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avelera · 11 months

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Authority and the Urge: Morality and Redemption in Baldur's Gate 3

Theme 1: Domination vs. Freedom as an Alternative Moral Axis to Evil vs. Good

One thing that makes Baldur's Gate such a pleasure to play is that the writing team had such a clear understanding of their themes. Good and evil are not the clean-cut alignments of the D&D world. Rather, they reimagined good vs. evil along more subtle lines of domination and control vs. personal freedom and healing. For the most part, they are remarkably consistent without being preachy, which is no mean feat. Nor do they say you can't dabble in the morally ambiguous, indeed, all the Companions have dabbled in the morally gray and you are invited to draw your own line as to what behavior you find acceptable for them. Even Wyll and Karlach, the most morally upstanding, have made deals with devils for the greater good, and been press-ganged against their will into fighting for an evil tyrant. You are given the choice to say there is no redemption for even these unwilling moments of moral impurity, if you so choose. You can reject Gale for not telling you about the Orb immediately. You can kill Astarion for being a vampire, which isn't his fault. You can criticize and reject Shadowheart for her Shar worship and thus never learn the full extent of how much it was not her choice to join in the first place. You can also urge companions like Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart to give in to their worst instincts and become true monsters, which brings me to the next important theme.

Theme 2: What is the Worth of a Single Life?

When speaking of themes in BG3, another major one is the power of one person to sway the path of others in their lives towards good or evil. One hand extended in friendship can draw Astarion back from a painful and self-destructive existence, the pursuit of power to insulate him from pain and harm that ultimately would lead him to perpetuate the cycle of abuse he suffered under. There are clear implications of how much the Companions life is changed by their encounter with the player character, in a really touching dynamic about the importance of one life to another, which also works as a game mechanic, imbuing your interactions as a player character with the satisfying power fantasy of being able to have social impact on your Companions as friends, loved ones, or (in an evil run) victims of your sadism. You can make or break them.

Which brings me, finally, to the Dark Urge. It's clear to my eyes that the Dark Urge was originally planned as The Custom Character path. What I imagine happened next, however, is that they realized that there were hard story beats in the Dark Urge's narrative, certain deaths for example, which would be supremely limiting and unsatisfying for many players, who would chafe against the lack of choice.

The Dark Urge is a fantastic novel character, since characters in a novel don't have to do what the reader would do, but video games with their interactive nature usually require a bit more freedom of choice for players to be satisfying. Obviously there are exceptions to this rule, but in general it's very challenging and rarely attempted in video games to put the player-controlled character into a situation where the player loses agency, where the character dies without player freedom to prevent it, makes choices contrary to what the player character would do in a game that otherwise offers choice, or that simply kills the player character without the option to avoid that fate. It can be done but it's very very tough, some of the biggest complaints leveled at RPGs like BG3 or Dragon Age games is when the narrative takes choice away or makes the character make choices, unavoidably, that players would not make or would fight to avoid if they could. They are often the center of the greatest fandom ire. So that's why I think the OC Tav with the blank backstory was created, for those who chafed at the lovely but restrictive narrative arc of the Dark Urge.

Mirrors of Morality: The Dark Urge's Redemption

I mention that I think the Dark Urge is fundamental to the core design of the game because their narrative path so nicely mirrors the other Companions. A blank-slate Tav is wonderful to work with, and very freeing, but you are left with the slightly hollow feeling of not having nearly the level of trauma or issues to work through that the Companions do. Your character has no past and few opportunities to form a coherent narrative that precedes the events of the tadpoling the way the others do. From a gameplay perspective this is of course nearly impossible to do otherwise, they can't anticipate every RP headcanon a player might run, but they can offer one with the Dark Urge who has the same sort of deep dichotomy and divide in their backstory that the others have.

That said, I completed an Evil Dark Urge run before I completed a good one, despite rolling two attempts at a good Dark Urge before stumbling onto an Evil Dark Urge that worked for me (an older drow matriarch, for those curious).

The reason I struggled was because I couldn't imagine a Good Dark Urge with agency in their prior life. My evil Dark Urge was a willing partner of Gortash and Thorm. One reason I made her older was because I imagined her as mature, worldly, cruel, sadistic, and completely on board with the plot. The amnesia was only a brief interruption to her plans, a distraction. Once she recalled enough of her life and previous goals to piece together her part in the Dead Three plot, she went right back into enacting it and, in the end, won, becoming the unquestioning ruler of a world of thralls in Bhaal's name. If anything, the dialogue options that implied that Bhaal was the one controlling her, or that she had done anything but make her own choices were almost insulting. This woman knew what she was doing, beginning to end, with the amnesia as only a minor interruption.

But this interpretation of the Dark Urge was based on the letter we find in the Dark Urge's point of view, where again, they show no unwillingness to be an agent of the Dead Three plot. Gortash's warm welcome further cemented the view in my mind: the Dark Urge knew what they were doing and was a willing evil participant.

So how, I wondered, can anyone justify a Good Dark Urge? Not saying it can't be done, but how?

The implications I found troubling at first were that anyone who was evil would become good if they were simply removed from their environment. It had a ring of a sort of natural innocence, a sort of "noble savage" worldview that all of us would tilt towards good if our minds were wiped clean. Optimistic in some ways, very dangerous in its implications in others. Then I realized it wasn't a statement. It was a question.

Theme 3: Nature vs. Nurture

I then realized that nature vs. nurture is actually everywhere in BG3 side plots. Another reinforcement of the fact the Dark Urge storyline is baked into the DNA of the story. You have the Githyanki egg plot, Baelen's memory loss making him a good but absentminded person (which can be undone if you give him noblestalk, when he reverts back to the cruel man he was), heck, even the owlbear cub can be given a loving home where he thrives. You are shown, over and over again, stories where you can choose and contribute to and ponder whether or not evil is a product of nature or nurture, in a way that's incredibly relevant to pondering the Dark Urge's path forward under amnesia. Was this Bhaalspawn evil by nature or by choice? It's very juicy stuff.

Furthermore: all of the companions actually offer ways to rationalize the Dark Urge and choose a path forward for them to fall back into evil or move forward into good. This is because the writers of BG3 are actually superb at thematic mirroring. Each Companion can be a mirror for one way to understand the Dark Urge, how they were evil in the past, and how they could choose to change.

Shadowheart: Indoctrinated into the cult of a cruel god from childhood, you grew up in a world where the only moral compass you had was utterly controlled by those around you. You never knew a different world than the cult of Shar/Bhaal. Now with your memory wiped, you have the option to listen to the voice deep down that says the cruelty demanded of you by the little you can remember feels wrong or even follow the good examples of your newfound Companions to see a different way to live. Maybe you always had goodness in you deep down, but the society you knew channeled you towards evil that you're only now free of, albeit with a past full of holes you're trying to fill in again.

Karlach: Maybe you were never a truly willing participant in the Bhaal cult. Incredibly skilled at killing, yes. Perhaps a bit morally flexible to get involved with figures like Gortash. But ultimately, when you were whisked out of the bloody war and world that you were immersed in by circumstance, you saw your chance to get your old life back from before the Bhaal cult and you took it. Baldur's Gate is your home. People like Karlach are the ones hurt by the actions of the Dead Three Plot that you might never have put a face to if you'd never been taken from that world. Now that you see the harm caused, now that you're free, you can finaly become your own person again after being a foot soldier for evil forces.

Lae'zel: You were a true believer in Bhaal's cult. You grew up worshipping your evil god. It's the only life you knew and the only life that gave you meaning. You were a willing participant but before now, you'd never known any other life. However, through exposure to other people, other cultures, other ways of life, you're beginning to see that there are ways to live outside your narrow life of indoctrination in violence. The final blow comes to this worldview when you learn that your beloved god is completely fine with your destruction. They allowed Orin to take your place. Bhaal/Vlaakith would see you destroy and enslave the world for their own glory and be perfectly happy to destroy you at the end of all your hard, devoted work. You did not sin against Bhaal by rebelling against the full horror of his cruelty and negligence towards you, rather, Bhaal has sinned against you.

Gale: You were the beloved Chosen of Bhaal. Coddled, cradled, told you were special and perfect and wonderful. Of course you happily participated in the Dead Three plot, you lived a charmed life as the elevated darling of your deity. But then something went wrong. You were cast out. You've awoken lesser than you were, your body betrays you, you've lost knowledge that once made you walk among mortals as a near-godly figure. And it seems like Bhaal/Mystra doesn't care, as you wander the wilderness. You're hurt. Betrayed. Tadpoled. Orin has taken your place so easily, just as Gale was cast aside so easily. You don't know what you did wrong. You're angry. Resentful. How dare Mystra/Bhaal cast you aside so easily? They offer you a solution to get back into their good graces which require a complete denial, a complete destruction of yourself - becoming Bhaal's chosen once more or blowing yourself up for redemption. Ultimately, the way forward is in choosing yourself and relying on your own cleverness, rather than being seduced back into their circle of influence.

Astarion: Bhaal was a cruel master to you who controlled your every move. That doesn't mean you were a nice person though, or you didn't enjoy murder. But now you are finally free of Bhaal/Cazador's immediate reach. They cannot fulfill their evil plot without you. You can destroy them now, undermine them, or replace them - fulfill the Dead Three plot in your own name. Or you can take this chance once finally outside their grasp to rediscover who you really are, what you want, all the while your hungers drive you towards continuing to take the lives of others. But perhaps the help of new friends can help you deny these urges and steer you towards being a new person. What that new, better person is, what they even look like, is unclear to you, you've never really had positive influences. But maybe you can find it together.

Wyll: You lived your own life before you ended up in Bhaal's plot, as Bhaal's chosen. But that life was stolen. Now, through circumstances beyond your control, you have disappointed your father. Is there a way to escape the reach of Bhaal's control, Bhaal's pact? Will you sacrifice your soul to redeem yourself in the eyes of your father?

Honorable Mention - Minthara: Tadpoled and controlled by the Absolute, you are now set on throwing down all old gods that once thought to control you. Maybe you'll take over the Dead Three plot in your own name. Maybe you'll just take pleasure in tearing it down for your own reasons. Either way, your gods have sinned against you, the cult of the Absolute controlled you, and now you are unleashed to take vengeance.

With the Dark Urge, any one of these paths can provide a map for how to imagine your life under Bhaal's cult. Any one can provide a map for how to make use of your newfound freedom and to justify becoming a better person and saving the world. Or choosing not to.

#bg3 #bg3 meta #the dark urge #this got long but oh well i had a lot of thoughts that kinda went together

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pendulum-sonata · 1 year

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10, 12 and 25 if you want to do the new ask game.

Oh hey there!

Gonna have to put this under read more because it got long :P

10.- Worst part of fanon

Man, this is tough choice, and I feel like depending on how the fandom behaves my feelings on which is the worst one changes periodically, but I have top 3 fanons that I hate, in no specific order:

The dimensional counterparts are as whole the protagonists of Arc V: I feel like I don't need to elaborate much on this, but I will anyway just because: Yuya is the protagonist, Yuzu is a deuteragonist and REIJI not anyone else is the Tritagonist, anyone who thinks any of the counterparts have some sort of claim over these spota just for being a counterparts earns an automatic eye roll from me, do me a favor and stop giving them credit for things that were done by Yuya or Yuzu.

Shun/Ruri/Yuto/anyone from the xyz dimension/resistance were the best or most badass characters!!: People who have followed me for a while know my stance on this, but yeah, no, not only this isn't true, like in the slightest, Yuto's saving grace was being absorbed by Yuya early on and as such deified by fandom, Ruri was ultimately used for Shun's brother manpain, and Shun who was arguibly the most "developed" had such a sloppy, contradictory and derailed development that people need to reshape him into another person to actually fit the image they have of him, no, I'm will neither elaborate or change my opinion, sorry, but also, not sorry.

Yuya is the worst YGO protagonist EVER!!!: No, this one pisses me off so much for how dumb it is, that I won't even try to rip it to shreds, because that would imply it's an actual argument and not just a hater statement. If you "like" Arc V but hate Yuya, then you didn't understand Arc V at all, period.

12.- The unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

REIJI, REIJI, REIJI, REIJI, REIJI, REIJI....

Seriously people it's so weird that people have had something against him since day 1, took at face value the antoganist mask he wore in order to keep his true intentions under wraps and called it a day when it came to his character, he's like the antithesis of Shun in the fandom, because not only will people straight up make up things to make him fit the distorted negative image they have of him, and more than a couple times I've found people actually crediting his acomplishments on Shun of all characters (like calling him yuya's rival, wtf??) which puzzles me so much, I even forget to be angry about it.

Why should more people like him? Um, because his character is the perfect foil/rival for Yuya? The rational to his emotion, the caution to his impulsiveness, the one with his feet on the ground to his dreams and ideals and a long etcetera, but they're also two boys who suffer from abandoment issues and the weight of expectations placed on them who were forced to grow up too soon and become friends through cooperation and mutual trust rather than some dick measuring contest.

Because he's refreshing take on a cliche character in the franchise, and the traits that would make him so get turned into true traits and flaws; he's a teenage genius alright, but he's still 16 so his ideals can still get in his way, he's callous and calculating and it makes Yuya antagonize him and distrust him, he's very guarded but he's also responsible and intensely protective of the people who work with him.

I could go on, but yeah, people should like him more, he deserves it.

25.- Common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

I was gonna rant about one, but after realizing I have too many and this post is already too long I'm just gonna put this list:

The ending is shitty (this includes 99% of the individual complains of it)

The Synchro arc is filller (this one is just a boring take at this point)

Sawatari should have won a duel (say it with me: winning duels does not equal character development)

Yuzu is useless after season 1 (...🙄)

The egao is like a cult (I seriously hope you never encounter a RL cult recruiter, you wouldn't recognize them tbh...)

x character should have been carded (no they shouldn't, shut up)

Ray is a mary sue/deus ex machina (...go sit in the corner and read what those are okay?)

Reira was fridged (Wtf???)

Reiji should have been evil and working with Leo (refer to my previous answer...)

They ruined [inser legacy character here] (you're legacy character is fine, chill)

Yusho is the worst dad evar!!! (Did you miss the other dad training child soldiers??)

Pendulum summon sucks (Again, did you even like Arc V?)

If you genuinely believe any of these, well, everyone is entitled to their opinions, but not only I don't wanna talk to you, if you shove it in my dash or the main tags constantly, you earn a free ticket to my block list.

#rose talks #my askbox #ask game #arc damn it #arc v #feel free to reblog #but complainers will be blocked freely

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goddamnwebcomics · 1 year

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Worst villains you've seen in webcomics?

It's surprisingly tough for me despite bad webcomic generally having bad characters.

For me it's not tough. Every villain I've tackled in this blog is either too likable to be a villain, too pathetic to be a villain, or just a generic villain who isn't interesting or cool in any way due to lack of a proper motivation. There really isn't a villain you love to hate or you feel enriches the story in any way, with very few exceptions.

Here is my Top 5 Worst Villains Ever

5. The Hosts (Gene Catlow)

I could've included various one-off villains like Horton or Evil Staggler here, but I feel like Hosts deserve this spot, because they were a clever and unique idea whose execution was completely and utterly botched. These invisible entities who eat the lifeforce of living creatures, especially cats due to their status in Gene Catlow World would've been absolutely terrifying, but they ended up becoming jokes. They ultimately didn't end up affecting the plot in any way, besides Horton killing them and resurrecting them as asskissers. The Hosts really should have been the main threat of the comic due to their nature, because they don't eat creatures for fun, but rather their own survival, and they should've also served as a reason for Gene and Matt to put their differences aside in order to fight them, but, they're all gone now.

4. The Infernomancer (Dominic Deegan)

I feel like The Infernomancer isn't a character. He is more like a plot device. When conflict, gore and death is needed, Infernomancer isn't too far behind. Outside of wanting to hunt down Miranda because Karnak demanded it, he doesn't have motives, any character, any backstory. He just wants to kill for the sake of killing, because this story needs an eldritch horror, when arguably, THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF MAGIC IN THIS UNIVERSE ALREADY IS ONE. Remember, magic is established to do random shit because it's magic, and just about anybody can learn it, and only few are just completely immune to it. Maybe The Infernomancer is an allegory for the dark side of magic which is why he doesn't have name either, but we have enough bad magicians in this comic already. He's just a generic edgelord in a comic full of edgelords, except this edgelord is powerful and keeps cheating death oooh so spooky! It's like Batman Who Laughs but even worse.

3. Trasik (Alien Dice)

As bland as Infernomancer is, Trasik is probably even worse. I guess I am only ranking her so low because she could've had potential to be a good antagonist but somehow Tiffany fucked up EVERYTHING about her. She is a mysterious woman who also happens to be the sister of Riley, and for whatever reason she wants to hunt Lexx down. We later learn her intense hatred of Lexx is because her father, Kade, was close friends with Lexx's mother, and this led to Trasik just deciding to become racist against rishans. However over the years she has somehow gained a child soldier ring that she actively runs, and also Lexx's mother and grandmother live in secrecy RIGHT NEXT DOOR from her and she somehow has never known this. And if that wasn't enough, she was replaced with a mimic by ADC at some point after they kidnapped Chel, because she didn't attend a wedding. Trasik's entire existence is a gigantic mess, and we don't know why she does the things she does, and if she is even real, and worse than that Riley and other siblings have no issue with her doing these corrupted things. More than anything Trasik should've served as Riley's puppet who took the blame for his shady acts, but this is not about "characters who should have been villains".

2. Dr. Demikhov (Spinnerette)

Spinnerette is horrible at creating political strawmen, not because they're strawmen but because they're not even good strawmen. General Generic is actually a surprisingly reasonable authority figure and thus loops back to being likable. However one character I feel is a waste of time is Dr. Demikhov. Demikhov is the Anti-Universe, he is a proud communist who is somehow in high position at the Russian Federation. However he doesn't really do anything communistic, he just speaks in technobabble with occassional communist word, and this triggers the shit out of Universe. He is also a moron who merged his two assistants together because he wanted to prove something. Spinny has had a lot of bad villains, but even ones like WereQuakko Sisters were entertaining enough because of their fucking ridiculous concepts, Demikhov is a blank slate. He really should've been an oligarch-funded scientist who only uses communist jargon to draw the interest of young people like Manya Sisters, when in actuality all of his science is loyal to the world view of Putin. Having a scientist paid by the state to control their narrative would make him a proper opposite to anti-authoritarian Universe and also would make this arc less of a waste of time. At least he's implied to have straight up died, so we'll likely never see him again.

1. Matt (Gene Catlow)

Yes, Matt is the worst villain in the history of Goddamnwebcomics. But that's not his fault, it's the fault of his surroundings. Due to how every character seems to always read his mind and always seems to judge him as an asshole despite the fact he has more realistic view of the world and he respects his peers, Matt comes across like an underdog. He also has been stripped off his powers and constantly backstabbed, whether it's his former lovers, the puppet he created, his tech support and even his bosses and mentor. Not even his girlfriend is loyal to him as she's more interested in creating the Dog Holocaust than actually make his vision of a cat-ruled world come true, which is implied to be inevitable. Anyone trying to step into Matt's shoes usually fucks up, like how Tane destroyed the family power, and rather than spend all his days hating Gene, he is willing to work with his enemies in exchange of a better life for them, because he knows World of Friends is dangerous. Matt is perfect in every single way as a character, so in order to make him a better villain, everything AROUND him needs to be improved first!

#article thingy

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zara-anthology · 4 months

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BRING IT ON

youtube

"Inferiority, superiority, BRING IT ON" - Vivid BAD SQUAD

BRING IT ON, also known as Rettou Joutou (劣等上等) is a song by Giga covered by Vivid BAD SQUAD, a fictional group of street musicians. Cover is sung by Azusawa Kohane and Shiraishi An, featuring the virtual singers Kagamine Rin and Kagamine Len. Above you will find a lyric video, though you can also read along with the lyrics by clicking "keep reading" below.

The song is about growing up, portraying themes of identity and independence. It begins by expressing a sense of frustration and disillusion, as the singers feel overwhelmed by the pressures of conformity. They are tired of living by society's rules and pretending to be someone they are not. The line "Even if I get busted, I have no pride" suggests that they have lost their sense of self-esteem and are ready for change. As the song progresses, the singers become determined to embrace their individuality and overcome the obstacles in their way ("Mommy, I don't want it to end here, after all"). They refuse to be confined by others' opinions and expectations. Throughout the song, the singers emphasize the importance of self-expression and being true to oneself. They acknowledge the difficulties they have faced in the past and the mistakes they have made ("Your past, sins, punishments, everything. With those bare hands, with love, survive and fix them!"). However, they vow to persevere and learn from their experiences to grow and succeed in life. Towards the end of the song, the singers reflect on the challenges they have overcome and the strength they have gained. They express a sense of resilience and determination, leaving behind their previous identity to become someone new.

Growing up is pretty tough. You're subjected to all these new things, and it may feel a bit scary and overwhelming at first. I know from experience that finding your place in society isn't easy either. The message of staying true to yourself is very relatable for me, as I find self-expression and personal growth to be the ultimate goal in order to live a happy life. I always strife to develop myself, whether it be my skills or my mindset, in order to find the best version of me I can be. What I have yet to learn and can take away as a lesson from the song, is to stay determined and don't give up when things get tough. If you're not able to persist through hard times, then you won't be able to learn from them. I will try to keep this in mind moving forward.

[lyrics]

Inferiority, superiority, BRING IT ON! The greatest island, sleepless Japan.

Mathematica is so childish. Even if I get busted, I have no pride. This pretense of elegance is setting off alarms, Simply observing is no fun. (It's boring)

Hey, bring on a more superior mistake And deal with your boredom.

Mommy, I don't want it to end here, after all. It's so tepid, it's making me go crazy. Goodbye to this child's play drama. You know, I can't stay like this forever.

Dun-dun-dun, I'm going to become an adult And taste the bitterness of the world, now. Pan-pan-pan, times have changed. It's not just filled with bad things, right? Your past, sins, punishments, everything With those bare hands, with love, survive and fix them!

We're stirring things up Don't pay attention to that green girl all the time. Now, burn up! When you do, you'll pass. It's marked with a red pen. Did I make a mistake somewhere? Conformity when dealing with alcohol, women, money, and drugs. Chill aiight… It was a joke, black comedy!

Situations that make me lift my middle finger It happens too frequently, there aren't enough fingers, so hands up And what's up, loser? Bring it on from the start!

I don't need to hear "calm down." Before I die, what I want is to grow taller And blow a kiss to my hometown. The highlight of the show is from here on out, so get ready!

Dan-dan-dan, we'll become adults And with our eye on the counter, We'll shoot our worst days with vigilant hostility. No one can see the future, so it's still a draw, right? Bugs, losses, slip-ups, everything. With your bare hands, struggle! Live through and overturn your situation.

I can't surrender to merely worthless things. Get it? That's my aesthetic. This foolishly honest fist is my one (wholehearted) trump card (simple honesty). Shouting this inferiority, "I'm out!", "Farewell!"

We're not gonna quit!

Dun-dun-dun, I'm going to become an adult And taste the bitterness and sweetness of the world, now. A bright future where we cross paths again. You understand I'm not a child any longer, right? Epochs and opportunities won't wait around for me. With your bare hands, at the risk of your life, survive and bring it on!

It's the era of love! Well then, everyone. We'll leave first. Bye, guys!

#bring it on #coming of age #Youtube

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masongrizchel · 8 months

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To my past, present, and future students.

Dear young ladies and gentlemen,

There are some things that we feel very strongly about becoming teachers that I want to share with you. After all, you are the most important person in this classroom, within the four corners of this room. Only with your help will we be successful in both different and the same way. You all are the reason why we are here, discussing—though you're not listening, doing some activities—though you are sleeping, taking exams, and that defines or imposes the actual classroom scenario. I am not requiring you to memorize everything I've said. But if you can get a feel for what it is that I am trying to do as your teacher, then I know we can be successful on your behalf.

After you read this, I believe you will understand more about what a teacher is and why I am a teacher. You have a right to know about how and why I teach, as well as what I expect and why. It is entirely likely that you are here because education is compulsory—you are required to be here. However, I am here by choice. I decided to become a teacher because I wanted to work with young people and build them into tough, competent, and productive people. All of you and I both know that only the brave and daring would do something like that! I chose to teach! I am here because I want to be here. We must make our time together worthwhile. To do so, I will need your help. There is so much to share and so little time. And all too frequent are the distractions and interruptions, but it’s only natural; you are all humans. Let’s keep busy and spend wisely with the little time we are given. Let’s make every second count.

Our worst enemies are ignorance, indifference, and apathy. Learning is not something that is done by someone else to you or for you. Learning is not a spectator sport. It is very hard to determine what is important for you to learn and what is necessary for me to teach. Just like a tiny child must first learn to walk and then run, so too are some things that seem unimportant at the time but are critical to your development as a person. Knowing that it is difficult, I promise to ask, 'What am I teaching? Is it something worth our investment in time? Is it worth knowing? ’ Help me ask, ‘Is this worth knowing? ’ I insist that you learn the content and the application of the lesson in our subject matter. I want you to grow. But it is equally important to me that you depart feeling like a real human being, knowing that you’ve developed critical thinking skills that can be nurtured for the rest of your life. The most useful thing about learning is having learned how to learn. I repeat, learn how to learn. Learn within yourselves for the rest of your lives and how to be.

It is you who must make a commitment to learn. The ultimate responsibility for learning is yours. No one can do it for you. Learning is like breathing—you’ve got to do it on your own. Thinking is not something that you should ever rely on anyone else to do for you. In this classroom, we live by what can be called the principle of habeas mentem, the right of each individual to his own mind. You have a right to your own mind. I have a right to insist that you use it. You are just as capable as anyone else! You can accomplish academically what you decide to accomplish. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

Give learning a chance, will you? Someone once said something that I very much agree with: The mind must be consulted in its own development. I pledge to work with you in your continuing development as a human being. Leave yourself open to consultation.

These are difficult times. We both know that. But I want you to know that I know how difficult it is to grow up in today’s world. Just tune in to the nightly news any evening, and you know what I mean. The world is pretty complex these days. And your generation is having a harder time of things than perhaps any other generation in modern times. I know it. You feel it. I can do very little to change the national or world situation, and I can’t do much about your home environment. In those matters, I have little control. But in our classroom, I can make all the difference in the world! That is, with your help, I can. We can do a great deal together to help one another out. Let’s be there for one another; let’s lend a hand.

Every person is unique. Represented here are individuals of virtually every nationality, race, creed, ethnicity, and political persuasion. And that is good! Each of us is an important part of the beautiful heterogeneous mixture of different cultures and historical contexts. Each of us can take pride in what we are and who we are. Your roots are good roots, just as good as anyone else’s. They don’t make bad ones. But it’s good to make absolutely sure that your roots are planted in rich soil. Rich soil makes for stronger roots.

Be proud, inside and out! Although I will not always succeed, I will always attempt to let fairness and concern for the dignity of each human being influence my behavior in the classroom as your teacher. What makes a class a good class is the sense of equal belonging. I believe in equality of responsibility just as much as I believe in equality and equity in educational opportunity.

You get out of life exactly what you put into it. No more. No less. You get out of something what you put into it. Let’s all take what we are doing in this classroom very seriously. But let’s have a good time, too. I will ask you to work hard and I will expect you to work hard. But we should play just as hard. It is, after all, a short life. To the degree possible, we should strive to be happy. You will be as happy as you decide to be. And finally in our classroom, dare we acknowledge that if there is to be a better future, we need to help one another today; might we dare to reach out and love one another? Dare to care. There, I’ve said what I wanted to say. But there is so much more inside of me that I cannot communicate, that words cannot express. You won’t understand this the first time through, so read it often. Perhaps someday - maybe even years and years from now - some of what I’ve shared will make sense to you. For now, just know that you’ve got a teacher who cares, really cares, about you and about your future.

A kind of teacher who really wants you to succeed in whatever path or destination you choose from here and now.

Ab uno disce omnes!

Best regards, Rizchel

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mind0fanintellect · 1 year

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Growth is uncomfortable

Oh gosh it's been a while. But i've been going through this transition and spiraling through thoughts about me and my future. I've become a bit indifferent since working as a property administrator. Going back to customer service is always tough but i've been handling it pretty good, i'd say. The only thing is, developing relationships at the job is what i'm still trying to work on. I have very deep trust issues and i don't let myself get close to people. At work, i probably look stuck up or serious but it's like, i hold that demeaner for a reason. I am serious and don't really want people messing around with me and just saying some shit that'll piss me off. Because only I know how far i've come and only i know how much i need this job to keep myself stable. It's been uncomfortable though. I've been learning how to control my emotions and not let them get the best of me. I don't like swallowing it because i need to release it somehow out my system. Lately, i feel like i've been having to really think about what i'm dealing with and if i've found my career. Every job will be difficult but i want to be good at what i do and i want to show the bad ass i am. One thing i've spoken about in therapy is dealing with my issues and getting past the toxicity i face every day in my household. I want to overcome it and i want to grow from it and i guess i'm just going to face it till i make it. Only God knows how much i want to make myself proud and the security i want for myself.

I've had to rethink some things. I'm in deep need of change and finally just get the hell out of my situation for once and for all. I think i'm going to have to use this frustration to work hard towards my goal and keep myself motivated. I don't ever want to give up on myself and know that the potential i have will go towards the better good. I need to give myself grace and credit in what i've done in my life and keep going. This is a lonely life but i don't think i'd learn how to value myself if i did not face the heart aches and pain. Some people might think it's weakness but i look at it as my biggest strength. I've been pretty focused and i just want a deep understanding of myself and give myself the love that i want. My cousin got married this weekend and it made me think a bit of my situation and how fast life is going. It's actually surreal that she's actually married. She's 28. I hate to compare my life to others but some people are very fortunate to have families that support them and genuinely want the best for their kids. Those are the ultimate parents. I'm very happy for my cousin and wish her all the best. I hope to some day find the love i've been wanting and asking for; but for now, i'll continue to put myself first and make the changes to get to where i need to be.

Even though this life that i''ve been handed isn't exactly fair, I know i can do something about it and work hard towards reframing my mindset. This transition is very uncomfortable considering the depression and anxiety i face on a daily bases. But i will overcome this and will keep myself grounded. On the worst moments, i want you to know this Ariana. You have made changes in your own personal life that deserve the biggest round of applause. You finished your bachelors degree. managed to find a job that offers you good benefits to take care of your health. You faced adversity but still were able to overcome and life yourself up. Remember to never settle for less and continue to fight for what you want but be smart about how you approach certain circumstances. Little Ariana is proud of you and knows that things changed from how life presented itself. But you'll continue on a path of dedication and reward. You're an incredible person and deserve everything that will come your way. Readjust your goals to have them best fit to what you want and leave the rest in God's hands. Be patient and grateful.

Fruit for thought:

What do you look to accomplish in the next couple of months?

What will you do to take on these new steps?

What will you sacrifice?

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kinetic-elaboration · 1 year

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September 6: AHS 5x05 Room Service

Tough afternoon for me but I did enjoy watching AHS

Tough afternoon for me but I did enjoy watching AHS. I didn’t find this episode particularly scary, but I thought it was feel good, which is honestly more of what I’m looking for right now anyway. And it had its moments of humor, unlike the last one.

The weakest part of today’s ep was definitely the vampire kids story line. I vaguely remember feeling increasingly dissatisfied/annoyed with Alex over the course of the season and maybe feeling a bit like her story went off the rails at some point in a way pertaining to the vampires and that’s coming back to me now. I was remembering her becoming their ‘nanny’ but had totally forgotten the measle-vampire-middle-schoolers thing. I don’t know, man, I liked Alex a lot but I lost a lot of respect for her in this one. Impulsively turning herself into a vampire, okay. It was well established that she would do anything to be with Holden again. But turning this unvaccinated child into a vampire? The consequences of that were very predictable. And a lot of time was spent on them, given how predictable they were, how minor all these characters were, and how over the top the concept was.

The strongest part was Liz Taylor’s back story. This was honestly the story that I remembered the most from the series as a whole, and it does hold up. It… does not really match genre with the rest of the show. It’s not horror. It’s uplifting, feel-good, even empowering in a way. A little tear-jerky at certain parts. I got the distinct impression that Lady Gaga wasn’t the Countess so much as she was Lady Gaga but you know what, ultimately, it’s fine. It’s an enjoyable story, just like Iris (who so recently we were supposed to view as the Worst Mother and Also Person Ever) finding herself and ‘really living’ is enjoyable and uplifting and cathartic. Yes, I wanted her to eat the hipsters. Yes, the hipsters were very purposefully very edible. It was still satisfying.

I didn’t entirely get how the timeline of this episode was supposed to match up with the last. For the most part, I’d say they were simultaneous: most of the last episode focused on the Detective, most of those on everyone else. But then there’s that scene of him getting fire about midway through… The scene with Sally I get, as something that could have happened later in the day or evening, but the scene with his boss really seemed like it was happening earlier, which implies to me that actually the two episodes are consecutive. (Honestly it doesn’t really, it’s just funnier to say that because the beginning of this one includes the morning of Halloween, implying that last episodes’ monsters’ ball or whatever was actually at 6 am or something.)

My favorite humors moments were Iris and Liz disposing of the bodies (“You think I went too far?” / “Not at all.”) and the vampires examining Iris like they weren’t sure what was different.

Also, even though we didn’t get much of her, I was glad to see even just a scene of Ramona Royale.

I’ve been writing this off and on over a long period when I should have been showering and sleeping, so! Good enough. Off to bed.

#the year 2023 #2023: fandom thoughts #2023: ahs

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

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The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)

Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.

This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.

You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.

You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.

Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.

Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.

Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.

However, this was as far as the fun went.

It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.

You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.

Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.

Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.

“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”

You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.

They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.

You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.

They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.

But perhaps it was one they could help with?

Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.

“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.

You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.

Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.

Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.

“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”

Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.

Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.

Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”

“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”

“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”

“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”

“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.

The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.

Boromir was the first to speak up.

“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”

“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”

“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”

“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”

“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”

“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”

Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.

“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”

Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.

As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.

“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”

You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.

“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”

“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.

“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”

“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”

The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.

Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.

Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.

The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.

However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.

“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, but...do I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”

Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”

Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.

Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.

“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”

You took a calming breath.

“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”

They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.

“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.

That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.

It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?

Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.

#considering I’m turning 20 this year this is my little gift to myself congratulating on avoiding teen pregnancy #I made it lads #it was one of my biggest and most irrational fears as a kid #lotr x reader #lotrdaily #lotr movies #fellowship x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #Legolas x reader #Boromir x reader #frodo x reader #Gimli #lotr imagine #turns out teen pregnancy is really easy to avoid

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meggtheegg · 2 years

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Femininity and Guilt in the MCU

So I started going on a rant in the tags of a post and realized, hey, you can make your own posts on here, so this is a little stream-of-consciousness-y, but here it is.

For a while, it's been tough to pinpoint where my discomfort with the state of the MCU and its fandom comes from. On the surface, it's improved pretty dramatically from its early days, in terms of representation. The Avengers lineup has gone from a bunch of white dudes and one obligatory sexy white woman to an imperfect, but certainly more diverse cast.

And yet...its approach to some of these characters feels really bizarre, to me. And maybe moreso, the response of the fanbase, at large, can be completely baffling.

I saw a TikTok a while back where the person was talking about men (obligatory not all men, but enough to be concerning disclaimer) only being able to like/root for female characters that they could see becoming victimized/sexualized. That's why a common refrain after Captain Marvel came out was "I don't hate her because she's a woman; I like Black Widow/Wanda Maximoff/Gamora/etc." Because those characters were written for the male gaze and shown to be weaker than the men around them in at least one notable way. (ie. Nat being physically overpowered at least once per movie/Wanda messing up in Lagos and losing in the airport fight/Gamora being the "capable" one but also being an explicit victim of Thanos, in more ways than one.)

It stands out as very notable, to me, that most of the guys whose argument was "I can't hate women; I really like Wanda" suddenly switched to "Idk, I just think she'd be more interesting as a villain," the second she was described as the strongest Avenger/more powerful than the Sorcerer Supreme. Not because her character arc in any way points towards villainy (quite the opposite--she is constantly rejecting villainy, at great personal cost) but because her being a villain means that, structurally and story-wise, Dr. Strange has to overpower and defeat her. She cannot be more powerful than him, and if she is, she must be evil and taken down, at all costs. She must ultimately lose, to him.

All this to say that perception of villainhood and victimhood in female characters seems entirely determined by men's ability to overpower them. Captain Marvel is cocky and arrogant and has the skills to back it up, so she's an arrogant bitch. Tony Stark is cocky and arrogant and has the skills to back it up, so he's awesome.

On the flipside of that coin, you have male characters who are not, under any circumstance, allowed to be victims. Bucky Barnes is consistently shown to have been stripped of all agency and humanity, made entirely helpless and unable to make any of his own decisions or disobey any order. And yet, in canon and in the fandom, he is almost always blamed for the actions he was forced to take. Because a man cannot be a victim, to that degree. He can be beaten down and broken and turned into a shell of who he was, sure, but only if he can be blamed for it and have jokes made at his expense (looking at you, fat Thor.)

The version of the Black Widow programming that was used on Yelena is canonically based on the Winter Soldier program, developed with information stolen directly from HYDRA. But Yelena is a woman, so she is a victim. She did nothing wrong. (Which is true. An accurate description of the situation.) Bucky, though, is a man, and a man must be guilty for his actions, so even someone as good and kind as Sam Wilson will constantly crack jokes about him "killing everyone he's ever met," and pretty explicit implications of assault are, at best, brushed over, and at worst, treated as humorous. Because it's so funny to see a man offer another man up to a woman, with promises that he'll be forced to do "anything she wants."

Similarly, male violence can be forgiven, if it's a response to intense negative emotions. Lemar Hoskins can be sacrificed for the sake of John Walker's manpain, and the brutal murder that prompted can immediately be forgiven with one (1) semi-heroic decision, and some quirky banter to show that he's a good guy, now. Tony Stark can repeatedly try to kill Steve and Bucky over his parents' deaths, and that can just be brushed off, especially because he explicitly states that the anger is over his mom. Never mind that she hasn't been mentioned/discussed/given any agency or meaning up to this point. She's a woman who died at the hands of a man who can't have also been a victim because he's a man, so yeah, murder seems pretty justified. It's seen as noble when those things are forgiven, yes (ie. T'Challa not letting Zemo kill himself or Peter sparing Norman Osborn), but if they're not, it's not really a problem, either.

In the MCU, men are allowed to do terrible things because they can't handle negative emotions, in the same way women are immediately (again, rightfully) forgiven for doing terrible things due to any sort of inherent victimhood, on her part. Because that fits into the MCU's view of masculinity and femininity. Men aren't meant to handle emotions well, and women are meant to be overpowered.

Flip that around, though, and you've got Bucky Barnes and Wanda Maximoff, a man who was made a victim and a woman who was overwhelmed with emotion, and both are treated as unforgivable. Because women are supposed to be able to take any and all tragedy on the chin, and men are supposed to be unvictimizable.

When Peter Parker lost everything and everyone, fanboys rejoiced that they finally fixed his character! Because he cannot he a true hero without immense loss and suffering! He cannot prove himself to be responsible or a hero if he has any loved ones or connections! Girl stuff like companionship and emotional support only weakens a man's true capacity for heroism. But when Wanda loses everything and comes into her own identity as a result, she's clearly unstable and must be put down, because she accidentally did some bad stuff in her grief, and she's too powerful to victimize if she lets her emotions get the best of her. So, nevermind that she's consistently chosen to sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of doing what's right, the exact same way that Peter does. That can't be a show of goodness or strength, because once a powerful woman starts having visible feelings and doesn't handle them with absolute grace and stability, it must be a slippery slope to monsterhood. With great power comes great responsibility, unless you're a woman, in which case great power is an inherent threat that must be destroyed, as soon as possible.

It seems, in the MCU, there is nothing more virtuous than a man handling emotion as a woman is supposed to, and nothing more shameful than a man being victimized. Likewise, there is nothing more shameful than a woman handling emotion as a man does, and nothing more virtuous or necessary than brutal victimization. And as much as I love this franchise and these characters, that attitude just...leaves kind of an awful taste, in my mouth.

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #peter parker #abuse mention #sa mention #long post #this is written in very binary terms because the mcu operates in a very binary way so apologies to those who don't identify as male/female

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zodiacrant · 3 years

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🍉Astro Observations🍉

Hello everyone! Hope you’re doing great and feeling positive. I decided to write observations because I got a lot to do and I need a distraction 😅✌️. So, without further a-due here are my observations

(These may or may not apply to you, please keep an open mind and take it as entertainment rather than life changing facts. Please credit me if you’re going to use my work, or ask me beforehand.)

🍉People with Earth Mars or/and an Earth sign in the 1st or 6th house have very healthy and strong bodies

🍉Even though Pisces, Neptune and the 12th house is associated alot with dreams, Scorpio, Mars, Pluto and the 8th house can tell us about our nightmares and the theme of our dreams. (EX. I have a Scorpio Mars in the 9th house Sagittarius, which Chiron resides in as well, empty Virgo 8th house, Pluto in 10th house Scorpio, which Lilith also resides in Scorpio. Because of the high concentration of Scorpio and Virgo residing in the 8th my dreams have always been very vivd, chronological, and all in all a world of it self that I developed since childhood, as far as I can remember. I rarely get awakened by nightmares as well. Because of Mars in the 9th house alot in dreams I am either looking for something or on a journey to some place.)

🍉The houses where we have Taurus and Libra is what we’re envied for, while those ruled by Scorpio and Aries is what we envy in others and desire to be.

🍉The aspects Between Jupiter and other planets can tell us how friendly, open, stiff, fun loving, uptight and mean we’re. The more Squares the meaner a person may be, the more opposites with Jupiter would make the person paradoxical or “fake”. While Trine gives a more of a fun and carefree personality and conjunctions indicates being a “down ass bitch”.

🍉People can help us, influence us or teach us something regarding the house their Sun and Moon resides in our chart. (EX. If you have Cancer in the 2nd house, Cancer Sun, Moon and dominant can help you with your finances, spending habits and better your relationship with money and vices. This can either be in a friendly advice, leading by example, or you falling for a scheme they did but you’ll ultimately learn nevertheless.)

🍉I have noticed people with Air Venus have a salad taste in music. They would listen to slow music, very emotional and heart hitting then it is followed by an earth shattering EDM track, having a rave on their own.

🍉Staying on the topic of music, I noticed the sign of the 3rd house and the planets residing there effect what we seek in music alot. (EX. Me and my sister both have Fire signs over the 3rd house, so we prefer to listen to something upbeat, however, I have Sun, Mercury, Saturn and Jupiter there so music to me should be meaningful beyond belief, and great in everything from vocal, melody, writing and production. She on the other hand has Mars there and all she cares about is a good beat on the track.)

🍉Although Fire signs are viewed as very competitive, which they’re, it is rarely talked about how competitive Earth signs can be. They are as, if not more, competitive, the difference is that they’re more quiet about it.

🍉I never understood why people say that Scorpios are mysterious, dangerous, ominous sex driven demon spawns. I never met one and felt that in any way. I think they just read a room and people so closely and thoroughly that they might give a death stare here and there.

🍉I noticed that where we have Neptune we get a positive illusion from ourselves or others, while Pluto is where people get misconceptions and take negative first impressions from us. (EX. Someone with Neptune in the 7th house and Pluto in the 4th house might be subject to being slut shamed based on the illusion that their many relationships and beauty (Neptune in 7th) makes them easy, have family issues or are home wrecker (Pluto in 4th)

🍉People with Moon or Venus in “Fatherly” houses (9th and 10th) may have mothers who took on the role of the father as well.

🍉Venus in opposition or Square to Mars/Saturn/Pluto will have a hard time finding the right relationship or a healthy one.

🍉Even though Taurus and Libra are Venusian siblings and their opposites are Aries and Scorpio, the Martian siblings, each sign fits with others opposite. Taurus and Aries share natural and rawness in their energy, Taurus is the natural and effortless beauty and Aries is the natural warrior and leader. Both come as they are.

🍉Scorpio and Libra, on the other hand, are known for deception and putting up a facade. However, they’re also more logical thinkers and diplomatic begins, which make them more likable and capable in comparison.

🍉Mars in Leo are strong willed and capable but that lion can be tamed with love. As powerful as they can be, their weakness lies within their heart, as love and loyalty hold them back. This can be negative, as they will be pushovers for those they love, as well as, fight others battles, making them prone to getting used by others.

🍉Saturn can be a tough teacher but if you learn the lessons and convert it’s energy to your advantage you’ll basically become unstoppable.

🍉With that being said, I find it to be particularly difficult in social houses (3rd, 7th, 11th) It creates a wedge and a block between the native and their peers. This can be either as they cannot express themselves, are misunderstood, and/or alienated by others.

🍉The season of the sign over the house your Moon resides in can be very difficult or a period of many emotional roller coasters. Also, where does it hit the most.(Ex. I have my moon in the 11th house and let me tell you, February have been the month of some of the worst and best things to happen in my life. Many friends I have lost and met in February/Aquarius season)

🍉 The degree of that house can also indicate the general feel or emotion you’ll run through in that season.

🍉Someone asked me about my “page chart” which I got very confused over. I don’t know where they got the idea but I didn’t think it was worth a whole post but here is the chart of Zodiacrant (the page):

Made on October 17th 2018

Sun: Libra

Moon: Aquarius

Mercury: Scorpio

Venus: Scorpio

Mars: Aquarius

ASC: Cancer

MC: Aries

I hope it is of any use to the anon and any of you 😅.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the observations. Please let me know your opinions and thoughts, share with us your own observations and rants.

Love you ❤️.

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roanniom · 4 years

Text

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield.

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

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