#she only truly appears at the end; other people are very concerned about her power but not her as a person

[peresephoknee]

tlt has ruined me because I can’t stop thinking about Irina in naddpod as a figure adjacent to the Body

[zutarasbuff]

I watched the Netflix adaptation of ATLA today and being a hardcore fan of the OG series who knows every nook and cranny of the ATLA world, here’s my unbiased and truly honest review (It contains both the negatives and positives of the series, so dear reader please enter to read at your own risk).

Firstly, let’s talk about the wonderful additions to the already magical world of ATLA.

1. The depth of the genocide

Well, I always wanted to know how the air nomads were suddenly wiped out and how it would have been for them? Why didn’t they resist? I got my answers in the first episode where we explore how the unhinged power of the comet was “actually” used to create a genocide on a massive level. Before that, I had only heard about it in the OG series. Those few scenes were so powerful that they had left me sobbing uncontrollably and Gyatso’s concern regarding Aang had me bawling.

2. Suki’s Characterization

In the OG series, we do find our Suki the fiercest warrior, but here in the live action, she’s an absolute goddess. She is perfect in every sense. She understands the responsibilities she has being a non-bender and is fearless. Her character is what I believe to be was the strongest one of all.

3. Graphics & Music

We never talk about a film by M.Night (that didn’t happen), but this one is really a visual treat for you can readily set yourself up for some mind-blowing bending scenes, plus the fight scenes are quite impressive. It seems that the VFX team had really done their homework this time. Plus, both Momo and Appa are so freaking cute. I loved the fluffy Appa. Good work over there. The revival of the OG theme is also a highlight plus the sun warriors’ chanting in the end is given a new but intriguing twist. The background music especially in scenes where Aang unravels his Avatar powers is mystical in every aspect.

4. Life in motion

I don’t know about others, but I have always been a sucker for animation as well as live-action where characters are operating even in the direst of the circumstances. Life is there and even after they know what happened a hundred years ago, they are still trying to believe and regain their past confidence. This is beautifully portrayed and I was very much impressed by the way people are continuing their day-to-day activities even in the middle of a crisis.

Overall, the series serves the purpose of an adaptation carrying its unique colors (at least better than the previous live-action disaster that didn’t happen).

Now let’s move to the bad side, and when I say it’s honestly what I felt, you need to take my word on it being a hardcore Atla fan.

1. Weak writing & lots of exposition

ATLA remains at a 9.2 IMDB rating even after years because of its writing, strong plot, and very few plot holes. This time, the writers are the real amateur ones. Despite adding more to the already flourishing universe of ATLA, sadly, they killed the quest of the viewer to find answers. There is too much exposition. It seems that every character just wants to see the end of the war and keeps on revealing things after things. Plus, some of the OG moments that were the soul of the series are not even included. The way Aang finds Momo and then decides to keep it with him as a last remnant of their bygone air nomad civilization is nowhere to be found. In fact, the replacement of Roku with Kyoshi is the biggest disappointment. I love Kyoshi like no one else but that was unnecessary as per the cycle.

2. Bland acting

Even the worst writing shots can be digested only if the acting appears real good. Sadly, this is another issue that I found with the NETFLIXED version. No doubt the characters must have done a lot of hard work for this, yet, they lack the expressive power. Gordon as Aang is super cute but the goofiness is not even there. Katara seems a nerd who doesn’t like to talk much even when it’s necessary and Sokka’s jokes are forced. Meanwhile, Dallas seems to save the day at one point, but again his over-the-top angry young man attitude ruins it for me. Maybe the actors will learn from the criticism in the upcoming season (if Netflix plans to go with it).

3. Major changes

Yes, it’s okay to change the narrative while you are working on an adaptation, but targeting the loyal viewers who are OG fans of ATLA means that you have to be very careful when you are trying to implement your changes in scenes that are the real soul of the OG. You can’t change the Omashu myth as if it’s nothing when we actually see even the cute animated version of the folklore. You cannot portray Roku more as a perpetrator of the genocide and Bumi as the evil king when in truth he’s the mad king who’s known for his genius ways of teaching. I hated that. Plus, reducing Zhao’s authority and taking Uncle Iroh’s sarcastic attitude is just meh. Mai again doesn’t even seem perfect as a cast. Jet is good as far as the aesthetics are concerned but Jet being in Omashu doesn’t even sit right with me. The amalgamation of multiple storylines creates so much confusion and this persists till the end.

4. Bending at convenience

We all know how Katara’s bending progressed throughout the first season and it’s little effort each day. However, in series, one day she’s unable to bend even a droplet of water and the next day she is capable of producing ice crystals. This was unacceptable for me because I was anticipating her learning strategies. Besides, Aang doesn’t learn much water bending throughout this season and in the end, it’s him being the savior in Avatar state. Thoughtless bending sucks despite the great VFX and that’s one thing at which you can’t convince me otherwise.

5. Forced friendships

We all know how it took some time for Sokka to embrace Aang as a chum. However, here Sokka keeps on calling him “the kid” and remains mostly alienated from Aang. Talking to Katara, then she also seems more interested in helping Avatar fulfill his goal than being with a friend. I hated the scene where Aang comes into the Avatar state and instead of hugging him just like in the OG series, Katara runs along Sokka and keeps on calling his name. How is that going to build any organic friendship? I think the first mistake began right from the very moment when Aang was taken back to Wolf Cove on a boat in his unconscious state. Upon opening his eyes, the first person he finds near him is neither Katara nor Sokka but a tribesman who’s playing guessing games. Writers were really high when they wrote that.

6. Lack of the four nations’ biodiversity

Maybe in live action, it’s difficult to create all the marvels of the four nations when we talk about their natural biodiversity. In the OG series, it is indicated by Aang that even after 112 years, he has still not forgotten the animals that define different regions in the four kingdoms and that’s exactly why he wants to finish those “important tasks” alongside saving the world. His important tasks included keeping a check on the natural biodiversity of the lands and exploring whether the Hundred Years’ War had not damaged the majestic animals. Actually, his first dialogue right after regaining consciousness is to go for an otter penguin’s ride with Katara. When I thought about that I felt that somewhere in Aang’s mind he was always connected to nature and that’s why he wanted to regain that connection by being an avatar. Sadly we never see much of the biodiversity but I hoped that maybe they will.

Also, how come Aang had that silent whistle for one hundred years when in the series he only discovers that accidentally? I missed the OG Yip Yip for our Appa. There are lots and lots of problems with the Netflix version, and no I am not being a nitpicker. I appreciate how the current creators credited the original ones, but now I know why Bryan and Michael bade farewell to this project. On a scale of 10, it’s a 4 for me or 4.5 if I am being too generous.

If I am asked to review the live action in a single line, I would only say this:

“The Netflixed ATLA makes you go back to the OG series and you end up watching the animation to give your mind a much-needed respite from a carefully crafted artistic disaster aimed at the sensationalized generation.”

[eliotquillon]

I NEED a wilson and cameron meta/drabble, how did they meet? how are they on a first-name basis? why is wilson such a big hameron shipper?

anon i love you . thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about wilson and cameron!!!

speaking about them briefly as Characters, and not as ‘people’: the parallels between then both are really, really fascinating. by the end of the show, both of them have been married three times. she lost her first husband; he lost amber. wilson contracts thymus cancer, and cameron’s first husband had thyroid cancer before it metastasised—both are endocrine. they are both explicitly attracted to this idea of ‘neediness’; they have both fallen in love with someone else while still married (though only one of them acted on it); they’re both very concerned with…how do i put this, externality?? there’s a conflict in how they want to present themselves to the world versus how they really feel. cameron consistently has these high-brow morals that she struggles to follow through on, either because they conflict with each other or because it isn’t easy to act on. wilson wants to be seen as a good guy, wants to give all he can to people, and often does so—but is also itching, sometimes, for an excuse to act out, and he and house are drawn to each other as a result. i think really the best way to sum them up is that they’re puzzle pieces that look like they fit, but…don’t.

anyway. onto them as ‘people’, i guess:

truth be told i think wilson and cameron truly just met in the context of her showing up to work one day as one of house’s fellows. that said. i have NEVER been able to get to the bottom of why wilson randomly calls her ‘allison’ in maternity and at this point i don’t think i ever will. literally one of the first houseposts i did on main was about this because i was like ‘what’. but at a best guess i would say this was intended as shorthand/foreshadowing for the fact that, well, cameron is by far the fellow that wilson hangs out with the most. they get tons of scenes and subplots together in s1 and 2. and i think she’s probably the fellow he likes the most. she’s nice, she’s willing to stand up for herself, she cares about house—these are all qualities that wilson either has himself or seems to wish he had, and while foreman and chase each have some of these, cameron’s really the only one who starts off with all three. WHICH IS NOT TO SAY THAT CAMERON IS PERFECT or flawless because like. Lol no. but her good qualities are mostly things that wilson values, and i think that’s important; it’s probably why they appear to get along). (also, logistically speaking—cameron is a big focus of that episode, and the ones after it, because it’s the leadup to the dead husband reveal. it makes sense to reveal her first name to a casual watcher at this point, it just so happens that wilson being the one to do so feels…wonky, in retrospect. it probably would’ve made more sense for it to be foreman or chase to reveal her first name—she’s the one to repeatedly use theirs in her self help book era—but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

as to why wilson is such a huge hameron shipper: DESPITE EVERYTHING I HAVE SAID ABOVE, i think this is less about cameron and more about house. don’t get it twisted: wilson for sure ‘approves’ of cameron. she’s good at reading him—although she overplays it, in the end—she has all of the above listed qualities, and, y’know. nobody else is exactly throwing themselves at house at this point. she’s young and pretty, what’s not to like. but for all of this approval, all that he eggs house on…he still gives her a shovel talk. he warns her not to hurt house’s feelings, that she has the power to do so. he likes cameron, sure, but he’s obviously far, far more invested in house. and house is entertaining it, at least briefly! he buys a corsage and asks for tips on what to say. he’s willing to give it a go. this, i think, is why wilson wants house to go for it—not because cameron is particularly special, but because house is open to the idea and on paper it might be good for him. key words being on paper, lol. wilson is on board and he thinks house needs the extra push. note how wilson’s hameron shipping basically melts away entirely after stacy returns—he’s sure as hell not encouraging that relationship, but it’s funny how he never suggests house rebound with cameron instead. if house takes it off the table entirely, then wilson follows suit.

you did not ask for this, but: my own personal headcanon is that when cameron leaves for chicago, her and wilson stay on christmas card terms—but like. weirdly passive aggressive christmas card terms. on paper the friendliness is still there, she still helped him through the grief of amber, but—she severed ties with house. she believes him to be poison. wilson, though technically his own person…is still an extension. wilson i think probably has similarly cool feelings about her, too. but they’re both trapped in a kill-em-with-kindness-off wherein they keep promising to see each other if wilson ever ends up in chicago for a conference. he does not ever end up in chicago for a conference. lmao. ultimately i think it’s kind of a sad end to what seemed to be a genuine friendship, but…they both chose a side. i don’t think the friendship survives it.

[acourtofthought]

"wicked slashing scar"

"brutal scar"

"brutally scarred face"

"cruel beauty"

You know, SJM made no mention of Elain's beauty in ACOTAR outside of her desire to still look lovely despite poverty.

It wasn't until ACOMAF, once she realized Elucien would be mates, that she noted Elain's looks were a defining feature of hers.

And by then, we had already been made aware that Lucien had some insecurities regarding his scar:

While Elain and Lucien are extremely similar in personality and personal beliefs, the most important reasons for making them mates, I kind of love that SJM took her most scarred character (because a fake eye and scar running down the length of his face, not to mention the scars he has from when Tamlin was forced to whip him, are pretty intense and the first thing someone notices when looking at Lucien) and paired him with someone whose beauty was first described as "soft and lovely" then "devastatingly beautiful" after being made.

Something about that contrast (her soft and lovely beauty with his cruel beauty) gives me the feels.

It's not a contrast that forces them to give up the parts of themselves that matter, for example, Elain being troubled by cruelty but ending up with someone who is extremely violent, but a contrast that shows how appearances are only skin deep.

Personally I really dislike the idea of "the prettiest" Archeron with the "prettiest" batboy because it seems extremely shallow. Like someone expecting that two people must be together because they were rated "most attractive guy and girl" in the yearbook (is that still a thing? It used to be) and that's the vibe I get when Feyre thinks of how handsome Elain and Az would be. The only reasons she could picture them together was because they'd share "peace and quiet" and both possessed certain physical attributes. That is definitely not enough to build a relationship on.

Make no mistake, Lucien is handsome but his is not that of an air brushed perfection and there will always be a stigma that comes along with those who first meet him. Curiosity, shock, maybe a bit of fear.

And it's something I'm sure he's already dealt with many times over, cataloging the very many reactions others have the moment they set eyes on him, their constant stares.

Jesminda knew Lucien before Amarantha forever scarred him and while I think the majority of his closing himself off from emotional connection had to do with loyalty to her, I do think we'll find that he doubts whether anyone else could even want to be with him, knowing that he's basically the only fae around with facial imperfections. Many characters have voiced how attractive he is however once an insecurity takes root, it's difficult to weed out.

Sure Ianthe wanted him but that was for own self serving purposes, a way to get ahead.

So if Elucien were to end up together, it would be powerful for them both.

Everyone is under the impression that Elain is a bit shallow and is only concerned with looking her best, Nesta even remembers her mother saying Elain would marry for "beauty" and love and that she did not dream beyond her "pretty dresses".

So falling for a male who, while truly handsome, has some very major imperfections (which make him all the more perfect to us Lucien stans), would show that Elain cares more about what is inside. Because Lucien is pretty perfect in that department.

And with Lucien's insecurities about his face, imagine what it would feel like to know that the most beautiful female he'd ever seen was the one who chose him regardless of his perceived "imperfections". That she wanted him just as he was.

Not that that would be his reason for wanting her, just as it wasn't Rhys's reason for wanting Feyre. However it would definitely be the cherry on top of it all.

❤️

[mask131]

Egyptian gods: Hathor

Bastet might be a very famous Egyptian goddess today, but in Ancient Egypt she was definitively not as popular as the great goddess Hathor. This goddess was so famous, so popular and so beloved that, with time, she fused with many other goddesses – for example, she shares numerous attributes and domains with her “sister” Bastet, and she also ended up absorbing inside her the figure of Wadjet. I explained before how Isis took several attributes of Hathor, but in return Hathor also took the place of Isis in many ways. In fact, during the New Kingdom, the two “universal goddesses” were depicted in identical ways, and they could only be differentiated if their name was written alongside their portrait! Finally, Hathor was considered by many to be the “appeased” side of Sekhmet, instead of Bastet. In this alternate version of the Sekhmet myth, Hathor-Sekhmet originally came from Nubia, and after the almost-genocide of humanity and the “let’s get her drunk” episode, Ra decided that Hathor would live in Egypt rather than Nubia, ordering Shu and Thoth to bring Hathor to the country and help her settle down in her sanctuary of Dendera.

Hathor is the goddess of love, dance, music, sexuality and beauty. She was the cow-goddess who appeared sometimes as a woman with cow horns (and between said horns, a solar disk), other times as a cow covered in stars, and other times as a cow-headed woman. Her celebrations were all done in frenetic dancing, incessant music and joyful laughter: her iconic musical instrument was the sistrum, that often had in its handle the carving of a woman’s face with cow ears in her honor – it was believed that through its sounds, she could keep away wicked genies. Hathor was for a good portion of Ancient Egypt’s history the wife of Horus, and thus queen of the heavens and the gods alongside him – who had one son, to complete their triad, Ihy the god of music. Every year, Egyptians celebrated a religious holiday to commemorate the “beautiful meeting” or “beautiful encounter” – the wedding of Hathor and Horus, which ensured the fertility of the land. During this celebration people sang and danced to celebrate the beauty and joyfulness of Hathor, and she was offered a LOT of alcohol – as with Bastet, that I described before, a prominent element of the cult of Hathor was to keep her drunk so that Sekhmet would not wake up. However, what is truly interesting with Hathor’s relationship to Horus is that in the beginning of the Egyptian religion, in the oldest Egyptian myths, she wasn’t at all his wife… she was his mother. This is why her name actually means “House of Horus” – it was only later that Isis took her place as Horus’ mother, and she went down one level in the family tree, becoming his wife.

Nicknamed “The Golden One”, Hathor was a goddess of fertility, of life and of motherhood. She protected women and weddings, and she was the one girls prayed to in order to find a husband. She helped women by easing the pains of the labor, and she protected the newborns by banishing away the evil spirts that could threaten them. A very common motif in Hathor’s depictions is the “seven Hathors” – Hathor was said to have seven daughters, who all looked like her and shared her name, and their role was to be present at every human’s birth, and around the baby’s cradle tell those present what they knew about the fate and destiny of the newborn. Yep, exactly like fairy godmothers in fairytales! Hathor was also a nursing figure – as a motherhood deity and a cow-goddess, Hathor was considered to be the nurse of the pharaohs themselves, not only being depicted shielding them from above with her cow body, but also letting them drink her milk to feed them her divine power.

Hathor had a secondary role to play during the endless fights between Horus and Seth. At first, during the endless trials and debates concerning Horus’s right to the throne: when some of the gods became tired of Ra’s constant siding with Seth and his dragging of the trial, a deity named Baba insulted the sun-god by claiming his sanctuaries were empty, nobody worshiped him anymore and mankind had forgotten about him. Ra left the court and the company of gods, and isolated himself to sulk. Since without Ra nothing could be going on anymore, Hathor decided to give him back his good disposition and make him return among his peers – she went to him, and suddenly lifted up her dress, showing him her genital organs. This sudden display of exhibitionism made Ra laugh out loud, and this brought back joy in his heart, convincing him to forget the insult and return to the divine court. Later, when Seth removed the eyes of Horus as a punishment for him beheading his own mother Isis, it was Hathor that healed his wound and eased his suffering, by using either gazelle’s milk, or her own cow-milk.

The reason why Hathor is sometimes depicted as a cow covered in stars is because she became a sky goddess, and thus fused with Nut, the feminine embodiment of the sky who was also said to transform into a cow from time to time. Her star-covered belly became the sky through which Ra, the Sun itself, travelled during the day, making her somehow the “creator goddess” of the world, since she literally “gave birth” to the Sun every day. Her role as a sky deity also played in her function as the “House of Horus”, since Horus was a heavenly and solar deity – so his house/wife/mother would of course be the sky in which the sun resided. Hathor was thought to be the guardian of the four cardinal directions (East, West, North, South), and when depicted as the “celestial cow”, her four hooves were placed in these four directions. This role as a “cardinal goddess” resulted in her being depicted many times as a four-part goddess, with each cardinal direction having a different “animal” or “avatar” of the goddess: the lioness-Hathor that embodied the Eye of Ra destroying the enemies of the sun (a la Sekhmet), the cow-Hathor that embodied love and rebirth, the cat-Hathor that protected homes and was the royal nurse breast-feeding baby pharaohs (a la Bastet), and the cobra-Hathor who personified beauty and youth. Later in her cult, she received a role that was until now given to the goddess Tefnut – the role of the mistress of far-away country, of the goddess of foreign lands. She was thought to be the patron of the Land of Put, of Byblos, of the Sinai… This notably tied in her title of “Lady of the Turquoises”, since she was thought to protect the miners that dug the turquoise stone out of the Sinai.

Hathor’s final role in Egyptian mythology is, without a doubt, a funeral one. This aspect of her appeared on the left rive of the Nile, between Thebes and Memphis: she became the patron of the Mountain of the Dead. Hathor was thought to stand on top of this mountain, at the frontier between the world of the living and the world of the dead, to welcome with care and compassion all the newly deceased before they entered the Underworld. It was only upon her orders that the stone of the mountain would open up, so that the deceased could begin their travels – all the while being escorted by Hathor, that fed and encouraged them all the way to the court of the dead. A dead that knew the proper prayers and incantations to convince Hathor to carry them on her cow-back would be protected from all the dangers of the Underworld. This is why she, as the “Queen of the West”, often had statues of her in the various necropolises, so as to bring safety and peace to the dead. Hathor was also thought to give back to the deceased the ability to feel a sexual desire – and the texts describe how, for the deceased to reach eternal life and thus be “reborn”, he (because of course this applies to only men here) will need to impregnate the goddess using his returned sexual power…

This all is however more tied to the Theban cult of the dead, since it was the Theban necropolis that focused a lot on the Mountain of the Dead. In other parts of Egypt, her funeral role was rather the one of the “Lady of the Sycamore Tree” – this tree that often grew at the border of the desert was thought to be where the dead rested before entering the Underworld, and the plant from which Hathor emerged to welcome the dead. Again, if the proper prayers and religious formulas are pronounced, Hathor will offer the dead bread and water, which will allow them to receive a place alongside the gods in the afterlife – because accepting the food of Hathor means being a friend of the gods, and accepting to follow them everywhere, without ever returning to the human world. Though, very interestingly, the same way Hathor has a whole fusion and confusion with other goddesses in her role of “music, dance and joy” goddess or as the “divine mother/nurse”, her funeral role as the Queen of the West is also shared (or taken over) by various other female goddesses: Nut the sky-goddess, as I mentioned, but also Maat, Neith, or Imentet. But of all these goddesses, Hathor represented the best the idea of the renewal of life, of finding back hope and joy after death, of pleasure and beauty being given back to the one that lost their body and was about to travel a world filled with demons and monsters.

Some final notes. When the Ancient Greeks decided to make correspondences between Egyptian and Greek gods, they decided that Hathor was the Egyptian Aphrodite. The current temple of Hathor in Dendera we see today was actually built by the last Ptolemaic pharaohs, and seems to date from the Roman era of Egypt – but, according to the text, the place the temple was built on has been a sanctuary of Hathor for a much older time than that. Indeed, the temple we see today was apparently built according to plans and architectural indications that date back to the Old Kingdom, under the rules of Cheops and Pepi the First. And a last trivia: Hathor is considered to be one of the oldest Egyptian goddesses we know of, since her name appears in the oldest text in the history of Egypt (at least at the time of my sources) – the Narmer Tablet, a document that describes how the two kingdoms of Egypt (Upper Egypt and Lower Egypt) were united by Narmer, first pharaoh of the first dynasty. Hathor appears on this text as the patron-goddess, protectress and mother-figure above the pharaoh – which makes sense since, if you recall, in these early times Hathor was seen as the mother of Horus (more specifically of Horus the Young, Horus the Child), and thus, since the pharaoh was Horus embodied as a human, Hathor was the pharaoh’s mother.

[starstruckxstray]

Who the Heck is Kerosene?

Name: Kerosene (Currently)

Former name: Jaden Chien

Age: 25 (at death).

Date of Birth: November 8th, 1997 Date of Death: January 01, 2022

Gender: Female

Species:  Catahoula Cur/Coastal Wolf Hybrid; Lantern Spirit (Formerly human)

Pronouns: She/Her

Cause of death: Fire in her car, unable to escape due to passing out from mixing drugs and alcohol.

Powers: Breathes fire, able to manipulate fire’s shape and color (Limited only to her own fire), can manifest barbed wire as whips or nets, can manifest an old kerosene lantern and will-o-wisps.

Physical Description: Kerosene stands at 5 feet, and is of curvy figure. Her general appearance can be seen in the images below.

Her main form:

Full reference sheet of her main form can be seen here

Her alternate human form (Art credit belongs to ComicReliefAki!) :

Personality: As much as she doesn’t like to admit it, Kerosene is actually quite sensitive and struggles not to take things personally. Because of this, she tries to appear fierce, and is quick to suspect malicious intent from others. She can be sarcastic and foul-mouthed, though that is something she’s trying to curtail; unfortunately, it shows when her quick temper and defensive nature gets the best of her. Her voice is surprisingly light and carries a soft southern drawl, hinting to her Oklahoman descent.

She likes to think she is funny and tends to show off her twisted sense of humor in hopes to gain favor with others. She also likes to think herself as a heartbreaker, a “love-em and leave-em” type though this may merely be a cover. She enjoys flirting, especially if it gets her positive attention. She has a tendency to get intimate with people to continue that attention, becoming needy for any soft touch at times. She struggles with the idea of a long-term romantic relationship, however, and has a history of pushing potential lovers away and running.

Quite the daydreamer, Kerosene can be absent-minded, which tends to get her into trouble. She prides herself in being self-reliant and carries a determination of steel when it comes to difficult obstacles.

Kerosene adores nature. She can name most common native prairie plants, can identify (and will complain about) invasive plants, and will stop to “ooh” and “aaw” over any animal she comes across. She enjoys observing nature and meditating on the possible life lessons it can give her.

History:  (Warning: This story contains mentions of s*icide, drugs, abuse, and religion) 

Born and raised in the lower Midwest, Kerosene had once been a very soft-spoken and cautious woman. While she loves her parents and siblings dearly, she harbors a lot of resentment about being abandoned by extended family, a result of a life-long battle for control led by her narcissistic grandmother. The exile has always weighed heavily upon her shoulders and she always placed the blame of it upon herself. It’s this guilt that keeps her from reaching out to her immediate family, especially after they are struck with hard times. It seemed that moving out and keeping herself out of their home and fridge helped alleviate their stress. Though she always had the desire to travel the world, she kept her focus on trying to get an advanced college degree and a decent-paying job.

“She would save up to travel” was her go-to compromise, though truly she is deeply concerned about making ends meet. Though she graduated with a degree in ecology, she struggles to find any work focused on pro-environmental science and finds herself bouncing from job to job to keep herself afloat. The constant turmoil her lower-paying, customer-driven jobs leave her exhausted and very frustrated with the world.  She looked to her faith as the main driving force that kept her from giving up entirely on life.

Her shaky way of life collapses when she makes a large mistake at her workplace that finally gets her fired. After weeks of searching for work and within her heart, Kerosene fears her life is falling apart because she may have ultimately been rejected by God. That was the only thing that kept her from ending it all, and the idea that perhaps even God didn’t want her left her broken up and reeling. Kerosene fell into her desperation to escape from everything. How she was to be saved and get her life together was unknown to her, all she wanted to do was numb the pain. She did it through fleeting relationships with anyone who looked her way, experimenting with prescription drugs and alcohol, and knocking herself out for hours at a time. The sorrow deepened into an intense sickness of the heart, and it had become beyond what she could handle.

Kerosene set off for the Northwest coast. It was a place she fantasized about living in. The mist-veiled coastlines, endless evergreen forests, and looming purple mountains brought her a sense of peace. Often, she wondered if that was what Heaven was like. If she was going to lie down for one last time, it would be somewhere as close to Heaven as she could possibly get.

 Her journey had been snapped short on one night, just hours before midnight signifying New Year’s Day. After slipping a couple of pills and some liquor at a parking lot on the edge of a state park, she ends up passing out in her old car. What was supposed to be a cold yet quiet sleep became a fiery disaster when the forgotten blunt hanging from her lips fell and hit the carpet behind her seat; the carpet still soaked from the gasoline that managed to spill from a gas can she didn’t close properly. The sparks ignited the gasoline, and the car went up in flames, with her dying from smoke inhalation.

Kerosene awakes, wheezing, her chest blazing, and her memory blurred. She didn’t know how she managed to flee from the chaos, nor where she was anymore. Something was missing, and it didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel like herself, she didn’t feel human, and a numbing terror struck through her core.

Thankfully, however, she soon realized that she didn’t end up in Hell, nor was this her end. Rather she was given another chance. She ventured forward in a new form, crossing different worlds and realms to find her purpose, her identity, and help others who also feel lost in their own lives.

Important information: Even though she is a spirit, it doesn't grant her god-like abilities. She does take on a fully physical body once she is in the verse where the story takes place. She will need to eat, sleep, and try not to get killed (again). 

[dollish-shard]

False Paradise, Again

“Come on Miss, let’s go!”

I watched, leaning against a wall, as the dolls pulled their witch stumbling forward, bobbing up and down with eagerness. The witch smiled, attempting to regain some of her dignity. “Okay, okay! Calm down, you lot!”

“Yes Miss!” They chorused.

None of them noticed me, of course. Even if they had reason to, they couldn’t. The witch had power, true, but she could unravel the mysteries of the cosmos for an eternity and still not approach my level. Egotistical of me, perhaps, but true regardless.

Yet even for my power, doubt tugged at my heart. Did I really want to do this?

Yes. I did. Even if it caused pain.

I gazed around yet again at my surroundings. A utopia of magecraft and technology in harmony, a cityscape of the most utopian of arcane-solarpunk imagination. Spires that shone in impossible colors that grew like trees, floating islands covered in buildings of eccentric shapes…

And the entities. Not people, but entities, truly diverse. The witch and her dolls. A demon, walking xir puppygirl. An amalgamated synthoid hive, six bodies as one mind. A trio of humans holding hands, their hair pulsing soft rainbow colours.

Them, and more. So much more. A whole planet of this; bound not to reality but released to make manifest their deepest desires. A perfect world.

A world I was about to destroy.

I clenched my fist.

("Every time. There's a fundamental problem with your end goal. Not morals, not resistance, not even scope. Existence itself denies you.”)

Words I had spoken so long ago. In another life, yet in circumstances so similar. There had been nothing I could do then.

I had failed, and they had paid the price.

How I loathed to fail.

“So?”

She appeared beside me without any fanfare. Like me, she went unperceived by those around us. Her reasons were very different. She smiled at me, a kind smile. So much like his. “You’ve seen what I’ve done. What do you think?”

I shoved my hand in my blazer pockets. “It’s impressive. Utopic, even. Had you gotten here naturally, I’d be applauding you.”

“But this isn’t natural?” She asked. Not accusatory. Simply curious.

“You’re the one pulling the strings. You tell me.” I sighed. “You know as well as I it’s a facade, one that runs surface deep. And if its disrupted… it’s gone. Like it never happened at all.”

“So?” She asked simply. “Simply because it will not last, it’s not worth it?”

(“But failing that…” I watched him staring out across that wartorn plain, its pain reflected in his own expression. “If I can make just one minute better for everyone, a speck in the cosmic timeline of everything, I've done some good.")

I shook my head. “Because it’s a lie. Escapism. And just like them, you’re running.” I took a step forward, and she took one back in turn.

“This world is not out of true reach, you know.” I said, smiling wistfully. “You have that over those before, at least. You could built it, for real.”

“But not all would live to see it.” She said, sorrow in her eyes.

“And within this fantasy, none truly live at all. It is beautiful, true, but only a pale shade of what it could be. And, lost within that bliss, you would be blinded to the dangers that would destroy you.”

We stared at each other for a long time. Her eyes, still holding that kind determination, uncertainty, hidden behind her gaze. Mine, calm and casual, not betraying the roiling memories within.

"I couldn't help any of them then. So... I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure it doesn't happen to you.")

I would not let myself fail again.

At last, she spoke. “I appreciate the concern.” She said. “Truly, I do. But…” She shook her head. “I cannot relent. Not in a path I truly believe in.”

That was that, then.

“Neither can I.”

I would not fail again. I could not.

In this world, she controlled everything. Her powers made her akin to a god.

I feared no god. I had shed enough of their blood to drown this universe.

I moved, faster than the speed of cognition. A glint of steel, a flash of light, an explosion of pain.

Her eyes went wide, and her hands went to her torso. Feeling the warm, red liquid that leaked from the wound across her chest.

I sheathed my blade, met her eyes solemnly, and whispered two words.

“I’m sorry.”

And then everything went white.

“Are you sure? You seemed so excited…”

“It’s fine…” The girl mumbled, putting a hand to her chest and tugging at her hoodie. “I’m sorry have dragged you out here…”

Her girlfriend, a taller woman dressed in black, pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay, sweetie. I know its hard for you. Would you like to go home?”

“Mmm…” The girl nodded.

I watched, leaning against the same wall. The utopian dream had given way to reality, now that the source was… gone. Impossible towers replaced by simple grey skyscrapers, a mundane city choked with smog.

The girl in the hoodie clung close to her girlfriend. A pair of enbies, with fierce eyes and one almost quivering. A dorky looking young woman on her lonesome. Three people, walking alongside each other but eyes averted, as if ashamed to look.

I scowled. Why was it that doing the right thing oft felt so wrong?

I pulled myself from the wall and began to walk away.

“...You know what?”

I stopped.

“Hm?” The girl in black looked down at her once shivering girlfriend. “What is it?”

“I…” She clenched her fist. “Screw it. I don’t… I wanna go. I don’t-” She began to choke up, but continued anyway. “I don’t wanna just keep running away.”

Her girlfriend was silent for a moment, and then broke out into a wide grin, hugging the smaller girl tightly. “I’m so, so proud of you, sweetie.”

I watched the two of them leave, and allowed myself a smile.

Maybe, if they worked hard enough… then that lost dream could become reality.

And with that, I slipped away, and left the future to its own making.

[shadowqueen402]

Wizeman's and Kalpana's Origin

(This is a fic that I came up with. It will talk about how Wizeman and my NiGHTS oc, Kalpana, met. I hope you all like this fic. Please let me know in the comments/reblogs what you think.)

Somewhere, in an unknown part of the Night Dimension, far away from the Dream Gate and Nightmare, exists a beautiful realm that Visitors have never been to before. Its verdant lands, mixed in with the clear rivers, the breathtaking waterfalls, and the stone buildings truly made it a paradise. This realm was home to a bunch of Nightopians and mysterious humanoid beings that were very welcoming and polite.

One particular being stood out the most. Her name was Kalpana. Unlike the rest of her people, she was a Nightmaren. But what interested others was that she was the only one of her kind to not be created by a notorious being known as Wizeman the Wicked and the only one to have a confirmed gender. She was a beautiful Nightmaren with beige skin and kind blue eyes. Her light pink and magenta striped jester hat had her long, golden blonde hair tucked underneath it. She wore a simple yet elegant magenta dress that was long-sleeved and had a sweetheart neckline.

Nobody knew how she came to existence, but they never questioned it. And neither did Kalpana herself. Instead, she spent her days outdoors enjoying life itself. Kalpana didn't have a worry in the world. And neither did the rest of her people. Life was good for Kalpana.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end.

One particular afternoon, Kalpana was out in the fruit fields, harvesting some mangoes while humming a tune. A gentle breeze tickled her cheek while she clutched a basket into her arms. But that breeze turned into a gust of wind. The sky began to darken, grabbing Kalpana's and the inhabitants' attention. Concerned whispers were exchanged from one another, wondering what was going on. The Nightopians quickly flew away for their lives, panic evident on their faces.

Suddenly, to their horror, a gigantic being appeared, hovering over the entire realm. Kalpana felt the basket of mangoes slip from her arms and fall onto the ground. She couldn't bring herself to move as she reluctantly took in this gigantic being's appearance. Something in the back of her mind told her that this being was a "he".

He was a strange, caped humanoid creature with a spiked metallic crown that covered most of his head. He even had six metallic floating hands, each one with a purple eye that coldly glanced down at everyone who stared up at him in terror. Like he had expected them to do so. His cape was royal blue, purple, and red with star and sun patterns on it. And on his chest was what appeared to be amulet with two small green jewels and a big blue one.

"I am Wizeman The Wicked," The being's voice boomed, sending chills down everyone's spine. "Ruler of all Nightmare… God of Nightmares…" By now, everyone didn't dare move a muscle. One of Wizeman's six eyes then noticed Kalpana, staring up at him in total fear. And his hand flew really close to her, causing Kalpana to fall down and back away. "Oh? And what do we have here? A Nightmaren that I've never seen before…"

Kalpana didn't speak for fear of saying the wrong thing. She didn't know this guy, but she had enough sense to understand that he would crush her without any hesitation if he wanted to. "And what is your name?" Wizeman asked. Though, it honestly sounded more like a demand than an ask.

"Kalpana, sir," Kalpana responded clearly, internally surprised that she did so without stuttering.

"Kalpana… Interesting…" Wizeman's hand floated back up to his height. But all six eyes stared icily down at her, reading her every move. "I happen to have a proposal for you, Kalpana…"

"A…proposal?" Kalpana did not want to know what it was. But she had no other option but to listen.

"See, my Nightmaren army needs a strong general," Wizeman explained. "One that will help them succeed with an iron fist. Since I sense your power, this will give me the opportunity to get an heir that has potential. The way I see it, you only have two options; agree to marry me and give me an heir or you can watch as I destroy this precious homeland of yours until there is absolutely nothing left. Now, I would advise that you do the right thing, Kalpana."

Kalpana went silent for a bit. Truth be told, she had once dreamed about finding her ideal lover that she could marry and start a family with. But with Wizeman? He didn't even look like he was husband-material. Kalpana could only imagine as to what kind of father he would be to their kid.

"I will marry you," Kalpana finally said to Wizeman.

"Wise choice, my dear." When Wizeman spoke those words, it sounded as though he was mocking her. Not that Kalpana was going to point this out. "I should warn you that, once we get married, you will be forbidden from returning to this place again. You now belong to me."

Kalpana felt tears trying to escape her eyes. This was it. She was going to marry a tyrannical God which would cost her her only chance to see her realm and her people again. But she refused to shed those tears. She did not want Wizeman to believe that she was fragile.

"You have my word." Kalpana closed her eyes.

Without a word, one of Wizeman's hands scooped up Kalpana from where she stood. The people gasped and backed away, watching helplessly as Wizeman flew off with their only Nightmaren companion in hand.

That was only the beginning of Kalpana's story.

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[clairecrive]

hiii! um i had a request if that’s alright? umm a darkling x tidemaker!reader where the reader slowly grows more and more jealous of alina until she finally snaps and tries to leave with another tidemaker to train with master tidemakers for the kings army but then darkling stops her. with a happy ending please 🥺🥺

Where your heart is

A/n; this took a life of its own but I'm still not too sure about it even though I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you'll like it, 🌻x

Word count: 2.4K +

Warnings: angst, darklina, jelousy

Tags: @blackst0nes7077 , @thefictionalgemini , @louweasleymalfoy , @jupiterandbutterflies , @for-bebbanburg , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx , @kaqua , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @deardiarystuff, @emmaev , @aleksanderwh0r3 , @hazelrose14, @crowssixof , @qhbr2013 , @odetostep , @strawb3rrydr3ss , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @shadow4ndbone, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @mriddlemethis , @secretsthathauntus , @carnationworld (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

He was her mentor. He was the only one who could help her through the discovery and understanding of her powers. That's why he was spending so much time with her. No other reason.

At least that's what you've been telling yourself over and over in hope that you'd start believing it. So far, you had no success. And this had been going on since the day Alina had arrived at the Little Palace a month ago so you didn't harbour any hopes that it'll start working.

But what could you do?

He was spending every waking moment between his War room and the training grounds with Alina. You could see the allure that she had to have in his eyes.

He had been waiting for her for a long time, after all. You couldn't even be mad at him for investing his energies to help her harness her powers since she was the key to Ravka freedom. And, to be fair, Alina wasn't that bad.

Sure, you had to get through many layers of snarky remarks and dry humour that most of the times felt a lot like rudeness rather than humour. But she wasn't that bad. Not when there were people like Zoya walking around.

But the days without seeing him, with just a passing glance or a touch of his hand on your back were taking their toll on you. You missed him.

You had gone from seeing him every day to not seeing him at all.

You had tried to talk to him about it but he.was.always.busy. Or with Alina. You weren't proud to admit it, and you probably never will out loud, but a certain green monster had taken residence on your shoulders.

You were taking your usual stroll around the gardens when you spotted him outside the Palace's main entrance. Hurrying your steps, you called his name to catch his attention.

"Aleksander!"

Fortunately, he heard you and turned to see who was calling him. There were few people who knew his name and there was no chance in hell it would be Baghra. His lips morphed in a small smile as he watched you approaching with a sprint in your steps.

"Hey, I'm so glad I've caught you, it's been ages since I've-" you stopped when you saw Alina's approaching figure. Your eyes darted from her to Aleksander in front of you and you've finally noticed the two horses.

He wasn't wearing his cloak and of course, where Alina was Aleksander followed. Your lips thinned in a line as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew that Aleksander had noticed your expression change but you hadn't had centuries of practice to scholar your features into betraying nothing. But you forced yourself to at least keep up the appearances with Alina.

You gave her a smile when she stood before you complimenting her hair.

"Genya's handiwork," she simply said as it was enough to explain everything.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to your outing," you said hoping they couldn't notice the strain in your smile. Turning around, you retraced your steps to where you had been standing before and where you should have stayed all this time.

It was clear now- what other signs did he need to give you? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to not let the tears fall. You could feel his eyes on you until the sounds of hooves hitting the gravel told you that they were gone.

However much it hurt you to see again and again the proof that you were losing him, there was still a part of you that told you that this was just a phase. A temporary arrangement, given Aleksander's plans for Ravka. You just had to bite the bullet until it was all over.

And so, with renowned hope, you decided that you were going to talk to him. Even if you had to wait for him for hours or meet him at the brink of dawn, you had to do it. You needed to know where his heart was and from that, you could decide where to go.

However, to your luck, today was the day of the Winter Fete. Everyone, including you, was going to be super busy with finalizing the last minute details and rehearsals. Every Grisha had a role in tonight demonstration even though the star of the whole night was, of course, the Sun Summoner.

Since you were a tidemaker, your manifestation was scheduled before Alina's grand entrance. You and the other tidemakers had prepared a light show, along with Alina, to use water to reflect and amplify Alina's light so as to create a beautiful play of light.

The whole ordeal ended in time for Alina to get back inside the Palace and get on stage and for everyone else to get inside too to witness her exhibition. You followed along with everyone else but alas, you really wished you hadn't.

Aleksander had eyes only for Alina, he never looked away from her even when the light got blinding for everyone else in the room. And you couldn't blame him- Alina was literally glowing. She looked amazing in that black kefta and the symbolism of the colour wasn't lost on you.

You had been a fool, that's what you were. It was painfully obvious how whipped Aleksander was for Alina. Each of those signs was a painful blow to your heart and faith in him. His outings with her, her black kefta, the smile she sent his way and how enthralled he was by her.

Shaking your head, you fought to keep your composure. You had lost him, you realized. You had to accept the fact that it was over. Whatever you had, it had come to an end. The moment it did, was lost on you but you knew it had to coincide with the moment he had met Alina.

As if to confirm your inward musings, Alina and Aleksander walked out of the room, her under his arm.

Well, it was settled then. You couldn't stay here anymore. It was one thing to break up and grow apart but it was a whole other thing to watch him being in love with someone else.

You had to go. That was certain.

Nodding to yourself, you took your final decision just as they walked past you. Aleksander's eyes met yours briefly, just long enough for you to send him a teary glare.

This was the last time you were going to see him and as much as you could feel your heart breaking, you knew that it was something you had to do. They walked out of the room and you wasted no time in leaving as well.

However, before going to your room to pack the few belongings you had, there was somewhere else you needed to go first.

The wind blew harshly on your face, the salt of the sea breeze mixing with that of your tears. Alone on the dock, you allowed yourself to cry. To finally let out everything you had been keeping under lock and key for so very long.

You tried to comfort yourself by reassuring yourself that this was the right choice. The best choice. To stay in a place where you had never truly felt at home, where every nook and cranny reminded you of what you had and what you had lost- of the fact that you hadn't been enough. That your love hadn't been enough for him to stick around, to choose you over a girl he had known for about a day. Everything you had shared, the months spent together in intimacy under his sheets or under the comfort of your favourite tree.

Vanished. Erased. Worthless.

You allowed yourself to feel every ounce of pain his dismissing behaviour had caused you because as soon as you boarded, you were going to leave all of this behind. You were sailing towards your future, towards a new land full of opportunities and new people. Somewhere where you could start fresh.

You heard someone shout the name of the ship you had to be on and knew that the moment had come. Here you were about to step into your new life.

Heaving a sigh, you threw a last look in the Little Palace direction, at what-or rather- who you were leaving behind. Turning around, you gathered your kefta closer to your body to shield you from the harsh weather. As you were about to move, a hand clamping on your back, stopped you.

You winced, not expecting the contact since you thought you were the only one on the dock. Turning around, you were met with a familiar pair of onyx eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, an edge on his voice that you couldn't figure out if it was surprise, betrayal or boredom.

"I could ask you the same thing, General." Taking a step back, his hand fell from your shoulder as you put some distance between you. Standing so close to him just as you were about to bid him goodbye forever felt like a cruel joke on destiny's part.

"So this is what you do? Leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone?"

"Those who needed to be, have been rightly notified of my departure. I don't see how this concerns you, though."

"You don't see-" he huffed out, a humourless laugh leaving him," how, in the name of all saints, don't you see how this concerns me?"

"This is the first time you've spoken to me in months, Aleksander so please spare me this bullshit. I've got it, alright?" Raising your hands you took yet another step away from him. "There's no need for you to be here and pretend anymore. Go back to your party and your Grisha and your girl."

"You're my girl," he stated somehow still calmly.

"No, I'm not," you scoffed, "and you've done a fine job proving that these past few months."

"I know I've been neglecting you, but what's a few months when we have a lifetime together in front of us?" he conceded taking a step towards you as his arms widened as if to show you the length of time you'd be spending together.

"It's everything, Aleks," you snapped as your emotions got the best of you, "seeing you getting cosy with Alina every day realising that the more time passed the less you were mine was excruciating and I'm done. I'm going away and I'm leaving all of this behind."

"You can't go."

"Watch me," you quipped as you turned around. Challenging you was not the best way for him to go about this. He knew better than anyone who proudful you could be.

"You cannot go," he... begged? the tone of his voice was so weird coming from him that had you pivot immediately. "You cannot leave. You cannot leave me."

You stood there, hair blowing everywhere for the harsh wind, just staring at him. You'd never seen him so emotional. Yes, you'd shared some intimate moments but he'd never been quite this open about his feelings. The sight of his teary eyes was so unfamiliar that made your brain short-circuiting.

Taking a shaky breath, Aleksander took a step in your direction, getting closer to you but still not close yet.

"Everything that I've ever done has been for a sole purpose, y/n, you know it. And you have to believe me, Alina plays a role in this as well."

"I know she does, it's obvious to everyone. It just has become painfully obvious to me tonight just how important she's come to mean to you." You shrugged as you looked away. Admitting this while also looking him in the eyes was an impossible feat.

"She may as well be the Sun Summoner, but you're my solnishko, y/n." He murmured softly as he took another step, this time getting close enough to you to reach for your hands.

"Sweet talking isn't going to change anything, Aleksander. I saw how you looked at her, I saw her wearing your colours. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Of course not," he disagreed vehemently, "but it's as I've told you, my dear, please believe me. Every action had its purpose which was not hurting you or expressing my love for Alina." He insisted, his hands squeezing yours. His eyes flickered between you and you spotted hopefulness as well as sincerity in them. Which made you hesitate.

Could it be...?

"But why didn't you tell me so, then? Why cutting me out dry without a word?" you uttered, afraid to believe him, afraid to let your heart hope again.

"It has been a play, solnishko. Ever since Alina has stepped foot inside the Little Palace, all eyes have been on us. I had a part to play and so did she. Unfortunately, I couldn't risk it." He explained, his eyes taking in your features, noting how hesitant you still were.

"I swear, my love, you should hear her. The only thing she can talk about it's her childhood best friend who seems so boring, I can't see what she sees in him." He added smiling hoping to lighten the mood. And as a matter of fact, he was rewarded with your giggles.

"Really?"

"I'd never lie to you," he murmured solemnly, his head tilting down toward yours. You met him halfway, your nose bumping softly with his.

"You better never start, Sasha," you warned lightly as he gave you an Eskimo kiss, his hands reaching up to hold your cheeks.

"Never," he promised on your lips. His trailed over yours softly before tilting his head to the side and letting them finally touch.

It has been so long since you've last shared a kiss that you'd almost forgotten how it felt like. How soft his lips were, how voracious he could be, how he always tasted of something sweet.

You gasped as his tongue trailed over your lower lip giving him the desired opportunity to sneak in and meet your tongue. Moaning, you moved your lips with his, hands sneaking through his hair to hold him close. The kiss came to a stop when you both were out of breath. He didn't get far away though as he rested his forehead on yours.

"The captain is going to be really mad at me." You murmured as you heard another shout coming from the end of the dock.

"Let me deal with him," he reassured you before giving you another small kiss. With that, he stepped away and headed over to where your ship was anchored.

You stood there, your fingers touching your lips, still in trance after what happened. So, you had never lost him. He had always been yours.

The realisation made you smile and as you watched his cape blowing in the wind you felt reassured. You knew he had plans but those were never the problem. You could bear seeing him with Alina if you knew that you were the only one in his heart and bed. And it seemed that you weren't the only one who wanted to keep it this way.

[flightfoot]

Gang of Secrets gave us a lot of gifts, a lot of things to be happy about, to talk about. Between the emotional breakdown Marinette was going through, one of the biggest status quo changes in the show’s history, and the potential for Ladynoir conflict down the line, there’s a lot to discuss.

But I want to focus on one of the smaller parts of the episode: Trixx.

He’s a pretty small part of the episode, all things considered. But what little screentime he has is put to good use fleshing him out, giving him an interesting personality and qualities that make him stand out from his fellow kwamis, ones that build on what we’ve seen from him previously.

We first got a good look at Trixx’s personality back in Sapotis, when Ladybug chose her first temporary superhero partner: Alya, AKA Rena Rouge. She’d promised to return the necklace afterwards, but was reluctant to do so, having enjoyed being a superhero so much and wanting to help Ladybug and Chat Noir consistently. She pleaded with Ladybug about keeping the necklace long enough that Ladybug was forced to take cover in order to stop from outing her identity

Trixx:  You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero.

Trixx:  You're strong, brave,

Trixx: but most of all, you’re trustworthy.

Trixx is pushing Alya to make the right decision here, not through scolding her, but by subtly reminding her that she’s not living up to the ideals of a hero right now, even while he’s complimenting her. That in order to truly be the hero she wants to be, she needs to keep her promise.

And she does.

This scene, as short as it was, gave Trixx one of the most standout personalities and qualities among the kwamis. He’s subtle and manipulative, understanding people well enough to have an idea what to say or do to get the outcome he wants.

That manipulation isn’t always a bad thing: here, it stopped Alya from making a grave mistake.

Trixx is the kwami of illusion, something that he exemplifies in not only his power, but his name and his personality as well. He knows what to do to push people to think what he wants them to think, to do what he wants them to do.

Which goes back to Gang of Secrets.

Marinette’s breaking down after pretending to be fine earlier. Trixx, having a decent understanding of humans and what might be able to help, urges her to reach out to her friends, to find strength in her support network.

Marinette refuses.

That particular avenue cut off for now, Trixx changes his approach.

If she can’t get support from her friends - and it’s true that they can’t understand all the details of why she’s hurting - she can at least get Tikki’s support, the support of the kwami who’s been with her longest and most often.

But Marinette refuses that as well.

Luckily, Trixx has an ace up his sleeve.

This is where Trixx shines. What he’s saying here isn’t untrue - Tikki could probably use that break - but concern for Tikki isn’t the main reason he’s saying this. He just understands Marinette well enough to know that this is something he can push on to make her do a 180 on the whole “staying transformed all the time” thing.

Trixx is good at using truths to get people to do what he wants.

In Sapotis, he emphasized how trustworthiness helps make for a good hero - this is true.

Here with Marinette, he emphasized that Tikki might be tired or want to eat instead of being part of the transformation for longer - this is also true and fair.

But in both cases he used the truth deceptively, with surgical precision, wrapping up his actual motives in true statements that made it appear like his priorities, his reasons for saying them, for pushing them, were different than they actually were.

There’s a second scene in this episode with Trixx, which continues the trend of saying what he needs to say, presenting things the way he needs to present them in order to get things done, wrapping them in truth, but using that to obfuscate some key details.

When Marinette’s cornered by Lady Wifi, Trixx creates an illusions, against his fellow kwamis’ concerns.

With how dire the situation is, even knowing the risks, Trixx uses his power without a Holder to temper it, creating an illusion of Marinette and leading Lady Wifi and the rest of the akumas away.

Ladybug’s happy things worked out, but concerned.

What Trixx says here is true, but obscures the size of the problem. 

Barkk and Wayzz, having know Trixx for a very long time, know the true scope of the issue and are indignant at Trixx for playing it down.

It’s true that the damage was illusory. But a dancing Eiffel Tower is hard to ignore.

Trixx wanted to reassure Ladybug that him using his power was fine, stop her from worrying too much (and also not get lectured). To that end, he told Ladybug the truth about what his raw power does, but doesn’t go into detail.

He plays it down, but truthfully understands how extreme it can be, and concerning - that’s evident after she leaves and only his fellow kwamis, who’re well-acquainted with his powers, are around. Him telling her the damage would be illusory and acting casual about it wasn’t because he genuinely believed that using his power without a wielder was harmless, like he seemed to imply - here he acknowledges that it’s something that’ll need to be fixed.

But it allowed him to achieve his goal of assuaging Ladybug’s worries at the time.

Overall Trixx is one of my favorite kwamis right now. What little screen time he has is put to good use, and his cleverness and understanding of human psychology make him stand out from the others, and make him a very useful character overall.

[callistolivia]

Asteroids Part 6; Sisterhood of Pallas Athena, Symbolism of the Asteroid Pallas Athene

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The long overdue sixth part of my asteroid series is finally here. 

 The asteroid Pallas Athene is one of the more prominent asteroids covered in the astrological community thanks to Demetra George’s “Asteroids Goddesses; The Mythology, Psychology, and Astrology of the Re-emerging Feminine.” In this part, I will cover the asteroid’s symbolism and interpretation based on mythology, gathered research from authors such as Demetra George, and my own knowledge.

 The ancient Greek goddess Athena may have been synonymous with the Egyptian goddess Neith and possibly other earlier known goddesses. Throughout this asteroid series ( and just in general for my astrological interpretations) I’ve tried to peel back further from Greek origins and more toward Kemetic or Sumerian origins for a pure and truly ancient understanding of asteroids named after Greek deities. However, I’ve accepted that for Pallas Athene, the Greek mythologies derive important symbolism that just isn’t clearly depicted from what we know of Neith or other earlier goddesses synonymous with Athena.

The Mythologies of Athena

 Athena is the goddess of war and wisdom. She was revered by gods alike and those who worshipped her for her remarkable strength, courage, wit, and creativity. Her birth story begins with Zeus swallowing the titan Metis who was carrying the unborn Athena. After some time had passed, Zeus develops a headache that would only be cured by Hephaestus’ splitting open his skull. Out from Zeus’ skull Athena is born as a fully grown woman encompassing all of her remarkable traits. Athena was Zeus’ favourite child, for she was his creation; so purely in his image of goodness, power, and wisdom.  Like Vesta (or Hestia), she is a virgin goddess, she serves herself and is whole with herself. Though, she had a friend who she quite possibly could have been in love with and she did love; Pallas.

Athena and Pallas  Pallas was the daughter of Triton. She was equal to Athena in wisdom and the art of war. They were partners in battle and one day the gods were disputing which of the two goddesses were stronger. So the two goddesses sparred and Zeus interfered allowing Athena to have the upperhand. Unfortunately this ended up fatally wounding Pallas. Athena was so heartbroken that she added Pallas’ name to her own to honour her. While it is never mentioned in the myth between these two goddesses, I speculate the possibility that their relationship may have been more, possibly as lovers in war. In ancient Greek and Roman times, it was a known practice that soldiers would often become romantically involved with one of their peers, even if they had a partner back at home. This was because they believed you would fight better for someone you love, especially if it was to avenge the death of a lover. 

Athena and Medusa  While there are several interpretations of this particular myth, the one that I find significance with is the one that describes Athena aiding Medusa.   Medusa was said to once be a very beautiful woman who made a vow for herself to remain virginal. However, her beauty drew on the male gaze and she was preyed upon against her will. The ocean god Poseidon tried to have his way with Medusa, but Athena stepped in and transformed Medusa into an ugly creature with snakes for a head of hair, and anyone who looked into Medusa’s eyes would turn stone.   This myth often depicts Athena as jealous of Medusa’s beauty, but in truth, this would be extremely out of character for Athena who’s not concerned with how others perceive her, particularly men. Athena cloaks Medusa with ugliness as a defense– as a way to protect Medusa from unwanted attention. This myth parallels greatly with the internal struggle many people have, particularly women, with the threats and vulnerability that coincide with embracing beauty and femininity. 

Helper to Heroes  Athena often makes appearances in myths about a hero’s journey and aids the hero in some way. She often has some sort of valuable foresight or tool to give the hero. Mortals look to her for her strength, wit, and strategy.   The story with Medusa continues as Athena actually aids Perseus upon hearing he needs to take Medusa’s head. She gives him a reflective shield so he can see Medusa without looking into her eyes and turning to stone. Many of the common interpretations of this myth state that Athena hated Medusa which is why she was so willing to help Perseus on this quest. However, following the interpretation I mentioned where Athena turned Medusa into a gorgon for her protection, Athena would have been the only one to understand the circumstances of Medusa. In addition to this, in the myth itself Medusa plays more-so as a symbolic prop instead of a character. Particularly because Medusa as a gorgon is described as having snakes for hair– snakes in myths can (but not exclusively) symbolize treachery and bad spirits needing to be expelled. We see this in stories like Inanna and the Huluppu tree where people often confuse “lilītu” with the actual archetype or character Lilith; there was no Lilith in that story, just spirits needing to be expelled from a tree.

The Seer  Athena is often described by poets as being “grey-eyed” and there is symbolism behind this. According to Wikipedia the choice to describe her this way is quite deliberate; “In Homer's epic works, Athena's most common epithet is Glaukopis (γλαυκῶπις), which usually is translated as, "bright-eyed" or "with gleaming eyes". The word is a combination of glaukós (γλαυκός, meaning "gleaming, silvery", and later, "bluish-green" or "gray") and ṓps (ὤψ, "eye, face"). It is interesting to note that glaúx (γλαύξ, "little owl") is from the same root, presumably according to some, because of the bird's own distinctive eyes.” Athena is also often depicted as or with an owl which is all deliberate symbolism of her wisdom, keen perception, and foresight. There is a seer quality about Athena that is tuned into aiding justice and heroism.

Themes of the Asteroid Pallas Athene

Fear or repulsion of feminine expression in oneself

Deconstructing heteronormativity

Equality, democracy

Psychic vision, foresight

Companionship, sisterhood, brotherhood

Same-sex experiences, perceptions, and empathy

Creative vision

Justice

Intellectual power

Maternal absence

 Pallas Athene being an asteroid, only with prominence in the birth chart will her themes and the complexes arising out of those themes be noticeable. Otherwise, Pallas Athene in one’s birth chart demonstrates where one tends to have strategic foresight/vision, where one meets Pallas Athene-like characters, and where one is called to serve justice.

Aspects to Pallas Athene

Sun-Pallas Athene In hard aspects, such as a square or opposition, this contact can be quite troublesome and makes for complexes the individual will have to fight to overcome. The difficult aspects signify negative experiences with the paternal figure in their life which translates over into adulthood as having distrust in and difficulty with men. As most societies are patriarchal, these aspects tend to be harder for feminine identifying individuals. These individuals are keenly aware of the violence that can coincide with objectification, particularly the objectification of feminine expression. When this type’s innate identity is objectified, defences are put up and they reject and conceal their expression. Being viewed in a sexual nature in an unwarranted way kills the confidence in these individuals; it conflicts with how they view themselves as an entire being and their purpose. Being comfortable with one’s sexuality can be an issue in the more difficult aspects with this contact as well; there may be shame, repulsion, or rejection of one’s sexuality. To aid these complexes, therapy as well as companionship and empathy from people who share the same experiences or trauma is beneficial.   In positive aspects, such as a trine or sextile, we see the opposite of the crippling experiences in the negative ones. These individuals tend to be comfortable and even celebratory in either binary expression; they are often quite androgynous. They are also quite comfortable in their sexuality as well as they are firm believers in dismantling gender roles and heteronormativity. These individuals are fighters for people with Pallas Athene complexes and injustice in general. They have a tremendous amount of strength, empathy, and willingness to understand gendered, sexual, and political issues. These individuals can find their life’s purpose, fulfillment, and accomplishments through their intellectual creativity.  The conjunction brings out Pallas Athenian archetype within one’s character. These individuals will be very Pallas Athenian in that they will see within themselves the complexes that arise from both the positive and negative aspects. They often have quite a strong presence, cunning intellect, and the foresight vision.

Moon-Pallas Athene  In positive contacts, these aspects bring out the psychic nature of Pallas Athene– Pallas Athene’s foresight and the wisdom in part with that. These individuals are empaths and healers. In the positive aspects, this is Pallas Athene reconciled with the fact that she never knew her mother; in individuals, it is a deep connection with the maternal expression within them (through a Pallas Athenian lens) or a deep connection with the maternal figure in their life. The maternal figure in their life may have been very Pallas Athene-like or could have been a contributor to giving the individual the strength, wit, and wisdom that matches Pallas Athene’s archetype. Creative vision is evoked by emotional exploration  In negative aspects, such as the square or opposition, there can be an absence of a maternal figure. Just like Pallas Athena herself, this individual may have been raised by their father with their father’s interests on the forefront. As a result, feminine expression is often null or even despised or feared. These individuals may repress their emotions surrounding their own gender or sexuality issues. They can be quite defensive and unless the Sun has prominence in the chart, they can also disguise their expression and true identity. These individuals can be quite masculine, over-functioning, and independent; they fear depending on others and self incompetence. To aid these complexes, they need to surround themselves with people that can bring out the softer nature hiding within them; they need to see that being nurtured and loved does not diminish their strength and ability.  The conjunction brings out complexes that resemble both the positive and negative aspects, though the maternal figure is most often present like in the positive contacts. Psychic vision is very potent with the conjunction and there is an urge to serve justice with it.

Mercury-Pallas Athene  In positive aspects and the conjunction, we see individuals with immense creative intellect. These people are often leaders in the fields of science, art,  politics, and law. People look to these individuals for their ability to strategize and look at the whole picture. As Pallas Athene touches the planet of communication, these individuals will often have a powerful voice, especially for those who don’t and are in need of justice. They can make for great advocates for gender and sexuality issues.  In the negative aspects, such as the square or opposition, we see individuals who struggles to have a voice on gender and sexuality issues, or just in general. These people can find their voice by making connections with others who share similar issues and by being part of a group setting.

Venus-Pallas Athene  The Venus contacts to Pallas Athene can be quite similar to the Sun contacts in that the complexes surrounding feminine expression tend to be the same. In the negative aspects, such as the square or opposition, there is the same repulsion towards feminine expression in oneself. It stems from fears developed from observing a patriarchal society’s perception of women and sometimes trauma. There may even be internalized misogyny present as these individuals have a tendency to reject traits that could be perceived as feminine, as they equate femininity to weakness and incompetence. These individuals present themselves as tough, rigid, unlike the others, and often androgynous or hyper masculine. They fear being taken advantage of and avoid any sign of weakness at all costs. Their inability to let their guard down can hinder close relationships; these people often deny themselves of romantic connections and keep everyone at arm's length. To cope, these individuals will put all of their focus into creative outlets and put their accomplishments on a pedestal over relationships. To aid rigidity and to reconnect with feminine expression, these individuals need to surround themselves with strong figures who are very confident in their feminine expression; they need role models and will find strength in numbers (being part of a support system). Re-education may need to be involved in the healing process as well. Exploring further with where ever Venus is in the individual’s chart and honing in on Venusian activities can really benefit this individual’s self acceptance, inner beauty, and sexuality.  In the positive aspects, such as the trine or sextile, there is radiating confidence, beauty, strength, creativity and merging of masculine and feminine energies. In these aspects is where Aphrodite and Athena meet eye to eye. These individuals are often very comfortable in their sexual expression; they tend to be drawn to feminine energies. As Pallas Athene aspects tend to make for, these individuals also tend to be express themselves androgynously, but are comfortable with feminine expression. They are very celebratory over it, similar to the Sun aspects. These individuals tend to be quite independent, but definitely not closed off. There is often an urge to utilize their strength and confidence in advocating for women’s right and issues, and it should be encouraged as these individuals are often the perfect candidate to advocate on  these issues. These individuals possess some healing abilities as well and heal others through empathy. Empathy for same-sex experiences is a prominent theme for both the positive and negative aspects; the natural connectivity or alliance with one’s gender makes them feel protected and valid.   With the conjunction, many of the themes found in the Venus-Pallas Athene aspects are intensified. Pallas Athene is somewhat personified in the individual and there is a much more radical need to demonstrate their autonomy over how they choose to express themselves. Expressing themselves through creative means is often very important and almost always contains a very Pallas Athenian message.

Mars-Pallas Athene  In positive contacts, such as a trine or sextile, Mars emphasizes that accomplishments and success can be found through Pallas Athene. Individuals with these aspects make excellent leaders, people want to nominate this type of individual to be in control and make the decisions. These individuals have a lot of drive, strength, and prestige, as well as empathy and compassion that does not diminish those qualities. There’s a keen awareness for underdogs and an urge to aid those beneath them. In feminine identifying individuals, utilizing masculine traits yields success, and in masculine identifying individuals, utilizing feminine traits yields success. Strong, lifelong companionship with the opposite sex is a common theme with these aspects as well.   With negative aspects, such as a square or opposition, there can be intense strife with the opposite sex. Additionally, strife with one’s own gendered expression; either hyper masculine or hyper feminine to conceal one side of the binary. Much of the repulsion towards one specific expression is due to societal conditioning as well as upbringing; it’s a defense mechanism to protect themselves from being perceived as either too weak or too harsh. There can be a lot of anger within the negative aspects as well; it would be best to redirect this anger towards a cause, such as advocating for women’s rights, men’s mental health support, protecting children (particularly if the 5th house is involved), environmentalism, sexual freedom, religious freedom, and so on. Therapy and support groups can aid self resentment and resentment towards the opposite sex.   With the conjunction, Pallas Athene is personified in the individual when they are challenged or angry. They may be quite radical, independent, and domineering; they are always in charge. They despise being perceived as incompetent or submissive. Pallas Athene’s strategic and cunning qualities are apparent in the conjunction as well; these individuals are not people you can fool or surpass, especially when a goal is on the line.

Jupiter-Pallas Athene  In all Jupiter contacts, Pallas Athene’s psychic foresight is present. Individuals with these aspects are blessed with intuition and wisdom. They hold valuable advice and counsel to others as well as themselves. They tend to be respected by many; their companionships and kinships are their armies.  Particularly in the positive aspects and the conjunction, these individuals would do well in politics, law, and creative arts. Serving justice is particularly important to this asteroid when in contact with Jupiter. Symbolically Jupiter is Zeus, Athena’s father, who loved and praised Athena the most out of all of his children. This may translate as an individual who had a similar positive relationship with their father; a father who is particularly proud of the individual, who may also could have been quite Jupiter-like. It also signifies the urge to be the same type of parental figure to their own children.

Saturn-Pallas Athene  With positive aspects, such as a trine or sextile, there is creative focus and prestige. The hard work from these individuals doesn’t go unnoticed. Saturn amps up Pallas Athene’s urge to serve justice; there’s often feelings of responsibility over something as big as society. These individuals would do well in law, politics, or any position of leadership. Reconstruction of societal values is a common theme with these aspects. These individuals seek change for how society perceives gender expression, sexuality, and politics. On a different side of the same coin, these individuals may have a bit of rigidity within themselves when it comes to true self expression, particularly with expressing femininity. Though, the negative aspects are considerably more stark than the positive.  With negative aspects, such as the square or opposition, there is almost always issues with the paternal figure or one of the individual’s parental figures (particularly if one parent is a stern, overfunctioner). The individual may have had high expectations held against them at a young age or there may have been a preconceived notion from a parental figure that the individual is incompetent due to how the individual expresses themselves or based on the individual’s values. The individual will feel inadequate to their peers, especially to a specific sex. There is rigidity in their expression, as mentioned earlier. These individuals may overcompensate for gendered stereotypes inflicted upon them. These individuals need to redirect their purpose for themselves and not for others. Therapy may aid them in relearning that they are not put on this planet to meet someone else’s expectations. Once confidence is regained, they can reign the creative focus, prestige, and leadership qualities that the positive aspects signify.  The conjunction can demonstrate qualities from both the positive and negative aspects and is much more potent and noticeable out of all of the Saturn aspects.

Uranus-Pallas Athene  In all Uranus-Pallas Athene contacts, there is an urge to come together with people to make change. Here is where Athena builds her army and strategically conquers and destroys harmful constructs. The aspects with Uranus are all about world betterment, particularly with issues dealing with gender and sexuality.  In positive aspects and the conjunction, Pallas Athene’s geniusness is very apparent. Individuals with these aspects often find success in sciences or anything that utilizes creative intellect. 

Neptune-Pallas Athene  In all Neptune-Pallas Athene contacts, individuals can find access to psychic power and strong intuition. These individuals have dreams of prophecy and can see far into the future. These individuals also tend to have a knack for arts that require a lot of technicalities and vision such as music and film.   People with the conjunction may find their psychic powers to be particularly potent and these people are often very spiritually aligned. Their binary expression has special importance to their spirituality. Spiritual devotion is merged with their self expression; whether that be the type of spirituality they practice or perhaps a special relatability to specific deities or energies. 

Pluto-Pallas Athene  These aspects are most apparent when it’s the conjunction or accompanied with a personal planet. These aspects give an individual the urge to really explore the psychology behind Pallas Athene complexes. There is dedication to understanding difficult constructs, particularly gender, sexual, social, political constructs. This urge is accompanied with the desire to transform the world’s beliefs, similar to the Uranus aspects.    In negative contacts, these aspects can signify this urge stemming from a place of trauma and wanting to heal and rebuild the self. 

Pallas Athene conjunct or in the house of the Ascendant  Athena is personified in the individual. These are people of strength, prestige, wit, and beauty. They possess the creative vision this world needs. These people break societal norms through their self expression and defy gender and sexual stereotypes. 

Pallas Athene conjunct or in the house of the Imum Coeli  Here the asteroid is quite concealed as it is furthest away from the spotlight (midheaven) and squares the ascendant. These people tend to not outwardly express Pallas Athenian qualities unless certain aspects demonstrate otherwise. Pallas Athene’s psychic qualities are more awoken here as the individual identifies Pallas Athene inwardly.   There may be a very Pallas Athenian person in this individual’s family or they are somewhat of a Athena-archetype themselves to their family (most loved child, most outspoken, known for creative intellect, etc.)

Pallas Athene conjunct or in the house of the Descendent  These individuals encounter or even draw in many Pallas Athenian-like people. Either that because they are drawn to these types of people or their projection out into the world brings them about as a way of balancing the individual or teaching them something they don’t see within themselves. These individuals tend to have a particularly fondness (platonic, romantic, or sexual) to their own gender.

Pallas Athene conjunct or in the house of the Midheaven  Here the asteroid is furthest away from home (Imum Coeli) and squares the ascendant. These individuals may possess some of the complexes Pallas Athene signifies on gender and sexual expression. There may be maternal absence and there is almost always a hyperfixation on career and success over relationships. These individuals are often the leaders in their workplace, if not, they still walk to the beat of their own drum and tend to be well respected. They may confuse the respect they earn by how they express themselves rather than their actual accomplishments. This can cause some difficulty around being true to oneself in terms of self expression. They need to seperate who they are being a factor in what they can accomplish and be known for.

© - @star-astrology 2021 / All rights reserved.

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

[aliensunflower-fics]

The Interview

[ Did I seriously take time away from writing requests and part twos of things JUST to write a fic where Marinette Flambé‘s Gabriel until he’s nothing but a dirty little lump of coal? Yes. Yes I did. Enjoy! ]

Gabriel Agreste would call himself a practical man. He had never been one for frivolous things. And he believed this was a good thing. His straight and to the point nature meant no gift would go unused, no conversation would drag on, his time would never be wasted. And his designs reflected this practical and sharp point of view. Or so he believed.

Gabriel Agreste would also call himself a realist. He knew full well he was the villain, and he knew full well the damage he had done and was doing. But it did not bother him, he was selfish and sentimental at least concerning his wife. And he wanted it all. The wife, the business, the perfect son, the house. All of it.

And that was why Gabriel Agreste wanted Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Each time he'd been near her he could feel the power she radiated her flurry of untapped potential and raw emotion swirling like a tumultuous ocean. Yes, Gabriel needed Marinette to become his most awe-inspiring destructive, and terrifying Akuma, the one who would finally level Paris and rip the Miraculous off of those pesky heroes once and for all! And who knows, if she succeeded perhaps Gabriel would give her the privilege of being his apprentice in his new perfect world. Her designs had been pretty good and he was nothing if not practical.

There was of course one, tinsy tiny problem however with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And that was to put it simply that she was perhaps TOO brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Every time he thought he finally had her something would go wrong! First, it was that useless excuse for a ‘teacher’ getting in the way, then Mayura failed him! Then Marinette had seemingly caught on and adapted! Bullied? Nope, she thought positive thoughts and spent time with friends. Property destroyed? She’d fix it and make it nicer than before! Lied about? She'd clear her name by the end of the day! Stolen from? She’d always find a fix! Each and every attempt was simply a hurdle the girl overcame!

Even Lila and Adrien had failed him! The sausage headed brat had been trying to crack Marinette near religiously but she had yet to produce real results, if she framed the girl some proof would appear to clear her, if she bullied the girl Marinette would simply walk away to calm down, physical assault had not even been enough to break her. And Adrien… Well, he had no idea that his father was trying to manipulate him so his failures were at least forgivable but even then nothing he did worked. He’d tried several times to produce a jealousy akuma out of Marinette pairing his own son off with Kagami and occasionally even letting the Italian leech hang off his son but Marinette never budged, it wasn’t that she wasn’t jealous or even angry it was just that she cared too much for other people, with Kagami the baker girl had backed off and even aided out in their budding relationship her feelings of kindness and friendship out shadowing her jealousy. And with Lila? Well, Marinette was more concerned with Adrien’s emotional and physical well-being, and after seeing what the liar’s fake nails had done to his son's arms Gabriel could understand why. As a last resort, Gabriel had tried forbidding Adrien from ever seeing the girl again hoping that would do it, but not even 5 minutes later he had undone the command when Adrien threatened to quit modeling and blast his father on social media… Needless to say, Gabriel wasn’t sure where his son had gotten the backbone for such a move but he felt like blaming Marinette for that as well.

Yes. Gabriel Agreste had tried everything to akumatize Marinette Dupain-Cheng and nothing had worked. Now at 17, the girl was still going strong showing no cracks in her armor. Well… He had tried ALMOST everything. There was one thing, one last little thing he had yet to try… And that was ruining the young girl's dream. Now Gabriel did not truly wish to squash such talent, but of course, he didn’t really NEED to. Yes, it was perfect. He would invite the youngest Dupain-Cheng into his home for an interview with a prospective internship on the line. He would warm her up by poking and prodding at her design portfolio, then he would accuse her of stealing the designs from Lila Rossi, and finally, he would claim to be blacklisting her entirely from the very world of fashion! No doubt THAT the very destruction of her dreams would finally produce the Akuma he needed to secure victory. If she succeeded he would favor her in his new perfect world as a reward, and if she failed… Well then he could claim he had ‘seen the truth’ while she was akumatized and undo the damage, there was no sense in actually ruining the girls promising career after all.

With his plan set Gabriel ordered Nathalie to make the arrangements. Come Saturday afternoon Marinette Dupain-Cheng would finally be akumatized.

However, Gabriel was hit with his first surprise, or perhaps his first ‘warning’ when Nathalie entered his office to inform him that Saturday was NOT on the table. In a shocking and rare turn, Marinette had somehow negotiated Nathalie to schedule the interview for Friday instead. Forcing the assistant to re-organize Gabriel’s entire schedule. When Gabriel had asked why this had happened Nathalie had seemed unlike herself, flustered and unsure, apparently Marinette had been very firm about having very important Saturday plans she would not even consider changing and had stated simply and sharply that her only free time would be Friday this week or Gabriel would need to wait another two weeks for her next availability. Hearing that was a shock, Gabriel had NEVER once needed to reschedule himself for others! No! They rescheduled for HIM. But fine, perhaps the sentimental girl had some idiotic family get together she felt she could not say no to it didn’t really matter in fact Friday meant he’d get his Akuma an entire day earlier. Fine then, Friday it was.

The second surprise had come Friday itself. When Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng arrived perfectly on time. Gabriel was the one caught with his pants down as he had expected the girl to be late with what Adrien had told him of the girl's tardiness record. He and Nathalie were left scrambling to get the office in order while Marinette sat in the hall. Gabriel would review the security footage later and note that the young designer did not gawk or stare at his opulent manor but rather eyed everything critically and with an air of absolute boredom as if she had a million other things she would rather be doing. Had Gabriel seen this expression on the young woman's face beforehand he might have noted it as his second warning that things were not going to go as he expected them to.

Finally, the office looked impeccable and Nathalie invited the young woman in. Gabriel stood behind his desk, his face an emotionless mask but his mind reaching out using the magic granted to him by Nooroo to feel for the young woman's emotions so he could better guide this in the way he desired. However when the young woman entered he was not overcome by the tsunami of nerves and emotions he expected rather it was like an ice front had hit his office. Gabriel was shocked, he could not for the life of him read the girl she was a perfect wall of flawless gleaming ice with no cracks for him to exploit, even her eyes which he had seen in photos and through his Akuma's vision were not what he expected. In every picture, Adrien had tried to show him the young woman's eyes were warm and sweet but now those bluebell orbs had frosted over regarding him with a sharp and pointed stare as if she could read his thoughts. As the two exchanged pleasantries and shook hands Gabriel waited for her to situate herself before he did the same taking a second to share a brief glance with Nathalie who seemed just as confused and put off by the young woman's behavior as he was.

Feeling nervous Gabriel decided to open with some small talk hoping to find a crack that would allow him to feel the young woman's emotions so he politely asked a question about how she'd been. She responded curtly and politely that she was fine but busy, he asked about her parents and their business, she cooly responded that they were opening a second location, finally, he complimented her outfit asking if she designed it herself. He expected to feel SOMETHING from the girl exhilaration at being complimented by someone she admired, nervous about him pointing it out, anything! Instead, the wall of ice remained cool and shimmering as ever as she told him that she had indeed designed the outfit herself and that she was pleased it met his standards. And it did, she wore silky black palazzo pants that flowed gently at the bottom but was clearly tailored to her exact centimeter around her hips, her top had some clear Asian inspirations with a modern twist, it was flawlessly fitted but seemed comfortable and easy to move in. It was white with pink and gold hand painted sakura flowers and some embroidery detailing that were certainly done by hand, to match she had pink lips and pristine white heels, her hair was down but perfectly in place, she was the very image of a professional confidant woman all at the young age of 17.

They chatted a while longer with Gabriel asking her about her design process and if she’d painted on the details of her shirt but still there was no crack in the ice keeping her emotions from Gabriel’s prying mind. The only emotion he could read from the girl was in her body language and it was clear she was losing her patience as Gabriel avoided the reason she was here. Clearing his throat awkwardly and sparing another quick glance at Nathalie who looked just as lost as himself. He finally settled in his chair and they began.

It was a rather standard interview at first, as Gabriel did not want to play his cards too quickly and was hoping that if he was patient the ice guarding the woman's emotions would thaw. He asked to see her sketches while they spoke and she easily handed over a professional-looking sketchbook, as he flipped through it he would occasionally pause to ask questions about her design process or inspiration, they were lovely sketches and truthfully Gabriel was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with them, but for the sake of his plan, he acted unimpressed and even critical of her designs. If it bothered her, she made no show of it much to Gabriel’s annoyance. He began to press harder, asking her if she could truly handle an internship under someone of his caliber, then he asked what her grades were, how he could trust her around his son as he’d heard some unsavory rumors about her character from a trustworthy employee. If anything he said bothered her, she never let it show her face a cool mask of professional disinterest. Gabriel tried not to grind his teeth, this was NOT going as he planned, as he prepared to accuse her of stealing Lila’s designs the young designer held up her hand to silence him.

“Monsieur Agreste, you have been asking a lot of questions. May I ask one of my own?”

Her voice was calm but Gabriel could hear the tiniest bit of ice in her tone. Perhaps his prodding was working after all. Either way, he nodded for her to continue, she straightened just the littlest bit before settling Gabriel with an icy look.

“I would like to know why you believe YOU are qualified to be my mentor.”

Gabriel blinked once. Then twice. He was quite sure his mouth was open in shock. He glanced again at Nathalie; his assistant seemed to be mirroring his own feelings and expressions. Finally, he swallowed and his mouth felt dry.

“Pardon me?” The girl in front of him blinked at him as if he were a rather idiotic child.

“I asked: WHY do you think you're qualified to mentor me. Monsieur Agreste.” Her voice was pure ice now and he suppressed a shiver.

He sat up straighter leveling the girl with an icy look of his own trying not to let his shock show.

“And what makes you think it is acceptable to ask me such a question Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Well… This is an interview is it not? Did you think I would simply agree to work for you without checking if you are up to my standards?”

Gabriel suppressed a strangled sound of insult as the red hot feeling of anger rose within him as he absorbed the young woman's words. But even still he could not suppress all of it.

“I beg your pardon!” She gave him a critical look but altogether a bored one.

“I do not mean to offend, Monsieur Agreste. But you are not the first to offer me an internship, currently, I have about 5 different offers on my table, the most notable being with the Style Queen herself and La Mode’s head designer Edna. I want to make an… Educated decision. And frankly, the only reason I am here today is as a favor to your son Adrien, who asked me to give you a chance. So again I will ask, what makes YOU Gabriel Agreste more qualified to mentor me, than Audrey Bourgeois or Edna Mode?”

Gabriel was left feeling very much like he had been caught with his pants down. Marinette Dupain-Cheng already had other offers? And with the top jewels of the fashion world's crown?! How? When!? Surely if Miss Dupain-Cheng had made any significant leaps in the world of fashion he and Nathalie would know about it… Right? I mean, true he had taken a step back from the world in his pursuit of the Miraculous and perhaps he had not been as involved in his own business lately. But he had both Lila and Nathalie on the outside yet they had said nothing about the young girl and her fashion career. Frantically searching for something to say to get the interview back on track and heading the way he wanted Gabriel’s eyes landed on the colorful designer bag Marinette had with her. He had noticed it seemed tailor-made to go with her outfit now taking a closer look at it he noticed the subtle detail of ‘MDC’ in golden lettering. No… No, he could not have missed it. Nathalie could not have missed it! MDC was known as Jagged Stone’s and Clara Nightingale's personal designer the mysterious presence had been a thorn in Gabriel’s side snatching his more famous clientele. But now it was clear. MDC was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl he’d been planning to threaten with a fashion world blacklist and accusations of falsifying her designs was his up and coming competitor. Gabriel swallowed thickly trying to think of how he could spin this situation in his favor now. Nathalie who was unaware that MDC was sitting in front of him could offer no help.

“Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng as I'm sure you are aware, I was once very much in the same situation as yourself, I built my own company from the ground up after I was done training with my own mentor. I could show you how a successful business is built up and run. And I could help you polish your designs.”

The girl nodded thoughtfully and pulled out a small notebook and pen scribbling down something he could not see. Gabriel ignored Nathalie’s looks of confusion and his own growing anger. This was not how he wanted things to go but knowing what he now knew he needed to play his cards carefully, perhaps he could get the girl to intern under him then wear her down until she became possible to akumatize? Yes, that might work! Marinette cleared her throat and Gabriel focused on her again.

“So you could give me an excellent perspective on building my own business and running it… I assume this means you have a plan to get your own business back from the brink of failure then?”

Gabriel choked. His eyes near bulging out of his head as his mind fought to comprehend what had just been said. Marinette for her part simply arched a well-maintained eyebrow in response.

“I do apologize if that was direct. It's just… Well looking at your sales numbers in recent seasons shows a continuing decline in sales, not to mention the number of celebrities seen wearing Gabriel originals has dropped significantly. I will not be interning on a sinking ship Monsieur Agreste surely you understand?”

A quick glance to Nathalie gave him a nod of confirmation that the young woman's words were true. He hadn’t even noticed…

“Of course I have a plan to increase sales. I have been taking a… Creative break. So to speak in order to properly mourn my wife and come up with fresh new ideas.”

It was a bald-faced lie that had crawled its way out of his throat and through his teeth. But it seemed to satisfy the young designer who scribbled a few more notes down before again returning her icy gaze to his face.

“I assume this plan also involves cleaning up the rampant abuse your company is known for then?”

“EXCUSE ME?!” It was Nathalie that time, her face pale and her eyes wide though Gabriel very much agreed with the sentiment.

“Oh? Your secretary was unaware? Hm.” The designer jotted something down continuing to speak as she wrote. “It’s well known in the world of fashion, you have mass turn over in your employee’s they complain that you don't take accusations of sexual assault seriously, that your harsh and overly demanding on your employee’s, that you foster an environment in which abusers and bullies can easily get their way. And that's not even touching on the rumors surrounding the pedophilia, sex scandals, and your abusive behavior toward your own son.”

At those words, Gabriel could take no more his chair let out a screech as he leaped up and slammed his hand down on his desk the loud bang ringing out through the room. To her credit, Marinette did not jump or flinch at the sudden noise. Nathalie however, did.

“That is quite enough Miss Dupain-Cheng! I will not have you coming into my home leveling such blatant and false accusations about my business and personal life!”

The young designer's eyes became impossibly icier and she stood calmly flipping her little notepad closed as she leveled Gabriel with a glare that sent ice into his spine and made him swallow. He swore the room temperature somehow went below zero yet he felt the need to remove his jacket, his body feeling impossibly hot and sweaty.

“In that case. I think I've seen everything I need to make my decision. Do not contact me again Monsieur Agreste I have no interest in maintaining any business relations with a man of your… Type.”

Her words were pure venom yet still he felt no anger coming from her, and now she was trying to leave all at once Gabriel found reality slapping him in the face. His Akuma, his glorious Akuma the one that would lead to his victory he NEEDED it. Nathalie as if reading his mind stepped in front of the door, blocking the young woman's path, Gabriel took a calming breath and fixed his tie. He needed to refocus on the task at hand, he had let the girl get to him but no more he would get the upper hand he WOULD get his Akuma.

“I am afraid we are not done here yet Miss Dupain-Cheng. You see we still have yet to discuss the REAL reason I called you here today.” He didn’t miss a beat, didn't give the girl time to interject. “You see one of my models. A Miss Lila Rossi, claims that you have stolen her designs from her. And having looked at your sketchbook I can now confirm her suspicions. I do wonder what your other potential mentors would think of you being a thief.”

It was a risky lie. Well… Not completely. Lila Rossi had tried to claim Marinette’s work as her own a few times before. Obviously Gabriel never believed the girl, but right now the Italians lie’s were ones he was willing to overlook if it got him what he wanted. And he was sure it was, as finally, the snappy icy Miss Dupain-Cheng was frozen, her expression hidden by her hair but her stiff body was trembling ever so slightly. Finally, Gabriel was back in control.

The girl's body trembled more and more and Gabriel briefly wondered if she was crying or shaking with rage but then he heard it... She was making an odd sound that was growing louder until Gabriel realized what it was… Marinette was laughing. It wasn’t a normal sort of laugh, rather it was a hollow dark sound the type of laugh that belonged to villains in cartoons the type of laugh that sent dread into a person's body, and all at once, the victorious smirk on Nathalie and Gabriel’s faces dropped as Marinette laughed louder and harder. When she finished she wiped tears from her eyes before she settled her icy glare back onto Gabriel a sinister smirk playing on her lips.

“Can I get that in writing Monsieur Agreste?” If she sounded venomous before she sounded downright deadly now. But Gabriel held himself tall and firm.

“This is not a joke Miss Dupain-Cheng. I will not tolerate you stealing from my company.”

“Oh, I am being serious Monsieur Agreste. Do you think this is the first time Rossi has tried to play this game with me?” She scoffed. “Please. I have grown used to her childish ways. Last time I sent my lawyer with a cease and desist order to her house. But if you believe your little ‘muse’ so much then it seems I will need to hit her a little harder to make my message crystal clear. I don’t have much tolerance for liars, Monsieur Agreste least of all little gold-digging ones.”

“M-My muse?” Gabriel suddenly felt a part of his stomach drop. Something about what was just said was clearly very wrong.

“Yes. Your ‘muse’ that's what Lila has been calling herself since she began working for you two years ago. Where do you think the rumors of pedophilia came from Monsieur Agreste?” He choked, but she only hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should be more careful who you hire. Especially considering how she sexually assaults your son. But you already knew about THAT and didn’t fire her. So perhaps she really IS your ‘muse’ then.”

Gabriel could hear the unspoken threat in her words daring him to push the issue and face her wrath and knew he was now playing a very dangerous game. He had known that Lila enjoyed hanging off his son and he had told her off about the wounds she left with her nails and that had stopped, but even after that Adrien had tried to speak with him a few times about Lila but he’d ignored it she was too useful as an ally, but now she may have ended up being his Trojan horse. And if the gleam in Marinette’s eyes and the dangerous smile on her lips was anything to go by the young designer knew it. Nathalie was looking paler the longer this went on. Gabriel knew he needed to save himself now, Akuma be damned he’d be useless to his wife if he lost everything before managing to bring her back.

He cleared his throat. “Now… Perhaps I have been a bit... Hasty? In my accusation of you Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was unaware of Miss Rossi’s dubious nature and words. Or her actions toward my son, perhaps you would consid-”

“How DARE you!” All at once, he was hit with the raw force of Marinette’s emotions, her hot boiling anger overcoming him and knocking out his breath. But just as swift as it came the wall of ice consumed them sealing it away once more. “You have a lot of nerve pretending you knew nothing, Monsieur Agreste. When I know for a fact your son and several of your employees have come to you begging and pleading to be listened to. So either you are lying to my face or you really are just that much of a pathetic excuse for a ‘father’.”

He sputtered trying to defend himself, even Nathalie could no longer stand by stepping forward to try and help his defense.

“Oh please. You are a JOKE, Monsieur Agreste. As Adrien’s close friend I know very well the kind of father- no the kind of MAN you are. You are a cold, abusive, manipulative, worm. You ignore your son, neglect him, and treat him as no more than a mannequin for your clothes. The only reason your business hasn’t gone under yet is because you whore your own son out banking on his popularity to keep yourself afloat.”

Gabriel felt anger and a rare sense of shame rush him all at once as he desperately choked out a reply determined to defend himself. Nathalie stepped forward readying herself to help him but he managed to get out his reply before she needed to offer her help.

“I-I am doing no such thing! I love my son and would never allow any harm to come to him!”

Marinette seemed completely unconvinced. Humming thoughtfully she tilted her head to the side locking Gabriel in her cold gaze.

“In that case perhaps you could tell me what you got him for his last birthday? Here’s a hint he didn’t even get a cake or a happy birthday from you.”

Gabriel stuttered stunned that he was being challenged in such a way he glanced to Nathalie looking to her for help but Marinette stepped in the way blocking his view.

“No? Too hard for you? Then perhaps you could tell me when you last had dinner with him?” Nothing. “Hm. Ok, what about when you last spoke with him about something besides his classes, his job, or his extracurriculars?” Nothing. “Oh, then what's your son's favorite food? Or color? What does he want to do when he’s finally 18 and free from you? Does he want to go to college? Does he even LIKE wearing your tacky awful clothing?” Silence. “Nothing huh… Here il go real easy on you. When was the last time you gave your son a hug?” Gabriel stuttered but he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know. “The last hug YOU gave him was several years ago. When I won your bowler hat competition. You haven’t even touched your own son in years, yet you have the nerve to claim you love him? That you seek to protect him? That you would NEVER have let Lila Rossi molest him near constantly had you simply ‘known’ about it.” She crossed her arms. “I am. Unconvinced. Monsieur Agreste.”

Each word was a pointed blade aiming for Gabriel, cutting him down smaller and smaller until he felt like an insect under the young girl's gaze. Yet she offered him no mercy only staring him down as if he were the scum of the earth. And right now, he felt like he very well might be. Nathalie who had been at the ready finally stepped in leveling Marinette with an icy glare of her own, though compared to the designers it was more lukewarm than anything.

“Monsieur Agreste is a very busy businessman, who has been mourning the loss of his wife!”

Marinette scoffed her icy blue eyes roaming up and down his assistant while her face morphed into a look of disgust.

“Of course YOU would defend him Miss Sancoeur. After all, you are complicit in Adrien’s abuse. Feeding him the equivalent of table scraps so he can stay the perfect malnourished model that you both need to fill your bank accounts with cash. And that is not even broaching on the fact that Adrien is quite sure you share his father's bed when you think he's not looking. After all POOR Monsieur Agreste needs some kind of warmth to ‘mourn’ his wife with while he leaves his son to become more and more emotionally damaged.”

It was Nathalie’s turn to be left a gaping, her face impossibly red with shame at the blatant accusation. In fact, neither Nathalie nor Gabriel knew how to defend themselves now. This was so far from how they had foreseen this interview going that they had nothing left with which to defend themselves with. Marinette Dupain-Cheng however seemed far from finished in fact she seemed like she was just getting warmed up.

“Listen Monsieur Agreste, I once admired your work but I now have no choice but to agree with Madame Bourgeois, you have let the death of your wife sour you into a rotten waste of a man, your designs are lackluster, cold and only look good on mannequins, your business is failing, your employees hate you, your neglectful and abusive of the only family you have left, and your stupid enough to have threatened my future career on the lies of a gold digger. I came here today only because I am a close friend of your son who begged me to give you a chance in the hopes I could help salvage your failing company. But I cannot, and I will not work with a man who is as selfish and repulsive as you.”

Checking her watch Marinette let out an annoyed hum clearly she was not pleased with how long this interview had taken. Sidestepping Nathalie who was still struggling to find the words to defend herself. She made her way to the door pausing once her hand was on the handle.

“Oh and Monsieur Agreste. If you're still determined to call yourself a fashion designer… Then the least you could do is stop dressing yourself like a candy cane themed board game mascot, found at a cheap dollar store. It’s an insult to fashion, and I’d even go so far to say that Hawkmoth has made nicer looking Akuma’s and those look like discount cartoon villains from the ’80s. Now do have a good rest of your day. And look out for my lawyers, they will be coming around sometime soon.”

And with that, she was gone. Leaving Gabriel to slump into his seat and hold his head, while Nathalie shakily took the seat across from him that Marinette had just occupied. The secretary was heavily reconsidering her life choices, perhaps her sister had been right when she said Nathalie needed a nice long vacation away somewhere sunny and warm and far from Gabriel to re-evaluate her priorities.

Gabriel however was re-evaluating his life in a much different way as everything that the young woman threw at him sunk into his head. He believed himself a practical man yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had utterly disassembled his plan, his life, and his actions leaving him feeling like a schoolyard bully who’d just been put in time out by the teacher. He believed himself a realist, yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been the one to rip the wool from his eyes and force him to face the ugly reality that he ignored, his business was collapsing, his employees were either jumping ship or were utterly convinced they could get away with blatant abuse, his wife had been comatose for years, his son quite possibly hated him and when he graduated would take his leave destroying the only thing that left his business a fighting chance, and to top it all off he was wearing RED PANTS.

Leaning back in his chair he stared at his ceiling in a hazy state of fleeting thoughts. All he could think was that it has been one hell of an interview.

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[sirenofthetimes]

Every Proposal on Gilmore Girls Was Absolutely Unhinged

This show was rich in couples, swimming in conflict, and desperately lacking in healthy communication. Which made for some batshit marriage proposals! Let's go:

Christopher to Lorelai in Season 1 ep. 15: Christopher Returns

In Christopher's first appearance on the show, he rocks up to Stars Hollow on his motorcycle at the end of the previous episode, out of the blue, and in this one archetypes are made clear: he establishes himself as the irresponsible deadbeat single dad to Lorelai's hardworking, mature yet still fun single mom. They have a weird dinner with everyone's parents where his parents, Straub and Francine, are shown to be even more uptight and awful than Richard and Emily can be. A lot of fighting and yelling and relitigating past choices ensues. Then Lorelai and Christopher go off to have emotional, nostalgic sex on her childhood balcony, and off the strength of that, he walks into her kitchen the next morning and blurts out that he wants to marry her so they can be a "real family". They barely see each other. They know hardly anything about each other's current lives. This is the first time he's visited the town they've been living in since Rory was a child and yet. A marriage proposal. Naturally, she turns him down, but we have not heard the last of Christopher Hayden.

Max to Lorelai in Season 1 ep. 21: Love, Daisies and Troubadours

This relationship was used mostly to discuss Lorelai's commitment issues, the difficulties of dating as a single mom, and have her fight allegations of her being promiscuous (which are not true, she can be very sexually conservative) by having her do something risky like try to date one of her daughter's teachers at the stuffy private school that also exists in her parents' world. So despite them having okay chemistry, they haven't really dated much and broke up after two months before getting back together shortly before the night of the proposal. Max comes by the house to pick Lorelai up and finds Luke there getting his toolbox and relaying the news that Rachel broke up with him (because she has a basic level of intuition and picked up on his feelings for Lorelai). Max and Luke have a very cringy dick measuring contest, Max (in possession of similar intuition) assumes Luke and Lorelai dated at some point but it's not season 5 yet so she's not legally allowed to admit she's into Luke. They argue, Max expresses frustration that their relationship can never seem to get off the ground, and what does he propose as a solution? Yoking their lives together in blessed matrimony. Lorelai is justifiably frustrated and tells him that's not how you propose, that a proposal is supposed to be special and grand. She lists "a thousand yellow daisies" as an example how to truly pop the question and the next day Max arranges for that famous logistical nightmare romantic gesture at the inn, then says some flowery bullshit on the phone and because it's the season finale and emotions are high, Lorelai accepts. Though later, right after her bachelorette party, she runs away and calls off the wedding. They meet a couple more times for closure, and then the relationship is truly dead.

Jackson to Sookie in Season 2 ep 13: A-Tisket A-Tasket

Sookie and Jackson's budding relationship has actually been pretty nice to watch up until this point. They have a fun balance between awkward but cute flirting and comical bickering about produce. But there's something in the area's water supply that makes people unable to clearly express their wants and needs in a romantic relationship so when Sookie doesn't respond how Jackson wanted her to to him saying his lease was up and asking her what she thought, he sulks. The sulking manifests itself in him not bidding on Sookie's basket at the bid a basket auction so she confronts him to see what's up and they actually manage to have a decent conversation about what moving in together would mean. And that could've been a nice ending for that storyline. But shacking up together? Out of wedlock? Impossible. So at their picnic for two, Jackson fakes Sookie out and says he doesn't want to talk about moving in together any more... because he thinks they should get married. Sookie, reeling from that whiplash, accepts, and since the rules of TV beta couples states they must move faster than the main will-they-won't-they couple at all times, they get married, stay married, and continue struggling to effectively talk through big life decisions,with some admittedly nice moments in between.

Lorelai to Luke in Season 5 ep 22: A House is Not a Home and Season 6 ep 1: New and Improved Lorelai

Lorelai and Luke are in kind of a weird place at the moment, with Luke upset with Lorelai for considering selling the Dragonfly to a corporation owned by one of her father's contacts, which would have her traveling and consulting instead. While she's not too serious about it, she's enjoying being courted by the company, but this is in complete disregard for the giant house Luke bought without telling her or the kids he's thinking about having that he also hasn't discussed with her so it's causing problems. This is forgotten however with the news that Rory wants to take time off from Yale after receiving some rare negative feedback, and that Richard and Emily are letting her stay with them after just telling Lorelai they would help her force Rory back into Yale. So when Lorelai walks into the diner lamenting the fact that Rory is making a decision independent from the vision Lorelai had for her life, and Luke comes forth with a nonsensical plan to, again, force Rory back to Yale, Lorelai is touched that she finally has someone on her side. And since she's a veteran of the season finale marriage proposal, she celebrates having her partner agree with her by asking him to marry her. He accepts in the next season's premiere with no hesitation, but eventually their tendency to hide things from each other to not ruin their relationship.... ruins their relationship. Shocking.

Zack to Lane in Season 6 ep 16: Bridesmaids Revisited

Zack is on a bit of a redemption tour after ruining Hep Alien's showcase in front of a major label by throwing a tantrum about Brian potentially writing a song for Lane. This random burst of jealousy sends him on a power trip that has him throwing out their set list and screaming at his band mates until a fight breaks out and the band and him and Lane split up. But when he sees Lane in the music shop some time later putting up a flier advertising her drumming services to other bands, the thought of her daring to potentially continue living her life without him spurs Zach into action. He convinces Brian and Gil to get the band back together and they're in if Lane's in. And his way of getting Lane back is to walk into Luke's while she's working, go off on some tangent about how he doesn't feel good, and propose in front of a huge crowd of gossipy small town people. Lane must have smacked her head on some antique furniture that day because although she at least stops to ask if he's thought about this, when he presents her with the pawn shop ring he got that "belonged to like an Elk or a Moose or something", she accepts and walks right into marriage and babies land and right out of development that would make sense for her character or be interesting.

Christopher to Lorelai in Season 7 ep. 7: French Twist

Ever since Lorelai walked out of her fraught engagement with Luke and into Christopher's bed, he has taken the reality of a woman coping with feelings of rejection by hooking up with the man she keeps stashed in the background for occasions such as these, and spun it into an elaborate romantic tale of two star crossed loves who waited their whole lives to be together. And when Sherry who, guided by the hands of karma, previously abandoned Gigi leaving Christopher to raise her on his own, writes a letter saying she's totally fine now trust her and wants Gigi to spend a few months with her in Paris, Christopher invites Lorelai along for a big romantic gesture trip. They spend most of it jetlagged, but Christopher remembers he's super rich now (as opposed to just being regular rich like before) and he bribes a restaurant to open early for the two of them. Lorelai, basking in the romance™ of it all, confesses her love, and Christopher pounces on that and starts in on a whole speech. Basically, even though he said he'd be willing to wait for Lorelai to fall in line with his vision, he doesn't feel like waiting any more. Lorelai, sensing where this is going, suggests they wait, as they've only been really dating for a couple of months. She also brings up Rory, figuring she'd want to be up to date and present any big changes. But Christopher waves those perfectly valid concerns away, stresses how long they've known each other, insists that they're meant to be, and fate has brought them together. And then comes out with it and asks her to marry him. Which are very intense words for Lorelai, an emotionally vulnerable woman who just broke off an engagement because her fiancé seemed overly hesitant to actually get married, to hear. We don't see her accept, but there's a scene of them returning home where he calls her "Mrs. Hayden" (as if she would ever change her name), and their marriage immediately began to fall apart like wet tissue paper.

Logan to Rory in Season 7 ep. 21: Unto the Breach

It's the end of Rory's time at Yale, and on the heels of her New York Times fellowship rejection, rejections from other newspapers across the country, and the fact that she rejected her one job offer for better things that did not come, Rory's future is wide open and unstable. On the other hand, Logan is completing his character transformation from irresponsible party animal trust fund kid to hardworking and responsible trust fund kid, accepting a job offer for an internet company in San Francisco. The question emerges: How will the young couple handle this next phase of their lives? And when Logan shows up at Lorelai's house in the previous episode, he comes with a solution. He wants to marry Rory and take her to California, and he wants Lorelai's blessing to propose. She gives it, though not without trepidation, and Logan does propose. In the middle of the graduation party Richard and Emily are throwing for Rory, he gets up in front of everyone and takes out the ring. Rory is caught completely off guard and takes him outside to talk about it, where he reveals that he got the job, picked out a house for them to rent, researched newspapers where she could apply to work, and even planned activities for them to do in their spare time. The original plan being that she would say yes to his proposal without knowing all this and walk blindly into her new, pre-arranged West Coast life. But Rory needs time to process the idea of marrying Logan immediately after college, and on the day of her graduation, she declines. Logan decides if he can't marry her, there's no point in being with her at all, and the two go their separate ways, to eventually meet again in a years long affair, for some reason. Though I barely acknowledge the revival.

Honestly, the only proposal that truly makes sense is Lorelai's to Luke in the revival but I won't discuss it here because a) again, the revival basically doesn't exist to me and b) they should've married during the original run of the show.

[by-nina]

Exchange

Artwork by @caesurables​​; do not repost.

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2021 | Day 1 – King’s gambit/Queen’s gambit Rating: M (light drinking, sexual content) Genre: Lemon Word Count: 3,230

A/N: Happy Royai Week, everyone! Welcome to the spiciest thing I've written so far, which marks the first time I'm starting Royai Week with smut. I hope this feeds you well. Special shoutout to Mica for adding life to this with the gorgeous art! 😍

Something stirs in her; on one hand, it would be easy to call it yearning. But on the other, nothing that concerns Roy Mustang has ever been easy. Riza has always equated these things with methodical moves and calculated risks.

And so, for once, Riza pictures herself playing her game not for Roy’s sake, but for hers. She imagines that the stakes are different, the rules may be broken, and the only person she has ever wanted is both her gamble and her prize. She could have it all now—she need only play her piece.

———

Roy Mustang was made for a night like this. Handsome, stylish dress uniform, hair slicked back like a frame around his striking facial features, an air of dignity in his walk, his posture, even his gaze. He wears it all so well that he stands out from older, more distinguished company in the East City Hotel, where tonight, the Eastern Army is holding an extravagant ball in recognition of its recently promoted officers.

Riza is present as well, of course. For the occasion, she has traded her usual military attire for a blue satin gown with a flatteringly slender silhouette. A sash pinned with the insignia of her rank hangs from her shoulder to her hip. Having gone up the stage much earlier in the program for her own recognition, she has now retreated to the far end of the room, from where she’s got a full view of Roy as he waits to be called in front of the crowd.

Her promotion from Second to First Lieutenant is nowhere near as significant as his becoming Colonel, but it is no less her night than his. Selfish though the thought may be, it’s true that Roy owes this night to her, every title and every honor conferred to him. In every aspect of his life, she has made a crucial choice that allowed him to take a step in the right direction towards their goals—his goals that she has chosen to make her own.

“For the rank of Colonel, Roy Mustang…”

It was Riza’s choice to join him in the military, and it was this choice that has kept him on his path and his eyes on these goals. She has been devoted to his success just as much as to her act of atonement, but she was not subservient to either. Roy also carries with him the burden of their sins in Ishval. Her responsibility over his atonement means that she has more power than a subordinate would normally have under their superior. Anyone could be a dutiful subordinate or competent bodyguard, after all, but only she could be trusted with his life as well as his death.

“… the formidable Flame Alchemist…”

And it was her choice to reveal the secrets of flame alchemy, entrusted to her by her father, that first set him on the path towards his goals for the people and the country in the first place. Had she not trusted him, Roy would have searched further and longer for some other practice of alchemy. Had Riza chosen to die with her father’s secrets, Roy might not have come anywhere near who he is now.

“… and Hero of Ishval.”

Every choice she has made in their intertwined lives has determined the course of his, even when he should have been none of her concern. This was especially true in Ishval. She could have pulled the trigger at any time when she despised him most. She could have reversed the choice that brought him to Ishval. Riza chose instead to be an ally—a friend in a war where every other sense of humanity seemed to have been lost.

The Hero of Ishval was made through her actions; as was the Flame Alchemist; as was this shiny new Colonel Roy Mustang. As he is introduced by Lieutenant General Grumman, he takes his place at the center of the ballroom stage, and his titles and promotion seem all the more impressive due to the fact that he is the only new Colonel being recognized tonight. The crowd erupts in a reverent applause which Riza does not join in.

In different circumstances, if it weren’t for the very cards they have been dealt, tonight could have truly been happy, a cause for celebration. But their plans continue forming and unfolding; this game on which they have staked their lives does not pause. And so Riza watches him as she drinks her champagne, quietly imagining the steps they ought to take next, the moves they must plan, the sacrifices she must make in this gambit where she is both player and piece and he is the king set to take it all.

Her life is a game which she plays for Roy Mustang to win.

When his moment passes and the ceremony moves on, Roy descends from the stage, searching through the crowd for Riza. He finds her and meets her gaze across the room, and for a moment she wavers in her train of thought. She is familiar with this feeling. She has felt its pull before, but never this strongly, never with enough clarity so as to explicitly name him its object. How could she possibly feel it towards someone for whose sake she has forgotten her own needs and her own desires? How could she not be indifferent instead?

Riza leaves her champagne on a nearby table and turns in the opposite direction to walk off its effects. The party thankfully offers plenty enough distraction from the drink and from Roy. She meets a few colleagues here and there, makes small talk, and when she loses sight of Roy, she’s certain that he has been intercepted by people wishing to congratulate him or rub elbows with him for his prodigious rise through the ranks. She soon manages to extricate herself from the crowd and disappear from the ballroom.

———

“You should be celebrating tonight, Lieutenant.”

Riza knows that Roy has found her before he even speaks. She didn’t think that he would. She had wandered around the hotel until she found herself in distant, unfamiliar hallways decorated with beautiful artwork that she could admire until her intoxication had worn off enough to safely drive home. But there is no mistaking the sound of his footsteps or the scent of his perfume tinged with the liquor from the party. Part of her wants to disappear again, but his proximity in an otherwise deserted place seems to further slow down her currently unreliable reflexes.

Riza smiles dryly. “Does it matter if we received our actual promotions a week ago? We all know this is just an excuse to flatter ourselves and have a good time without spending our own money.” Roy smirks as she shakes her head. “Either way, I think I'll enjoy the party much better here, away from the crowd. But you're everyone's darling for the evening. They'll be wanting you back."

Roy sighs and rubs the side of his head, as if the very thought tires him. "I see enough of them at work. And there's going to be more of them around now, especially when we get transferred to Central. This night isn't about them."

The mention of Central causes Riza to bristle with alertness. She whips her head around to ascertain that the hallway is deserted. Behind her, she finds an intricately carved double door, and she quickly strides across the hallway to it. To her surprise, it is unlocked; the room beyond it appears to be dark and deserted. Riza shoots a glance at Roy as she enters. He swiftly follows.

Riza spots a nearby floor lamp just before she locks the door. For a moment, the room is pitch black, then Riza switches on the lamp. Its warm glow is just enough for her to make out Roy’s face and the silhouettes of the furniture in the room. They seem to have found themselves in a lavish parlour with a high-backed sofa and matching armchairs, a handsome tea table for two, a fireplace carved from white marble, and a vintage piano.

“I see you’re already making plans for proceeding to Central,” Riza begins. “We should be more careful about discussing them from now on, Colonel. Everyone has their eyes on you.”

Roy stares at her questioningly. Then, a small laugh breaks through his expression, and he shakes his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come looking for you to talk about our plans.”

She frowns. “What is it, then?”

“It’s just like I said. You should be celebrating tonight.” He draws what sounds like both a nervous breath and a laugh. “It wouldn’t have been right to enjoy the party without you. You’re the reason we’ve both come this far.” He pauses, and then his voice turns softer than before. There is no trace of a smile left in it or on his face. “I know you know that, Lieutenant.”

In the soft light, Roy’s face appears flushed, his features softer than they were when she watched him back at the ballroom. Riza doesn’t realize just how close he is until the scent of champagne on her is lost to his raspberry wine. Something stirs in her; on one hand, it would be easy to call it yearning. But on the other, nothing that concerns Roy Mustang has ever been easy. Riza has always equated these things with methodical moves and calculated risks.

And so, for once, Riza pictures herself playing her game not for Roy’s sake, but for hers. She imagines that the stakes are different, the rules may be broken, and the only person she has ever wanted is both her gamble and her prize. She could have it all now—she need only play her piece.

But never in any of their plans or her own did she consider this a possible outcome, that Roy Mustang would be kissing her with one gentle hand on her face and another on her waist, or that the warmth of his body could be such a welcome comfort. He kisses her as if he has known for a long time just how closely he would need to lean in, how to tilt his head to the correct angle so that the curve of his lips would fit perfectly with hers. Riza senses this not because of unrestrained passion—on the contrary, Roy is perfectly still. The kiss is tender, but the rest of him is tense, as if it’s the only thing holding him together now. Or as if it’s the only thing he has held out for all this time.

Roy breaks away from her slowly, and it’s Riza whose heart is thundering in her chest. Perhaps, had the game been hers alone to play, it wouldn’t have led them so far so soon. Had it been she to approach him first, they might have only teetered over their fragile lines and not fully crossed to a point of no return. But Roy has taken her by surprise where the playing field has always seemed to be even between them. This, she cannot accept—she has never made a gamble that she did not see through. This will not change now.

She will play her game on her own terms.

Riza flings her arms over Roy’s shoulders as she kisses him, one hand running through his hair and undoing it back to the style she knows and likes best on him. It makes her want more—thank heavens that he realizes it right away. He responds so ardently that they stumble, so he steers her until she falls back against the piano and dissonant notes blare over their sighs. His hand runs down her side, over her hip and into the slit of her blue dress, where he reaches under her thigh and lifts it up against his leg.

But Riza refuses to give in so easily. She trails her hand down his front, all the way down to where he has started to turn hard. A gasp escapes him when she wraps her fingers around his erection and tugs at it. It gives her an opportunity to push back and reverse their positions so he is seated on the piano—it clangs unpleasantly again—and she is leaning over him as she makes short work of his jacket and his shirt to kiss his chest. The further down Riza drags her lips, the less familiar she is with the territory she is exploring, but she goes on until she brushes against that warm, rough outline. Riza tugs his trousers down, and when he springs free of his clothing, she takes Roy into her mouth.

He is exactly how she wants him right now, inelegant and vulnerable with his head hanging all the way back. Riza starts off slowly, but she is eager to figure out whether she can get him to unravel more quickly with her lips running back and forth along the length of him, or with her fingers massaging the base which her mouth cannot reach. His pleasure seems to build unhurriedly until she twists her tongue around, making him throb and moan quaveringly. She becomes hungry to hear more of him and picks up the pace, never mind that the effort is choking her. Roy grips her hair until it falls out of its pins, ultimately coming loose down her back. She goes, and goes, and she thinks he might be close, but then—

But then Roy pulls her up so he could kiss her, and Riza sighs in pleasure, and it isn’t enough for her just to watch him unravel anymore. She falls into him in a blissful, drunken haze, allowing him to kiss and caress her and unzip her dress. She could burst into flames at every part of her that he touches, even the scars that he had left on her back when their game was at its deadliest. He begins rubbing her between her legs, and there it hardly matters whether his touch flutters over her skin like candlelight or pushes as suddenly as lightning—the sensation just builds and builds, like a storm stirring up the sea.

How could he know so well what to do with her, how to give her just enough and yet leave her wanting more without ever having explored her this way before? The question is quickly lost in Riza’s mind as he finds other ways to arouse her. Now, he’s pulling the top of her dress down, switching positions with her again, alternating between kissing her lips and her breasts. It’s easy to follow him where he goes when he’s leading her through a dazzling trance, easier than it has ever been to follow him in any other way.

The storm slows only once as Roy’s lips brush against her ear with a stammering plea. “Do you want me to—can I keep going?”

Riza hardly recognizes the sound of her own voice when she gasps, “Please.”

Slowly, carefully, he enters her, with her dress hiked up above her hips. Despite the mild ache that comes with it at first, it feels better than anything she could have planned or imagined. Riza is shaking now. She buries her face in Roy’s neck and moans there, where only he can hear her, and she feels his excitement growing at the sound of it. He begins to thrust into her—clang, clang, clang, goes the piano—first at an even pace, which helps ease away her initial discomfort. When the tension disappears from her shoulders, she finds herself swaying against him hungrily. He varies from going exhilaratingly fast to tantalizingly slow—clang, clang, clang!—and at some point, she whimpers—

“Roy—"

It seems to awaken something feral in him. Everything he does with her is greedy now, from his kisses running clumsily from her neck to her lips and back, to his hands grabbing at every part of her that he can reach—and although she likes him like this, unhinged and at the same time in complete control, it makes her want to give him more than she is getting.

Riza pushes herself off the piano and into Roy, and he is more than willing to let her drive him down to the floor. There, she pulls at his hair as she kisses him, then shifts slightly so he can kiss her chest while she slowly sinks down and allows him back into her. Their rhythm is easier to find this time. She starts off at a pace that builds up the heat in her body just right, then later allows his hands and hips to guide her with more fervor and intent. Soon, the pleasure is just too close for her to wait any longer, and they are both overcome with an aching desperation—

“Roy”—she pleads, groans—“oh—"

“Riza—ahh—fuck—”

 “Don’t stop, don’t stop—"

Roy climbs over her, snaking his arms around her to grab at her chest, and he enters her from behind without breaking their rhythm, thrusting vigorously until and throughout her release. The rush, the bliss, the high is simply unthinkable—Riza presses her forehead down and bites her own hand hard to keep herself from screaming. She sinks into an ungraceful sprawl on the floor, drenched in sweat and tremors and Roy’s weight all over her body, but also as feeling if she were made purely of her sensations, with no physical body at all.

A moment passes, or two, or an eternity before she turns to lie on her back. Roy has collapsed next to her and entangled with her, so he adjusts to make way for her. She then finds herself looking up at him; Roy is leaning over her, seeming like an entirely different person with his gentle gaze, his tousled hair, his clothes only barely clinging to his body. His clothes—a reminder of who he is, and therefore, the gravity of what they have just done.

The high subsides almost as quickly as it came over her.

The room is piercingly silent as they scramble back to their feet and several meters away from each other. They keep their backs turned as they smooth their clothes back onto themselves and comb their hair into some normal, unquestionable style. Riza’s senses settle back into rationality at last. This was not a different way to play their old game. This was a temporary escape, a rare exception to her life’s unwavering rules.

“Riza.”

It’s unsettling how he says her name as if it were what he normally calls her, so she does not respond. Surely, he understands that what has just transpired between them must remain in the past, in favor of the reality that they left outside the door. Surely, he knows as well as she does that that reality has already resumed before they have even left the room.

He calls her name again. Riza, again, refuses to acknowledge him.

“Lieutenant.”

Her resolve wavers for only a moment. Riza knows exactly what he is doing. She knows her own excuse for this lapse in judgment—she knows how to keep it from happening ever again. But she can tell by his current insistence and his earlier passion that he doesn’t consider this a mistake like she does. This is, after all, exactly how he plays the game—head on, without hesitation. Roy has broken the rules more thoroughly than she has. He would have done so without her instigation. He has made perfectly clear the gamble that he is willing to make for her.

Riza turns, brushing past Roy and out of the room without so much as looking at him—leaving him behind the door, leaving as much of her selfish desires as she can possibly let go of—because she knows she must keep him from gambling everything away.