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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months ago

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DC xDP fanfic idea: One hell of a good Bellhop

Danny and Jazz Fenton get a chance of a lifetime after a whirlwind of dimension displacement. It's hard to explain how it happened. One minute, they were visiting Clockwork, having tea with their surrogate grandfather, and the next, they were being attacked by what appeared to be woolly mammoths standing on two legs and carrying weapons.

Clockwork had dispatch to take them head on- timeline pests he called them- but in the confusion Danny and Jazz were taken by suprised, stuffed into sacks and thrown through a whirlpool turned portal that spit them out in a new world.

They tried to call Clockwork for help, but it was as if though the Ghost Zone was blocked by some power. Danny at least still had his ghost powers and Jazz was equipped with the standard Fenton weapons on her person, but that wasn't much help when between the two of them they had sixty dollars and thirty four cents to their names.

Drivers' invalid licenses, phones that weren't connected to any service, and maybe worse of all, no actual identity to speak of.

The Fentons simply didn't exist in this world. Not even their four fathers. The two were at a loss on what to do- for about three months. Then they put their Fenton intelligence to use and hacked into a hotel.

It was a run-down place in the heart of downtown Gotham- the place that the portal shot them to was Metropolis. Still, people paid way too much attention to homeless minors there, so they had to move after dodging a weird underwear guy who kept trying to capture Danny. Apparently, he thought Danny was a "Kryptonian Clone". Fruitloop.

Jazz thought they were the only guests in the Hotel, which is why the owner was so happy to host them for weeks instead of a few days. He was a sweet old man named Charles who was far too old to work but couldn't afford the staff, so he did everything himself.

Jazz felt an awful pity seeing him sit at his counter, staring hopefully at the door for any new guests whenever she returned from her work. It was heartbreaking to see Charles' eyes dim whenever the closing time came, and once again, no one stopped by. At this point, he kept the hotel open in a sad, broken dream.

Where did she work? Danny didn't know, but Jazz made him swear she would handle their expenses. She kept a tight lip on her day, and since Danny had no documentation to go to school with, he found himself helping Charles with maintenance.

He has no license to do anything, but Danny has been installing electricity, water pipes, and anything in between since he was young. FentonWorks always needed something fixed, after all.

He even went out and "borrowed" some paint cans to give the old place a little touch-up. Charles' eyes watered when he saw.

"My wife and I meet at this hotel, you know," Charles tells him one day as Danny patches up some old bricks. He runs to find the old man, gently running his hand along the fireplace. A picture of two young people dancing in the Hotel Lobby—back when it was new and shiny—is hanging right over it. It's easy to see it's Charles and his late wife, Sally.

"Of course, that was back in the forties—a few years after the war and before Gotham was crime-infested. We always wanted to run this place together. We worked two jobs, and when we finally had enough, we bought it from the old owners when they announced they were closing down. We were so happy and ran it together for a year, but then she got sick. Really sick. I was told to give up on the Hotel when I lost her. No one saw a reason when it was obviously failing, but it's the last thing I have of her, you know?"

Danny's lips wobble. He thinks back to hours and hours of tracing the Fenton Works logo on all his new clothes. It looks stupid but, gosh its the last thing he has of his parents since they been sepreated too.

"Yeah" His voice catches "Yeah I know. Did you two ever have children?"

Charles shakes his head. "Salley couldn't have kids, and no matter how many times we applied, we were never approved for adoption. Then we were too old."

"I'm sorry Charles"

"That's alright, my boy." The man's smile is just as heartbreaking and sad as it is soft. "It's something I accepted long ago. "

Danny decided then and there that he would save this hotel if it was the last thing he did. Danny wasn't aware that his Ghost Powers launched onto that oath and sent out a flair, turning Gotham's Fog Lodge into his new haunt.

This meant that overnight, Danny's haunt was carefully bettering itself as a reflection of Danny's happiness. It made it look brand new among all the old and falling apart scenery.

No one knew why or how, but it looked just as Charles remembered it in the glory days.

Danny decided they couldn't compete with large chain hotels, so he made it an experience instead. He did Era events using his experience with the different parts of the Ghost Zone as references.

Soon Gotham was hearing of the Victorian Era Ball—a chance to dress up and dance the old ways with antique clothing of that period.

But Danny didn't stop there.

Disco parties. Nineties garage bands. Murder mysteries nights from the roaring twenties. Even the props were so realistic that people swore they stepped into the time from when arriving for their events.

People started calling, hoping to book in advance, and Charles burst into tears the first night Danny told them they ran out of rooms.

Since it was Danny's haunt, he could complete all the work by himself, having the hotel help him along the way. No one knew why or how, but somehow it was always clean, food was always prepared whenever someone needed it, and bags would be up into their rooms without actually seeing the Bellhop pass getting them at the door.

Not a single staff member in sight, either.

Charles suspected Danny was meta, and he was using his powers to be one hell of a good host. Everyone else thought the place was haunted by staff made entirly of ghosts, and that somehow made it more appealing.

Jazz's new boss thought it a little too good to be accurate, but he was so good at keeping records and organizing that he gave her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she did mention she had a meta brother she was desperately trying to protect.

If there was one thing Red Hood knew, it was that desperate people turned to crime the most. If he could keep someone like Jazz Fenton away from working with the nutjobs of Gotham, he would have been doing one thing better for the city.

As far as Jazz was aware, she was only an assistant/secretary to an obvious front masquerading as an insurance company, and if she pretended not to notice all the crime, she could feed Danny and help Charles.

Charles, for his part, never said it, but he thinks if he and Sally had been able to have grandchildren, they would have been exactly like Jazz and Danny.

He may have let it be implied at one point, and the misunderstanding spreads that he is their grandfather. None of the three make haste to correct it.

Gotham Fog Lodge starts to gain traction around the same time it captures the eye of one very intrigued billionaire. Bruce Wayne keeps an eye on the business but decided to let Jason make the call since the grandduaghter's owner works for him. '

Surely, he would step in if something malicious was going on.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #One hell of a good bellhop #Part 1 #The Fenton kids find questionable employement #Charles is ther emotional support grandpa #Danny is vibing in his new haunt #The bats are watching #always watching #Pre-Anger Management

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divinesolas · 3 months ago

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The hour of the wolf

summary: You make an offer for an old friend. You offer up anything to make sure his life is spared. What the wolf wants shocks you more than anything.

Cregan Stark x Beesbury!Reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD; the hour of the wolf, mutual pining, soft? cregan, SMUT !, oral (male and fem), minor fingering (fem), face sitting, dirty talk, lord kink, hairy cregan, p in v, minor bearded cregan, breeding kink, minorly proofread

a.n: literally just a reimagining of the black aly and cregan scene from the books, i hate that fact that they rlly might cut black aly from the show let me kms.

perm cregan taglist (open!)

The room is far too hot. The glares of the men in the room far too intense. Words unspoken louder than anything. You had been sitting in this room for hours now, the arguing the anger seemingly never ending. You understand him. A stark never does forget his oaths that much has become very clear to you.

The fur covered man turns his back to the group after some harsh words leave his lips. You decide enough is enough and turn to the other men in the room. “Leave us.” Oscar and benjicot give each other nervous looks before turning back to you. “y/n…” You place a hand on Oscar's shoulder and squeeze it, “I have this, trust me.” He hesitates for a few moments before he nods and with the help of benjicot clears out the council room leaving you alone with the wolf of the north.

His back is still turned to you, staring at the window with a glare in his eyes. “My lord-” “I have done all that you all have asked. I have agreed to not storm on the green castles, i have given my men, i have been merciful to those who should have been marked to death i will not relent on this.” He had finally begun to face you, his face angry. You can see the stress of the last days weighting down on his face, a noticeable stubble from not being able to shave, bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt awful

Corlys Velaryon. once a man who you would have considered a good friend turned turncloak. The new king had pardoned his crimes along with the rest of you except for cregan, so stuck in his justice it will not stop until he has his head. Thought he had pardoned corlys, when you had went to the king to see to cregan being stopped, not wishing to fight one of the only men he trusted he did nothing to fight the northern leaving you all to try to persuade him yourselves.

You understood his anger. Having vowed himself to the queen and the late prince and both now dead due to the greens. “i’m afraid i cannot relent on this as well my lord.” You knew corlys did what he had to. maybe you would have not done the same in his place but it did not matter to you. Cregan huffs, pushing off the table he was leaning on to walk past you. “then there is nothing for us to speak of.”

You do not try to grab him as he walks past as much as you wish to. you only knew the lord stark for a year now but he had become a good friend to you and you like to think you were one to him as well. it took him awhile to open up to you, the northern not interested in speaking to most and was flat out rude to most but you persevered and was rewarded by earning the favor of the stark, leading him to seek out your council.

You felt more for the stark. More that was beyond friendship. you were a minor lady from minor house, the war and the growing tensions and battles with the hightowers leaving you even worse for wares and he was probably the most powerful man in the realm right now as well as a recent widow. He would want nothing to do with you if it were not for you insistence and you’re sure after this is all said and done if he does not agree to be the kings hand permanently this will be the last time you ever hear from the man.

Yet you are desperate. you so badly don’t want him to do this. corlys’ life more valuable than many realize. “what can i offer you?”

You voice cracks as you speak, whipping around to see his retreating form paused at your words but he does not turn around. you take a deep breath as you take the steps towards him. every step you take he steps back. “grant me this one thing and i shall never ask another thing from you ever again. If you do i shall have sonnets and songs written of you, tales of your great strength and wisdom. Grant this one wish and i will do anything you desire.”

His back hits the wall and he pears down at you with a tilted head as you stand firmly in front of him. not closely enough to be touching but close enough you can smell him, woodsmoke musk of his skin. He’s quiet but the look in his eyes shows Hes thinking about your words. You begin to grow a bit nervous when a light smile creeps up on his face. “I shall grant you your wish.”

“and what in return?”

“you.”

You stumble back while cregan remains rooted where he is, watching you with delight. “you misspeak.” “i do not.” you shake your head furiously. he cannot truly mean that as much as your skin crawls and your heart pounds you cannot accept his words. “If you are looking for a wife i am more than happy to help you find one.” “i am not looking for a wife. i want you.”

You pace around the room, tugging at the collar of your black and yellow dress. The room suddenly having grown hot and you dress uncomfortable. “There are many lovely ladies,” “im sure there are,” “The war has left many without a husband as awful as it is to speak. i would be more than happy help set you up with a couple meetings with them.” “is one of them with you? i will attend that one.”

You turn to him and almost wish you could curse at him and his pleased face. “my lord please.” his face drops and he grabs your hand tugging you into him. His hand softly coming to your face, the obvious look of affection in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “a hand for a head. give me your hand and i will do as you say. i will do as you say for the rest of my life.”

You take a couple deep breaths in disbelief, he wanted you. “A hand for a head. i will give you as you ask.” He leans in closer to you, you almost feel as though he is going to kiss you and you close your eyes in anticipation but he pauses right as your lips are about to touch and you hear him chuckle lightly. “You want me as well.” It is not a question but despite that you nod and his lips are pressed against yours. You can feel him hum and smile against your lips. He is an animal, hungerly eating at your lips like he is a starved man, as if he had been waiting for this for far too long.

You try your best to meet him all the same but he completely consumes you and you can do nothing but submit to him. When you pull apart you both stare at one another with lust in your eyes. So when you lightly step back he stares at your curiously until you sink down onto your knees and his breathing stops. “What do you think you’re doing?” You trace your hands along his thighs as you peer up at him. “doing my best to please you my lord.” he groans in delight and licks his lips. “will you allow me to my lord.” “if you do not put me in your mouth right now i will push you down and fuck you on the floor like a whore.” You wish his words did not affect you like they did, you can feel how soaked you are, you might as well be dripping onto your feet.

He allows you to grab at his pants and watches as you pull them down exposing them fully. He is huge. How in the hells were you even going to put this thing in your mouth? You can see the hair that trails up towards his stomach, the veins that line up and down him pulse with need while he lightly drips out some precum. As if driven by pure lust you reach out and lick at the drops that spill out of him, sucking around his tip to see if you can get anymore. You must be doing something right because he groans at your actions, grabbing the back of your head as you continue to push him further into your mouth. “fuck you feel so fucking good.” You whine lightly at his praise as begin to rub yourself onto the heel of your foot. When you moan around him he pushes you greedily further into him. “you feeling good too? such a greedy girl.”

You have no real clue what you’re doing but cregan helps you every step of the way, and when you put him fully in your mouth, your nose is buried in his hair. His hand on the back of your head pulling you closer and further until you get a good rhythm yourself and he lets you do as you please. “so fucking good for me fuck.” You can tell he’s close to cracking, his grip on your head grows tighter and his panting gets heavier, his words of praise turn into slurs of mumbles of nothing. He tries to pull you off not wanting to overwhelm you, “its too much.” But you keep firm and hes flowing into your mouth, you almost choke but pull yourself off of him and swallow down his salty seed.

You almost look up at him to try and see what his reaction was but you instead yelp as you’re pulled up and thrown over his shoulder. “what are you doing?!” he pulls up his pants and readjusts himself before he walks out of the room with you still over his shoulder. people stare as you walk past but nobody dares to question the hand so they all continue about their business. you even see oscar on your way who shoots you a bewildered look but you just throw your hands up in confusion and embarrassment.

You realize he is taking you to his room. He shuts the door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed. He strips himself of his furs and clothes where he’s standing bare in front of you. He truly was a man and you gulped. Greedily admiring his hairy body as he strode towards you with the utmost confidence. “If you do not want this you will tell.” You nod, “With your words.” You shiver, “yes..” hes pleased but gives you a look. “yes,,,?” you purse your lips before answering him, “yes my lord.”

He kisses you and leans on top of you until you’re laying on your back. You feel his fingers trailing up your leg and push past your underwear to push two fingers inside of you. You grip onto his shoulder and gasp as he begins to work his fingers in and out of you. “you’re dripping down my fingers, look at you pretty girl.” you shudder against him as he continues to work at you. He suddenly pulls away and you whine but he kisses your complaints away. “sit on my face.” Your brows furrow together in confusion, “what?” He chuckles, his hair tickling your face and shoulders. “just do as i say.”

Despite your confusion you nod, trusting your future husband who rolls the two of you over and you’re suddenly on top of him. He pulls every string and pushes away every piece of fabric under you sit just as bare as he is. You almost fold your arms to cover yourself but his hands grab yours as he continues to admire you with heart eyes. “you are the most beautiful lady i have ever seen.” Your face burns as you turn your head away from him. “sweet talker.” “I mean every word.”

He lays all the way back and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear what it means and you are alarmed. “You will suffocate.” He laughs and shakes his head as he continues to try and pull you up to his face. “a real man would not, trust me.” “this cannot be right.” “it will be good i promise. trust me. i want to.” Despite your doubts and worries you allow yourself to hover over his face lightly, his beard scratches at your face. you hear him sigh as he kisses your thigh, “I said sit.” He suddenly pulls you down and you’re fully sitting down on his face and he begins to lap at you.

You were not the most innocent women, having touched yourself a fair share of times but this was a completely different experience. His tongue laps at you eagerly, drinking up every drop while his hands knead your sides. You grip onto his hair as you as, your eyes closed and you throw your head back in pleasure. You keel over when his hands move you to grind on top of his face, his nose rubbing against your bud and your hips eagerly begin to move to try to get more and more friction. with every call of his name he hums and groans into you sending shockwaves down your spine.

You can do nothing to stop yourself from releasing all over his face. you mumble apologies but he simply eagerly licks up every drop before suddenly flipping you over and hovering over you. his face gleams with the shine of your essence. “ive been wanting to do that for too fucking long.” you turn away as your face heats, he turns your head back towards him and pecks you on the lips. “I hope you know i am being truthful, my words do not stem from purely desire. i love you.” Your breathe escapes you and your hands come up to cup his face, “my lord…” “cregan.” a smile plays on your face, “cregan, i have loved you since the moment i met you.” His face softens at your words, “even when i was an ass?” “especially when you were an ass.” He shakes his head in humor before he presses his lips against yours once again.

His hardness his your thigh and you moan. “i dont wish to force you.” “I want you to cregan. take me.” He wraps your legs around his hips as he aligns himself up to you, “if it hurts too much tell me.” you nod and your heart continues to pound in anticipation. It does hurt, it hurts like hell as his hard cock pushes its way past your walls, you find yourself biting his shoulder and he groans at your actions. When he bottoms out he pauses, allowing you enough time to adjust to him. Its hard to, when he is so big and you can feel every vein and the way he throbs against you. He pecks kisses around your face and down your neck to distract you, pouring his love into every peck.

“You can move.” “you sure?” it does not hurt as much anymore, sure there is a light sting but surely that will only add to the pleasure. “yes please fuck me cregan.” He lets out a noise one would only consider to be a growl, “you want me to fuck you? ill fucking fuck you.” His pace is quick but not too rough, its enough to have your toes curling with every thrust. He’s mumbling into your ear, words of praise but you can barely make sense of it as you begin to see stars. Your hands scratch down his back and he howls as you bite his shoulder. “fuck wanna see you full, with my kid.” you moan with pleasure at his words and nod your head eagerly, “yes yes yes i want that so bad please please.”

“You want my babes? for me to fuck you full and round? for you to carry my pups?” you nod eagerly against his shoulder as you begin to chant his name like its the only word you know and he calls out your name just the same. You can feel your stomach burning, “cregan im gonna im,” he shushes you as he only begins to move faster, one of his hands coming down to play with your bud. “cum fuck do it. wanna feel it.” He makes no moves to stop even as you burst around him, if anything he seems more motivated as the sounds of your skin slapping together grow louder. His thrusts your sloppy and his hips move more eagerly until you feel yourself being filled with his hot seed, pumping you full.

You two attempt to catch your breaths, you wipe his sweaty stuck hair away from his face as he grins at you. The moment suddenly ruined when loud banging hits his door and the two of you freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. “Lord stark!” you recognize the voice as one of the squires and you watch as cregans face falls with annoyance. “what?” his voice is clearly angry as he spits at the door, seemingly having no intention of pulling out of you. “one of the lord has requested an audience-” “i am not available for the rest of the day.” “but my lord-” “leave me be.”

You can sense a pause from outside the room before the footsteps suddenly begin to fade away leaving the two of you alone once more. You open your mouth to speak but he sudden pulls out and spins you over quickly shoving himself back inside of you. there will be time to talk later it seems and when a maid walks in later that evening cregan makes no attempt to explain why the room smells as it does and why the windows are foggy. but everyone knows, the lord stark is not one for quiet women.

#cregan stark x you #hotd cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [34] - Cage

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤��I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Lack of honesty can cause resentment.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, your day started out pretty calm.

You were petting Alpine with one hand while scribbling on the paper with the other, and you stole a look at Bucky when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his damp hair and you inhaled the scent of his aftershave as subtly as you could, pretending to be busy with the file in front of you while he made his way to the coffee machine to fill himself a cup of coffee.

You could feel his glances on you as he leaned back on the counter, sipping his coffee but you ignored him until he cleared his throat.

“So when is that asshole leaving?”

You stopped petting Alpine and lifted your head to look at him better.

“Who, Rhett?” you asked. “He just got here.”

“Doesn’t he have a city to rule?”

“He left his right hand in his place, apparently,” you told him. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

You hummed, spinning your pen between your fingers.

“You should be nicer to him, you know.”

He scoffed into his coffee mug. “Yeah sorry, I’m not capable of being nice to dickheads who gaze at my wife longingly.”

“What?”

“I’m already being civil by not shooting him, and that’s only because you told me not to.”

“You’re not going to shoot—he doesn’t gaze at me longingly, Bucky.”

“Oh he does,” he shot back. “In fact, I bet he has a plan.”

Your frown deepened. “What plan?”

“He wants to—he wants to take you to Chicago,” he said, motioning vaguely and you tilted your head, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, he’ll feed you some bullshit about never being over you—”

“He is very much over me.”

“And he will ask you to go rule Chicago with him, and then I’ll shoot him and feed his fucking body to the dogs—”

“Can I just interrupt that very creative theory with some truth?” you asked him as Alpine jumped from the counter to the floor. “Number one, even if he weren’t over me, it wouldn’t fucking matter because I am over him.”

His eyes searched yours as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. “…Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Number two, whoever he is with -which is not going to be me, by the way- will not be ruling Chicago with him. Chicago’s rules are different, the crown moves through blood there. Spouses are irrelevant, they’re treated worse than heirs, or right arms. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the bitch who he’s going to marry because she’s a terrible person, but I kind of feel bad for her too because no one will ever take her seriously. King consort or queen consort, doesn’t matter because they have zero power, except for providing heirs and strengthening the loyalty of families.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Jesus, and we say we have medieval rules.”

“Exactly,” you said. “And number three, I know we both keep forgetting it but we are in fact married. Even if I weren’t over him, me going to Chicago would be grounds for war and only an idiot—”

“Trojan War started the same way, didn’t stop anyone.”

“I appreciate the compliment but I’m not the underworld edition of Helen of Troy,” you pointed out. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. Unless Eric Bana shows up, that is.”

“Which one was he in that movie, Paris?”

“Hector,” you said with a sigh. “The things I’d do to him…”

“I’m glad we had this conversation because now I will have to add him to my hitlist as well.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“The point is,” you said. “I’m not starting a war between Chicago and New York for an ex. Because that’s what Rhett is. An ex.”

“He doesn’t see you as just an ex,” Bucky told you. “You said it yourself. He trusts you.”

The sight of Rhett’s car by the campus outside your building made you stop dead in your tracks only for a moment. You could feel the smile pulling your lips as you approached him, and he took off his sunglasses to grin at you.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” you said. “Look at that, you survived.”

“Mm hm.”

“I take it the same can’t be said for Lucas?”

“For him or any of his men,” he stated, leaning back to his car. “He was waiting exactly where you said he was.”

You nodded your head. “How pissed off was your father?”

“Very pissed off,” he said. “But I think it worked out pretty well, you know? Now we have sent a message.”

“The ultimate golden heir is not to be crossed or challenged,” you teased him with a small smirk. “That’s a good message.”

He heaved a sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you warn me?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the orgasms I gave you—”

“That was a mutual transaction,” you pointed out, making him let out a chuckle and hold up his hands.

“It really was,” he said. “But seriously, we were broken up. And I know what promise he dangled in front of you. What, you didn’t even consider it?”

You made a face, shaking your head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“New York values loyalty over power,” you said. “That’s what I grew up with. I don’t do business with greedy backstabbers, neither would my father or anyone else in New York. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Rhett’s gaze was fixed on you, a light crossing his eyes as he let out a breath.

“Jesus…” he muttered. “One last transaction, cupcake?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Then we will get attached and we can’t have that. You have a city to take over, and I’m too smart to be put in the background in someone else’s empire.”

Rhett smiled softly.

“My father won’t do business with anyone in New York,” he said, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“Neither will I,” Rhett said. “Until you need my help.”

Your eyes shot up to his, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“You’d do that for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“You saved my life, and proved that I can in fact trust you,” he said. “Chicago values loyalty above everything else. The least I can do is pay back the favor.”

A smile warmed your face. “I’ll come to collect, Rhett.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, cupcake.”

You let out a giggle, and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “Likewise.”

“Because I earned his trust,” you told him as his phone vibrated and he checked the screen, then typed something. Even if you wanted to ask who it was, you managed to control yourself, biting inside your cheek.

“Dr. Raynor rescheduled the therapy session for the evening,” you told him. “Your assistant told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a meeting with Anna before that so I might be a bit late but I’ll be there.”

Your brows shot up, that familiar bitterness burning your mouth. “With Anna?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “Gotta go, I’ll see you there,”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you in a very demanding manner. You heaved a sigh, stroking over her soft fur.

“We’re not going to threaten Anna,” you told her, “Because that’s a fucking insane thing to do, and we’re very logical, rational individuals, right Alpine?”

Alpine meowed again and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm,” you muttered. “Exactly.”

“I mean it’s not that I’m jealous,” you assured Becca who only watched you with her brows raised. “Obviously that’s not what’s happening here.”

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“It’s just that she’s a bit too friendly with him I feel like.”

“Like Rhett is a bit too friendly with you?”

“That’s very different!” you protested. “Rhett and I are going to make a deal!”

“Anna already has a deal with Bucky.”

“Whose side are you on?” you asked, sulking and she let out a laugh.

“Yours, obviously,” she said. “But I’m just saying, maybe before pointing fingers, acknowledge the fact that Rhett liked you. A lot.”

“Liked,” you repeated. “Back then. Besides, I have no feelings for him and as I told Bucky, he will get married.”

“And he will have mistresses.”

“Probably,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Alice will kill them I’m guessing. She was quite obsessed with him even while we were dating and now that Rhett says he will marry her, I do not want to think about the lengths she’d go to.”

Your phone buzzed on the table and you checked the screen, then tilted your head. “Huh.”

“Who is it?”

“Ethan,” you said. “We haven’t talked in forever, apparently he was too busy and so was I. He wants to grab coffee sometime.”

“What is it with all your exes wanting to fuck you?” Becca asked, making your jaw drop.

“That’s not true!”

“No seriously, what are you doing to those guys?”

“I don’t do anything to them—you know what, we’re changing the subject,” you said as you put your phone back on the table. “Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

“The deal?” Becca asked, “I’d say you already have.”

“Nothing is on paper yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, he flew here for that deal. He will make it.”

You drummed your fingernails on the table. “My father will have so many things to say about it I’m sure.”

“He can say whatever he wants—oh!” she sat up straighter. “Guess what I heard.”

“What?”

“Apparently, Ian is learning how to fight.”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Mm hm. His right hand is teaching him, the hot Hercules guy—”

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, him.”

You scoffed a laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Your father told my father and my father told my mom at breakfast,” she said. “Never too late to start I guess?”

“I mean he’s the heir,” you said with a sigh. “If the cage fight is happening…”

“You know how I feel about the cage fight tradition but for Ian’s case only, I will enjoy it,” she said. “I hate the son of a bitch.”

You squeezed her hand. “How Leila?”

“That’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you,” she said, huffing out a breath. “My mom kind of forced my hand.”

“How?”

“She and me and Leila are having brunch tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“So I need you to tell me Leila won’t decide to dump me tomorrow.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“She won’t,” you assured her. “Do you want me to be there? I will invite myself to that brunch, I don’t care what Winnifred thinks.”

She looked like she was genuinely considering the idea before she made a face, then shook her head.

“Nah, I need to deal with this myself,” she muttered and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“Aw,” you said with a grin. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it,” she said, kicking at your shoe with hers, making you gasp. “But I’m going to need all the moral support I can get, so you will be by the phone the whole time, alright?”

You let out a laugh. “Deal.”

Bucky was late to the therapy session as he said he would be by fifteen minutes, and when he got there, he was rather tense. Even if you wanted to ask what had happened, you knew you couldn’t in front of the therapist so you raised your brows at him but he shook his head.

“So,” Dr. Raynor said, “Let’s pick up from where we left off the last time. How have things progressed in terms of your communication with your ex-boyfriend in the picture?”

“Him being my ex-boyfriend doesn’t play a part in our communication or lack thereof,” you said quickly and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It definitely does.”

“I think what plays an important part in our communication is the fact that Bucky doesn’t exactly trust me.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and turned to look at you better.

“I don’t think you should be pointing fingers here, Charm.”

“I do trust you!” you protested, making him scoff.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what, if you’re being like this because I didn’t give you one tiny little detail about my plan—”

“One tiny little detail?” Bucky repeated with a laugh. “Try the whole plan.”

“You wouldn’t even spare me a glance if I pulled the shit you did back in that back alley,” you finished your sentence as if he didn’t cut you off and that seemed to take him by surprise. He gawked at you, then licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What happened in the back alley?” Dr. Raynor asked, her voice almost too calm and Bucky gritted his teeth, leaning back in the couch as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“It was ages ago,” he said curtly and you hummed.

“And you never apologized.”

“I did apologize—”

“Asking me if I’m still mad via text does not count as an apology, Bucky.”

“What happened?” Dr. Raynor asked and you took a deep breath, then crossed your arms.

“I had a silly little crush on Bucky years and years ago,” you said. “Before I left for college, I made the mistake of telling him about it.”

“Charm.”

“And it’d be fine if he only turned me down but nope,” you spat, that bitter taste burning your throat again. “He had to humiliate me.”

“I didn’t humiliate—”

“Yes you did,” you cut him off and he ran a hand over his face, then motioned at Dr. Raynor.

“Are we seriously going to do this in front of her?”

“Why not?” you said. “That’s what the therapy is for.”

“And you resent him for it, Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“Oh she hates me for it,” he corrected her and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I’m just saying that if I didn’t trust you, it would be with a reason.”

“Right.”

“Was there a reason behind it, Bucky?”

“No there wasn’t, other than the fact that he wanted to humiliate me.”

“Charm.”

“Y/N, open communication is very important and a huge part of it is listening,” Dr. Raynor said, making you shake your head.

“No, he really didn’t have a reason other than the fact that he was the city’s golden prince who thought—”

“My father wanted us to end up together,” Bucky cut you off, making you pull your brows together in confusion and you turned your head to gawk at him.

“What?” you asked after a beat and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. “He kept talking about how it would be good for the business, how I should visit you in Chicago when you’d leave for college and…all that bullshit.”

You blinked a couple of times in complete silence and Bucky bit inside his cheek.

“I mean obviously I didn’t see you that way back then, but I wouldn’t have been that much of an asshole to you if that was the only reason,” he told you, his voice almost inaudible. “I thought…I thought you were yet another cage he would drag me into, that’s it.”

You could barely hear anything from the way your heart was pounding in your ears and Bucky swallowed thickly, then stole a look at Dr. Raynor and took a deep breath.

“Yeah no, I’m not doing this shit in front of a stranger,” he muttered and got up from the couch as if he was too restless, then walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. The sound snapped you out of your haze and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your purse.

“Thanks Dr. Raynor,” you said in a haste and walked out of the office as well but by the time you stepped outside, Bucky’s car had already driven off. You let out a breath, then leaned back to the wall on the building and rubbed at your eyes.

“Oh…” you murmured more to yourself. “Fuck.”

Chapter 35

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burr-ell · 3 months ago

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Ngl your probably one of the only profiles I've seen know that the gods are nuanced but also not forget to say what they did to aeor is indeed majorly fucked and should be enknowledged. But also again not say "Their all evil. Selfish. Hate mortals, etc, etc" So Thank you! :3

Well, thank you anon! 😊

It would be easy to simply say Aeor was a totalitarian dictatorship that had it coming and maybe it wasn't great for the civilians but at least we got rid of Magic Big Brother, but that's not true; the citizens being oppressed by Aeor didn't deserve to die for their oppressors' crimes. It would be easy to pretend the gods crashed the city out of pure altruism and fear for Exandrian mortals if Aeor obtained more power, but that's not true; the ultimate concern for both the Prime Deities and the Betrayer Gods was for their own lives and their family's, enough to call a truce in a war that was otherwise destroying the land and its people.

On the other hand, Pelor and Sarenrae explicitly wanted to find a way to save the city and destroy the Factorum Malleus at the same time, and indeed could possibly have found a way to do so if Asmodeus hadn't schemed to ensure Aeor fell. All of the Prime Deities were grieved by it, and this was the tipping point for them to realize their efforts to protect Exandria were instead hurting it. This is the event that pushed them to seal themselves away from the home where they'd found a refuge after enduring tragedy themselves. And while I've said previously that any city having a weapon like that would be a bad thing, Aeor is a city where someone had to embezzle money to fund a hospital; I wouldn't trust them with an off-brand water pistol.

That's what makes Downfall so compelling—there are no easy answers. Few important ethical questions have them. If it's a question of if the gods wanted to save their own lives, save Exandria, or just do what they could in the moment because they had one night, the fact that the answer is "yes" is a good thing. As far as I'm concerned, abdicating responsibility is worse than owning a shitty choice.

#critical role #cr meta #asks

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meayefet · 1 year ago

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Here's another thing I feel like we need to talk about regarding the current war between Israel and Hamas. Minor as it may be, I've been losing my mind over this.

As a person who grew up in the early 2010s, I grew up mostly on the internet and fandom culture, and have written quite a lot of fanficition in my early teens.

Something I've realized this past week is that people are seeing Palestine as a fandom. And not only does it belittle the actual problem, it dehumanizes Palestinians and Israelis alike and allows the rewriting of facts and truths as if it were an AU fanfic.

After realizing that I jokingly told a friend that I wouldn't be surprised to see RPF about the events of October 7th. I had in mind something like slash fiction of Hamas members, but today I found out people are writing fanfiction about A HOSTAGE AND HER CAPTOR.

I also found out it didn't happen in a vaccum - apparently tiktok is exploding with this stuff, saying Maya Regev - the hostage in question - had "left her heart in Gaza", because she smiled and said "shukran, bye" to her captors.

In case you have forgotten - Maya Regev was SHOT IN THE LEG AND TAKEN HOSTAGE INTO GAZA along with her brother, who was released FOUR DAYS AFTER HER. She was released with a shattered leg and without her brother - but if she smiled, her captors must have treated her so well, amirite? (Even though there are already plenty of horror stories from Hamas captivity, and children came back pale and whispering with their heads full of lice.)

Even in the early 2010s there was a debate whether RPF is legit or not (and at 26 I can safely say it's a no from me), but in this case it's even worse. These are not public figures we are talking about. This isn't One Direction or The Beatles. The Hamas terrorists are, well, terrorists, and Maya Regev is a private person made public because she was TAKEN HOSTAGE INTO GAZA. Writing a FANFIC about actual people who were actually injured during October 7th is beyond sickening, and it's probably the most immoral thing you can do on social media for the Palestinian cause (and if you guys claim to be on the side of morality you might want to be consistent).

Another thing that's driving me crazy is the difference between Israelis and Non-Israelis who grew up on the same things at the same time. my friends and I learned a lot about justice, critical thinking, and the power of art and creativity on the internet. I met a lot of my online friends in socialist youth movements and rallies, and many of them later became my classmates in Bezalel - BECAUSE we applied what we had learned into our adult life.

Non Israelis who grew up on the same platforms as I did who took part in the same fandoms, read the same fanfiction works, learned the same truths of social justice and the power of art- are now viewing the conflict as a fandom. You're either a fan or you're wrong - there is no middle. No room for critical thinking, for "Palestinians have every right to self-determination and an independent state BUT Hamas who actively prevents them said rights has comitted crimes against humanity on 7.10 and must be held accountable", or for "the occupation must end BUT the Jewish people are indigenous to the region" - there is only room for "by all means" and "from the river to the sea". It doesn't matter if they don't know which river and what sea - because if the conflict is a fandom, then they can write an AU to deal with every truth that doesn't settle with their narrative, and rewrite reality to fit their next fanfic.

#personal #ישראל #ישראבלר #וופס תרגמתי #אישי #i will post that on my story #antisemitism

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diejager · 1 year ago

Note

price is already like unofficial dad of 141

-so what would platonic! biological, yan! dad price be like

[i pass a cup of hot cocoa and bag of gold to you]

I’ll take that hot cocoa and bag of gold!

Yandere!Dad!Price

Headcanon

Cw: yandere, platonic relationship, protective!Price, stalking, camera surveillance, tracking, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 758

Yan!Dad!Price, as a father-figure to 141, is already burdened with the weight of their safety and protection. He protects them as if they were his own, signing away Soap’s misdemeanour and pranks, Gaz’s mischievous personality under the gentle gaze of his, and Ghost’s stand-offish character with war crimes under his belt. Price is fiercely protective of his charge, so he’d be worse with his biological child.

Yan!Dad!Price is possessive, branding you - in his mind - as his, making sure that you’re safe at all times. He’s borderline paranoid at times, his mind going through every enemy he’s made in the past without prejudice, everyone is a danger to his livelihood, meaning you. As a father, he’s much more protective, always worried and conscious of the danger he puts on you when he leaves.

Yan!Dad!Price worries that one day, someone would find you and use you as leverage against him, torture you and throw you back out as revenge for what he’s done to them, or - the worse - keep you for the sake of causing him pain and anguish. As your father, he’s much, much more paranoid than he is with anyone else on his team, especially since your mother’s been missing from your life for a while now, leaving him to care for you and occasionally leaving you at Kate and her wife’s house.

Yan!Dad!Price isn’t scared of getting his hand dirty, he already does it to further the goals and images of powerful men, political figures and to keep the world clean from monsters by becoming one himself. He knows his hands are stained red, an invincible mark following him until he’s either killed, or dies of natural causes —he hopes for the latter. He might not kill innocent people, but he isn’t scared of threatening them, using his power and resources to keep them away from you.

Yan!Dad!Price might be protective, wanting to keep you to himself and locked away from the harsh and dangerous world, but he’s smart and cares enough about you to let you have your freedom. He lets you go out with friends - you’re an adult, you should have the independence and freedom to do some - and travel, but he gives you a curfew and demands he wants you to keep. So far, you’ve followed them and he trusts you to keep doing so. Although he lets you live your life as a young adult: working, going out, meeting friends and enjoying yourself, he keeps an eye on you, he has a tracker installed into your phone and one on you at all times, he has someone watch you through the cameras to follow your every step and report it to him if there’s a sudden change.

Another thing Yan!Dad!Price has, as insurance to your safety, the three boys protecting you. They’re well acquainted with you, often seeing you wandering the base outside of Birmingham with a visitor’s badge and permission to wander wherever you want. You’re as much a part of the TF as the boys, the honorary member that visits them every so often to see how they’re doing when they’re stationed here. Being a year or two younger than Gaz made them feel like you were the baby of the family, the little sibling that they had to protect and care for whenever they could.

Yan!Dad!Price somehow makes it unnoticeable to you that he has a tracker on you or that he has a system to monitor your every action, you even get regular visits from Kate and the boys, coming over to his house. Soap and Ghost always went together, Ghost’s big and broad figure acting as a deterrent to any malicious people and Gaz would go with him, following him back to stay the night. The house had enough room for everyone too, one guest room in the basement, one on the ground floor and another one near the stairs on the second floor.

Yan!Dad!Price is careful, selective with people he lets around you, all for the sake of protecting you. He won;t let you wander too far from him, he won’t let you go where he won’t be able to reach, where he won’t be able to find you. You’re an indispensable part of his life, the joy of his life, the light that brought a smile to his lips after a rough day or mission. You took care of him so he watched over you and kept you safe.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort

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ifellintothestyx · 5 months ago

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The funny thing about JC defenders is that they always try to argue that JC refusing to cover the Wens and side with WWX was the correct political move. In the short term, perhaps, but in the long term, that was proven wrong in the books themselves.

(It's even funnier thinking that correct political moves exist in a bullshit political system that blatantly serves only the gentry, is held together by hearsay and rumors, and has no actual system of laws that can serve as a basis to accuse, judge, or punish someone.)

So how was JC's refusal to side with WWX and the Wens considered the "correct political move"? Reasons include that the Jiang sect was still recovering from the war, that going against the Jins would result in another war that would end in major losses on the Jiang sect's side, and that the Wens weren't and shouldn't have been a priority for JC at all.

Let's clear a few things up. The Jiang clan was not the only clan recovering, so were the Nies and the Lans. In the aftermath of the war, it's not explicitly stated how well the other sects were doing, so we couldn't really tell if the Jiangs were worse off than the other three. It could be noted, however, that the Jins retained much of their wealth and influence, so much so that Jin Guangyao was able to take the position of Chief Cultivator with little to no opposition. The main point, though, is that at that moment in the aftermath of the war, we could not easily assume the Jiangs were the worst off, as the other three sects also lost many disciples in the war, and we didn't really know how much the other sects recovered.

For the second reason, if a major war somehow did happen again, this time Jiangs vs everyone else, everyone else would lose. WWX's presence single-handedly helped them win the war against the Wens. A war between the Jiangs and the jianghu would be based on numbers, which reflects the war between the Wens and the jianghu. The Wens had more disciples, and no matter how many LWJs or NMJs you got up your sleeve, numbers make a big difference in war. That's why WWX's skills were a critical part in winning: he is a one-man army of thousands. He could easily make up for the gap in numbers. That's why the Jins kept trying to get rid of him—they were nervous about so much power belonging to only one faction: the Jiangs. JGS couldn't exactly claim his desired role as Chief Cultivator if a younger, smarter, and more powerful individual was still around to keep him in check.

Finally, we get to the part of why I'm making this long-ass post on a caffeine-driven rage. See, the point of trying to stop a powerful faction from committing atrocities is to stop them from thinking they can do it whenever they like. The Jins were given a pass to do whatever the hell they wanted to a small, outcasted faction (the Wens), and they proceeded to take that pass as a pass for everything else. Nobody stopped them from torturing the Wens, so what's stopping them from allowing a mass murderer like XY to run wild in an attempt to create their own WWX? Definitely not NMJ, hahaha, because, y'know, the hypocrites in the gentry have already decided that whatever the Jins do is alright so long as it's not their problem. An exterminated clan isn't their priority. So, what was stopping XY from going out and doing it again to SL's sect? Absolutely nothing! Because the Jins could cover it up and no one could say a word despite how suspicious it was, because hey, remember what happened to the last guy that spoke up against the Jins?

Calling out the Jins on their crimes against the Wens, who were elderly and children save for WQ and WN (who JC owed his damn life and core to), would have created a precedent of not allowing massive crimes to slide under the radar. But because the opposite happened, because nobody fucking realized that apathy and selfishness don't fucking help in the long run, two sects were exterminated because JGS and JGY were basically given an "okay, fine, just keep that bullshit away from us". That's not actual justice. That's not "morally grey". Allowing people in power to trample over others just because it doesn't affect you personally is not sustainable, because what happens when it's you they've decided to trample over? Are you going to complain? Are you going to look to others for help, when you personally couldn't be bothered to offer your hand to those who suffered? When the reason the people trampling over you gained that power is because you allowed it?

The unopposed killing of WWX and the Wens led to the political climate that allowed the massacres of two sects because the Jins were trying to protect and satisfy their pet project. It led to the murder of NMJ because JGS/JGY wanted to keep people from checking their power. If JC couldn't find it in his heart to be sympathetic to the Wens, fine, but at the very least, he should have considered the potential harm in rolling over and giving a political faction too much power.

#it's not that i hate jc #i really don't #but when his defenders try to make it out like wwx made HIS life so hard #by yknow having a moral compass #and spewing bs about how jc was politically correct or sum #like im sorry pls decide on whether jc was a young inexperienced leader or a politically smart guy #you cant defend on opposite fronts and frankly the former makes him more sympathetic than the latter #mdzs #mxtx mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #anti jiang cheng #just in case #cant believe my first major post abt mdzs is a rant about THOSE jc defenders #can't believe there r actual ppl who've read mdzs and side w the rich dudes

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rayveneyed · 3 months ago

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cw: ares!bakugou x aphrodite!reader, fem!reader, mentions of war and violence, bakugou who is so pathetically in love but doesn’t know it

he finds you in a place unlike any other he’s previously found you in — sitting on the ground behind a quaint little market stall near the sea, where purple weeds grow from old brick and the streets are worn and dusty. the sun shines bright here, always has, but illuminates your little corner something special — golden and honeyed, reflecting off the jewellery hanging from your ears and wrists.

this is not the sparkling marble and iridescent gold of mount olympus; this is not the illustrious facades of athens, nor the rich fabrics and skilfully carved stones of abyssinia. you’re selling flowers — clay pots of red roses and white geranium; dandelion bulbs for next spring. they pour over the stall and onto the ground, long, frond-like leaves and jewel-toned petals, encapsulating you in an orb of beauty. it suits the city, with all its charm and narrow streets, but at the same time you eclipse it all. it’s only natural, he supposes — godliness rarely ever goes unseen, and you most godly of all.

his boots are caked in dark mud; his sword clangs loud at his hip, and the crowd parts for him instinctively. those who have any sense turn away from him, scurrying along with their baskets of fruit and loaves of bread, smart enough to avoid soldiers and smarter, still, to avoid those of his nature; those who are perhaps more foolish turn to gape at him as he nears you, taking in the slope of his broad shoulders and his unpleasantly-contorted face. he imagines it almost comical, the juxtaposition between you, but he is no stranger to your treachery, nor your barbs.

you do not regard him when he nears, but he would be a fool to think you haven’t noticed him — as expected, your pretty lips split in a smile when his shadow falls over you.

“aphrodite,” he greets, plain and frowning. “what business have you here?”

it is more respect than he allows most other gods, except perhaps his father and mother — but you are you, born from sea-foam and gore, and he knows your power as intimately as he knows his own. if his power is drawn from combat, from war and blood and guts, yours is much from the same; jealousy, dark and curdling, crimes of passion, blood-coloured rubies and garnets. it is only this that stays his irritation, bubbling instead as something just as fierce and red-hot in his chest.

“here, i am known by one name, and one name only,” you only say, demure. a sharp blade in your right hand, and a thorn-ridden in the other, you make quick work of slicing the hardy stem in half. “they call me _____. it is a good name. what name have you taken in this form, dearest ares?”

he stares at you — eyes the roundness of your shoulder beneath your robes, the embroidery of which is delicate and expertly done. your eyes are half-lidded, cast down to your work, the shadows of your eyelashes curving over your cheeks. it has never been a question of his (or any other, for that regard) as to why you govern all matters of beauty. it is clear as the sun in the sky.

your eyes flicker up from the flower blooming in your hand. he realises that he did not avoid your question quickly enough — his head still stumbles over dearest ares. no matter. you’ve never bristled at his misanthropic silence or brutish remarks — only brushed them off with a knowing smile or distracted sigh, like he was nothing more than an overexcited puppy nipping at your ankles. it should annoy him more than it does, perhaps, but there are more pressing matters to attend to.

“war will find its way here,” he says shortly. looking away from your face and finding his mind clearer, he takes in his surroundings more fully; the cobbled streets, the wooden crates of produce, fresh and shiny. the smell of salt in the air, the heat of the sun. if he had such an appreciation for beauty, for aesthetics, he would perhaps feel worse about the sorry state this place will surely be in once the fighting is over. this is wholly against his nature, though; he cannot deny the chance of a good fight sparks something in his stomach. still, he attempts to dull his blood-thirst when he turns to you once more, and says: “most will die. blood will fill these streets, and fire will burn these stalls. none will inhabit this village for the next hundred years.”

he hadn’t expected tears from you, to be sure, but he still finds himself surprised when you simply respond: “hm.”

the stem is cut in half again. then, methodically, your blade slices away at the thorns.

“does it please you, sweet ares?” you say, then, peering up at him from below those gods-forsaken lashes — and he is frozen once more. “to look here, at that peaceful horizon, at these swarms of mortals, and see war?”

“yes,” he says. honest. you know his nature.

“hm.” after another pause, you raise a hand; beckoning him close with a simple wave that he is all too weak to resist. his knee finds the cobblestone, his other forming a rest for his arm. he is not unaware that this could be regarded as deference. better you than apollo, or hephaestus, or dionysus, or any other.

you lean forward. he bends towards you, too, until less than the width of your stall separates you. would he be a mortal man, this proximity would have already ruined him for all others.

“by the time this village is in ruins,” you say, voice a low whisper, eyes boring so pointedly into his — so close that your breath heats his lips, and the smell of roses clouds his head, “i will be gone, or perhaps i will be among it. and i will find another town just like it, or a city thrice its size, or a village not even half of it. and you will follow me there, as you have followed me for millennia, sweet…?”

“katsuki.”

a toothy grin suddenly eclipses your face — all hints of secrecy or solemnity vanished. his cheeks are hot — he hadn’t even meant to reveal it, the inconsequential name of his current human form — but before he can snap at you, snarl his embarrassment away, you reach up. that same flower you had been carving away at is deftly tucked behind his ear, fragrant and blooming, and he is equal parts enraged and astounded by it. you can see it on his face, too, and laughing, stand to your feet.

“sweet katsuki,” you say, turning away from him, “let us meet here again. bring your war. i will bring mine.”

you disappear around the wall — or perhaps in the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing, or a ray of golden sunlight.

katsuki — ares — is left, with his mud-stained boots and his face contorted somewhere between anger and incredulity, a rose in his spiked hair.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x you #bnha x you #katsuki x you #mha x you #anime x reader #anime x you #anime au #bakugou au #bnha au #katsuki au

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imgeekgirlfan · 4 months ago

Text

The Curse of Cassandra│(Qimir x Reader)

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings: Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: Being a prophet is both a gift and a curse; you see the future and you’re burdened with the weight of knowing that every decision you make could shape or destroy entire universe, with the overwhelming pressure that the fate of the galaxy hinges on your choice, and every path fraught with sacrifice.

Status: Completed (Finally! 😭)

A/N : I'm thai and english isn't my first language (sorry for the broken English)

This fic exists 'cause I got high (thanks to weed!). So my work's full of random shit in many ways. But I hope you'll dig it.

I got inspo from novels and movies I'm obsessed with: Dune, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, Blue Eye Samurai, and Anne Carson's Cassandra Float Can. (Hence the title "The Curse of Cassandra," linking to the Greek myth)

It's a mash-up of different universes, not just Star Wars, with a lot of tweaks for my storyline. If you want fanfic that strict Star Wars canon, this fic isn't for you.

Also, diversity FTW! the reader in this fic isn't white, she's a SEA woman, we gonna representing ASEAN pride.

➡ EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

[Intro] A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away

What fate could be worse?

Being captured by Jedi

Or being hunted by Sith

You close your eyelids, frowning at the stabbing sensation creeping into your brain. It's always like this when you try to sink into the stream of time, pondering what's yet to come. The price for this wicked foresight is torment of both body and soul, intensifying as your senses expand.

You see, you hear, you feel. The moisture in the air, the sound of water droplets hitting the ground, the wind rustling through the grass, the capillaries in your nasal cavities twisting and rupturing before blood gushes from your nose.

As you casually wipe away the red fluid with the back of your hand, you suddenly realize certain truths that have always been part of you.

You are an aberration, something repulsive. An Abomination.

And abominations must be eliminated—so they say.

You let out a long sigh, allowing your mind to drift through the past, present, and future—every possible event and situation. You watch it all with a numb mind, as if you've seen the same movie hundreds or thousands of times, a movie whose ending you already know well.

Yet there's one thing you still don't know: which ending will the path you're on now lead to?

Something pulls you out of your meditation, coinciding with the moment you sense someone's piercing gaze openly fixed upon you. That man is watching you from the shadows behind a large tree, not with malicious intent but with curiosity mixed with several other complex emotions too ambiguous to explain.

You remain seated in meditation at the same spot, amidst the blood and corpses of the Jedi, not daring to move, almost forgetting even to breathe.

You are the last one still breathing, the final victim of the Jedi massacre carried out by the mysterious Sith—The Stranger who is now closely observing you.

His face is completely hidden beneath a dark, twisted metal mask. Yet you can still feel his gleaming eyes surveying your body, as far as sight allows, focusing excessively, even invasively.

The curiosity in his mind is so intense that you find yourself trembling.

You see visions of what might happen—there's a high chance he'll rush in to slice you to pieces with his red lightsaber, searching for secrets or whatever might be hidden inside your body. Or he might subjugate you with his Force, using his power to penetrate your mind, deep into your subconscious, hoping to taste the forbidden fruit of secrets that you alone possess.

But he will never know, as long as you don't wish him to.

The scent of death hangs heavy in the air as heavy footsteps crunch over gravel, approaching you slowly, like a predator toying with its prey. You freeze, every muscle in your body tense, as you face the tall figure in dark cloak, his visage concealed behind a strange metal mask carved into a distorted smile.

For a moment, this man reminds you of the grim reaper from ancient religious myths that vanished thousands of years ago.

He is the harbinger of death everywhere he goes, including your own death

Awareness strikes like a warning signal. Various possibilities flash through your memory, similar to how a dying person recalls everything that happened in their life.

You instantly realize how crucial this moment is. This is an incredibly fragile juncture.

There's a fifty percent chance he'll kill you, and another fifty percent chance he'll spare your life.

Fear spreads throughout your flesh, imprinting itself on your soul, turning your blood ice-cold. Your pulse races with panic.

You take a deep breath, quickly focusing, trying hard to regain control of your shaken mind. "I must not fear," you mutter to yourself, the same phrase your mother used to teach you as a child. "Fear is the mind-killer, fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration..."

A low, hoarse laugh escapes from behind the metal mask. Clearly, he heard what you said. "Oh, I think you should fear," he says, his words teetering between mockery and sarcasm.

You know he wants you to fear because, for the Sith, fear leads to power.

You do the opposite, swallowing the lump of fear in your throat, maintaining a calm demeanor as you force a faint smile for the person before you.

"Humans fear what they don't know, just as they fear me, and just as they fear you." You pause momentarily, carefully considering your final sentence, which could determine your fate.

Finally, you speak, firm and unwavering, "But I know you, so I do not fear."

There's a fifty percent chance he'll kill you, and another fifty percent chance he'll spare your life—this thought returns to your mind once more.

He had always kept his secret well, never letting anyone who knew his true identity survive.

You know well that your revelation will bring about an end that changes everything, both for better and for worse.

This is the gamble you've already placed your bet on, for this purpose and for this moment.

The lightsaber hilt in his hand remains tightly closed, showing no sign of the red flame that has taken countless lives. He kneels before you, his action clearly revealing vulnerabilities in his body. You could easily grab the lightsaber from the Jedi's corpse and behead him in one stroke.

But you don't kill him, just as he doesn't kill you.

You look into his eyes, he looks into yours, gauging each other in silence.

His large hand reaches beneath his mask, unlocks the mechanism, and slowly removes it, revealing the familiar face in your sight.

His face is sharp in every proportion, with messy jet-black hair. His eyes, once gentle when touched by sunlight, now cold as ice, contrast starkly with the smile slowly spreading wide, in the same fashion as the smile on the mask he wore earlier.

"Qimir"

His name sounds strange when you utter it, as if it's not a name you're familiar with, and the man before you is not the man you know.

The man chuckles softly and moves even closer, cutting off any chance for you to escape. You swallow hard, trying to turn your face away from his intense gaze. But he doesn't let you. His fingers, wet with others' blood, dig into both of your cheeks, pressing hard enough to hurt, forcing you to look only at him.

"Surprised?" He leans in closer, his hot breath on your face, and whispers softly in your ear, "I told you, you can't run away from me."

#qimir x reader #qimir x y/n #the stranger x reader #qimir fic #qimir x you #the acolyte x reader #star wars #the acolyte #qimir #star wars fic #the acolyte fic #Angst and Tragedy #Strangers to Lovers #no gods no masters no beta not edited either im going to sleep #english isn't my first language #The Curse of Cassandra

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dragon-watcher03 · 5 months ago

Note

I like when ppl write their own version of mk intros, so I shall request those. I don't have any specific idea for reader's backstory so I'd love to see what you come up with o/

Thx for the motivation, you gave me a brilliant idea-

Mk1 x Gn! Doom God! Reader

Note: Reader uses mini scythes connected via chains as a Krucible and has armour more like those from Halo. Implied Doom Slayer x reader.

Ft. Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Raiden, Kitana, Shang Tsung

Liu Kang: You are a God in your realm?

You: I'd rather go with Slayer, but yes.

Liu Kang: The fact that your realm's Seraphims see you as nothing but a weapon... doesn't sit right with me.

You: Why? It is my sole purpose.

Liu Kang: Slaying demons for many decades must have been challenging.

You: Less challenging, more soul-draining.

You: I do not intend to stay here long, Lord Liu Kang.

Liu Kang: At least grant me one last spar?

You: There is another like me, but he is a lot less talkative.

Liu Kang: I have no doubt that he is as honorable as you.

You: The humans in this world are very different than the ones back at home...

Liu Kang: How so?

Johnny Cage: So, what exactly are you the God of?

You: I am no God, but people have no better words to describe me.

Johnny Cage: C'mon, you and your buddy would totally fit in a first-person shooter!

You: I have better demons to fight than Paparazzi, Cage.

Johnny Cage: So, this buddy of yours, he anything other than just your partner in crime?

You: Even if we were, I wouldn't tell you.

You: I have no time for trivial things like "love".

Johnny Cage: Sheesh, talk about workaholic.

You: I know what you're going to ask, and no, you can't hold my Krucible.

Johnny Cage: Y'know if you weren't such a buzzkill, I'd totally tap that.

You: Do you get anything out of flirting with me?

Johnny Cage: The possibility of courting a Goddess/God.

Raiden: Your people see you as a God?

You: Yeah, they even made a whole religion based on us.

Raiden: This other "Doom God" you speak of, he sounds like a ruthless man.

You: Oh trust me, he is.

Raiden: Is it foolish of me to request a spar with a demon-killing God?

You: Don't worry, I'll be gentle.

You: That amulet you have is fascinating...

Raiden: As is that weapon of yours.

You: Ashrah is a Demon? She looks so human compared to the ones back at home.

Raiden: Whatever monsters you deal with at home, I can assure you she is nothing like them.

You: Are you sure you want to meet him?

Raiden: When you speak so highly of him, how can I not?

Kitana: The war you fight sounds worse than Outworlds.

You: I pray this universe will never experience such a war...

Kitana: I feel like you and my sister would get along well.

You: I take from the way you say that, that it's a compliment.

Kitana: The humans of your world call you "Ruin God"?

You: They are so creative, aren't they?

You: I must say, you were right about getting along with Mileena.

Kitana: The blood coating your armour seems to prove so.

You: I have been alive for so long with the mind of a human, that I started to forget who my parents were...

Kitana: I'm... sorry to hear that, Ruin.

You: I hoped to not get attached to any of you to make my departure easier.

Kitana: laughs Guess that didn't work out so well, did it?

Shang Tsung: Well, aren't you a fine specimen.

You: Back off you cretin, or you'll see why we are called Gods.

Shang Tsung: I could set you and your partner free from the shackles of being weapons for your world.

You: And be yours instead? I'd rather serve the Seraphims.

Shang Tsung: We could have been such a powerful couple, you and I.

You: I already have a stronger and better suitor, sorcerer.

You: You are worse than the demons back at home...

Shang Tsung: Oh~ feeling feisty now are we?

You: You are playing with forces beyond your power, sorcerer.

Shang Tsung: Then let's play~

You: You look horrible. Did you finally meet him?

Shang Tsung: Tch, how you two have such power for mere humans is beyond my comprehension.

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #scorpion x reader #kuai liang #kitana #kitana x reader #liu kang x reader #liu kang #johnny x reader #johnny cage #mortal kombat 1 #doom slayer x reader

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 days ago

Text

Maybe you’ve been asking yourself:

1. “How could Donald Trump have won 51 percent of the popular vote?”

2. “How hard is it to immigrate to New Zealand?”

3. “What the actual fuck?”

Fair questions. Let’s try a thought experiment. Could Tuesday’s election results have been any worse?

Well, what if, instead of 51 percent, the Republican nominee had won 59 percent? Or 61 percent? And what if he had won 49 states?

Those aren’t hypotheticals. Those were the results of the 1972 and 1984 landslides that reelected Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan.

With thumping victories like those, what could possibly go wrong for the winners?

If history’s any guide, some nasty surprises await Donald Trump.

In 1972, the Democratic presidential nominee, George McGovern, won just 37.5 percent of the vote, carrying only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia for a total of 17 Electoral College votes. He didn’t even win his home state, South Dakota.

In 1984, Democrat Walter Mondale did carry his native Minnesota, but that was as good as it got for him. In the Electoral College, he fared even worse than McGovern, with a whopping 13 votes.

In the aftermath of these thrashings, the Democratic Party lay in smoldering ruins, and Republicans looked like indestructible conquerors.

Now, some might argue that those GOP victories, though statistically more resounding than Trump’s, weren’t nearly as alarming, because he’s a criminal and wannabe autocrat.

But Trump’s heinousness shouldn’t make us nostalgic for Nixon and Reagan. They were also criminals—albeit unindicted ones. And they were up to all manner of autocratic shit—until they got caught.

The Watergate scandal was only one small part of the sprawling criminal enterprise that Nixon directed from the Oval Office in order to subvert democracy. For his part, Reagan’s contribution to the annals of presidential crime, Iran-Contra, broke myriad laws and violated Constitutional norms.

The hubris engendered by both men’s landslides propelled them to reckless behavior in their second terms—behavior that came back to haunt them. Nixon was forced to resign the presidency; Reagan was lucky to escape impeachment.After the Watergate scandal forced Richard Nixon from office, this bumper sticker helped Massachusetts voters brag that they handed him his only Electoral College loss in 1972.

Of course, Trump would be justified in believing that no matter how reckless he becomes, he’ll never pay a price. He’s already been impeached—twice—only to be acquitted by his Republican toadies in the Senate. And now that the right-wing supermajority of the Supreme Court has adorned him with an immunity idol, he’ll likely feel free to commit crimes that Nixon and Reagan could only dream of. Who’ll stop him from using his vast power to persecute his voluminous list of enemies?

Well, the enemy most likely to thwart Trump in his second term might be one who isn’t on his list: himself. The seeds of Trump’s downfall may reside in two promises he made to win this election: the mass deportation of immigrants and the elimination of inflation.

Trump’s concept of a plan to deport 20 million immigrants is as destined for success as were two of his other brainchildren, Trump University and Trump Steaks. The US doesn’t have anything approaching the law-enforcement capacity to realize this xenophobic fever dream.

And as for Trump’s war on inflation, the skyrocketing prices caused by his proposed tariffs will make Americans nostalgic for pandemic-era price-gouging on Charmin.

It's possible that Trump’s 24/7 disinformation machine, led by Batman villains Rupert Murdoch, Tucker Carlson, and Elon Musk, will prevent his MAGA followers from ever discovering that 20 million immigrants didn’t go anywhere. And it’s possible that if inflation spikes, he’ll find a scapegoat for that. (Nancy Pelosi? Dr. Fauci? Taylor Swift?)

And, yes, it’s possible that Trump will somehow accomplish his goal of becoming America’s Kim Jong Un, and our democracy will go belly-up like the Trump Taj Mahal casino in Atlantic City.

But I wouldn’t bet on it. I tend to agree with the British politician Enoch Powell (1912-1998), who observed that all political careers end in failure. I doubt that Trump, with his signature blend of inattention, impulsiveness, and incompetence, will avoid that fate.

And when the ketchup hits the fan, the MAGA movement may suddenly appear far more fragmented and fractious than it does this week. You can already see the cracks. Two towering ignoramuses like Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren Boebert should be BFFs, but they despise each other—the only policy of theirs I agree with.

If things really go south, expect MAGA Republicans to devour each other as hungrily as the worm who feasted on RFK Jr.’s brain—and that, my friends, will be worth binge-watching. I’m stocking up on popcorn now before Trumpflation makes it unaffordable.

One parting thought. Post-election, the mainstream media’s hyperbolic reassessment of Trump—apparently, he’s now a political genius in a league with Talleyrand and Metternich—has been nauseating. It’s also insanely short-sighted. Again, a look at the not-so-distant past is instructive.

In 1984, after Reagan romped to victory with 59 percent of the popular vote and 525 electoral votes, Reaganism was universally declared an unstoppable juggernaut. But only two years later, in the 1986 midterms, Democrats proved the pundits wrong: they regained control of both the House and Senate for the first time since 1980. Those majorities enabled them to slam the brakes on Ronnie’s right-wing agenda, block the Supreme Court nomination of Robert Bork, and investigate Iran-Contra.

The lesson of the 1986 midterms is clear: the game’s far from over and there’s everything to play for. If we want to stem the tide of autocracy and kleptocracy, restore women’s rights and protect the most vulnerable, we don’t have the luxury of despair. The work starts now.

Andy Borowitz

#Borowitz Report #political #politics #history #Regan #Nixon

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