to expand on. George Jones talked about some terraforming level stuff (whether it goes right or wrong is another story), let's see more of that. Are tech giants fighting over the intellectual property rights to debris-based advances? How are money and favor between industry and the government changing hands (apart from a very literal briefcase full of cash on the black market when we first meet Influx)? How do different pieces of debris interact with one another, maybe it changes some of their properties in unpredictable ways.
Bryan and Finola have good amorphous lead chemistry. We aren't being force-fed where it is going to go, but we know it's a compelling relationship where they're both relying on each other to get through challenging emotional hurdles (marine special ops, family tragedy). And we see them together, riffing off each other from the beginning, and it works as both a personal and professional partnership.
Strongest debris-scifi-based episode was definitely 1x04 "In Universe" with the chlorine- respiration-based biome. To me it's the best of the season so far.
Strongest character episode so far is maybe 1x09 "Do You Know Icarus?" or 1x06 "Supernova"
Cons:
Episodic structure hampers the ramp of tension building. You don't get big payoff because you get short plot points. Yes there's the recurring "ball of light" and Influx references, but those are more phantom thread teasers than a long game of steadily developing insights.
No fully developed villain or antagonist to make the stakes seem tangible and priorities urgent or simmering: is it Influx, Maddox, Ferris, casually mentioned foreign government espionage, the guy who played Michael on The Vampire Diaries? I don't know, and worst of all nor do I really care because I don't feel their immenent threat or ideological purpose. I am more worried about the debris body count, but debris is a problem / quandary, not a viable adversary at this point. We've got a multi-front conflict, and 45 minutes with underwhelming writing complexity to try and meet the task. It's a struggle.
The ABCD action-based plot. I have to do this sequence in order to beat this level. Where's the character building?
Speaking of which, while I like Bryan and Finola's dynamic opposite each other, I can't say the same about their development as individual characters. Their depth and relationship to others has so far been terrible due to superficial telegraphing which tells us rather than a writing structure that shows us why we're supposed to care about them, their lives, or their relationships to others, like Finola and DeDe and George as a family unit, or Bryan and Maddox. Seeing an old family video of sisters dancing to a favorite song does nothing for me when I haven't seen them interact on anything more than a long distance phone call. Can we maybe get a flashback of them at George's memorial so that we can get a sense of how devastated the family was or see the consequences of DeDe's substance abuse habit as a crutch during an emotionally chaotic time in her life? No. We get hearsay. Maddox is supposedly so worthy of Bryan's trust, pulled him from the brink of a dark emotional abyss (1x07), but we get no sense of that bond off the clock like Bryan checking in on Maddox's family, or any sort of personal connection. Just a cold professional relationship with a few one liners.
Telegraphing to ambiguity ratio: certain things the audience gets explained to us, like alternate universes visible in the molecular imperfections of glass or how they damaged George's hippocampus and impaired his memory (like they're just throwing out words to sound sci-fi impressive), and yet some basic details that would help build this world lore and make it believable are left up to off-screen imagination? Come on now, we all know the season one is for world building. Hop to it! Debris falls from the sky, worldwide, and you're telling me no one knows about it and it doesn't impact public life / culture in any way, it doesn't make the news cycle, nothing? You're an Orbital agent, and you're able to fly around in laboratory equipped jets and land in whichever airspace you please, and no one bats an eye? Terrorists are using debris against civilians, and we don't see government restrictions, curfew, lockdowns, etc, we don't get any minor glimpses into ramifications on ordinary life? No, because the focus is always trained on our "field agents" but not the playing field. It's mundane, small stuff questions that keep us grounded, which is a refreshing and needed balance in sci-fi, but apart from a conversation about stale Peeps I don't see attention to daily details of life as we know it.
We are literally told in the pilot by a title card (talk about expedient) that "three years ago images were captured of a wrecked alien spacecraft moving through the solar system" and for 6 months debris has been falling. Has it smashed through any cities causing panic? How is it spun by the media, or how is Orbital keeping it out of public attention? Is there a political power struggle over research access, and what do those higher up agency meetings look like? Where and how is the recovered debris being cataloged and stored when it is not used in active research? Who has clearance to it, what is that clearance called/what does it entail, which government retains agency of debris pieces, or does that depend on where Orbital recovers it? This is like first-five-episode-arc lore building and we are nine hit or miss episodes into the season! I need this show to level up if it's taking the route of being clever and cerebral, which it appears to aim at by focusing on the scientific part of sci-fi. If it's goal is to be a small scale, partner ride along weekly mystery with heavy synthetic sound cues, then it needs to pick a tone that takes itself less seriously.
The dialogue is so lackluster and expository. Please get some of the writer's room to focus on making it sharper, quicker, smarter.
The science of debris: George Jones, as some genius mind behind Orbital tech, isn't believable. We don't get to see any part of his professional life in Orbital in the three year lead up to when we meet our characters, he doesn't even have any dialogue when Finola first finds him captive. We have "science-aesthetic" scribbles on a chalkboard and Finola's word that George is a workaholic research savant. It doesn't ring true and by extension some of the "rules" of this Orbital technology seem murky (not as in we learn alongside the characters, but as in the concept seems under developed). George's biggest contribution thus far is a levity critique of Bryan's driving speed. At this point he's a plot device to further Fin's journey, as is DeDe. That's base.
Lack of interest in supporting ensemble: why should I care about Maddox's family crisis, or DeDe's addiction or George's suicide after he was shut out of his own research at Orbital, etc? Again this ties back to previous points of show don't tell, and build a world, maybe use some flashbacks. Make it personal — why is George's research (apart from a generalized better world) so singularly important to him that it breaks his family, what compelled Brian to transition from military service to Orbital? How are different factions within Orbital — like the research team and the field agents — getting along, who's at the very bottom of the barrel or on the very top of the hierarchy?
I want this show to succeed, but I don't get a clear read on what genre they want to be or more importantly what the characters want. Please increase the focus on dialogue, get the basics of want-obstacle-action done right, and then the debris and the conflict it creates can have a bigger impact.
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blursed-ninjago-ideas ¡ 4 years ago
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I deliberately left some scenes out because I didn’t feel like writing them, and other things I just took shortcuts on cause I have a huge headache, but I want this done.
Hydra is Nya’s hero name with the dragon miraculous. 
--
He was debating what to name his latest Akuma. A jealous girl that resented her best friend’s boyfriend. The two were having a very explosive fight in the middle of the park by Collège Françoise Dupont.
Honestly Hawkmoth wasn’t sure which one he was going to get. They were both pretty upset. His little butterfly was heading straight for the fight, until it suddenly turned and changed course.
Sighing, Hawkmoth was pretty sure he knew what was happening, again.
Kai Smith happened to be walking past. The boy was a walking Akuma trap. It was a frustrating waste of his time and resources. If he could just figure out how to harness Kai’s emotions, the boy would be the most powerful weapon against the heroes. But Kai was too stubborn and spontaneous to control. He was so easy to akumatize. Hawkmoth didn’t have to do hardly any work to get him to surrender. He was just so set and focused on his own goals that Hawkmoth couldn’t get him to bother with the miraculous.
The Akuma settled itself into the pendant of a necklace Kai was wearing, and Hawkmoth was already calling the day a wash, but then the empathy link showed him something new.
It was a different than usual.
Kai felt…fragile. He wasn’t focused on any sort of goal. His emotions weren’t from worry or ambition, it was just raw and directionless.
It wasn’t like he had anything to lose, and it could turn out to be a worthy experiment.
-
Kai fiddled with his pendant again. It had become a handy fidget to have. Chloe had made it for him, it turned out she really loved making jewelry and seemed to have a knack for it. He was so proud of her and seeing how excited she got to show off a new piece made his heart melt a little. There was no pride or approval seeking, just pure excitement. She didn’t do it for attention, just to share the happiness she had for it.
It was a far cry from her old attempts at creative pursuits, only doing things she thought would impress, regardless of her own feelings.
Course all the growth on Chloe’s part came at a price, and Nya was the one that paid it. Kai hadn’t meant to neglect her. He just didn’t think she still needed him that much. Chloe was so young and in need of guidance, he had thought Nya was mature enough to not need him. But he should’ve really thought about how much it would hurt to not see him as much. Nya may’ve not needed his care or guidance, but she still needed his company. He was her big brother and the only constant she had growing up; it was cruel to take that away from her. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.
And Lloyd of course would always need Kai. That was his job. It was literally a written destiny that Kai would be there for Lloyd while he fought to protect others as the green ninja. Lloyd had suffered plenty and would probably always need Kai as an emotional crutch. He faced trauma and near-death experiences on the regular. If Kai and the others weren’t there to help him feel safe and loved, there was no way anyone, even Lloyd, could go through all that and not break.
But that left three people that needed Kai to be there for them, and there was only so much of him to go around.
He didn’t want to make that their problem. He toughed it out. He pushed himself. He could keep it up for a little longer. He could do a little more.
Nya had ideas for some new vehicles and wanted Kai’s help with them. It was a good way to spend some quality time and, her own confession, Kai was the better welder
Chloe wanted him to set up a challenge for her to test how far she’d come. It was a good idea, a concrete way to self-reflect and a tangible show of progress.
Lloyd had talked him into helping with a school project. It was nice to see Lloyd doing something that wasn’t life and death stakes.
He didn’t know how in the world he let Adrien talk him into modeling, but that was also on his plate.
It felt like there was a deadening static in his head that he had to force all his thoughts through, a buzzing not unlike an alarm. He had noticed his hands had started to spasm at random points. He wasn’t sure how concerned he should be about that.
Like many things, Kai ignored it. He had things he had to do and people that were depending on him. He had no time to deal with it. It could wait.
He was on his way to meet up with Lloyd, but he had to leave in time to make lunch with Nya, and he had to figure out what to do for Chloe, not to mention he had an early morning photoshoot the next day so he needed to get some sleep for that and probably should shower before it.
His hands found their way to his pendant again. He was pulling it back and forth on the chain, making a rhythmic zipping noise as it pulled on the chain links.
“I’M A PERSON! I DON’T HAVE TO BE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL!”
Kai cringed.
“IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL MAKING TIME FOR ME? ANY TIME! AT ALL? I’M SO SORRY IT’S SUCH A CHORE TO HANG OUT WITH ME.”
“Please don’t make an Akuma” Kai though to himself as he passed the fighting girls.
The shouting back and forth was not doing good things for his nerves. He was trying to take even breaths to counter it, but they just kept screaming.
Kai squeezed his eyes shut and pressed forward. He’d get away soon enough, go help Lloyd, maybe help the heroes if that fight attracted an Akuma, meet up with Nya, then head back to Le Grand Paris and brainstorm with Chloe, then hopefully go to bed, then get up, shower, go model for a while, he should probably take the opportunity to talk to Adrien about Chloe, the backstory someone that grew up with her would know might help him with her, and maybe ask about how Lloyd is doing while he’s there.
Probably should do a quick evaluation of Adrien’s mental health too. From what he’d heard from Lloyd, Adrien may need someone to be there for him too.
AND THE GUYS!
He had completely forgotten to check in with the others! Zane, Cole, and Jay! He needed to check on them too, plus he wanted to see them!
Kai was so busy planning out his tasks that he didn’t see the uneven sidewalk. He realized that he’d tripped as soon as he started to fall, but instead of catching himself, his brain decided that it wanted to do nothing instead. The wind got knocked out of him when he limply hit the ground.
Kai opened his eyes and started at the ground ahead of him. Normally he’d get up and brush himself off, and he would in a minute, but some reason he just kept staring ahead. The static stopping him from making any movements.
He felt like screaming, or even crying. He was in pain and he had just fallen down. It wasn’t a big deal, but it felt like Kai was fighting to keep himself in check and not have a full meltdown. The static in his head was blocking any attempts to steady himself.
He was gathering his courage to stand back up and keep going when a familiar butterfly flew to him.
Kai breathed rapidly, trying not to panic, or breakdown, or cry.
“A bit stressed are we?”
Kai didn’t respond, he just kept trying to breathe.
“Stretched too thin. Too many things you have to juggle. There’s nothing more to give is there?”
Kai felt like he was drowning already. Hawkmoth’s intrusion was pushing him passed his breaking point.
“You know who I am and what I want. I’ll give you the ability to make everything go away, all I ask for in return is Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. What do you say, Burnout?”
Kai’s eye twitched at the name. Why did it feel right? Why did it feel right? He was drowning under his own emotions and Hawkmoth already seemed to have a handle on it all. There were two options. He could continue to fight and struggle, or he could just give up and have some relief.
There was nothing Kai could tell himself that would make the fight look worth the effort.
“Yes Hawkmoth.”
-
Adrien ducked behind another tree, hoping to get the opportunity to transform, but the tree vanished into smoke against his back, leaving a nasty scorch mark behind.
Adrien had barely got a look at the new Akuma, he couldn’t tell who it was yet, but they knew his name.
Black smudges came down from his eyes and stained his dark grey, ash colored skin. He was wearing a long smokey cloak that seemed to be made of the stuff at the end, a small gold pendant in the shape of a small flame clasped it closed at the neck. Fingerless gloves shot out black fiery blasts and he was slightly blurred with his edges ending in smoke trails.
He looked like the personification of the aftermath of a forest fire.
Adrien jumped behind a bench and coughed from the smoke.
“What’s your deal? Campfire go out?” Adrien tried to taunt, hoping to get the reason for the akumatization out of him.
“I’ve burned too bright for too long and given too much of myself. Well now I’m going to make everything go away.”
Adrien finally caught on to the fire symbolism. It was too strong, even for Hawkmoth. Something was wrong. One more look at the spikey hair Adrien had written off as part of the costume and it clicked.
Adrien knew he recognized the clasp on the cloak. It was the pendant he’d seen Chloe working on. Adrien knew exactly who she made it for.
“Kai.” Adrien said, dodging the next blackened blast.
“It’s Burnout now.”
Adrien tried to get out of sight a few more times, but Burnout just blasted every hiding place he found. He only could grab a few seconds out of sight, if he was lucky. Not enough to transform, but maybe enough to do something else.
“Plagg.” Adrien said, lifting his shirt to let the kwami out.
“What are-“
Adrien cut him off, taking his ring off.
“Find Lloyd. We need Ninja Noir for this.” Adrien said, handing the ring to his kwami.
Plagg almost argued but thought better of it.
“I guess he’d be better for this job anyways.” Plagg said, darting off.
-
Lloyd managed to get away from the panicking crowd, wondering if he needed to help out with this one, when Plagg floated right into his face.
“Plagg?”
“Ninja Noir.”
“What happened to Adrien?” Lloyd asked, reaching for the ring.
“Doesn’t matter. Lloyd, it’s Kai.”
Lloyd gently pushed the ring onto his finger.
“Then this should be pretty easy. Ladybug might not even need me.” Lloyd laughed.
Kai’s akumatization were almost always joke. Give him what he wanted, and he practically surrendered his akumatized object.
Plagg shook his head though.
“No, Kiddo, this is different.”
“What do you mean?” Lloyd asked, trying to not panic
“I mean this isn’t his usual stuff. I think Hawkmoth might’ve really gotten to hi this time.”
Lloyd’s eyes went wide.
“Plagg, Claws out!”
-
Chat Noir wasn’t showing up. She was pretty sure she knew what it was going to tell her, but she used her lucky charm just to be certain.
A painting she knew was in Fu’s home. She needed reinforcements.
She was on her way to go find wielders for the two miraculous she grabbed when she ran right into Ninja Noir.
“Ninja Noir!” she yelped, helping him stand back up. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s Kai again, but something is different this time.”
“So I’ve heard.” Ninja Noir said as he brushed himself off.
“Lucky Charm said we needed reinforcements. I grabbed the Bee and the Dragon. I’m thinking Chloe would be a good choice since she knows Kai and has used the Bee Miraculous before. For the Dragon I was thinking maybe Lloyd?”
Ninja Noir coughed.
“Um…No good with Lloyd. He’s caught up somewhere, saw him on the way over. How about we divide and conquer. I think I could get this to his sister.”
“That’s probably a good idea. She should know him pretty well.” Ladybug said, passing Ninja Noir the Dragon Miraculous.
-
“I don’t need another needy little brat hanging off me!” Burnout shouted as he flung Ninja Noir off of him.
Lloyd tried to not let it show how personal the remark was. Kai didn’t know it was him under the mask.
“We need a plan!” Hydra said.
“Now might be a good time for a Lucky Charm!” Beatrix said as she pulled Hydra out of the line of fire.
Ladybug jumped off the roof to dodge another blast, rolling when she hit the ground and flinging herself upright as she yelled
“LUCKY CHARM!”
A camera.
Ladybug started to look around for anything that stood out.
A gargoyle, an empty ledge across the street where another one used to be before Burnout got rid of it, Beatrix’s top, Ninja noir, Hydra, and the mirrored windows on the office building.
“Got it.” She said, shoving her teammates in the directions of where they needed to go, giving them a brief rundown of their parts as she did.
Burnout came flying around the corner just after Ladybug got her trap set.
“Water Dragon!” Hydra yelled, soaking Burnout before he could line up any shots.
“Say cheese!” Ladybug yelled, clicking the camera and blinding him with the flash.
While Burnout tried to clear his eyes and figure out how to attack again, Beatrix came swinging in from behind the gargoyle, holding Ninja Noir.
“Cataclysm!” he yelled as he swung by, taking out the pendant and freeing the Akuma.
Ladybug quickly caught it while Beatrix caught a now detransformed Kai on her swing back.
“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug yelled, throwing the camera in the air.
The magic ladybugs swept across Paris, bringing back everything Burnout had made “go away”.
“What? What happened!?” Kai yelled, trying to stand up, only to fall down on his unsteady legs.
“You were akumatized.” Ladybug explained.
“KAI!” Jay yelled form down the street. “Are you ok?!?”
Cole and Zane were not far behind him and the three were running full speed towards their friend.
“Well I’d better get going.” Hydra said.
“Yeah, me too. I’ll take your miraculous.” Ninja Noir added.
The two jetted off in the same direction.
“I…That was…..what did I do?” Kai finally asked.
“Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.” Ladybug assured him.
Kai didn’t look comforted.
“What got you akumatized anyways?” Beatrix asked.
“I…um….”
“You stressed yourself out again didn’t you?” Zane snapped.
“What?” Kai said.
“Ugh! You Always do this Kai! You are allowed to tell people no, you know!” Jay ranted
“I know that! Besides that wasn’t like that at-“
“Do you? Because sometimes you’re determined to take on more than you can handle!” Cole scolded with a hint of concern.
A beep from Ladybug’s earring interrupted them.
“Um…”
Beatrix nodded to her.
“I didn’t use my ability. I can keep this under control here while you go recharge.”
Ladybug looked a little hesitant, but another beep from her earrings and she was running off with a promise to be back soon.
As she left, Nya came running around the corner.
“Kai!” she yelled, while she tackled him in a hug “I was so worried! Are you ok?”
“I’m fine.” Kai said as he gently pushed her off.
“You’re not!” Jay snapped.
“You were akumatized!” Cole added.
“Everybody gets akumatized!” Kai huffed, crossing his arms.
“Yes, but that was significantly more destructive than usual, meaning you were feeling stronger negative emotions.” Zane said.
“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late, I got stuck. Is Kai ok?” Lloyd said, running to them from another street.
“I’m fine!” Kai yelled.
“Stop it!” Zane said.
“You don’t have to fix everything for everyone.” Cole begged.
“I told you guys I was fine!”
“Kai please.” Nya begged.
“I SAID I WAS FINE!”
Beatrix rolled her eyes and made a move.
“Venom!”
And Kai was frozen.
“What did you do that for!?” Jay yelled.
Beatrix put a hand on her hip.
“No you guys can lecture him about selfcare without him arguing. You’ve got five minutes, make the most of it.” She said.
“Oh.” Jay said in surprise.
Ladybug came back into the middle of an improv intervention.
“And I should’ve been a better sister. I was being selfish and demanding and I should know better than that. Sometimes it’s just hard to accept that I don’t have you all to myself anymore. You know I’ve never been great at sharing.” Nya laughed, with tears in her eyes “But you need to tell me ‘no’ sometimes! I need to hear it, Kai. You can’t just let me push you like this; you have to tell me when you’re hurting!”
“Um….” Ladybug muttered.
“We’re just about done.” Beatrix said.
“You can’t just hide ailments from us, and that includes mental and emotional fatigue.” Zane added.
“Alright, I think my work here is done. See you all next time I’m needed!” Beatrix said, grabbing Ladybug’s arm and leading her away.
-
“You may’ve won this time, Ladybug. But now I know something I didn’t know before.” Hawkmoth said to himself.
He’d finally figured out how to weaponize Kai Smith. That boy was going to deliver him the miraculous if he wanted to or not. It was only a matter of time before Hawkmoth got the perfect champion out of him.
“It will require a very precise touch, but this boy will be my greatest weapon!”
--
so yeah, that’s done.
-Ivy
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redevenir ¡ 4 years ago
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ahhhshbsjsb im so happy you liked that jihoon piece, I was really proud of how that piece was coming along when I was writing it which is pretty surprising cause I wrote it back when I first started writing and was still really inexperienced. and it seems you’ve read me like a book ahaha I do love talking about my writing ....
there was gonna be this whole fake dating thing between jihoon and mc becauee jihoon has a some sort of theory about the way that the soulmate exam works and thinks that this might throw it off... then ofc mc actually falls for jihoon and from there it was gonna be a hanahaki au and that’s about all the planning I did for that piece I had absolutely no clue where I wanted to go with it beyond that and had even less of an idea of how I wanted to end it . but ahhh I’m still reeling over your comments thank u sm 😭
... were you gonna make jihoon all mean again ??? but that theory suits him so well? It’s also a great twist on soulmate aus, which, I believe, is also what you did with room 18a (still haven’t read it but i read veille’s comments about it!) and lie to me, right ?
But it’s so interesting, because if it does throw off the system then it could have led to huge changes in their society - or, in a very cynical turn, no change at all, just no more hopes of getting a better/higher colour.
Aegfjfhjfhdf I’m already picturing stuff but it truly depends on whether Jihoon is actually as cold as the world you painted in your wip or if he has a heart in which case the hurt/comfort possibilities are skyrocketing. But from the wip I got the feeling that soulmates weren’t as important as, you know, staying in one’s lane and don’t go for trouble.
But the possibilities of this au are very, very exciting!!! Also, I already said it, but I truly felt the hard cold reality of this world and I must say, it’s impressive how you do it, create entire, tangible worlds with most different vibes, like it doesn’t feel at all like i’m wandering into the you hide ; i’ll seek streets, and it has nothing to do with the cities of the world is yours to take
It’s been 2 or 3 hours but I’m like all giggly because it feels like I’ve read a piece written just for me I’m mush
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otheliame ¡ 5 years ago
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one on the fluff/ general list!!
“how much did you drink?”
You didn’t give me a couple so Imma just go with Klance modern au bc ... ya know... 
THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD but i needed a good warm up, thank you for the prompt, friend, enjoy the mutual pining meal. 
---
“Enough to have a good time, which is more than I can say for you, Mullet!” Lance proclaims with a wicked smirk, a perched elbow draped on Keith’s shoulder and holding him prisoner where they sit together on the couch in Pidge’s apartment. 
Keith enjoys these parties well enough. It’s why he’s here, after all. He enjoys spending time with his friends, especially when Matt’s in town, which makes these parties all the more eventful because of some crazy scheme he develops. His favorite part though is usually at the very beginning when Lance would always challenge him to some drinking competition, and it would end with one or the other getting so plastered to the point they’d have to either depend on Hunk and Pidge or each other to get them to help. But that didn’t happen tonight, much to Keith’s surprise. Lance had shown up at some point when Keith was otherwise occupied - probably when he and the rest of the party was watching Hunk trying to get Matt untangled from the big hydrangea bush that he’d decided was a softer landing than the grass when he’d leapt from the roof... But show up he did, as Keith didn’t even know Lance was here until he had a pair of long, gangly legs in his lap where he sat on the couch on his phone, nearly knocking the mixed drink in his other hand to the carpet. He reeks of liquor, it’s like his very clothes, a light blue button down with the top two tastefully undone and jeans, were originally woven with the alcoholic essence infused into its fibers. 
“I am having fun.” Keith huffs indignantly in response, his phone shoved in his pocket so his free hand can rest on Lance’s thighs in his lap, mostly to keep him from kicking around. “When did you get here?” 
“An hour ago!” Lance pouts, suddenly weaving his fingertips into the long fringes of Keith’s hair at the back of his neck, the warmth of them spreads straight through his pleasantly buzzed veins and makes Keith flush a little harder than he thinks ought to be necessary. “You’ve been avoiding me!” He accuses him with his fingers tightening in his hair like a warning, his eyes narrowed and his tongue stuck between his teeth. 
Keith furrows his eyebrows at the other, “No I wasn’t, I just didn’t know you were here yet-”
“Excuses, excuses!” Lance waves a hand dramatically to silence him before he swings his feet out of Keith’s lap, much to Keith’s sudden and rather surprising disappointment, and grabs his hands in his, “Now come on, quit brooding!”
“I’m not brooding!” Keith grumbles as he’s hauled to his feet but he follows the other, excitable man faithfully and without complaint as he’s led away, outside. 
“You’re always brooding.” Lance proclaims with a shot look over at Keith as he tugs him through the sliding doors until they’re on the porch. It’s brisk, fall is beginning to settle and despite the alcohol to keep Keith warm the nip is still tangible, hence why the rest of the party is inside. The silence settles on Keith’s shoulders like a pair of icepacks, he finds himself looking over at the freckled profile of his friend as he stops at the railing, his jawline cuts like the night sky itself and his eyes look like the essences of the stars were caught within them, blued and serene moons that Keith could stare at for years. That he has been staring at for years. 
“What’re you?-” Before Keith can question Lance he seals a hand over the other’s lips, silencing him effectively. He quickly shushes him with an angry whisper in response, “Just watch!”
Keith follows his gaze upwards, to the skies and the stars, and for several minutes he wonders if he should really be listening to the demands of a drunk... until the first flash of light, like a thrown lighter across the cosmos. He sucks in breath as Lance twines his fingertips with his, he almost misses the second shot, then the third. 
The doorway behind the pair opens and the celestial cloud Keith found himself caught in almost evaporates as a voice, Hunk’s voice, calls from behind him, “Whoa, meteor shower! Guys, come over here, you’ve gotta see this!” There’s the sound of many feet and the jumble of voices as the others join the pair on the porch but Keith can’t find it in him to notice them. All he can see is the shooting stars reflections in Lance’s eyes as they reflect the heavens themselves, deep and alive and bursting like the ocean. 
Eventually the space dulls as the meteor shower ends and the patrons of the party head back inside, complaining of the nip and chill of the air, but Keith couldn’t care less. He doesn’t even feel it, truthfully. All he can feel is the slight chilled fingers in his palm providing him with a warmth that transcends mere temperature. 
Keith remembers to breathe when the eyes that he’d been lost within turn to regard him, “Whew! I’m glad I remembered that! Pretty cool, huh?” His words slur with the alcohol, the space between them smells like fireball and coke and Keith almost wishes that he could taste some. “Keith?”
He was staring. He quickly clears his throat and smiles a bit crookedly in response, squeezing Lance’s hand in his, “How’d you know about the meteor shower?”
Lance rolls his eyes and draws his hand away from Keith’s, but before he can think to miss it his fingertips instead drag up his forearm and to his elbow, bicep, shoulder, it leaves such sharp electricity in Keith’s skin, even through the material of his jacket, that he almost doesn’t hear his blasé response, “Uh, saw it on Twitter on my way here, duh. Perks of following NASA.” He winks at Keith and sticks out his tongue at him as his hand refinds itself back in the fringes of Keith’s hair at the nape of his neck, running through the locks like a pen through rivers of ink. 
Keith can’t help but smirk at him in response, his pulse is coming faster and he tries to best to hide it by instead teasing him gently, “Nerd.” 
Lance cocks an eyebrow at Keith with a challenging air, “Bold words coming from you, Mr. Full-Ride-To-Carnell.” 
Keith rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Not the same.” 
“It so is.” Lance insists, but when Keith doesn’t response he lets the matter drop with his hand back to his side, turning instead to lean on the railing. Keith moves to join him, drumming his knuckles on the metal idly to keep the feeling in his fingers. After a few beats of silence Lance suddenly turns to face him, “Why did you turn that down, by the way?”
Keith raises an eyebrow over at Lance a tad incredulously, “Why didn’t I go to Carnell?... That was... three years ago, now, Lance.”
Lance huffs, Keith tries to refrain from biting his lip when he sees the carmine bloom in the other’s dark skin, “Well you never gave me a good answer then, so I’m asking now!”
Keith shrugs, pondering the question over for a moment before he replies tersely, “... ‘Cause I didn’t want to.” 
Lance sighs dramatically, throwing his hands tiredly in the air, “That’s such a you thing to say.” Keith continues to watch the way the star-kissed skin of the other crinkles by his eyes when he smiles as Lance continues without a pause, “I mean... I thought you liked the place.” He suddenly pauses, his baby blue gaze drifting to the ground below as his voice changes entirely, it grows smaller, quieter, tentative, “I thought you wanted to get out of here.”
Keith’s immediate reaction is to say ‘I do’ but he stops himself at the last second. Lance is right; Keith has felt stir crazy sitting in the same town for so long, he’d been on the move his whole life thanks to his... upbringing... but when he reconnected with his Mom he settled here for high school and then for undergrad at the local college. He would talk to Lance about it once they got to be good friends in their junior/senior year, when they grew inseparable. Lance and Keith, neck and neck. “I can’t believe you remember that.” Keith murmurs in response with evident shock in his tone, his tongue feels heavy and grows heavier with every word that slips out of his mouth, almost like chains getting latched onto each of his tastebuds individually. 
“Of course I remember.” Lance waves a hand at Keith dismissively, but before he can question what do you mean of course Lance continues, he talks far faster when he’s drunk and it takes Keith a moment to process, to keep up with him, “I can’t believe you didn’t take that free ticket to someplace new. They had a great vet program and everything, too! It seemed kinda... perfect for you.”
Keith raises an eyebrow at Lance. At his arching brow of question, his searching gaze for something that Keith is unsure what he will find. “It was missing what was most important to me.” He murmurs softly in response, keeping his words as vague as possible as he affirms his gaze onto the night sky, allowing the deep black to swallow his attention instead of the oceanic worlds caught in his best friend’s eyes. His best friend that he’s been in love with for years. Which of course he never told him. Even when Lance came out as bisexual a few years ago. He never wanted to jeopardize what they had; he valued his friendship more than anything else he could gain, especially because of how much of an uphill battle it was for them to get to where they are. 
That’s why Keith isn’t telling Lance he didn’t go because he didn’t want to leave him behind. He’d wanted to see the world, sure, but why would he want to go anywhere when his world was already right here next to him? 
Keith can feel the other’s eyes examining his profile as he stares at the naked cosmos, after a moment Lance’s slurred voice breaks the silence, “But-... What’s most important, then, if not for... ya know... all the important stuff that you needed. You know?” 
Lance has always had a way with words, but most especially when he’s drunk, Keith thinks with bemusement to himself. 
“There’s more to a place than the programs. And stuff.” Keith tacks on, his gaze flickering down to the railing, at his hands grasping it. 
Lance doesn’t answer for a long time. He leans his shoulder on Keith’s, instantly heating his side like he’s a furnace, when his head snaps a bit to the side as he hums, “I never told you this, but I’m really glad you didn’t go.”
Keith raises an eyebrow and glances over at the other in confusion. Lance’s expression is pensive, almost downturned and crestfallen like his thoughts are dragging down the corners of his lips. “Why?” Keith ventures when it appears that Lance isn’t going to continue. 
“Because I’d miss you.” 
Keith blinks  at Lance in surprise. His tone was raw, vulnerable, like he had to yank out a tooth to get the four simple words out, and the starlight in his gaze reflect it, the illumination of bandages in the night. 
Keith chews on his lip briefly, considering the wisdom of his words only for a spare second before he hums, “I’d miss you too, man. That’s... that’s why I didn’t end up going.” 
Lance blinks. Once. Twice. Then, like a crack of lightning, Keith starts when he finds the other’s hands in the collar of his jacket, pinning him roughly to the railing as he cries out, “What do you mean you didn’t go? Because of me?!” Lance sounds like he’s trying to be hurt, but it sounds more incredulous and shocked than anything else, like that was the last thing that he was expecting Keith to say. 
Keith grabs Lance’s wrists in response, growling with pure, deadly seriousness in his voice, “Of course it was because of you!” 
Something about his words sucks the tension in the air into a vortex, leaving the pair staring at one another with wide, owlish eyes. After a moment Keith takes a surprisingly shaky breath, his skin itches and his lips ache to press closer, even more so with the alcohol in his blood and the proximity of Lance to him. But he manages to wrangle himself under control after a long moment, meeting the confused, bruised fires in Lance’s gaze as he whispers with breaking words, “I couldn’t go off somewhere without you. You’re my... it’s... always been you, Lance.”
Lance stares at Keith like he just started speaking tongues, his hands still wound up tightly in his collar like he’s about to start throttling him, which for a moment Keith wonders if that’s what he’s planning to do. But he doesn’t. He does the last thing that Keith expects. 
Keith makes a noise in the back of his throat in surprise when Lance suddenly surges forward, his lips are on his and the taste of cinnamon and liquor is so startling strong and powerful that he finds his breath coming harder than before, sucking the heat off of Lance’s soft lips like an ice cube dropped on a hot plate. Lance’s fingertips dig into Keith’s collarbone as he presses closer, pinning Keith to the railing as his lips start to move against his and Keith’s thoughts shamble to pieces, leaving nothing but the texture of his bottom lip firmly imprinted onto his brain as he kisses him back. He doesn’t care to think about whether this is a good idea, no, he doesn’t give a single fuck about that at all, especially not when his hands wind around Lance’s waist and he feels his breath hiccup on his tongue. Lance’s hands drag up the skin of Keith’s throat, parting his quickly panting lips as he digs his fingertips into his hair and holds him flush against him. It’s not one kiss, it’s not three, it’s something infinite and melting one into the other just as the two are, their breath mingling with the sudden realization of mutual want and sending shivers up both of their spines, no longer cold, not hot, something transcendent and caught between. 
It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Keith’s mind to clear out of the fog induced by Lance’s expert lips to think again, but when he does he realizes just how much he tastes like a distillery. A brief moment of cold seizes his chest as the thought of impermanence flakes into his consciousness, unwelcome and unhappy... but a needed wakeup.
He wedges a hand between himself and Lance, much to the other’s drunken disgruntlement, and takes a second to compose himself, to catch his breath, “... Y-you’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight-”
“Damn right I’m not thinking straight.” Lance jokes with a wicked smirk and a brilliant, mischievous twinkle in his eye, but seeing the expression on Keith’s face he pauses his movement to return into his arms, instead staying at the brief, cut distance Keith enforced; it feels like miles away in comparison to how close they were but seconds ago. Lance furrows his eyebrows after a moment and huffs indignantly, “I’m not wasted enough to think you’re somebody else. You’re Keith.” Keith lets out a disdainful ‘tch’ but it’s cut off when Lance’s fingertips draw across his aching lips, “I’m kissing you, Keith, on purpose. Not just ‘cause I’m drunk or nothing.” 
Keith furrows his eyebrows at him and he can’t help but growl with a hard edge in his voice as he responds, “Then why are you doing it now?” Why now, Keith thinks to himself with the bitter taste of fireball on his tongue, and not earlier? A week, a year ago, two years, three? If you truly feel the same way then why now? 
Lance sighs and shakes his head a bit as if he’s clearing his thoughts of bees, “I... It’s kinda been a long time coming. I kept wanting to, but it never seemed like the right time, or I would second guess myself and wonder if you actually liked me or if we were just good friends to you, or... I don’t know.” He winds his fingers into Keith’s hair idly, Keith wonders if he’s even conscious of the invasiveness of his touches but he’s so suddenly starving for them that he doesn’t find it in him to care to point it out to him. Lance touches his forehead to Keith’s, his eyes close and Keith gazes into the openness of his face with dying fear as he continues in a low hum, “I dunno, man. I’ve always had... something for you, too, I guess. I don’t know, it just sounded like you felt the same way when you said that. I’ve wanted it to be you too, Keith, It’s you, too. It’s always been you, too!”
Lance sniffs as emotion almost visibly swells in his throat and Keith suddenly finds a smile coming to his face. He cups his face, surprising the other so hard that his sky blue eyes leap open like the crest of a waterfall, and touches his nose to his tenderly. “Well,” He grumbles in a deep, husky drawl, “It certainly took you long enough.” 
Lance’s bottom lip wobbles and then tugs upright, Keith’s heart is ripped up with it as Lance leans heavier into his arms, “Geez, I fuckin’ guess so!” Without another word he presses forward and kisses Keith again, this time it’s gentler and more affirming than anything else, a seal at the end of a sworn oath. 
Keith mumbles against his lips in between kisses as his hands are dragged back to his hips, “We’re gonna- f- talk about this more when ... we’re sober.”
Lance proclaims with the joy of a kid on Christmas morning, “Yes! But now, more kisses!” He presses forward and holds onto the other tighter and tighter, keeping true to his word. 
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darkpoisonouslove ¡ 5 years ago
Text
“Let Me Mirror Your Love for Me Back at You”
Summary: Faragonda sees Griffin’s insecurities reflected in her mirror when she knows her witch and her natural reaction is to get rid of them. And what better way to do that than to write her love all over Griffin’s mind and body in her touch as well as in words? This is not too sfw.
This was a random idea (that I'm not even sure how I got) but I was really excited to work on when it proved to be a valuable distraction from some stuff that is going on with me right now. I hope you'll like it. :)
Faragonda had to stop to look at the reflection of Griffin in the mirror which was the only thing she could catch when the witch's back was turned to her while her attention was on applying makeup. It was enough to give her a pause from her own preparations for the day even when she needed more time to get ready in the morning and Griffin often ended up being the one who observed her after she was done with her own morning routine. She couldn't care about any of that currently when she couldn't ignore the sight in front of her.
"Griffin?" she questioned cautiously when she knew the topic was sensitive but the lack of reaction from the witch was a clear sign that subtlety wouldn't get her anywhere. "Are you sure you need all that makeup?" she asked as she watched the thick layer of paint covering Griffin's face from her gaze.
The makeup had gotten heavier and heavier during the years and while she'd noticed, she hadn't said anything about it as she'd preferred to take other approaches to battle the insecurities she knew Griffin was hiding behind it when she couldn't hide from the passage of time. She hadn't wanted to start a fight when her intentions were to help but it seemed that they couldn't get away from the topic without a conversation. She had no problem with the beauty products as long as Griffin didn't feel like they were the only beauty she had left so she'd have to make sure that wasn't the case.
"I'm just fixing some lines," Griffin said, her voice only even because it was gliding over her avoidance of the wrinkles that bothered her just like her gaze was only approving when it was sliding over the mask of makeup she was creating to hide her perceived imperfections. She knew it, at least, even though that didn't help when she was trying to slip away from meeting Faragonda's eyes.
"I can barely see you under all that face paint," Faragonda made sure to keep her voice soft when the words were already harsh enough but Griffin still accepted them without feeling the need to shift into defense. She trusted her enough to accept even criticism and the knowledge hurt when she was trying to hide herself from Faragonda.
"I'll remove it when you're here with me tonight," Griffin offered and it was flattering to know she was the one person that Griffin wanted and was willing to be herself with but there was still the belief that she wasn't beautiful enough for the rest of the world and that Faragonda couldn't allow. Not when Griffin was the most beautiful soul, the most beautiful being, that she had been blessed to know. She would be the mirror Griffin was looking into if that was what was necessary for Griffin to see her own beauty.
"Well, if you do intend to wear all of that, we should balance it out," Faragonda said as she made her way to Griffin's chair, "with some nakedness." Griffin's clothes were gone with a flick of her wrist to leave only a gasp on the lips of the witch.
Griffin rolled her eyes to make sure the smirk on her lips wouldn't kill her annoyance before Faragonda's mind had managed to get a hold of it. "I don't have time for this," she said, her eyes finally catching Faragonda's through the mirror now that she wouldn't be vulnerable to the contact when the insecurities had left the premises in favor of their familiar games. "I will be late," she said, her hands grasping the armrests of her chair to push it back as she rose above Faragonda's tricks which was exactly what the fairy had waited for.
Her magic snaked around Griffin's wrists to bind them to the furniture and keep her in place as Faragonda put her hands on her shoulders. Luckily, Griffin's flair for the dramatic was somewhat more contained in her private quarters where she didn't need to leave everyone who dared walk in frightened by the design of her very chair–as was the case in her office–which allowed Faragonda to reach her. And Griffin allowed her to keep holding her despite struggling–just physically, her magic nowhere near potent enough to suggest she was about to use it to free herself–against the magical restraints. As if she herself wanted help with the monsters in her head but was afraid to seek it out when it meant acknowledging their existence. Now that Faragonda had offered, though, she had no need to fight it even if she needed a moment to come to terms with the way it was all happening.
"We will both be late," Faragonda said while she rubbed Griffin's shoulders to remind her that she was right there for her and they were together in everything. Also, to let her know how important the moment was to her. "Depending on how quickly this goes," she said as she glanced through the window to see the sun was still low enough for them to make it to their offices on time. It all depended on Griffin's cooperation.
"And what exactly is "this"?" Griffin asked as she settled both in Faragonda's grasp and in that of her magic. Her eyes found the fairy's in the mirror again, searching more for information rather than for comfort when she felt secure enough in their relationship.
Faragonda let her magic wreak a little havoc and unravel Griffin's hairdo so that she could run her hands through the purple strands to soothe her further and she was soon convinced it was working when Griffin closed her eyes and let her tug every worry out of her mind. It would be good to remind Griffin that she could leave herself in her hands before she asked her to do so in her eyes. She had a feeling that would be met with some more resistance despite the fact that Griffin was already naked for her to see every little detail of her body just like the witch was letting her see her soul.
Faragonda pulled enough moans out of Griffin to ensure there would be no hostility in the atmosphere around them and just pleasure before she was ready to let her fingers trail down lower to pay attention to the rest of Griffin while she occupied her mind. "I want you to talk to me," she said to receive a questioning hum from Griffin although the playfulness that was wrapped in the sound suggested that any curiosity was directed towards the movements of her hand over Griffin's chest when they both knew she wasn't feeling around for her pulse. "I want you to tell me about everything you love about yourself," she said and the groan her fingers triggered when she fondled Griffin's breasts sounded rather perplexed and even agonized instead of charged with pleasure.
The strain in Griffin's muscles was tangible when the magical restraints severed the impulse to grab at Faragonda's wrists which had her hands closing around the armrests instead. "Faragonda," she murmured weakly as if her mind was too busy with the impending threat of the notion to lend her more words. She didn't even open her eyes, though Faragonda suspected that was more a conscious choice to avoid looking at herself.
"Trust me, Griffin," Faragonda bent slightly to whisper in her ear and let her feel the closeness while her hand stroked over Griffin's abdomen to untangle any anxiousness from there.
The mellowness of the touch coupled with the gentle and coaxing reassurance seemed to work its miracle and had Griffin releasing the death grip she'd subjected her chair to. She was hardly relaxed but Faragonda hadn't expected anything more than reluctance at the prospect of the words Griffin had to face.
"I will make sure you'll enjoy this," Faragonda said, allowing a seductive note to slip into her voice as her fingers teased lower. She would have to lure Griffin's mind out of the pit of self-doubt and self-deprecation it had thrown itself into. "As long as you keep talking," she drawled out to feel Griffin almost quiver with anticipation when her touch was so close to where they both wanted it, "I won't let the pleasure stop." She let her fingers dip into Griffin's folds to get a gasp out of the witch and have to contain her own reaction to the wetness she was met with if she wanted to stay on track. "Or if I'm convinced that you agree with what I'm saying in case you need my assistance to get through this little exercise," she continued. "I'll be happy to give it and tell you just how beautiful you are."
Griffin probably didn't feel the kiss she laid on the top of her head when she seemed happy to get Faragonda's help as well. She gave a low moan when Faragonda found her clit only to leave it alone a second later and tease at her entrance. She wanted to give her witch everything but Griffin's arousal was too alluring and they hadn't started their game yet for her to offer any stimulation that wasn't her mindfuck.
"You're not leaving that chair until you have an orgasm," Faragonda made sure to say the words right into Griffin's ear to let her absorb them and soak into the promise until she was drenched. "Unless you safeword, of course, but I have a feeling that you won't," she allowed herself the smug smile even though she knew it was wasted when Griffin couldn't find it in herself to open her eyes and glare at her for it. It had merit in itself as an expression of her content at Griffin's surrender.
Griffin looked lost in her touch and Faragonda tangled her free hand in her hair to give her more of it even when she needed her focus sharpened. Her tug on the purple tresses didn't really help punctuate that when it only made Griffin's mouth drop open to let through the sound of the opposite effect she'd achieved instead but that was perfect for the moment.
Her fingers made their way into Griffin's mouth before the witch could even whine her protest to having them taken away from their playground in her folds and she obliged, licking at them without being told so. "Remember the taste of your own arousal if you start doubting my process," Faragonda wanted to make herself clear in a way Griffin would enjoy but she still pulled her fingers out when Griffin used her tongue to push at them instead of sucking her own wetness off of them with enthusiasm like she usually did.
Griffin's eyes opened and locked with hers on the spot to emphasize the words that followed. "It's your care for me that turns me on, not your current idea," she said, her hands clutching the armrests again the way she was holding on to her point.
"I don't care as long as you're wet for me and ready for your legs to shake at the end of this," Faragonda said without dropping her gaze or missing a beat and the words seemed to go right to Griffin's clit if she'd read the way she squirmed correctly as a desperate plea for her touch to return where it had been. "This is the expression of my care so it is what's turning you on even by your own definition," she stroked over Griffin's cheek which seemed to startle Griffin with the wetness touching her skin. "Start from your hair," Faragonda instructed as her hand found its way back between Griffin's thighs to coax her mind to follow her body that had given up on resisting and was on the road to pleasure instead.
"My hair…" Griffin closed her eyes as if in search of that mental place where she could actually think instead of being consumed by the sensations Faragonda's touch was sending through her. And while Faragonda couldn't mind that, she was scared that Griffin was actually struggling with being positive about herself which was hardly unbelievable considering her history of self-deprecation and self-loathing.
"You can do it, Griffin," she gave her encouragement as she ran her fingers over Griffin's lips to wipe away the lipstick and let the real beauty underneath it shine strongly enough for Griffin to see through her eyelids.
Griffin's appreciation rumbled low in her throat when Faragonda's fingertips pressed into her lips as if to massage the stifling thoughts away. Pulling them away left a smear of red at the corner of Griffin's mouth that looked a lot like blood but only fed Griffin's resolve to push through now that her lips were freed at least partially from the burden of her own insecurities by Faragonda's touch.
"I love the color of my hair," Griffin started probingly as if she still expected to be given shit about the purple of her locks and while she had never missed to stand up for herself and her taste, she had taken the critiques about her appearance to heart.
Any timidness was pushed out of the way by the gasp Faragonda pulled out of her when her fingers pressed against Griffin's clit again as she'd promised. Griffin's disappointment followed suit to express her lack of appreciation for being baited by Faragonda's fingers tracing the outside of her breast only for the fairy to slide her hand up to her shoulder without fulfilling the promise they'd teased with. She seemed to be settling into Faragonda's game steadily.
"I love how long it is," Griffin continued, her words the ones that brought her smile to her face as she beamed with pride over maintaining the incredible length of her hair for so many years. It certainly took care and passion and she didn't hold back any of those. "And I love that it's still soft and shiny after all these years," she said, her voice almost a whisper as if she was scared her objectivity had went out the window when she'd been too busy staring lovingly at her hair instead of using it to catch her judgment before it could crash into the ground.
"It is smoother than silk," Faragonda agreed and squeezed Griffin's shoulder glad to feel the muscles in it slackening when there was no fight to anticipate. "Do you know what I love about your hair?" she asked, stepping towards the part she was hoping would truly convince Griffin of her beauty when she saw all the fascinating things about herself her insecurities had blinded her to.
Griffin paused for a beat and Faragonda saw her discreetly suck her lower lip slightly further into her mouth to bite on it before she asked, "What?"
"Open your eyes, Griffin," Faragonda coaxed as she didn't want to make Griffin feel forced by taking away her stimulation. She'd promised to keep that consistent as long as Griffin was following her rules and she had no reason to break that promise. "I want you to see yourself the way I see you," she said, her hands on Griffin's shoulders as much in a plea as in an attempt to ground her in her own company where she didn't have to fear anything. It was just the two of them and their own universe of love. "I want you to see how beautiful you are," she whispered, hoping that Griffin would accept the words just like she'd accepted and believed all the rest of her compliments.
Griffin graced her with the golden of her irises in a loud statement of trust that Faragonda would never allow herself to break.
"What I love about your hair is how big a part it is of your sensuality," Faragonda said, not failing to notice the slight creasing of Griffin's eyebrows or the parting of her lips that made sure she wouldn't suffocate in her confusion. Quite like she'd expected. "Just threading a hand in your hair," she did so to illustrate her point and instantly got a sigh that the right tug could turn into a moan, "can make you feel so much," she clarified.
Griffin seemed to agree with the sentiment now that she understood. Just like she seemed entranced by the phenomenon Faragonda had brought to her attention and tilted her head to trigger it, shivering at the charge of pleasure that ran through her when she pulled her own hair on Faragonda's fingers.
It made for a sight Faragonda herself was enamored by and she had to put some efforts into focusing on her tasks. Especially considering that Griffin was most certainly trying to distract her enough for her to abandon words and keep only to body language instead.
"And you don't keep any of it for yourself," she said to turn Griffin's own tricks against her. "You spill all of your pleasure, all of your inner experiences out where I can be a part of them as well." She let her fingers twitch with the excitement Griffin had already managed to grow inside her which had her witch nearly at the point of writhing already thanks to the pull to her hair and left them both affected. Only, she was the one who had to keep her head in the game if she wanted her endeavor to succeed. "It's one of the most special things I've witnessed," she confessed as she focused on the feelings and not on the physical even though that was especially alluring when Griffin was aroused by her adoration. Getting Griffin to see her own beauty was more important to her than anything else at the moment.
"Really?" Griffin asked, her voice small when the hopefulness was hiding in her eyes now that Faragonda had brought to her attention how easy it was to pull anything from her mouth by her hair.
"Of course," Faragonda held her gaze in the mirror until she saw her reassurance was blooming beautiful belief in the gold that couldn't be soulless even when it was all empty of confidence just like the rest of Griffin was. She was happy she could be the one to water the shine in Griffin's eyes when it needed just that to grow.
Faragonda disentangled her hand from the purple locks to stroke them, slower than she was rubbing Griffin's clit but it was still enough to get a purr out of her witch. It was a sound she could never mind hearing more of but she had to make sure Griffin would hear all the love she held for her so that she could remember where she'd put her own love for herself and reach it. She would have an easier time going forward with its comforting presence in her hand and Faragonda's heart would have an easier time once it was full of the reassurance that her love was not cruel to herself and didn't give herself any less than she gave her. And Griffin always gave her everything, so she needed her to give it all to herself, too.
"Tell me about your eyes now," she urged to keep them both from getting lost into their distractions. They both seemed to be hypnotized by the pace of her fingers dancing over Griffin's clit even when she was trying to keep it steady and not rush through the whole exercise.
"I like the shape of my eyes," Griffin offered readily so she was, apparently, paying attention as well. Hopefully, her interest had been piqued now that she'd been touched by Faragonda's confession.
"Love," Faragonda corrected lovingly but firmly.
"I love the shape of my eyes," Griffin amended, softly still despite the edge of annoyance that wanted to cut into the sounds before they could even leave into the world but she held it back enough to protect the words from it even if its presence was still noticeable, all of which Faragonda appreciated. "And the color is unique," she murmured as if embarrassed to admit that she loved looking into the mirror and being reminded there was light coming from her when her irises had stolen the shine of the sun only to become even brighter when illuminated by her enthusiasm.
"Is that everything that you see in them?" Faragonda treaded carefully since sounding like she was blaming Griffin for her self-doubts was the last thing she wanted to do.
Griffin didn't waste time scowling at her pun game when there were more pressing matters to discuss. "What else is there?" she asked, the sound genuinely curious. "Tell me," she urged quietly as if ashamed she could show despair if she let herself sound like she was begging. As if she didn't know that Faragonda would never make her beg for any of her affection when it was all given freely. She could never keep it to herself when letting Griffin have it was all that she wanted to do with it.
"What I love most about your eyes is the way they always let me see into your soul," Faragonda said, ready to soothe any panic that could come with the thought of how exposed that left Griffin but there wasn't any. Just a melting witch in her arms. Her witch. "I am honored you've allowed me to know you well enough to read into them. Especially when I can see your love for me in their shine," Faragonda gave some extra stimulation to make sure that if Griffin ended up overwhelmed, it would be by the sweet burn of pleasure rushing into her system and not by Faragonda's confidence in their love. That wasn't supposed to overwhelm her but to gift her security so Faragonda would keep showing it until Griffin was as convinced in the truth of it as she was. "And I am weak for the way they can brighten the whole room when they light up with the energy of your passion." She couldn't leave that out when she knew she could spend her life watching the way Griffin glowed–all of her and not just her eyes–when she was devoting her time to what she loved.
"You're my greatest passion," Griffin said, punctuating that she was better with words with a loud moan as she pushed her hips into Faragonda's hand.
"I know," Faragonda said as she obliged to firmer pressure on Griffin's clit, even if it was just enough to tease with what she could give her. "Because you let your eyes tell me." She cupped Griffin's cheek and stroked her thumb over it. "I would kiss your eyelids but I would end up bathed in makeup," Faragonda said as she employed her magic to take care of the foundation stain left on her thumb.
Griffin closed her eyes too quickly for it to be resignation. "Remove it."
"Are you sure?" Faragonda asked as if that wasn't exactly what she was after. She wouldn't allow herself to do so without Griffin's agreement, though. "You put so much time and effort in it." It wasn't that much considering Griffin had years worth of practice and could do perfect makeup in just a few minutes but she was allowed to take a page out of Griffin's book and exaggerate a little.
"Remove it," Griffin insisted rather aggressively and Faragonda couldn't help but smile at how eager she was to be rid of the makeup.
Her magic jumped into action from where it was lurking at her fingertips and left Griffin's face free of the mask she'd painted on it and exposed to her lips. She had to maneuver carefully to get to both eyelids without pulling the hand between Griffin's legs away and severing the caresses Griffin was pushing herself into every time she felt Faragonda's initiative had weakened. All the effort was worth it, though, when she got to hear Griffin's contented sighs that were luring her next kiss to Griffin's mouth but she wasn't quite ready to get there yet.
"What about your nose?" she asked quietly even though she wasn't that near to Griffin's ear when her head was practically laid on Griffin's shoulder to anchor her and keep her from getting carried away in the disturbance she knew the question would cause. She still wasn't quite sure what the problem was with it when Griffin always changed the topic whenever they would somehow find their way to it but she knew it was the perfect moment to fix that. Even if Griffin was less than willing.
"Now you just want me to sit here all day," Griffin huffed when she could tell there was no way to deflect this time. So she was trying to guilt Faragonda out of the conversation, or at least any part of it that involved her nose. "Admit it. This is a ploy to keep me with you," she pressed as if to remind her she was supposed to halt her ministrations.
The only reason why Faragonda let her fingers slow was that she wanted both their focus to be on the matter at hand. It was by no means a punishment no matter what conditions she'd laid out in the beginning.
"I love your nose, Griffin," she said as she raised her head to catch Griffin's gaze and let her know she was serious. "And I would love to think that I've proven it with all those nose kisses," she said, hoping that would get Griffin over whatever slight she had against her own face even if she didn't understand it. She wanted Griffin to be able to enjoy every part of the image in the mirror just like she was when it was the most beautiful sight she'd seen.
"Just because it's mine," Griffin kept pushing stubbornly, pretending that she hadn't heard the second sentence, that there hadn't been a second sentence at all. It hurt Faragonda when she was refusing her love and she didn't want to think of what was happening inside Griffin's mind that would prompt her to do that. Yet, she had to when it looked like Griffin couldn't stop it on her own and needed her help. "You wouldn't love it on anyone else." The shame she could hear under the outrage of the words only furthered that message and her resolve to free Griffin from it.
"I love it because it makes you you," Faragonda said, hoping that Griffin could read just as well into the stormy well that her own eyes were and could see the depth of the sentiment, how much she meant to her. More than anyone else in the world. "Of course, I wouldn't love it on anyone else," she said when she could see Griffin's stance soften – both physical and that on the matter of her appearance. "It has no business on anyone else's face when it's yours," she added for some humor and was glad to see it work.
Griffin couldn't resist the pull of the mirth that was already stretching her lips into a wide smile and chuckled, the sound heavenly when it carried her happiness in itself.
"And I love your mouth as well," Faragonda said, more seductively now as she renewed the fervor of her ministrations to lure more enchanting sounds from Griffin's lips that looked ready to bleed love in their natural redness. "Don't you love it, too?" she asked, letting her mischievousness out as she squeezed Griffin's breast with her free hand to brighten the mood even when it was the less innocent side of hers. She knew Griffin loved it all the same if not even more for the fact that she was one of the few who was allowed in its company.
"Mm, I certainly do, even though I'm sure you love it more," Griffin teased despite the fact that she had to bite her lip to hold back the moan rising in her throat the moment she got the words out. "I love the plumpness of my lips and their softness. But you probably have more to say about that and how good they are for kissing," Griffin continued as soon as she gathered herself enough to form words again and had her smirking.
"Your lips are incredible," Faragonda was glad to give the praise when it was prompted. It was exactly what she'd hoped for when she'd started their game. "Perfect for me to lose myself into," she said, the only thing helping her keep her touch off of them being Griffin's nipple between her fingers. "And so is that wicked tongue," she whispered in Griffin's ear before licking the shell of it.
Griffin's eyelids were ready to sink under Faragonda's attack on her senses but she forced them open now that she had a challenge she couldn't back down from. "I'm sure my tongue has brought you more pleasure than torment," Griffin said, her smugness falling flat in the breathiness of her voice but even she didn't seem to care when she was that much closer to falling into an orgasm thanks to Faragonda's willingness to bring out everything that could help get her witch there.
"I love your tongue no matter what it's doing to me," Faragonda said and that seemed to satisfy Griffin when she didn't set out to accuse her of trying to sweet talk her out of winning the verbal sparring that Faragonda's one-sided idea had turned into. "I love all of your mouth and everything that comes out of it," Faragonda said, brushing her lips against Griffin's cheek in a feather-light manner that left Griffin pressing herself into her mouth harder than a faint lick would have her hips bucking into it. "I love your sweet compliments and spicy teases, your breathtaking confessions and your sharp remarks." She really did love all of those when they showed the intricacies of Griffin's mind. "But do you know what I love the most?" she asked, waiting for Griffin to take the last step to where she wanted her.
"Wha-" Griffin's voice was cut off in favor of a mindless gasp when Faragonda plunged two fingers inside her and her eyes closed to appreciate the stimulus without any interference.
"The inarticulate noises," Faragonda said when she pumped her fingers to make more of those fall out of the witch's mouth. She didn't miss to knead her breasts as well, alternating between the two to take as good care of them as she could with just one free hand. It seemed to work well enough from her point of view.
Griffin panted as her wrists strained against the magical restraints which just had her hips bucking into Faragonda's stimulation. She was perfectly capable of freeing herself–okay, maybe not with how scattered her mind currently appeared to be–if it wasn't exactly the feeling of the illusionary struggle that turned her on. She wouldn't be bound to the chair if she didn't want to be and willingly leaving herself into Faragonda's hands was the ultimate helplessness and the ultimate turn-on.
"I love it when you're so lost in sensations that the only way to tell me anything is through your reactions," Faragonda said, her voice a little louder than before to get through Griffin over the heaving of her lungs in their quest to fill with oxygen. It wouldn't help if her mind was already lost to the fairy's ministrations but that would hardly be a problem when that was their end destination.
"Get me there," Griffin managed to whine through her breathlessness prompting Faragonda to ease on the stimulation despite the additional whine that earned her.
"I will," she promised as she fully intended to. But since Griffin wasn't completely gone to the pleasure running through her yet, Faragonda could draw their game out a little longer. She wanted to help Griffin see more of herself and her beauty through her eyes. "Meanwhile," she made a brief pause to let Griffin fill it with her own attention directed on her words, "what do you have to say about your face?" she asked to set them back on track.
"My face?" Griffin asked, still panting a little but somewhat more collected now. At least she had been before Faragonda's question hit her with a substantial dose of confusion that proved to be too much in the haze already occupying her mind and had her frowning.
"Let me help you," Faragonda said since she hadn't wanted more of her. Just her focus back on her. "Your face is the face of my love," Faragonda admitted softly.
It still had Griffin's lips parting more as if to invite the words inside her mouth before something could happen to them out there in the world. Her head lulled towards Faragonda when she had no other way of pressing herself closer into her but still wanted to do it and Faragonda let go of her breast to guide her chin to the side for a kiss.
Griffin was more active than she'd expected after the combined effect of the approaching orgasm and the words she'd just heard, her tongue curling around Faragonda's as if to wrap it in all the love she couldn't voice currently. It was mesmerizing and Faragonda let her lead, staying into the kiss even when their teeth kept clashing from the fervency with which Griffin was expressing herself. She couldn't mind the passion when it was the most invigorating thing she'd ever had and made her feel more desired than she could have ever hoped for. Griffin was a lot more generous when it was Faragonda she was giving her love to rather than herself and it left the fairy with a spinning head as well.
She pulled out of the kiss when she knew Griffin wouldn't be the one to do it no matter how badly she needed a breath of air and not of her, even if she did it reluctantly. It allowed her to move her kisses down and to Griffin's neck where there was plenty of skin to grace with her lips' caresses.
Griffin let her enjoy the physical proof of the effect she had on her while she filled herself with enough oxygen to speak. "Let me guess. My neck?" she asked, leading Faragonda to grind her palm against her clit. She was still functioning properly which meant it was time for the fairy to step up her game and let her close in on the edge of her orgasm. It was the least she could do after Griffin had let her lead her through her idea and getting her on the brink of release would allow her to let her have it at the right moment.
Faragonda hummed–both as an answer to the question and in response to Griffin's hips pushing into her palm–as she kept sucking on Griffin's neck. As long as it wasn't getting in the way of pleasuring Griffin, she had no reason to stop.
"I'm not sure what there is to love about my neck," Griffin said, the words fading away as if Faragonda was sucking out her ability to speak. "Except, for you, the opportunity to easily leave me marks I will have to do my best to hide," she forced her mind to overcome the distraction so that she could get out her remark.
Faragonda let her teeth tease over the column of Griffin's throat pulling out the ghost of a squeak from her before it died down when she didn't bite into her skin. "There is plenty to love about your neck," she said and ran her fingers over Griffin's trachea. "I can feel the air rushing inside you with my lips on your throat," she said before she moved her fingertips to the left, "and I can feel your heartbeat." She leaned in to lay a kiss on Griffin's pulse point, the aorta throbbing excitedly in her mouth as if Griffin's heart was trying to welcome the affection. "I can feel the entirety of your life and that is one of the most intimate experiences I have ever had," Faragonda said as she let her hand slide down until it was resting over Griffin's heart.
"I think you're trying to kill me," Griffin gasped, "with tenderness." Her whole body seemed to gravitate towards Faragonda, though, in an attempt to get more and Faragonda felt the same pull in the muscles of her lower belly.
Faragonda smirked when she knew Griffin would feel the curve of her lips against the sensitive skin of her throat even if her gaze wasn't focused enough for her to spot it in the mirror. "Might be a requirement to get to heaven," she retorted softly before she rubbed harder at Griffin's clit, adding another finger inside her when she knew she could take it without problem. She was soaked–as was Faragonda, the realization almost throwing her off balance despite how natural it was–and had probably drenched the entire chair as well which she would undoubtedly witch about later but it was a small price to pay to see her so possessed by bliss.
Griffin's back arched–like a string that was pulled to make the desperate groan that left her–when she couldn't lean forward without forcing Faragonda away. It did push her breasts out, drawing Faragonda's attention to them once again, and just in time now that she'd made her way to them in words as well.
"I was just about to get to your breasts, Griffin," she teased as she fondled the supple flesh that was so conveniently presented to her to feel Griffin's strain to just stay still and not pull away but not push herself further into the touch either when Faragonda's words had bitten into her ego. "They certainly are quite the sight," she said, tracing her fingers over the curve of Griffin's breast to get a feel of her responsiveness to the touch as well. It always increased the closer she was to an orgasm and while it couldn't quite match Faragonda's, it was still thrilling to see her react so instinctively to the strokes of Faragonda's fingertips. Or her tongue when it wasn't busy with other things.
"I'm sure you find them very pleasing," Griffin managed to retort, pride filling the golden of her eyes that was half hidden by her eyelids as the pleasure weighed down on them more and more. It was still visible, though, and Faragonda was glad she could see it when she knew it wasn't just over the sharpness of Griffin's mind in the circumstances but over the truth of her words as well. She knew the beauty Faragonda was seeing in her and she was reveling in it which had been the entire point of what they were doing.
"I find all of you unbelievably stunning," Faragonda strung kisses between the words as she made her way down Griffin's arm before she sucked her nipple between her lips. It required some readjustments and her arm going over Griffin's shoulder so that she could keep holding her breast without disrupting the pace of Griffin's pleasure but it was worth it when it kept the witch from ruining the compliment with her disbelief.
Griffin's breath hitched more intensely at that, her eyelids surrendering to the ecstasy falling over her when Faragonda's tongue easily slithered around her control to reach the mindless impulses her body was left to as the building pleasure was starting to shake her muscles to free them from anything else and make space for itself. "I'm close," she rasped out with her breath all gone to the caresses of Faragonda's mouth.
"There's just one more thing I want to pay attention to," Faragonda said as she released her nipple rather begrudgingly. She had more she could say about Griffin's breasts, about the softness of them that lured her fingertips to draw out noises that had the edges of pleasure cutting into them, about the way her chest refused to cave in to the burning need for oxygen when it would sink away from her lips. She'd promised Griffin she wouldn't withdraw her orgasm as long as she participated, though, and she had, more eagerly than Faragonda had thought she would. She could enjoy her own pleasure now knowing how beautiful it looked so there was no reason to keep putting it off.
"What?" Griffin asked, her voice rushing out in an impatient yet intrigued strain that Faragonda could only hope to preserve until the end of their exercise even when she knew it was unlikely. Not with what she had coming for Griffin before she had her coming.
"Those lines that you were trying to fix," she said softly as she straightened up as much as her activities would allow, her free hand back on Griffin's shoulder to steady them both. There was no need for loudness when the words would reach Griffin anyway and she had to be prepared for the storm she was unleashing.
Griffin's eyes snapped open only to avoid both their figures in the mirror as her hands gripped the armrests and her magic rose, looming threateningly over the progress they'd made for the first time since Faragonda's had strapped her to the chair. "Don't."
"I love every single one of them," Faragonda said without slowing her fingers down when she knew the emotions would jerk Griffin away from the edge anyway and she would need her help to get back to it. She could only be happy that Griffin still wanted it and believed that was what she would get from her as she was holding her own magic back despite the leap her fear had made for it to scare it out. She was hanging out by her trust and Faragonda had to bring her back on solid ground before she could let her fall into pleasure.
"Why?" Griffin whispered and it sounded so twisted, like a broken reflection of the curiosity she'd regarded Faragonda's point of view with before. Almost as if she was scared that if she looked in the mirror, the warped image of her hopefulness and trust it would show her would suck her through the cracks in her beauty in the void that lay behind it. But there was no void, only more beauty underneath the surface she had mistaken for the bottom of it.
"They speak of your strength, Griffin," Faragonda said, her eyes on her witch since there was nothing that could push her away when it was all beautiful just the way Griffin was. "They show how much you've been through and came out of victorious, just like your scars do," Faragonda said since they'd already agreed that scars weren't cracks in their wholeness when they'd healed. "They speak of your emotions," she kissed the corner of Griffin's eye from where small wrinkles were stemming like the root system of a shy flower rather than a stubborn weed, "of all your smiles and frowns and the depths and blurred lines between them." She kissed the corner of Griffin's mouth next that was caught in the tale of her words and not the trap of time. "I am honored that you've allowed me to see so much of it, so much of your life," she stroked Griffin's cheek with the back of her fingers but the touch was faint like that of a worshiper that was equal parts reverent and wary of the divinity they were allowed to feel. "Every line is a map of your character and a story of your growth as a person, of your beauty," she said, feeling the need to wipe at her own eyes when she was so full of love it felt like it would hurt her if it burst out like it wanted to.
Griffin looked like she was on the verge of tears herself but Faragonda couldn't tell whether it was because of the words or the relentless rhythm of her fingers as they worked her towards her orgasm and had her teetering on the edge of it despite any self-loathing that could still be lurking in her mind.
"Faragonda," she croaked out, her voice like sandpaper and her tongue darted out to wet her lips before the words ended up butchered on the sharp edges of the feelings, "please." The plea glided out with ease when it was charged with enough emotion to get through the rest of her clashing feelings and the need was the one that won out.
"Please what?" Faragonda was quick to ask when she wanted to be just as quick to oblige once she knew what Griffin wanted. She didn't want to assume even when she had enough confidence in how well she knew her love. The experience had been intense enough to leave them both all over the place so communication was her best bet. It didn't diminish their bond that she didn't want to take chances with reading Griffin's mind and only strengthened it instead when she could give everything her witch needed.
"Please, make me come," Griffin fired out in a desperate whine when her whole body was ruled by the unrelenting yearning for the pleasure that was just out of reach.
"I can't say no to the perfection that you are," Faragonda kissed the top of her head as she allowed her free hand to slide down Griffin's body and find her clit to provide better stimulation while her fingers were still pumping in and out of Griffin and letting her feel the fullness of their love.
"Oh, thank you," Griffin shuddered as the beginnings of her orgasm teased over her spine. "I love you," she breathed out, seemingly with last efforts from her coherency but Faragonda knew she still had words in her.
"And?" she asked to coax them out.
"I love the fact that you love me," Griffin said, stubborn to the very end but so was Faragonda.
"And?"
"And I love me," Griffin heaved, all out of breath when she finally dived into the depths of herself. It was painful to know how she was choking on the fear of trusting her own feelings the way she trusted Faragonda's but seeing her conquer those doubts was even better than witnessing her unwavering faith in Faragonda.
"Good," Faragonda said, allowing the mellowness of her voice to caress Griffin's ears now that there were no more words to pull out of her. "Because I love you, too," she said, knowing the words touched every part of Griffin no matter how many times she'd heard them before and always found their way to her heart to let it beat with ease wrapped in their security. "There is just so much to love I don't think I could ever stop," she said as she kissed every part of Griffin's face she could reach to make sure that Griffin's current inability to look in the mirror wouldn't get in the way of her seeing how beautiful she was.
"Faragonda," Griffin cried out when the words crashed into her, carrying her orgasm on their shoulders and letting it take over her, Faragonda's kissed dragging it down her throat until it was all inside her with nowhere to escape.
It was just Faragonda's arms draped over her body that held Griffin pressed to the chair as she writhed in the waves of pleasure doing her best to sink in them fully until it was filling all of her system. She was unusually quiet when breathlessness had set in before she'd reached her release and her moans were suffocated in the battle between oxygen and ecstasy. It allowed Faragonda to focus on her instead of on the soundproof shield she let crumble when it wasn't needed and whisper soft praises in her ears that only seemed to pave the way for more bliss to enter her mind.
Faragonda fed her orgasm until Griffin was retreating as far back in the chair as she could to escape her fingers and whimpering for mercy. It left Faragonda clenching her own thighs together when the intensity of Griffin's pleasure was getting to her head as well. Especially when Griffin had been wary of her approach only to end up in a puddle of sensations as she touched her head to Faragonda's, looking for some peace of mind now that it was all over.
Faragonda wrapped an arm around her to hold her but the touch of wetness at her side seemed to startle Griffin enough to have her eyes open even if her gaze was still unfocused. "How was that?" Faragonda asked quietly to ease Griffin's mind back into the outside world even if her won need was screaming inside her. She looked like she needed it.
"Spectacular," Griffin drawled out in confirmation that was soon followed by a whine at the emptiness she was left with when Faragonda slipped her fingers out of her.
"See what a little self-love can do?" Faragonda asked as she caught Griffin's gaze and brought her hand to her mouth to lick off Griffin's arousal. The sight seemed to mesmerize her witch enough to allow Faragonda to speak again once she was done before Griffin could find her smartass remarks. "And we can still get to work on time." If they picked up the pace and she kissed her own release–along with any concentration she could hope for–that was.
"Okay, you've made your point," Griffin conceded, perhaps still too dazed by the pleasure for anything else. "I still haven't made you come, however," she said, proving that notion wrong.
She tapped her nails on the armrests to draw Faragonda's attention to the magic binds that still held her wrists instead of struggling against them.
"I think you did plenty of that yesterday," Faragonda said in faked contemplation to distract herself from the very real ache of her arousal, her hands resting on Griffin's shoulders as if to mock her that she could touch while Griffin was still bound. "But you'll have your chance tonight," she said as she finally released her, not wanting to push her luck more than was wise. "If you're not too busy removing makeup?" she raised a brow when she had to look down since Griffin turned to her the instant she could. Faragonda had to swallow the smirk trying to pull at her lips at that as she was sure it would get on the wrong side of Griffin after all the teasing she'd already given.
Griffin's hand was on the back of her neck and pulling her down with force that almost had Faragonda crashing into her lips and barely left an inch between them. "I'll be done before you're even here," Griffin let her voice drop low to tempt Faragonda to come closer in a search for it and pressed her lips against hers to seal her promise with a kiss. "Now if you'll excuse me," she nearly shoved her away, "I'll have to reapply it, and get dressed since someone thought it was a good idea to send all my progress with my morning routine to hell," she said as she grabbed her lipstick while her clothes reappeared on her form. Faragonda didn't even need to tell her where she'd put them when they knew each other.
"I didn't hear you complain while my fingers were inside you," Faragonda noted as she casually twirled a strand of Griffin's hair around her finger, the smile immediately coming out of hiding when Griffin's gaze found her face in the mirror.
"You'll have to beg for my fingers if you don't let me finish my preparations for the day in peace," Griffin said as she her eyes focused on the lipstick she was applying and she reached to slap Faragonda's hand out of her hair but there were no further measures to prevent the fairy from reaching for it again. Maybe because she was sure in herself and her threats or maybe because she didn't want to keep her away.
"I'm sorry," Faragonda let her hands drop at her sides even if her dejection was a bit too over the top. She was pretty sure the overly dramatic theatrics were Griffin's fault anyway as she'd started taking after her. "I won't come here anymore if my presence is truly such a bother," she stepped back.
It was Griffin who didn't bother to even turn around and instead let her magic get her through space until she was in front of Faragonda only to grab her before they both dissolved in her powers and Faragonda found herself pinned to the bed when they reappeared. It looked like they would be late, after all, but all she could do was moan her pleasure in Griffin's mouth now that the witch's hands were free to roam her body.
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fatedfuturist ¡ 5 years ago
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things about my interpretation of tony stark. updated june 07, 2020.
here’s my exhaustive explanation for how i am not canon-compliant with the events and characterization of the mcu.
the reason for this is… well, there are several reasons, but i don’t want to stir shit up or just, in general, stomp on anyone else’s love for the mcu. and don’t get me wrong— i do love the mcu! but there are parts i’m critical of for personal reason, as we all have opinions on certain things. bc, yeah, you can love something, or someone, and still be logically critical about it or them.
anyway, here’s where my interpretation differs…
as per stated on my rules: i take inspiration for tony from multiple sources, including the mcu, marvel comics, the television show: avengers assemble, and my own personal headcanons. TONY IS ALSO ASIAN (SPECIFICALLY CHINESE) AMERICAN!!
i will admit that saying this isn’t particularly helpful if people don’t know, specifically, where i differ in terms of my interpretation of our dumbass genius. some of this info is scattered about on my blog, but here, it’s all consolidated into one post.
chen kun is my face claim, and i do use stuff from tony’s story from the mcu as a base. however, there are events and moments from the movies, that i selectively ignore due to personal preference; and then i build on top of my foundation with ideas, themes, and/or events from other sources such as the aforementioned sources listed above.
throwing this all under a read more because, like i said: exhaustive list. very. very. very fucking long. i’m serious– read at your own risk.
howard stark was an extremely abusive and absent father for all of tony’s childhood; tony did actively seek attention and approval from howard because he was rather aware of how famous he was and wanted the acceptance and validation from his dad; there wasn’t much shown in the mcu regarding his relationship with his father, but my inspiration for his father-son relationship comes from the comics;
an example of his verbal abuse: “you don’t want to be a sissy, now do you? stark men are made of iron!” (Iron Man, 1968);
an example of early exposure to alcohol: at age five, howard forced a drink into tony’s hand (which he did drink), stating that it would teach him “to be a man,” and that it’d “put hair on your chest” (Iron Man, 1968);
yes, this means that tony ‘forgiving’ howard in endgame is completely chucked out the window;
tony loses his parents the night of december 16, 1996 (not 12/16/1991), at the age of seventeen;
jarvis, the family butler, was more of a father to tony than howard ever was, and yes, this is why he names his first fully-functioning AI system jarvis;
tony was close with his mother, maria; she was his safehouse, and she taught him to be gentle and loving, and she also taught him the piano, which tony still periodically practices during his own time in private. in an avengers assemble episode, there is a piano in the tower that tony protects twice, which i reckon is because it has connections to his past with maria;
tony ain’t an old grandpa. i don’t see him being older than, like, 35–40 in the present time for my writing (chen kun is 44). this comes from comic and avengers assemble inspiration, which has been fairly ambiguous since they never mention his age. for plotting purposes in the mcu though, yes, he can be like 42–52 if needed.
tony is, by default, single unless otherwise stated. the reason for this is simply because i’m not big on tony / pepper in the mcu, and it’s not because i don’t like pepper (i love her as a character as an individual), but i just saw that the way they were written (so, this, yes, blames the mcu writers) was completely trash; they sort of redeemed it in endgame, but... in general, they had a lot of potential but then some writing choices pretty much ruined the ship for me;
this means that morgan does not exist unless otherwise specified and discussed, though i do enjoy the concert of tony being a dad to his own kid and breaking that cycle of howard’s shitty parenting;
i’m going to be as honest and transparent as i can: i do, for certain, love writing stevetony. they’re my primary ship. not simply in mcu dynamics, but from the comics and avengers assemble. however, like some can attest to, i will never force a ship on anyone. if you express no interest in them romantically? that’s fine. we can write them simply as good friends and comrades. i won’t stop writing or plotting with you if you don’t like them in a romantic dynamic. if you do like it that way? cool. i know it might be intimidating to discuss this given i look like complete trash for them, but i never choose who i will/will not write with based on whether we ship or not;
tony, publicly, hints toward being bisexual and biromantic a lot of the time as he’ll practically flirt with anyone at all times, but he never really openly admits it due to his oh-so ancient internalized homophobia (thank you for that one, howard and societal expectations of the time);
justin hammer is a long time rival in the industry, and often meddles with tony and his work all the time. it’s nothing new. the lack of foundation established in IM2 doesn’t provide much insight into their relationship. long story short (taken from avengers assemble): hammer is a punk bitch who’s jealous and tony is tired of him and will gladly beat his ass any day of the week whenever he drives a tank into his front door (which happens more often than not).
tony is fantastic with children. he loves getting to interact with children because he knows how excited they are to see him and/or iron man (seen in both the mcu and in the comics). this type of attention he’s okay about. if he can inspire children to do good things and be good people and be heroes in their own right, then he’s doing his job;
tony fosters the intelligence and dreams of bright individuals all the time by offering scholarships for high school graduates and post-secondary students, and also provides internship opportunities (equal opportunities regardless of race, sex, gender, religion, disability status, age, etc.)
we only see this occur with peter and harley in the mcu, but there are other kids— like riri williams! tony sees these kids for the bright minds that they have and he wants to help them and keep them safe as he knows these are the brains of the future.
let me run over iron man 3. like i said, i ignore some shit from the movies. tony doesn’t initiate the clean slate protocol, he doesn’t throw the arc reactor into the ocean, and he doesn’t remove the arc reactor from his chest. he will get surgery to get the shrapnel removed because if i were the follow the pain that comes with the comics, tony would literally be always on the verge of death at all times, requiring a chest plate to be recharged constantly to make sure the shrapnel doesn’t get closer– see? that’s a lot and i’m... lazy.
the reason for those choices are simple: clean slate protocol undoes his character progression;
the arc reactor is just a part of him as a person, stands as his heart;
avengers movie nights, (video/board) game nights, and training days exist and you will never be able to pry that out of my hands. tony always shows up fashionably late with coffee and pays for when shit gets broken by thor. team building exercises exist plenty within avengers assemble, including the fact that they share chores and decides who gets to do the next load of laundry from whoever chooses the short stick from the bunch.
tony has had anxiety and depression since he was a child. it just didn’t really flare up and get identified as a real, tangible mess of emotions and thoughts until he’d been kidnapped (and nearly died, at that). it got worse when he failed to address it until after IM3. into the present-day, tony deals with anxiety, depression, and PTSD all the time, but has improved (…sort of) when it comes to handling all of it, and certainly has grown to recognize similar symptoms in the people he cares about;
on another hand, tony has displayed symptoms of ADHD, but it’s not officially diagnosed, and some of these symptoms include, but are not limited to: hyperactivity (staying awake for days on end) and hyperfocus (hyper-focus on work), distractible (easily distracted when he’s not focused on something), rambling (talks a lot and often makes rather intuitive connections due to how busy his brain functions), impulsivity and recklessness (self explanatory), constant need to move around and/or do something (in meetings, he will be moving somehow, whether it’s tapping fingers or feet, or shifting around in his seat);
there are days where he feels inferior due to how human he knows he is (in comparison to most of his team), and other days, he feels as though he’s more machine than he is man. these feelings fluctuate depending on how he’s doing with his mental health, and/or if he hears and/or sees anything about him that points toward either idea;
there is always overwhelming guilt for those he can’t keep safe or people that die; tony doesn’t like to kill anybody (unless it’s robots, because… they’re robots, not human lives); though, if pushed far enough with no other choice, he will throw conventional morality out the window for the sake of protecting all that he believes to be for the good of the world;
tony isn’t jacked. he isn’t captain america fit, but he isn’t particularly thin, either. his body is sort of like a runner’s build (for visuals, refer to valerio schiti’s comic art of tony). i interpret tony’s body as a slight bit slimmer. he exercises, and being in the suit also is its own form of exercise. god forbid we discuss his eating habits, though. and–– he also isn’t short short, but he isn’t tall, either. he sits at 5’10”, which might be a little below the average male, but that’s about it.
speaking of eating habits, simply put: tony can’t cook for shit and that’s it. he’ll try to cook for his significant others’ on the occasion, but he can’t be blamed if he burns everything.
tony isn’t ‘woke’ or perfect, as it’s imperative to remember he grew up as rich and with financial and some social class privilege (since he was rich), despite the abuse and harassment he experienced during his youth. it’s taken him time to recognize this, and he realizes it really doesn’t cost anything to be a better person, which is why he tries to be better when it comes to his tone of voice when discussing certain topics he has no authority to be speaking of, and by taking action with simple manual labour when it comes to chores (so he doesn’t hire other people to do shit for him). he also knows he can’t be a man of ‘all bark and no bite’ when it comes to supporting people and causes, hence why he actively advocates for female and youth empowerment through both words and actions.
in regards to ca:cw events, i would prefer to ignore them. for specific-plotting purposes, this can be dropped, but i prefer the events of avengers assemble when it comes to ‘civil war’. it’s actually really simple:
tony was not honest about his intentions with the team regarding a robot that was initially made for him by howard, which ended up with an ultron reboot that nearly risked loads of civilian lives and the team’s lives;
steve confronted tony about it when they returned back to avengers tower. with tony’s insistence that everything was now fine, steve decided to resign due to tony’s dishonesty and lack of trust in the team;
this splits the team in half, where steve takes— well, they decided to leave since they didn't like tony's lack of honesty— natasha, the hulk, and the falcon to work under SHIELD as the ‘secret avengers,’ and tony, clint, and thor remain as leftover avengers (later with the addition of ant-man and temporarily, spider-man, in some missions);
in the end, they all join back together after learning to appreciate their differences and reconciling under the fact that there wouldn’t be any more secrets that could risk the world, and the team’s safety;
if i am to follow the events of the mcu— between ca:cw and infinity war, he develops nanotech for his armour, which is embedded into his very skin to accommodate for nanobots, which interacts via neural transmissions (visuals here);
tony recognizes that he lost his temper and let his emotions get to him in the moment, which fucked up shit that could’ve been talked through and fixed;
tony is an alcoholic. he recognizes that he always will be, though he’s always working toward sobriety. he certainly relapses every so often when things are rough and he feels as if he has no other options, but he’s aware that relapsing is part of the process of recovery. he has attended AA meetings (alcoholics anonymous), and has been AA sponsors for people in the past;
to skim through the events of infinity war and endgame should these be part of the things you’re curious about (this is getting really long and i’m sure you’re tired of reading this—how have you gotten this far?):
after returning from space, tony took a few months (~ five) to recover from those three months of malnutrition, dehydration, and the wound of thanos’ stab. tony sealed the front of his injury, but he sure as hell wasn’t seen dealing with the back end. during this time, he’s able to regain some muscle mass;
he lives on his own, retreating to the cabin to escape from the responsibilities of being a fallen hero who ultimately failed the people he was supposed to protect.
during the five year gap, he keeps in contact with the other avengers, but very rarely. they’re the only ones who know where he lives;
like i said— tony does not say any of that forgiving bullcrap to howard. victims of abuse don’t have to forgive their abuser, parent or not. let’s just imagine the entire interaction didn’t happen at all;
tony doesn’t die;
he used the infinity stones; but, to maintain consistency with what the mcu established w/ thanos: he sustained significant damage to his right arm, up to the shoulder and neck. it’s gravely scarred. the overall function of that arm also diminished greatly. vision out of his right eye is not as sharp as it once was, either;
a year of recovery and physiotherapy later, tony decides to amputate and go for a prosthetic. he works with shuri and wakandan tech to build an arm;
despite the end of the looming, world-ending thread, tony still battles resurfacing trauma. not every day is happy, but he is working toward recovery. there are days he doesn’t remember chunks of what happened due to the power of the infinity stones; sometimes, he doesn’t even want to remember it, anyway;
tony retires. sort of. for the most part. if the world really needs iron man, he’ll be there;
tony may have handed CEO-ship to pepper, but he still handles a lot of work for stark industries, and that’s what he primarily does post-endgame.
the multiverse and realm-traveling happens a-fucking-lot 
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dearlazerbunny ¡ 5 years ago
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Lie to Me (Ch. 9 of ?)
Pairings: Loki x Reader
Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)
Words: 1100
Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)
SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for making my writing sound so much more epic than it actually is
Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity @yasnooshka24 @wegingerangelica@themusingsofmany @dark-night-sky-99 @tarynkauai @stuffandstuff-stuffand the total sweetie @angelicshinigami @my-current-fandom-is @geekysimmerthings
“Shall I tell you something, Witling?”
You glance up from your sketching. “Um, depends on the thing? If it’s your newest plans for world domination I think I’d rather stay innocent, but I’m all for theorizing about what actually happened to Fury’s eye.”
“You don’t know?”
You shake your head. “It’s like, best-kept SHIELD lore at this point. You’d think an organization of spies could actually, I dunno, do some spy work. Right now I think the office pool is either on Hill or Romanoff, possibly with a stiletto heel.” It’s become a very bad, very amusing game of Clue- Romanov in the office with a Louboutin; Hill in the caf with a plastic spork.
“As fascinating as that may be, I believe I’ll have to pass.”
You shrug. “Your loss. I think we’re up to five hundred dollars cash.”
“And what would you do with such a sum?”
“Um… buy some new books, probably? Pay my bills. It’s a charmed life.” You squint your eyes at him mock-suspiciously. “Why the sudden interest, Trickster?”
“As I was going to say,” he says smoothly, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It troubles me that while you seem to know a great deal about myself, I know very little about you.”
“Interesting.” You tap your pencil against the page thoughtfully. “If anything you’ve proven that no one really knew what the hell they were talking about when they wrote those poems.”
“Still, my statement stands.”
You look at him, head tilted, and quirk an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you want to know? I will warn you, you hit the nail on the head when you first met me- I’m not very interesting.”
“Hardly.”
“And- if I answer one of your questions, you have to answer one of mine.” You grin wickedly. “Tit for tat, yes?”
He grins at you, chuckling. “Very well.”
“I’m writing this down.” You very obviously write 20 QUESTIONS WITH LOKI LAUFEYSON at the top of your page, and add a little flourish. “I’ll sell it to the tabloids for five times the amount I’d get from the betting pool.”
“Provided you spend it on novels, I suppose I cannot argue.”
“Loki Laufeyson approved, excellent.” You tap your chin thoughtfully. “Okay, starting off easy. Favorite color?”
Loki snorts. “Are you a schoolgirl?”
“You have to start with the basics! What am I supposed to ask, does God exist?”
He raises a delicate eyebrow. “No.”
“Exactly. Now answer the damn question, jerk.”
“No- no, God does not exist. Presuming you speak of the Christian one.”
“I-” you have to pause an blink at him for a moment. “Wait. Really?”
“No.”
“But… how do you know?”
“Asgardians are one of the most advanced races in the nine realms, Witling, I believe we would know if a magical omniscient presence of the mortal’s creations suddenly found their way into existence.”
“The universe is literally infinite! You can’t possibly know everything that’s out there.”
Loki shrugs, as if having a conversation about a deity with another deity isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve done recently. “If anything, Heimdall sees all. I wager he would most likely alert us.”
“Hm.” You put your chin in your hand, eyebrows furrowed, thinking this new revelation over. “I mean, we didn’t know you existed until a few years ago, so it’s not like we could judge the universe off of Aesir standards.” You shake your head. “Jesus, you could start the third world war with that sentence.”
“I do not believe inciting war amongst the mortals would endear my cause to SHIELD. Besides, you seem to do that perfectly fine on your own.”
“Okay.” Your brow is furrowed, clearly deep in thought. “But look. God is supposed to have created everything, right? Theoretically that would include the Norse gods. So if he does exist, you wouldn’t necessarily know it.”
Loki has that infuriating smirk on his face, the one that says I know more than you, little mortal. “You have so little knowledge of the universe you exist in, and yet you insist on creating deities out of thin air. I would suggest focusing your pursuits on beings that are tangible.”
“Ah!” You sit up, pointing at him in an excitement that only comes with a really fascinating academic debate. “Point! God isn’t tangible. That’s kind of his whole selling point. Having faith to believe in what you can’t see and all that.”
“You do not find that difficult?”
“Um…” Gosh, you really weren’t prepared for a metaphysical dissection when you walked in to work today. “I mean, I’m not a devout believer or anything, but no. We believe in things we can’t see every day. Love. Hope. Common good. I don’t see how that’s any different than believing in God.”
“I see.” He has a thoughtful look on his face. “I suppose mortals can be complex creatures, if they choose to put their limited minds to it.”
“Oh hush, you’re just mad at the possibility of there being something out there you don’t know about.”
“I am telling you, it isn’t possible.”
“Ten years ago you weren’t possible, and yet here I am having a theological discussion with a god.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Forgive me for not believing you.”
“I refuse to be your justification for some far-fetched fairy tale.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have dragged Our Lord and Savior into it, then.”
“I am not a fairy tale!”
“Yeah, that classification only just got changed, don’t get too cocky about it.” You wrinkle your nose at him, thoroughly enjoying the peaked look he gets on his face when he’s frustrated with you and trying to keep his cool. “But what do I know, I’m just a puny little mortal, right?”
Loki sighs, half in mock contempt and half in gentle exasperation. “I believe I misjudged your species much too quickly. They are actually quite infuriating.”
“Awwww, he likes me! He really likes me!”
“Please, I do little more than tolerate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.” You give him a big ol’ grin. “You’d be lost without me, admit it. Now, answer the question.”
“Which one?”
“Your favorite color!”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “I am partial to gold, I suppose. And yours?”
You’re about to say your favorite, the color your bedroom was painted as a child and the color you insisted every birthday cake be until you turned sixteen. But before you can respond you look up to see Loki looking at you, something like actual happiness in his emerald eyes, and out pops something else before you realize it. “Green.”
A/N: I wrote this joke into the story literally five months ago and only now got around to writing the justification because I’m like that! Why am I like that anywho four more chapters to write and then SHE DONE
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thefilmfatale ¡ 5 years ago
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Parasite (2019)
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Bong Joon-Ho’s latest offering, Parasite, is a comedy of manners for a new generation. The film explores the symbiotic relationship between the unwashed masses and the opulent, played out in darkly comic fashion through the story of the dirt poor but scrappy Kim family and the wealthy Park clan. Bong, no stranger to the allegorization of social inequality (as seen in his 2013 dystopian film Snowpiercer), deftly guides the audience through a twisted tale of a modern-day caste system, where rich and poor coexist because they need each other, both cogs in the wheel of a society that depends on this tension to sustain itself. 
We follow the Kim family as they scrounge for scraps in their home in the slums of South Korea, where a perpetual drunkard routinely pees outside their kitchen window. The family patriarch Ki-taek (played by Song Kang-ho), while jovial and generally resourceful, clings to a philosophy and work ethic centered on having no plans. According to his logic, if you don’t make plans, then there’s no way that anything could go awry. So with that, Ki-taek, his wife, and two kids fly daily by the seat of their pants, working odd jobs like folding pizza boxes (poorly, mind you). Ki-Woo (Choi Woo-sik), Ki-taek’s son, stumbles on an opportunity presented by a well-to-do friend: tutor a wealthy girl, Park Da-hye, and get handsomely paid. Thus begins a tangled web of machinations involving Ki-Woo plotting to slowly entrench his family into the Park home.
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A major reason for Parasite’s magic is Song Kang-Ho, who is such a gifted actor. It’s not easy to cycle through several shades of emotional intensity but he does so masterfully. Really, performances from everyone in the film were superb—Sang Hye-Jin (in the role of matriarch to the Kim family) is a notable mention too—but it’s the richness of the world that Bong paints that makes Parasite so exciting and such a treat to watch. Visually, it was compelling. You felt that this world was lived-in and authentic to its characters, despite how outlandish some of the situations were that they found themselves in. Just as in Snowpiercer, where Bong used very deliberate set design to show how each train car represented different classes, he employed the same specificity and detail in Parasite. The ramshackle shanty that the Kims lived in stood in stark contrast to the perfectly manicured Park mansion. It was interesting to see how, despite their status, the Kims’ home was filled with a bunch of random stuff, whereas the Park house was deliberately sparse with its minimalist design. It plays with the very real idea of wealth being a state of mind and how, ironically, the people who can afford to adopt minimalist aesthetics tend to be upper class. 
Bong isn’t exactly subtle—from the use of basements and the Kims’ home being flooded by sewage water—all were intentional in conveying everyone’s place and status in this story.  Cinematography aside, the film tackled interesting themes like learned helplessness, poked fun at the rich’s obsession with referring only the best to each other, and took what seemed like a typical MacGuffin (in the prosperity rock that Ki-woo’s friend Min gifts to the Kim family to wish them good fortune), turning it into the instrumental device that accompanies one of the pivotal moments in the film. What makes this comedy of manners so fresh and interesting is that while it followed a traditional satirization of propriety, the added element of horror gave it a unique intensity. Most comedies of manners stop short at making fun of the many contortions people make to fit into society. With Parasite, Bong opts to make the class tensions viscerally felt and near palpable to the audience with an ending that jars you out of your seat. 
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It’s rare for a film to balance the quirky and humorous with the disturbing, and even rarer for there to be thought-provoking commentary woven into the plot. Bong effortlessly juggles all of these elements, thanks to a tight script that contained just enough exposition to set the stage for all of the characters to develop, while continuing to advance the narrative in a wildly imaginative way. The film takes twists and turns that are surprising and irreverent, but they aren’t there for shock value. There’s a method to Bong’s madness, and he knows just how far to go and when to pull back. It was also fun to see Bong play with the idea of “putting on airs” literally and figuratively, by having Ki-taek’s downward spiral be centered around how the Parks were sensing an odd smell around the house, as if to say that you can put on a crisp shirt and alter your manner of speaking to be more proper, but there’s something tangible that will always give you away and follow you around like a black mark. In Ki-taek’s case, the Parks kept reminding him over and over that he would never be one of them, no matter how much he tried to fit in. With Parasite, Bong pulls a Talented Mr. Ripley, but takes it to another level with a meatier commentary on class. 
At the end of the day, Parasite isn’t just about a family of hustlers who hatch a wildly entertaining scheme to siphon as much money from a gullible, wealthy family. It’s a question about how long class tensions can be sustained before the pot boils over. Rich and poor are pieces in the same puzzle because their status is entirely dependent on the other to exist. But it’s also Bong’s deeply personal therapy session about impostor syndrome that he turned into a horror comedy. Hilarious and provocative, it’s a movie that fans of Yorgos Lanthimos will surely appreciate. 
The best laid plans are no plans, Ki-taek says in the film, because then there’s no way for them to go awry. In Parasite, things go horribly awry all right, but in the most masterful ways possible. 
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