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spicyclover · 1 year

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The accident that caused our love | Part one

Summary: You love him, and he loves you, but none of you dare to take the first step. However, this is the season's last race, and you are ready to find him to admit that you are in love with him, but it appears the universe decided to get in your way.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

This is the season's last race, and you just got to Abu Dhabi airport. Having missed your connection in Spain, you had to wait several hours before successfully boarding another plane.

Frustrated, you get your backpack in the cabin and run to get out once you get off the plane and through customs. All taxis are taken, and renting a car must take at least three hours. You then decide to take a motorcycle. «What could be so different from a car?» You said to yourself, taking the bike's keys in your hands.

You manage to get out of the parking lot without difficulty and finally arrive on the highway. You try to keep a reasonable speed, but time is running out, so you start slaloming between the cars as best you can. At the same time, you are not very comfortable on your bike because you must have driven what? Twice in your life.

You have about ten minutes before you get to the circuit when suddenly, you feel your bike derailed, and you lose control. The minutes slow down, and you try to figure out what’s happening. However, you don’t have time to think long enough that you’re rushing into the security fence at full speed.

The impact was so strong that you were immediately ejected from the vehicle. You glided head-first into the ravine and made a few rollovers before your head violently hit a piece of your motorcycle.

You’re losing consciousness, a lot of blood around you.

Fortunately for you, being close to the circuit, the dryers intervened quickly, and you could be taken to the hospital urgently.

In the meantime, Carlos has repeatedly tried to reach you by telephone. He begins to worry and no longer focuses on what his strategist tells him. He suddenly hears ambulances leaving in the distance. Surprised, he does not understand why the ambulances of the circuit leave towards the highway on the outskirts of the circuit.

A few minutes later, the FIA announced that the race would be delayed because of a severe accident. Carlos tries again to reach you, and the phone finally picks up.

“Allo?”

“Hermosa, where are you? I just heard there was a big accident. Are you okay?” Carlos quickly exclaims.

“Who is this?” Said the voice once again.

“Carlos. Who are you?” He asks, confused.

“I’m Khalid, a paramedic. I have the personal effects of one of the wounded. Can you tell me if she has any close family here?”

“She’s hurt?”

“I can’t revile any information to non-members of the family. Can you statues your relationship with my patient?”

“Am... am her boyfriend.”

“Okay, she’s in an ambulance toward Seha Emirates Hospital. You’ll be able to find her there with her belongings.” The paramedic finished and hung up the phone leaving Carlos speechless.

The garage went silent, listening to the conversation. Nobody dares to speak or even move, and only Charles comes to Carlos and takes him in his arms. Tears fall, and he can’t seem to process any information. Just lost in a loop of confusion and fear.

After several minutes in comfort, Charles finally declared they were going to the hospital. The Ferrari manager doesn’t even have time to add anything. Charles gives him a black look and comes out of the garage holding Carlos by the shoulders.

The vast majority of the Paddock have heard about the accident, and everyone is learning about the victims of this one, which allows the two men to travel the way to Charles' car without any interest.

To be continued...

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz #carlos sainz fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff #fluff #accident #f1accident

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gregoftom · 11 months

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“why did greg betray tom in the finale after batting for him all of season 4″ he didn’t. next question

longer answer: he didn’t bc betrayal implies he specifically did what he did to implicate tom in some way. if we look at characters’ motives in succ most of them are driven by self preservation. what can this do for me, how can this raise me higher, how can this save me, what can i use for leverage etc etc and fuck everybody else in the process. tg subvert this frequently, but a very important example of greg both surviving and avoiding pure selfishness/protecting tom is in the finale, and to ignore that is actually ignoring how different it was to his previous moves re: telling gerri. when he told gerri, and gerri approached tom, this was a situation that only involved tom so it was a direct “betrayal” so to speak. in the finale, greg did not give tom’s name to ken, despite knowing how juicy that morsel would be to him. he knows ken, he knows shiv, he knows the situation between them, he knows tom and shiv’s situation, he knows it all, and he knows that ken would love something he could use to undermine shiv just that little bit more. tom is the father of shiv’s child - ken knowing that tom is the pick for ceo would absolutely put greg in more favour with him because he could use that so much more. tom would be an excellent tool for ken to wield against his sister, not only bc it would shake her, but bc he could use him to forge a stronger alliance with her. previously he has said he’s got her back against tom, offered to kill him etc, so it would be a perfect opportunity to not just rattle her, but gain her loyalty by having a common enemy. greg knows this for sure, we’ve seen him directly go against shiv with ken in america decides yet he still did not mention tom in the finale. this tracks with his behaviour throughout season 4, where he has sang tom’s song, thrown others under the bus to protect tom’s name and redirect fire on him to others, taken care of tom’s basic needs etc. he made a mistake, and it’s been said many times that he’s a very fear based kind of guy. he was afraid. tom was being cagey, extremely shakey with phrases like “i think” and “castrated/decimated on pay”. he wasn’t showing any appreciation or knowledge for greg’s efforts because he was so blinded by his own attempts to secure greg, status, and the stress and absolute lack of sleep as well as ofc his unprocessed trauma of being with logan when he died, so greg’s natural response was to gravitate to someone who might be able to protect him, a blood relation, and the one who has been the nicest to him [which isn’t even saying that much lol] of all of them, and the one he hasn’t burned bridges with. it wasn’t a betrayal, it was a fear response, and his frustration and not being recognised for his efforts in taking care of tom probably was a part of his reaction to tom cuffing him over the head in the bathroom. FUCK you for getting mad at me, i know i fucked up but i’m trying to help you goddamnit! i’ve been helping you all this time! i love you you idiot!!!

#tomgreg #just clearing the air as succ mfs would say

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warsofasoiaf · 16 days

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What's the tea on Sheila Fitzpatrick? Haven't gotten around to any of her work yet

Sheila Fitzpatrick is one of the prominent historians of the "revisionist" school of the Soviet Union, which emerged as a response to the "totalitarian" or "traditionalist" school that was prominent earlier, such as Robert Conquest. Fitzpatrick's most notable contributions to history come from the perspective of the lower classes of the Soviet Union, that the Soviet Union was not a singular ideological monolith driven from the top-down and that it had to respond to social forces within its own nation. In many ways, it's actually a welcome revision from the 1950's era of Soviet historiography, and the scholarship produced has increased the overall level of historical understanding.

For herself, Sheila Fitzpatrick is perhaps most notable for her "people's history" of the Soviet Union, one divorced from ideology and focused mostly on social mobility and the experiences of the peasantry and line workers. Perhaps most controversially (and what I was referencing in the earlier post), is that Fitzpatrick contends that the Great Purge and Stalinism was an albeit brutal form of democratic revolution, due to the people that were able to move into the places of those purged and experience social advancement. Stalin secured a way of public buy-in through a newly-empowered cadre of middle-class individuals to achieve legitimacy for his government and secure popular buy-in.

Now, of course, to outside observers, this is nonsense. Murdering people and distributing their stuff to other people is not a viable method of securing popular buy-in or achieving democracy. But because the purged were "class enemies," Fitzpatrick identifies them as "bourgeoise" and "executives," somehow this confers the action a form of legitimacy not seen in other historical or scholarly analysis - it was okay to exterminate them because others were able to benefit, conferring the idea that the people being purged were inherently less worthy than the people who benefitted. Similarly, Fitzpatrick, who took great pains to minimize the effect of ideology within the Soviet Union, is singularly unable to answer the question of why these targets were deemed acceptable in the first place - though ideology provides a very clear outline as to why such "class enemies" would be exterminated. Since such scholarship would be seen as antithetical to the revisionist school, however, it had to be discarded, which undermines the authenticity and accuracy of historical scholarship.

What bothers me about Fitzpatrick is that this is not considered a fringe belief of an otherwise respectable historian, but that this is considered a valid interpretation of a period of history with implications delivered further into the present. To Fitzpatrick's scholarship, it's *okay* to murder undesirables provided that they're the correct undesirables (a big problem given the rise in the justification of violence toward groups deemed to be subhuman - just look at the Russian invasion of Ukraine). Now, this is hardly unusual from a Marxist perspective - Orthodox Marxism depends on the categorical extermination of undesirables to achieve its desired societal utopia, but Fitzpatrick is no tankie and is in fact, quite critical of Stalin, otherwise, but has to find ways to mitigate his atrocities so he's not relegated as a monster.

This has been the case for a lot of contemporary historical scholarship with the Soviet Union. There's a significant number of false equivalencies in Soviet scholarship, such as the Great Purges or Khrushchev's forcible medication of dissidents with McCarthyism, in order to mute criticism of the Soviet Union and reject the notion of it as a censorious and ideologically-driven state. Contextually speaking, a lot of history scholars came to prominence as members of the New Left, whose anti-Vietnam War activism sought to portray the Soviet Union as a defensive, anti-imperialist, and progressive power despite all evidence to the contrary, and has similarly translated into hostility against new scholarship that brings sharper criticism of the Soviet Union into the fore. This was the case with Haynes and Klehr, whose translations of the VENONA cipher decrypts and exposure of the CPUSA's role in Soviet espionage was met with abject vituperation from the leaders of history departments - specifically and explicitly because it serves to provide evidence that undermines their core, tribal thesis. Such hostility to new scholarship, particularly that which is based in evidence instead of interpretation, is nothing short of a failure in history departments in their core mission.

Thanks for the question, Hex.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#history #sheila fitzpatrick #soviet union

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mortifiedatbeingknown · 8 months

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"A Rather Polite, Bigger Thing" (Pt. 5)

Masterpost:

Two days from now was the nearest time she was able to get. Until then, the robot lay in complete silence, staring blankly at the ceiling. He spoke only when first spoken to, and if asked about his well-being he was quick to assure that he was fine, and in no need of further care. Still, she was worried.

Her robot was functioning sure, and there were no complaints of any sort of depleting batteries or further needs. Now that her robot no longer had to worry about dirtying the floor, he could move, or rather, crawl about as he wished; an opportunity he never took. She could order him to, of course, and he'd leap to obey in a flash, but after the incident with his eyes, she was rather hesitant to command anything thoughtlessly. Her robot was fully capable of moving and speaking on its own. So why wasn't he?

Perhaps she was just expecting too much. It could very well be that the isolation of a new place had driven her just insane enough to want to believe that a machine as old as he could be that advanced…

…but if he was, she wanted to give him that chance anyways. Even if it was stupid to even try.

…

…Maybe I am going insane.

**********

Today was the day it would be leaving.

It knew before Mistress even spoke the words, for her clothes were sturdier and less glamorous than her usual attire. No skirt, no blouse, no suit jacket, only a paint-stained shirt and a wide pair of shorts meant for working purposes. The type of attire meant for handling filth.

What came more as a surprise was the harness. Once it had settled on her back, she had tied a length of rope around both their waists, joining them together before adding two additional loops for the shoulders. Before long, it was tied as securely as could be, and there was no danger of it falling off.

That was good. Now she know longer had to worry about grabbing onto what was left of his limbs. With a stretch of her neck, it's head now fell comfortably over her shoulder, and it had a full view of what was up ahead should it care to look.

"Ready?" She asked without needing to. " It's just a short walk, I promise."

"I am willing to go wherever you'll take me." It replied.

There was a quick detour as Mistress had misplaced her purse, and then they were off.

It was not quite sure what to make of being carried quite yet. It was a completely foreign sensation, one it was neither programmed nor prepared for, and the ensuing strangeness of the whole experience left his logical reasoning quite confused.

For one, it was a thrill to be moving again. Even though it was not its own limbs that gave it locomotion, the forward swing and sway as well as the wind in its facial plates could almost trick its programming into believing it was fully functional. There was the satisfaction of a purpose well served, the thrill of obedience. All it needed to do was stay in place and not fall off. With the new harness, it was a remarkably simple task. Right here, right now, it was exactly where it needed to be, and the knowledge was reassuring.

But…?

But then it felt its mistress' heartbeat pick up in tempo, faster and faster as her body strained to accommodate the extra weight she now bore. Sweat soaked through her clothing and ran down her back. Her breath grew shorter and shallower until she was practically panting. It's signals indicated its human was in discomfort.

And all of it, all of it… was because of it.

There wasn't a single EDW who could reasonably be called "light," but as a 450 model, it was particularly heavier than most. The lack of most of its limbs helped slightly,yes, but regrettably both chest and head were still largely intact, and that was where the most important— and the heaviest— components lay. It was in these moments where it was harshly reminded of its true predicament. Not a pleasant trip, not a useful endeavor, but dead weight strapped to the back of a human it should have been serving rather than hindering. Simply put, a burden, in every sense of the word.

And it was then where it's eye would close and it's head would droop, as if the shame would go away if it was not available to process it.

"We're here." Mistress whispered, gently shaking it active. The door pushed open with the sound of a ringing bell.

"Customer!"

It was the high-pitched squeal of an OLI model.

************************

The shop was small, but quaint, with warm yellow lights and a modest array of android parts neatly displayed and labeled on the shelves. By the counter, she assumed, was the man who had talked to her over the phone, currently working with another customer. He flashed a quick smile as she walked in.

“Be right with you, ma’am!”

She nodded in return. In truth, there was nothing more she would’ve liked to do than to find a safe space to set her robot down, and then properly stretch out her cramping back. But if she had gone this far, she could wait a little longer. In the meantime, she occupied herself by browsing through the shelves, checking to see if there were any EDW parts for sale. There were, quite a few in fact, but none where of the 450 variety.

That might pose a problem.

“Alright, that’ll be it then. Thank you and have a nice day!”

When she overheard the telltale phrase, she turned around. The man caught her eye.

“Sorry to keep you waiting ma’am!” He called, waving her over. “How may I help you?”

She tried in vain to tidy up her sweaty hair. “Oh, it’s fine, really, don’t worry about it. I’m the one who called about the EDW-450?”

“Ah, yes!” There was a brief rustling of paper. “I remember now. You’re right on time! Now, what did you want us to look at?”

As a reply, she merely turned to show her passenger.

“Ah!”

That didn’t sound good. There was genuine shock in his voice. If she were to guess, it was likely the shop did not usually see damage of this severity. That didn’t bode well at all.

“If you don’t mind, miss, I…think it might be best you bring your ‘bot round back. Is that alright?”

Still not a “no.” She nodded eagerly. With a sigh, the man took out a ring of keys and motioned for her to follow him. As he led her down the back door and down the hall to a large pair of bolted double doors, he paused.

“Just knock and tell her Jayce sent ya, alright? Like I said, we don’t promise miracles, but we’ll try our best.”

She thanked him profusely as he returned to his post. “You ready?” She asked, though her robot had long stopped responding. There was a very likely chance the last of the oil had dripped out, and he no longer had fuel to answer her with.

All the more reason to hurry up then.

With a sigh, she wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and knocked. She tried to be firm yet polite in her rapping, just as she was always taught. There was no reason to be nervous. No reason…

There was a pause. A grumble. And then, the door swung open.

********************

“Jayce, I already told you, I can’t—oh!”

A new voice. This one was still feminine, though far rougher around the edges than its mistress. It detected an abundance of frustration, with a tinge of anger. Never a good combination. Oh why did they have to be here?

It was extremely hesitant to look up. Fuel stores were running critically low, and it would have to preserve every bit that it could, per its mistress’ wishes. It was on the brink of reducing its audio sensing radius, but for the new circumstances it found itself in now… perhaps it was best to gather context first. Yes, context so that it could judge how to act, how to behave.

And how to best calm this simmering human with as little damage to its mainframe as possible. It would not be able to handle much more at this rate. Not without completely falling apart.

“Sorry.” The angry girl said, her voice retreating as she backed away. “Thought you were… well, you know. So, you’re that customer Ollie noticed?”

“Yes, yes!”

That was the OLI model. An oddly comforting presence. As another robot, they would be someone it did not have to please, or even think about. It was a relief, if not a small one.

“She’s the one with the E-D-W.” The OLI continued. “That’s what JayJay said.”

“Oh, is that so?” The angry girl responded. “Must be a pretty small Edward, if it can fit on your back.”

“Well, actually…”

And then they were lurching forward, on the move again. As they walked, it allowed itself a quick peek, nothing more nothing less.

It shouldn’t have.

The room was large and dark, lit sporadically with lamps and holiday lights and the occasional propped-up flashlight. Every nook and cranny was overflowing, a mess of metal, stray parts, wires, tools, all carelessly scattered without abandon. It was the sort of place where machines got taken apart. The sort of place, where it would both be quickly disposed of, and forgotten about.

Is this the purpose my mistress had in mind for me?

It’s first reaction to the query was a strong “no.” Its mistress had put too much effort into keeping it whole and together.

But if that was just to ensure a higher sale value…

Without a second thought, it switched off its speculatory faculties. They were wasting fuel anyways. What did it matter to it what happened or what its mistress chose to do? It had wanted to die. It did not want to be a burden anymore.

It only wanted to serve…

There was a long, low whistle as a pair of gloved hands removed the ties that bound it to its mistress’ back and laid it down on another elevated surface. This one was higher, with far less give.

“Well.” The angry girl announced. “You’re a mess.”

The OLI model approached from its right side and began poking at its face. “Your eyes are turned off.” It stated matter-of-factly.

Yes, they are. But it was not the OLI’s comment that reactivated its optics. Rather, it was the loss of its mistress. The sudden inability to detect her heartbeat, or to hear her breathing, or to approximate her location.

It needed to know where she was, more than anything. To know for certain whether she had left him alone already.

And when it checked, there she was, still at his right side with her brows furrowed and a facial expression that read as 64% concerned and 27% anxious.

Fuel level at a critical low.

Locking…

The last stimuli it detected was her hand resting upon one of its arm stumps.

#whump #robot whump #whumpee #whump writing #a rather polite bigger thing #odd little thilng

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littlerosette · 6 months

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No!!! Thank YOU for indulging me!! Once I start speaking about history I literally can’t stop!! My preference has always been the imperial era and I just fell in love with late antiquity by reading about Theodosius and Constantine. There are many ways I think Eren and Mikasa fit in antiquity, but specially Rome. I think your idea of Eren as Hannibal conveys so well his immense drive and sense of enmity to the point of irrational hatred towards his enemies. Also it ends in tragedy, with Hannibal and Carthage defeated, which mirrors well with canon (though idk if that’s the route you’d like to take?)

I’d also though about one of them being early Christian during the age of persecutions. So one of them would be a Christian who practiced the faith in secret while the other would be a patrician from the senatorial class who’s supposed to hate and destroy the Christians, but just… can’t? Adapt this to the cult of Ymir the Founder to make it more in tune with canon? another way I thought was Eren as Spartacus. Because of the whole rebellion of slaves and the poor against the oppression of the patricians, and Eren’s desire for freedom above all, but, then again, they’re defeated and crucified. Or even better… do you know about Tiberius and Vipsania? This one is more tragic, but hear me out. Tiberius, the 2nd Roman emperor, was married to a woman he loved very much, Vipsania, and they already had a son. The 1st Roman emperor, Augustus, had seen his designated successors die one after the other. To continue the Julio-Claudian dynasty, Augustus then chose Tiberius as his sucessor. But the here’s the catch, to secure family ties, he forced Tiberius to divorce Vipsania in order to marry his daughter, Julia. Tiberius was always depicted as very sullen and duty-driven, so he accepted the role of emperor not out of hunger for power, but out of conviction towards Rome and divorced Vipsania, which caused him immense personal pain. It was recorded that the first time he saw her after their divorce, he cried in public, which was seen as major sign of weakness for any man, let alone the emperor of Rome. So, Tiberius!Eren and Vipsania!Mikasa in an angsty and emotionally charged moment alone in the palace right after their divorce, Augustus![insert character] is recently dead but Eren can’t forsake his new wife in the name of stability, but he has this whole dense and emotional moment with Mikasa were he professes his dying love for her, while on his knees begging her forgiveness? Like how in canon he has to forsake Mikasa for what he deems a greater cause. I’m just rambling. yes! I’ve read Mary Beard’s Rome! It’s a great book. It grasps Rome very well. You can always read the lives of the twelve Caesars by Suetonius too, it’s the definition of classic. Also every book in Cambridge University’s companion to Rome is incredible. Sadly I haven’t seen HBO’s Rome, though o have seen BBC’s old but gold I, Claudius, which I highly recommend. I had more to ramble about but this is too long and I really don’t wanna bother you!!!

constantine is such an intriguing figure. i can totally see why he sparked your interest in rome. okay! i’m going to address all your comments in points because i have thoughts on all of them so bear with me.

- i am absolutely including hannibal and carthage’s end in my interpretation of hannibal!eren. i think it suits him perfectly, and i can’t ever really see eren be militarily or politically successful without there being some major downfall in some way. there’s tragedy in his blood there just is. hannibal is such an interesting person. i think is legacy is fascinating in the sense that he was the terror of rome and one of the greatest generals of history, but also remembered as lesser than scipio, which i suppose makes sense considering the history, but. man. hannibal. who else had the fucking balls to cross the alps with battle elephants. anyway, the tragedy of hannibal and his relationship with carthage (as well as carthage itself) is definitely included with eren. i think it matches pretty well with his actual ending in canon. he sheds so much blood and expresses such absolute hatred for basically no reason. carthage/paradis falls anyway. so good.

- the christian/patrician idea is very good too. for the historical early christian idea (if we’re doing actual rome instead of rome-based paradis) i think it works better if eren is the patrician and mikasa is a christian pleb (or maybe slave even?) i can see him being the one to commit to the task of christian persecution until he meets mikasa and is like… uhhhhh. hm. nevermind! mikasa makes a more convincing christian in my eyes too. i don’t think eren would buy in much to the idea of loving thy brother LMAO. ngl this idea is scratching my brain a bit. i think early christianity in its cult days is fascinating. as for the cult of ymir angle, i can see eren being the practitioner there, if only to match it to canon. i don’t see mikasa being active persecutor of them (maybe levi or kenny) but she would probably be mostly ambivalent until she meets eren. then she might start thinking that killing all these cultists is a bad idea. in this scenario, i see eren being a slave and being Insanely and viciously resentful of that. he would probably be inspired by the cult of ymir’s story of ymir becoming powerful enough to break free of bondage and dedicate his life to that. this is similar with him being spartacus. maybe we can assume this all ends in tragedy.

- i LOVE vipsania and tiberius. i think i read the story of him chasing her around with tears in his eyes a thousand times. the fact that he spends the rest of his life hating her new husband too is great. i even read recently that some scholars are now starting the doubt the veracity of suetonius’ account of tiberius’ later life considering how out of character it seems. i think i’m inclined to believe that a little. roman historians lied about emperors all the time😭 anyway the julia-claudio dynasty is probably my fav of the imperial dynasties. everyone was just such a character. BUT! back to eremika, something in my heart weeps at the idea of eren having to divorce mikasa against his will. if he even goes through with it, i can see him eventually just killing her new husband, killing his new wife, and then marrying her again and adopting all her children as his own when he becomes emperor. but let’s imagine him tearfully following her around in public for a moment. let’s cry about it. eren would btw.

- i’m happy you’ve the read and recommend it!! i’m definitely gonna read it. i haven’t seen i, claudius yet but i know the show is a classic and the robert graves novels they’re based on are always raved about in most online circles i’ve seen. i’ve also seen colleen mccullough masters of rome series be highly rated. you should totally watch rome!! it’s not ~super~ historically accurate but it feels very historically authentic. rome is portrayed as such a colorful, lively, grimy city and it’s awesome. it also has one of my favorite tv romances (lucius vorenus and niobe). and you’re not bothering me at all😭😭 idk if you can tell but i’m having a lot of fun LMAO. i basically never get to talk about this.

#ancient rome #asks #eremika

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 11 months

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random hcs ask for abel this time:

worst trait.

best trait.

how aware of its nature is it?

does it feel any type of way about being a demon?

it is morally bankrupt. but does it realises so or is it simply a foreign concept?

═══ HEADCANON INQUIRIES ═══

Worst Trait

---Oh man this one is always hard for me to answer because of how A/Bel's...existence works. I've written this before but I'll just put it here: A/Bel is fundamentally inhuman, so its difficult to answer this as it ultimately doesn't really hold views that humans could hope to understand. Many villains are driven by something easily comprehensible to the human mind; love, power, safety--things everyone of us has felt at least once in our lives. A/Bel, though, is a demonic entity. It doesn't care about any of the things we care about and doesn't have any human motives--it can't. To it, humans are material to be used; meat. Hell--to say A/Bel views humans as a human views something like a cow is even an overstatement; humans are inherently compassionate--we are loving, we feel sympathy when we look into an animal's eyes, even if we've consumed it at a prior time. A/Bel is incapable of this, it doesn't have the necessary function in its mind to have that same level of connection. It can understand why that connection exists, but only in the same way a computer program understands code. It cannot feel it, it can only have the knowledge of it. To A/Bel, humans are like ants being paved over for new sidewalk--our deaths are inconsequential to it and it's sole purpose is to devour, to eat.

That was somewhat long winded, but I think its important to explain that speaking in human terms of morality-- everything A/Bel does is horrible and bad from the root of its actions. It manipulated and used its knowledge of the human psyche to exploit a grieving child before securing said child as a food source until death--and even then it will not let go. It dons aesthetics that, at the very end, will fade into nothing too; and those aesthetics only have one purpose--to give its vessel the slowly dwindling hope that a human could ever connect with it. That the weeks, months, years, and entire lifetimes MEANT something to it; right? Otherwise why would it stick around? But it doesn't...and its impossible. Hell it even uses Robin's late father's voice.

Robin, in himself, is the representation of how in the grand enormity of a compassionless existence--we do not matter to beings that fall outside of our own way of thinking. To any human, Robin's story is deeply traumatizing and horrendous, it naturally incites compassion and the want to protect. To a creature like A/Bel? Robin's vulnerability is the perfect nesting ground to burrow, and a canvas to create even more horror within...and everything about that is wrong.

So trying to grade his worst trait through the eyes of a human is difficult. Its actions and reasoning is so outside of human perspective I couldn't even try to understand it. The only thing I could ever say as worst is...all of it.

Best Trait

I alluded to this in another answer but I can put that here too and expand on it: Due to Abel coming into Robin's life at the ripe age of 15 - it has actually influenced quite a lot of his personality as, despite knowing better, Robin did naturally place Abel into the "family" compartment in his mind. It wasn't as though he had much choice. It walked beside Robin for an entire decade before both of their lives ended at the same time, but Abel - shockingly - used the last bit of its power to partially revive Robin in an act of mercy/love/survival (?) and it still doesn't know why it did such a thing.

It also, and this is very important: IT DOES NOT SABOTAGE HIM AS MUCH AS ONE WOULD THINK. I'd actually go as far as to say that it never does; Robin was never actually influenced by Abel once the contract was put into place. It did not ignite his obsession with getting his family back or his fall into darker magic, and it doesn't really push him to continue down the path he was on. It works to make Robin comfortable and happy in order to protect its meal, and gives Robin the means to an end to do certain things.

I would even argue to say that it has helped Robin in ways since it practically helped raise him. It was the influence he needed, weirdly enough. It comforted him, cooked him meals, taught him how to be confident - sure this all came from a place of selfish need for its meal but.... It did put legitimate effort into the act, it worked hard to make him feel safe, to make him happy (or what it could define as happiness since it cannot understand complex emotions), and to kindle his mind.

How aware of its nature is it?

Extremely. A/Bel and Robin both never forget what it really is throughout the entirety of their relationship. They don't speak of it outwardly but its something they are both highly aware of, and they do not even pretend otherwise. A/Bel also knows that it is a mask to wear and that its a recombinant lifeform, its a mish-mash of what Bel, the core, knows of humans. Without Robin being alive, A/Bel will also pass leaving just the core behind to continue onto its next meal, it isn't really "alive", it knows this and works hard to keep Robin safe because of it.

That being said, due to this acknowledgment it does keep its guise on VERY heavily towards other people. Humans cannot tell A/Bel is anything but a normal person, maybe a bit bizarre but nothing else. A/Bel is a tool, an instrument and a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

I think this also comes through quite a bit when A/Bel speaks about Robin to others, ever since its conception it has never once called Robin by his name. It usually refers to him as "the boy" or "that one".

Does it feel any type of way about being a demon?

A/Bel is a biological tool, an instrument and a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite its mask, intelligence, decision making and personality it is important to remember that A/Bel is just something to be worn and used for this momentary blip in the actual entity's existence. At the root A/Bel has as much individual will as a wrench. So it doesn't really...feel anything about it. Unless wrenches think.

The only time this becomes an actual issue is in modern au. Its been firmly established that A/Bel has returned to due Robin's soul being recycled and him being alive brings A/Bel back as was the basis of their contract, which lasts an eternity. Now its dealing with something it was never supposed to, it knows it died; and it isn't really sure how to..process it. So! It's feelings may change now that it has experienced the terrifying concept that is mortality but that's for the thread to toy with.

As of current its grappling with the issue quietly since it only really has Evelynn to discuss it with. So. Yikes!

It is morally bankrupt. but does it realise so or is it simply a foreign concept?

A/Bel, mask and core, cannot really...grasp human feelings in the same way we do, particularly complex ones. It can tell that humans would disagree with its methods but it doesn't understand why, nor does it try to. It also recognizes morally unwell characters and their influence on the world around them, it doesn't know why - again - but it has had conversations with Robin about having relations with more dangerous individuals and why its a bad idea. Ultimately its probably just to serve its need for keeping tis food safe but alas, it serves its function as being what Robin needs.

It is a mask that changes depending on the contract it makes and what its vessel needs, until modern au's explorations are complete this answer is ultimately impossible to come up with as its never had to recognize itself as alive or really think about what life means to it. However I don't think it will ever have the same revelations as @agonizedembrace's Evelynn - it might break its existence if it does. But! That's something to play with more in the future.

#A/Bel #mun speaks #headcanon things #axewhirl #I LOVE GETTING TO WRITE ABOUT A/BEL #ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SUBJECTS #Seriously though if you do plan on interacting with A/Bel at all I suggest reading this post #It explains a lot about how it functions #i could write about abel for hours

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theowritesfiction · 2 years

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Watching ATS has for me really driven home the point of how badly many writers struggle to write evil.

Late in season 4, it has become very easy for me to identify the problems with ATS, and it’s not just about the weak and poorly written protagonists. It’s the absence of a captivating and threatening antagonist that really makes this show suffer.

The closest that ATS has to a central antagonist is the Wolfram & Hart law firm. The trouble with this concept should be obvious. It’s a LAW FIRM. In a show about powerful supernatural demonic creatures, your main antagonist is a LAW FIRM. And they themselves are just puppets in service of mysterious Senior Partners who are never revealed. As a result, the motivations and goals of Wolfram & Hart are… ehhh?! Completely nebulous and unclear. Their motto might as well be ‘Do Unspecified EVIL!’ There’s literally an episode where this massive law firm conspires to steal a few bob from CHILDREN’S CHARITY. Like… could you come up with a more cartoonish portrayal of evil?

The problem with all of this? Wolfram & Hart are completely nonthreatening villains. Even the protagonists never take them seriously. Angel just strolls into their supposedly impenetrable and well secured building and roughs up whoever he pleases whenever he pleases. In a well written show, seeing the villains plot their schemes should leave the viewer tense. In ATS, watching Wolfram & Hart scheme makes me laugh and reach for the popcorn.

Let’s move on to specific characters, starting with Lilah. Three and a half seasons later and after her death, I still fail to understand the point of her character. She was never allowed to be competent, to succeed at any of her schemes or to pose any sort of serious threat to the protagonists. I don’t know anything about her goals, ambitions and motivations other than basic ‘I’m evil, yay!’ But why is she like that? I mean, soulless corporate empty suits exist, but they’re not important characters in TV shows. For her role, Lilah should have had an actual personality, but there was just so little. And that’s disappointing, because if they had only allowed her to be competent and occasionally succeed at thwarting the heroes, she would have been more threatening and a credible villain. As it was, Angel just threatened her whenever he pleased, and she bent over backwards to please him every time. Even her ‘romance’ with Wesley was botched and disappointing. She supposedly seduced Wesley to use him and learn his secrets… except that she failed even at that, and Wesley learned more from her than she did from him. Also, Wesley’s regret at having failed to redeem her was seriously pathetic. I’m sorry, but where was the actual effort to do that? All we saw was them having sex and Wesley talking shit about her. Was he redeeming her with his magic dick? Good grief, this show violates the principle of 'show not tell' ALL THE TIME. How can professional writers be this bad?

Moving on to Cordelia, or should I use air quotes when speaking about Cordelia, because she’s apparently possessed by… the most stupid and ridiculous evil entity ever? Let’s do a resume. First of all, this entity is ostensibly incredibly powerful, and yet for the longest time they don’t actually do anything with this power. The only thing they do is directly speak in the mind of Angelus. And make the cringiest threats ever. Also, this supposedly powerful entity is incredibly incompetent in how they manage to waste an asset in the Beast. Why would you even have Beast confront Angelus? If you wanted Angelus on your side, just go after him yourself… like you literally did an episode later, but only after the Beast was already dead. So moronic. Also, what is even the goal of this evil entity? There is no plan other than just ‘have Beast do unspecific evil things and create chaos’. Like I’m sorry, but antagonists need goals and motivations too, that’s just Writing 101. These hack writers need to hand in their laptops and find a different profession.

And it really would help to make your antagonists feel like credible threats if they actually had a plan, you know? A plan that wasn’t STUPID, I should add. One of the funniest examples is Holtz in season 3. He spends all this time and effort training his vampire slayers to go after Angel. They are all defeated in 15 seconds of screen time. I don’t even… come on you guys! Can professional writers stop making things up as they go, please?

Anyway, that was a really long rant, ATS specific maybe, but I feel like a lot of this applies to writing antagonists in general. I think people who follow my blog for ATLA related reasons can probably apply this to the ATLA comics. I really, really don’t understand why writing evil is so hard for some people. Nothing turns me off a piece of media quicker than only shallow antagonists.

#ats critical #anti angel #bad writing #problems writing evil

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chrono-vi · 2 years

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14 - Temptation

Warning: mention of sex, arousal; strip club

**Ruben and Zenobi “ZZ” Ronovie belong to @sugar-guts

“To be driven by some strong emotion - isn’t that something to live for? It’s always a pleasure to find a driving force; a reason to gravitate towards whatever gives you that serotonin rush! So why should you regret attraction? Why should you fight it?”

Thumping music and rhythmic lights lulled the entire strip club into a deep hypnotic trance; the show was beginning once more, and the crowd was growing restless.

They longed for their raven-haired siren of the night - the club’s one and only Loreley. As the music gave rise, so too did the bodies of those witnessing. Standing to face their fate. Standing in respect of their songbird.

Her curvaceous body suddenly slid down the pole in the center of the stage, appearing through filtered green mist. Upside-down, dressed in goddess-like robes; she was a sight to behold no matter what she had planned. Her leg extended, and with one fell kick, she flipped off - landing perfectly on her feet like a well-mannered feline.

“Welcome, my beloveds,” her sultry, silken voice cascaded over the crowd, hushing their applause, “I’m so very honored you could join me tonight.”

She gestured widely to the room, her smile bright and her intentions unknown. Her world of neon light and sex, all locked securely under her thumb. Her golden eyes glinted.

“As you know, every night I pick a lucky someone to join me backstage… so stay tuned!~”

One lucky man every night was carted off to a rendezvous with the woman of the house. But the one catch: that they never return. Rumor has it that she pays them and they go on wild vacations, just so long as they never speak of that night again…

And every night, another man follows her Pied Piper song, to vanish entirely.

Her routine went as planned; the seductive woman was a master of twirling and flipping, and all the while she kept the room's full attention. Not even those at the bar found they could look away to drink.

Loreley thrived in her little world. The attention, the arousal; it all fueled her. As it should.

…and not metaphorically.

The Adamentia sister leaned out from her place upon the pole, eyes locked on a man in the crowd. She gestured up with her finger, signing the man's death certificate with a single beckon. He scrambled toward her, eager to receive his prize, and to subsequently vanish.

Her little chosen ones would not be seen again, no. But not for a vacation…

Loreley Adamentia was notorious in the Veil for her luring nature and hypnotic magic. The woman was a succubus of immense power, after all.

This night was her banquet. A room of horny souls, all ensnared in her trap. They were all so fresh, ripe for the taking; it was hard to pick just one…

---

When everyone had cleared out, the starlet came to the bar to sit - swiveling to face the bartender. She fixed her makeup in a compact mirror, "could you hook me up, sweetie? I've got a major headache after this last guy wouldn't stop screaming."

"Coming right up, Ley," the man behind the bar chuckled, and a black clubbed tail slid her a tall pink drink.

She looked up and smiled, her own demonic appendage revealing itself and resting on her legs. "You always know what I need, Rubie~" She purred, reaching over to pinch his cheek. "You and ZZ are what really make this all worth it."

"Besides the free food?" Ruben tilted his head. "I'd think that's a plus, too."

"Maybe a little~" Loreley winked. "But it's mostly the company! These fleshbags are so dreary…"

The two shared light conversation, before the succubus turned in for the night. Through their basement portal, she returned back to the Veil with ease.

Something weighed on her, though. Thinking it over, Loreley couldn't help but focus on something. What was she really doing all this time?

Her youngest sister barely indulged at all. Her eldest two were so sticklery, the other two so selective; but Loreley was the perfect Succubus.

…was she the real odd one out?

#oc writings #writing prompts #vana writes #loreley adamentia #ruben ronovie #zenobi ronovie

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gunmetalgrey · 7 months

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H E A D C A N O N | important contacts

These are usually NPCS but some active muses are added to this list. For more information or plotting, please drop me an IM!

Roberta Houston ( contact : her )

First love. Now ex.

Alex had no real hopes for university. She had hoped to follow her brothers and enlist straight out of A levels (which she barely scraped through) but after a blow out argument with her parents decided to take the path of least resistance and give it a try. A quiet conversation with her father and he agreed that if she did achieve a degree, they would talk again. She left to study Music at St Andrews, following her sister who was already studying there. The two had little to do with each other, although it’s very likely Moira’s high achievements and her father’s long history in the Commons meant certain gaping holes in her application were overlooked.

Alex met Roberta the first day she moved in. They were flatmates. Roberta had a dad in the stock market in Manhattan, and a mother who drank herself stupid in the Hamptons. They spent ski seasons in France, summers in Italy. She had grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth and knew how to use it. And they instantly found a chemistry, an uneasy balance that was practically magenetic.

Roberta, or “Bobby” as most people called her, was deeply troubled and maybe that’s why alex felt so attached to her. She was Alex’s first love, and a lot more. She was fragile though, and this was made worse by continual drug use over their time together. Alex went though several bands in her first couple months at university as a way to pass the time, she’s a great bass player but not a great team player. Eventually, she a couple of Bobby’s friends helped to form a band with Bobby as the lead singer. She had this beautiful, husky voice. The music was less like the riot girl scene Alex had become familiar with but she’d do anything for Bobby.

By the spring term, Alex and Bobby were inseparable. They spent every moment with each other and barely functioned independently. And the idea of Bobby returning to the states for a long summer break was daunting. Several times Alex offered to go along with her, pay her own way but Bobby was incredibly dismissive. Eventually, as they tended to do, it ended in an argument with the pair not speaking for the whole break.

And yet when Bobby returned in September, Alex was immediately back by her side.

The second year at university was much much harder for Alex, who had scraped a pass with a warning and was informed this was her last chance. If she didn’t have her grades sorted by Christmas, she would be removed from the course. Alex told no one. She carried on as careless as before.

The university called home in the Christmas break, but Alex didn’t answer the phone. Her mother was the first to hear she had been kicked out and the resulting row was explosive. Despite it being Christmas Eve, Alex got in her car and sped off to where she knew Bobby would be spending Christmas. The entire family met up in the Cotswolds every year in a stunning Manor House.

It dawned on Alex, showing up devastated and drunk on her doorstep, that Bobby wasn’t out to her family just as the front door opened. Alex doesn’t fully remember the next things she said but it ended in Alex being removed from the property by security and narrowly avoiding arrest.

Alex felt like she had nothing left. Her youngest brother, Jasper, was found unresponsive and died several days later on December 28th. By the 31st, Alex had driven up to take the last of her things from Scotland and enlisted.

Alex has never had the bandwidth to unpack everything that happened with Bobby. She doesn’t talk about her or mention her. Her brothers know they were a very serious relationship but it was never discussed around Alex’s parents. Alex wasn’t secretive about having a relationship with a woman so much as she was secretive of the fact her life was falling apart at that time.

#substance use tw #drug use tw #addiction tw #( contact : her )#( contact book )#Bobby is a whooooole thing but yeah picture Daisy Jones’s and you’re most of the way there

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kpop---scenarios · 3 years

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Cravings || One

Pairing: Vampire! Hongjoong x Reader

Warning: None Yet

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: If you would like to be tagged, let me know!

"Babe, hey babe." Your boyfriend, Chad calls out to you, as you're sitting at the kitchen table, running over over bills again and trying to figure out how the fuck you're going to try to pay everything. You worked damn hard, and barely had anything to show for it. Ever since Chad had moved in a few months ago, without an invitation, you were stressed. Everything had gone up and doubled since he hadn't left, and he also hadn't contributed anything financially towards the household. You paid for rent, utilities, groceries and you even paid when the two of you went out for dinner. Chad worked full time, but where his money was going, you had no fucking idea. He constantly went out with his 'boys' , often coming home obliterated, and just expecting you to have your legs spread open for him when he rolled in, apparently that was your duty as his girlfriend, according to him. As if not contributing and acting like a man child was such a turn on. Not to mention the countless hours he spent on your gaming console, yelling and talking to his friends, leaving you no time to play any games that you like, unless you wanted to wake up a few hours before you had to work to sneak on it. But by the time you got home from work, cleaned up the messes he made throughout the day, made yourself dinner, showered and got into your PJ'S, you were too damn tired to do anything. You knew you had to wake up the next day and do it all over again, so any sleep you got was precious.

A part of you often wondered why you were in this relationship with him. Maybe you were scared to be alone, maybe you didn't think you could do any better than him, but you stuck with him, because for some reason, you loved the guy.

"What do you want, Chad?" You sigh, walking into the living room where he's sprawled out on the couch, headset on and his match paused. "I'm trying to figure out bills, you know that thing that keeps us warm, and with light and hot water, that you said you'd help pay and haven't."

"Yeah, babe, can you go to the corner store and get those Takis, you know the ones I like? The not so spicy ones though babe, cause remember I have acid reflux, and a diet coke." He says, turning back to the screen, laughing at something said through his head phones.

You could feel the rage building up inside of you, awfully quick, and it was seeping out of you even quicker.

"Are you going to pay for said snacks?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm.

"What?" He laughs. "Babe, no, come on. I'm broke. I don't get paid again for two weeks. You know this."

"You just got paid yesterday." You breathe through gritted teeth. "Where the hell did all your money go?" You ask, your hands balled into fists.

"You know babe, I had the fantasy football league entry, plus I owed Kyle money for the keg bomber last weekend, and I took the boys out for supper yesterday. Shit adds up." He says, never looking at you, only focusing on the game.

"And that's my problem, why exactly? Why is it always on me just because you're not financially stable. Grow up, you're 35 for christ sakes!" You yell. You stomp to the kitchen, grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes before heading back into the living room.

"Yeah, she's got her shoes and purse." He laughs. "She's definitely going to get my stuff."

"You know what Chad? I'm definitely not going to get your snacks, get your own fucking snacks, Chaaad. I'm going for a drink, with my own goddamn money." You spit, storming out of the house.

You're wandering down the street, like you had been for the last thirty five minutes, and finally you found somewhere that looked decent enough. You walk in, and the lights are on very low, the place is almost dark, had it not been for the red lights swinging above tables, or the string of red lights wrapping around the ceiling. Your eyes wander the open floor of seating as a soft beat vibrates through the building. Every person in here who was sitting with someone was leaning closely to that person, seemingly having an intense conversation. The vibes felt dark and eerie, but you welcomed it, you enjoyed it instead of being around Chad's fuck boy mentality. You walk towards the bar, sliding onto one of the empty bar stools and setting your purse on your lap. Your eyes were looking down when you felt a presence standing in front of you. You look up and see quite possibly the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

"What can I get for you?" He asks, his voice is deep, yet so smooth and calming.

"Double vodka and coke please, and for the love of god, keep them coming." You sigh. After your comment you see the slightest hint of a smile appear on his lips, disappearing even quicker than it came.

"Bad day?" He asks, beginning to pour your drink.

"Bad relationship." You groan. He nods his head as he slides your drink towards you.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks, leaning on the bar with his chin resting on his hands as he waits for you to speak. You look into his eyes, and they're so warm and mesmerizing, you felt safe and secure, like you could tell him anything. Which is exactly what you did.

"What's your name?" You ask.

"Hongjoong." He replies. "You?"

"Y/N."

"Okay Y/N, what's bothering you?"

"My boyfriend, we've been together for just over a year, and well.. he's something, and not the good something like people usually say. He moved in with me, without even asking me if I wanted to, and I just kind of accepted it. He doesn't pay anything, no bills, rent, groceries, nothing. It's all on me, even though he does work full time. He forgot my birthday, went out and got absolutely plastered with his 'boys'. On Valentine's Day, he took me out for dinner, and can you guess who was there?" You ask.

"His boys?" He answered.

"You sir, are correct. I was ignored the entire evening, and then he and his boys left, I ended up paying the bill, and I had to uber home because he had driven us there. Not to mention the fact that he assumes I'm just there for his pleasure, expecting me to be spread eagle for him whenever he decides to show up." You finish, chugging your drink as you try not to gag on the strong taste of vodka.

"Why are you with him then? He doesn't sound like he contributes to the relationship at all, so why do you stay?" He asks.

'Honestly, I'm not entirely sure." You answer as he slides another drink in front of you.

"Now that's a bullshit excuse." He replies. "There's a reason that you clearly don't want to admit."

"Do you ever smile?" You ask him.

"No." He answers. "Now, why won't you leave him?"

"Because it's safe, I guess? I don't know if I can do any better than him." You shrug.

"Y/N, you have no idea how much better you could do." He says.

From the moment Hongjoong had a whiff of the scent that was coming into his bar, he knew that it was the scent of the one. He intensely watched the door, waiting for the one it belonged too to walk through the door. As soon as you did, it was almost as though his heart could have started beating once again, the ice cold blood that ran through his body could have turned warm just by the sight of you. He isn't sure what it is about you, but he had always been told that he would know when he found the one, and having been alive for over a century, he had just assumed that it wasn't in the cards for him, and now he knows why. Because all his life he had been waiting for you. The person that he would do anything for, the person that he would be anything for had finally walked into his life, and for once he felt an ounce of hope, until, you had mentioned the filthy human you were in a relationship with, not to mention one that treated you like absolute garage, and you had assumed that no one better would love you, but shit were you ever wrong. He was standing right in front of you, and though you had just met him, he loved you with everything he had and would do anything and everything to protect you.

"I appreciate your advice, Hongjoong, but it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow." You sigh. "How much do I owe you?" You ask, grabbing your card from your wallet.

"It's on me." He tells you, grabbing your empty glass.

"Well thank you." You smile. "It was nice meeting you." You tell him as you slide off the stool.

"You too." He says, watching you walk away from him.

That night when you got home, you couldn't get Hongjoong off your mind, a smile spread across your face as you walked through your front door, and headed into the living room, then it instantly dropped. Chad had not moved from the spot you had previously left him in a few hours ago. "Oh, babe." He says, sucking the cheeto dust from his fingers. "Kyle brought me some snacks, since you threw a huge temper tantrum about my snacks, you can just venmo or cash app him, k?" He says, going back to playing his game.

You went to bed that night, dreaming of one man, who was not your man.

Over the next few weeks, you had absolutely no desire to be at home. So you headed to the bar that Hongjoong worked at, everyday after work for a drink, or two, or four. In those weeks the two of you spent an ample amount of time getting to know each other, you were sure he knew you better than Chad ever did. You didn't want to see Chad, you didn't want to be near him and it was bad enough that he constantly texted you throughout the day, sending you lists of things to buy from the grocery store, as if he wasn't able to do it himself. But much to your surprise, he didn't text you when you never came home with his snacks, he didn't check in with you throughout the day, and honestly it no longer bothered you.

You felt your feelings for Hongjoong deepen with every encounter the two of you had, every time you saw him it was like nothing you had ever felt with Chad, your emotions were amplified around Hongjoong and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep them hidden.

"One more." You tell Hongjoong, as you set down your fourth glass.

You can tell he wants to smile, but he's too good at controlling his emotions. "You've had enough, I'm cutting you off." He tells you.

You pout, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes, but absolutely nothing got to the man and it was frustrating as fuck.

"A bad storm is coming, you should probably get home." He tells you, drying off some glasses.

"I don't want to go home, he's there." You scoff, just thinking about Chad made you want to vomit. "I guess I could just get a motel room, at that place across the street." You say, pointing over to the run down motel, that had flickering lights, and probably a rat and cockroach infestation.

"You will do no such thing." Hongjoong replies. "You can stay at my place." He says. "Give me a minute." He walks from around the bar, towards the back of the building, and you can't help but to turn in your stool and watch him walk away, damn he looks good.

Within seconds he's back, grabbing your bag and scooping you up into his arms as he effortlessly carries you out the door.

"I can walk." You object.

"I know." He says, his face stone cold.

"You're very pale." You tell him, as if he didn't know.

"I know." He replies, unlocking the door to his car.

"And you're very cold." You say.

He sighs. "I know." He finishes as he slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

As soon as he started his car, the rain began pouring as thunder and lightning jolted the sky.

"You were right, there's a storm." You say, watching out your window.

"I know." He replies, this time it sounded different. You turned to look at him, hoping you'd catch him smiling but no such luck.

He continues driving, taking you out into the middle of nowhere, out of city limits, this was it, this was probably when you died. You panicked slightly but you felt it in your entire body that he was not going to murder you, at least not that night.

Hongjoong pulls up to a gate, punching in a few numbers to open the gate, which just blocked off a winding road. You squinted as you tried to see where you were going but it was far too dark for you to see anything, until you pulled up to a beautiful mid-century mansion that made your mouth drop. It was absolutely stunning and you couldn't believe that he lived there.

"Seriously? This is where you live?" You say.

"MY family, but yeah." He answers, parking the car near the entrance.

He hops out of his seat, walking towards your side to open the door for you, pulling you inside before you get too wet. He dragged you up a large flight of stairs, not letting you admire the inside of his house. He put you inside a large room, with a large bed and a bathroom ensuite. "There's towels if you want to shower, I'll be back in a bit to check on you." He says, avoiding all eye contact before walking out of the room.

You let out a deep breath as you take off your heels, unbutton your pants and unhook your bra, placing it all next to the bed. You sit down on the bed in your underwear and t-shirt, wondering what to do, until your phone rings.

Looking at the caller ID, you didn't want to answer it, but you felt it would be unfair for you to do so.

"Hello?" You answer.

"Hey babe, it's me.. it's Chad." He says.

"I know who it is." You sigh.

"Look.. I know you've been terrible, oh, wait, I mean I've been terrible in our relationship lately but I want to make almonds." He says. "No idiot, it's amends." You hear from the background.

"Are you kidding me right now? Do you seriously have Brad over to help you?" You yell.

"Well yeah, he noticed that we were drifting apart and offered to help me get you back." Chad explains.

You get up off the bed, pacing on the hardwood floors as you tried to process what he just said to you.

"The fact that you didn't even notice that we were drifting apart is all that I need to hear. You know what, Chad? I'm done. I'm done with this relationship, I'm done with you. Just get out of my apartment, I'm over it." You yell, hanging up the phone.

You stand there, taking deep breaths as you replay the conversation you just had, he didn't even care enough to notice that you'd been pulling away. That kind of hurt, but then again it was Chad. He was never very perceptive.

A knock at the door before it suddenly opens, reveals Hongjoong, walking into the room. He tried to play it cool with the fact that you were practically naked in front of it.

"I heard yelling. You okay?" He asks as lightning strikes, causing the power to flicker.

"Chad called, he had his friend Brad over to feed him lines because Brad noticed we were drifting apart." You explain. "But I did it. I ended things." You proudly admit.

"Good for you." He says, staring at you, while you stare back at him. A crack of thunder hits loudly, making you jump, and within seconds Hongjoong's arms are wrapped around you, like he was protecting you. You look at him and he looks at you, and before you can tell yourself not to, your lips are pressed against him, and he is kissing you back.

The kiss turns passionate and needy in seconds, both of your desires for one another coming out without any control. He moves you both to the bed, laying you down as he hovers over you, his strong arms keeping him above you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling his body closer to yours, feeling him near was all you'd wanted. His ice cold fingers touch your stomach as he begins to lift your shirt up, you can feel his cock slowly becoming harder. You begin lifting his shirt, when his phone rings. He stands up, whispering an apology before answering his phone, barely speaking any words.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I have some things to take care of." He says.

"Oh, yeah, no problem." You say, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Get some sleep." He tells you before walking out of the bedroom door, leaving you alone once again.

You tried to fight the exhaustion you felt, but it was far too hard. You got snuggled underneath the blankets, watching the door, hoping he would come back but your eyelids got too heavy for you to keep open, and you swiftly drifted off to sleep, finally feeling some peace.

The warm sun was shining into the room, waking you up. You let out a little stretch before opening your eyes, only to see five men standing around you. You sit up, moving to the wall, as these men stare at you. You looked at them all, and they all looked similar to Hongjoong. Pale skin, dark eyes, dark head, blood red lips.

"Who are you?" One of them asks.

"Y/N." You whisper.

Another one speaks up, looking at the other four men. "Who the fuck brought a human home?"

#kpopscape #noonasinnetwork #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #vampire hongjoong #ateez #vampire ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop writing #kpop icons #kpop imagines #kpop smut

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Text

Jade, Silver: Fools and Family

abilafiyofyvdaivyfeaviydfpviyadfafid J-J-J-J--J-JJJJ-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J- LEE CH F AC E.L.;;......................... .... .. . . ....... .... . . . . . . . .. . . .

Imagine this...

SPLAT!!

Jade had taken that pie like a champ, with a genuine smile and a laugh. He didn’t mind that it would leave a milky mark on his jacket, or that it would have his hair sticky and sweet-smelling until the end of the night. It all made for a more lively gathering--and that was, after all, the very reason he was here.

For amusement.

He ran an index finger along the length of his nose, securing a dollop of cream on the tip, before curiously pressing it to his lips. A smooth sweetness swept over his tongue.

Silver was watching his movements--Jade could sense it without even turning around. As gentle and reserved as the knight could be, Silver was still very much a student of Diasomnia, a force to be reckoned with.

How fun.

“Silver-san.” Jade waved a hand in front of his classmate’s face. “Are you alright? You appear to be in quite a daze.”

“... What?” Silver blinked, snapping back to attention. “Ah, no. I’m fine. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Sometimes when I think too hard, my mind wanders, and my gaze comes off as intense.”

“Not to worry. You are forgiven.” Jade chuckled, his fingers curling to conceal his snicker. “If I may ask, what is it that is preoccupying your thoughts?”

“... To be honest, it is something that you said earlier in our interview.”

“Oh?”

“When I asked you who you would like to have as a brother, you spoke of the benefits you would gain from your selection.”

“Is there something you find to be odd about that?” Jade smiled sardonically, an eyebrow arched. “One would think that it only be fitting to explain the reasoning behind the choice.”

“That is true, but... It felt off to me.”

“My... ‘off’, you say? I’m afraid I haven’t the foggiest idea why.”

“You didn’t really talk a lot about whether you actually liked any of your brother candidates as individuals. You mainly talked about what you could gain from your association with them.”

“It sounds as though your love is conditional. Reliant on what others can provide for you.” Silver shook his head, slightly frowning. His beautiful aurora eyes were more steely than soft. “And that is something that does not sit well with me.”

“Well, now. Might you questioning my intentions? I assure you, they are wholly pure.” Jade took on a sympathetic tone. “If I recall correctly... Silver-san, you were adopted, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“Then you must know the dilemma of having family not of your own flesh and blood.”

“That was a long time ago. It may have caused me distress back then, but I am well-adjusted now.”

“Fufu. Your guardians must be such kind and selfless people, going out of their way to care for the child of another couple—and to ask for nothing from you in return!” The eel folded both of his hands over his heart, angling his head to hide the mocking glint in his eyes. “Such unadulterated, unconditional love.”

How sickeningly sweet—moreso than even the whipped cream.

“I am thankful for the life and the guidance that my father has given me.” Silver nodded, his eyes alight with sincerity. “I would never dare to think of him as something to be used for personal gain—not when he has been nothing but giving to me. Friends and family are meant to be your closest confidants, not tools to be used.”

So honest, so driven, so noble.

... Disgustingly so.

“Rest assured, Silver-san,” Jade laughed lightly, revealing two rows of his serrated teeth. “I’m certainly not a heartless monster. It was simply poor phrasing on my end, I’m afraid. I will take care to speak more clearly so as to avoid another misunderstanding like this in the future.”

“Ah... So it was just a misunderstanding after all. My bad.”

“There is no need for that. You were simply acting based on your own strongly held convictions. I have no doubt that many of our peers—myself included—would do the same. Let us not dwell on the subject.”

“Yes. In that case, I will excuse myself to fetch you a towel.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Jade’s eyes followed Silver’s form until the Diasomnia student ducked into a crowd of guests. When he was sure that Silver was a safe distance away, Jade allowed a devious smirk to unfurl across his lips.

Now then... How shall I put this one to some use?

#Jade Leech #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #Silver #something no one asked for #Jade birthday takeover #imagine this #spoilers #disney twisted wonderland

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all-that-glitters-is-goldfish · 3 years

Text

Blame it on the Alcohol

Pairing: Jay Halstead/Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Vomiting

Words: ~1500

Description: Just shameless drunk flirting with the best-looking cop in Chicago.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re sexy.” You slur, swigging back the last of your vodka cranberry.

“Hey Herrmann, I’ll t-take anotha!” You slide your glass across the counter of the bar, relieved to see the firefighter catch it before smashing into a hundred pieces on the floor.

“Nope. No more. I’m officially cutting you off.” Jay grabs the crumpled $5 bill from your hand.

“Ey, that better be half my tip there!” Herrmann interrupts, slamming down a cup of water in front of you. “Drink that, kiddo.”

You pout your lip realizing that the two were in cahoots to restore your sobriety, but still took the cool glass to press against your parched lips.

“You’re such a party pooper.” You kick Jay playfully under the bar. “I was just celebrating my best friend’s birthday!”

You peer past Jay to look at Sylvie, your ambo partner, who was swallowing back another Jell-O shot given to her by Dawson.

“I don’t understand how someone that small can take so much alcohol.” Jay laughs, having turned around to see what you were so intrigued with.

Your eyes glare at Jay as he takes in Sylvie’s skimpy red dress. You quickly stop staring as he turns back around, his gaze glancing to the still-full cup of water beside you.

“Drink that. All of it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You tease, pushing the glass further away.

“I mean it Y/N. Don’t really feel like taking care of the case of alcohol poisoning you’re about to get.”

“And what if I don’t? Are ya gonna arrest me?”

Jay smiles. “I just might.”

“Better whip out your handcuffs then.” You regret it the moment the words leave your mouth, your face burning hot in embarrassment.

You reach for your water, averting your eyes far from the detective, chugging down the drink. “I uh- I have to use the bathroom.”

Standing up from the stool a little too fast, your feet crossing awkwardly as you try to stand. You would have nosedived to the floor if it wasn’t for Jay’s strong arms and fast reflexes quickly shooting out of his seat to catch you.

“You good?” He asks.

Staring into his eyes causes a bubbling feeling to rise in your chest, that you first mistake as butterflies, but quickly realize is nausea working its way up your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you make a beeline to the bathroom, wriggling free from Jay’s protective hold on you. You dash past several concerned glances, ignoring your surroundings as you fall hard to your knees in front of the toilet, surely bruising them in the process.

What comes up from your stomach is a mixture of fruity cocktails and greasy food and you note that you’ll never again be eating a cheese blintz prepared by Brian Zvonecek’s baba again.

You hear the large wooden door to the bathroom open, expecting it to be Sylvie, or perhaps Gabby, but seeing Jay walk in caught you by surprise and you scramble to grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe any spew that may have landed on your chin, instead of the bowl.

“This is the woman’s room.” You really don’t want to be seen by anyone in your current state, especially not Detective Jay Halstead.

“It’s okay, I have a warrant.”

“Very funny.” You try to stand, but a wave of alcohol-induced dizziness takes over you.

“You okay?” Jay asks.

“Never better.” You reach up to flush away the toilet-full of skinny margaritas.

“Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Excuse me?” Jay cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re a cop. You should have made me stop after the third drink.”

Jay smirks, walking across the floor and gently grabbing your arm, helping you stand. You fall into him as the dizziness washes over you again, smiling as he hugs you closer. “I took your keys after the first drink.” He announces, pulling them from his pocket and dangling them in front of you. “Figured I’d let you have some fun.”

“You went into my purse? Getting a little comfortable there, aren’t you officer?”

“I’m off duty. Don’t want to have to write you up for drinking and driving.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know. Just being cautious. I think it’s time we get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s only midnight! The party just started!”

“Don’t make me carry you out of here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Jay smiles as he puts both arms around your waist, ready to lift you over his shoulders. You panic as you feel the nausea floating around in your stomach at the sudden change of motion. “No! Jay don’t please! I will throw up on you.”

He lets go, keeping one hand on your shoulder, afraid of you falling over.

“I need to grab my coat. I have a long walk home.”

“Ha. Walking. Funny.” Jay states, grabbing his own set of keys. “I’m driving you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“It’s not a discussion.”

“I’ll take a cab!” You exclaim, though your brain reminds you of the last $80 in your bank account that you did not want to blow on a taxi.

“You have a free cab right here.” Jay says motioning to himself before waving goodnight to Sylvie and the many emergency responders jampacked into Molly’s. He guides you outside, carefully leading you down the steps making sure you don’t slip, smashing your head onto the icy concrete below.

After ensuring your seatbelt is secured, after you had struggled with it for several minutes, he takes his place in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the small lot.

“You were supposed to make a left there.” You point out, realizing Jay had driven the wrong direction towards your apartment.

“Uh, Nope.”

“I know I’m drunk, but I still know where I live.”

“Oh, we’re not going to your place.”

“Huh?”

“You’re crashing at my house.”

“What?”

“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit alone.”

“So nice of you to care, but I don’t really want to sleep on your tiny sofa. I can imagine the pain in my neck already…”

“Who said you have to sleep on the couch?”

“Well, considering you live in a 1-bedroom.”

“You can take my bed. As long as you don’t puke in it.”

You chuckle, butterflies rising in your stomach as you stare at your knight-in-shining-armor. “I don’t think I can guarantee that I won’t.”

“Well, I’m prepared to burn my sheets then.”

“If you weren’t driving, I’d punch you.”

“Assaulting an officer and public intoxication. Real nice, Y/N.”

“Ooooh better punish me then, tough guy.”

Jay’s face blushes as he grins at you, side-eyeing your nervous expression.

“I mean, I could spank you, but I think that would be considered police brutality.”

You choke on nothing but air, thinking you misheard the handsome red head.

“I beg your pardon?”

“So, are you only going to flirt with me when you’re drunk? Am I too ugly for you sober? Don’t think I didn’t hear that handcuff comment earlier.”

“I-“ You can barely speak, embarrassment flooding your thoughts from working correctly.

Jay chuckles. “I’ll stop teasing till you sleep it off.”

“I- Um. Thanks? How kind of you?”

You throw your head back against the seat and close your eyes, trying to block out the streetlights flickering past your eyes as you drive down the snowy Chicago streets.

“I’m going to have such a headache in the morning.”

“Good thing my brother’s a doctor. He can get you the strong stuff.”

“Sometimes I don’t know when you’re joking.”

You smile at Jay as he finally pulls up to his apartment. He goes to open the car door before you pull him towards you by his jacket, thrusting your lips against his own, perhaps a little too hard. He’s taken aback, but quickly grabs the back of your head, pulling you in closer. Several seconds pass before you pull away, unsure of what drove you to do that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” Jay shakes his head, blushing. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

Jay exits the car, rounding the vehicle and opening the door for you on your side. You stay seated for a moment as he looks at you questioningly. “C’mon Y/N, it’s freezing.”

“I just… I was thinking.”

“Huh? About what?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight, either.”

“Oh?” Jay grabs your hand, pulling you out of the car and pulling you into his chest.

“What do you have a Queen? I think there’s plenty of room for two people.”

“King, actually.”

“Okay well, we are not making it 3.”

“We’ll leave that up for debate.” Jay winks, helping you inside to the warm building, still clutching you close against the winter air.

#writing #fanfiction #morgan writes #oneshot #one chicago #chicago one #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago fire #jay halstead #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x reader #sylvie brett #one chicago fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction

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chrisevansjellybeans · 3 years

Text

Undercover- Mob! Steve Rogers Part 2

Okay here is the highly requested part two to my Mob! Steve post! I had some technical difficulties posting it but hopefully you guys see it in the tags now :)

Warnings: swearing and smut

Word count: 2.8k

“When I said go undercover, I didn’t mean under his covers, Agent.” Director Fury slammed his hand down on his desk. It had now officially been twenty-four hours since your encounter with the mob boss and you had been waiting anxiously all day to talk with Nick Fury. The rumor around the office all day was that he wasn’t too pleased with how things went down.

“I did what I had to do, sir.” You stated boldly.

Fury scoffed but didn’t respond.

He was quiet for a moment, his eye scanning over the piece of paper in his hand. You fidgeted uncomfortably as your legs were still sore from your romp last night and you tried to hold it together as Fury gave you a weird look.

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You muttered a thank you as you took a seat.

“Listen, this is all good and fine but I want more. This,” He waved the note in his hand. “Is just a drug felony. I want this bastard put away for life.”

“But what about Stark?”

“A slippery politician, nothing more. I want insight on just more than this. I want it all.”

You sat back in the chair. You understood where he was coming from, but he was also acting like you hadn’t just uncovered a huge piece of information.

“Sir-”

“Which is why you’re going to continue...seeing Rogers. Your undercover assignment has just been extended until further notice.”

“But, sir!” You stood up in protest.

“But nothing, Agent. You’ve made your bed and you’ve already lied in it. Now do it again.” He snapped.

“Are you pimping me out, sir?”

“You did that yourself, Y/N.” Fury snarked. “Anyway, as we speak I have other agents creating an entire new identity for you on the internet so when Roger’s does eventually look you up he’ll find everything we want him to find.”

You felt yourself sinking back down into the chair. He was being completely serious. You suddenly felt very hot as you processed all the information coming at you.

“And what exactly is it going to say?”

“That you are Y/N Monroe. You are the same age as you are now and a barista at the coffee shop just below your apartment. You went to the University of Minnesota and graduated with a business degree, but currently can’t find any jobs. Pity. Your parents died when you were young and you have no siblings-no need to wrap anyone else up in this. We’ve made an Instagram account since that seems to be the most popular app among adults your age. I pushed for no socials but apparently it’s weirder if you don’t have one.”

“Okay...but I don’t have a coffee shop below my apartment.”

“You do now. Your stuff is being moved into a safe house apartment on the other side of town. That’s where you’ll be staying for now. Don’t worry, I have Parker holed up in the apartment two doors down.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try to calm down. There was nothing else you could do. Fury was right, you had made your bed. You reached over and grabbed the file that Fury had pushed towards the front of the desk. Your new life all put together in a Manila folder.

Damn you, Ma and your slutty advice.

“You can go now.” Fury waved you away, now totally focused on whatever file he had in front of him. You hesitated, wanting to say something but nothing came so you left.

“Y/N!” Peter ran up beside you as you stormed down the hallway. “Heard we’re gonna be neighbors.”

You smiled at how excited he was. “It’s only temporary, Parker. Don’t wet your pants.”

Peter blushed and gently shoved you to the side as you both continued walking. “I know that. But doesn’t mean it won’t be fun. We could have movie nights or something.”

“I suppose we could find some time.” You nudged him back.

“Oh here, before I forget.” Peter shoved a brand new iPhone into your hand. “Fury had me add some tweaks to the geo location so it’s more precise than what Apple has. My burner number is already programmed in there too.”

You studied the burner phone, impressed that they didn’t just give you another shitty tracfone like you were used to.

“Thanks, kid.”

“I’m not that much younger than you.” Peter grumbled as the two of you finally made it to the parking structure.

You smirked over your shoulder as you walked up to your Jeep Wrangler. “Young enough. ‘Night, kid!”

Peter flipped you off but was smiling the whole time as you drove off.

You punched in your new address in the GPS and followed along as it brought you to the older part of town. You had always loved this part of the city but never thought to move out here. Even though it wasn’t the new upcoming neighborhood, the rent prices had been driven up by the young kids moving in who just “adored the old time aesthetic” and the lofted buildings.

Your building was one of those you noted as you parked your car outside of your new address. The old brick building was tall, maybe six stories and had fire escapes littered across the front of it. The front door was a rusted green that you had to yank to budge to get open.

Extra security, I suppose. You laughed to yourself.

Your apartment was on the third floor and right off the freight elevator. You weren’t expecting much when you opened the door but you made a noise of pleasant surprise when you did.

The inside was warm and inviting. A plush gray sofa that resembled a cloud was center in your living room that you saw right away from the small entry hallway. As you stepped in further you saw a decent size tv mounted against the wall and two bookshelves on either side of it, filled with books and records that went along with the record player that was right underneath the television. To the left the living room was the kitchen. Nothing big, which you didn’t mind-you weren’t the best cook in the world. There was a small bar-like counter that had two barstools perched underneath. Down the small hallway you found your bedroom. A king sized bed covered in an off white comforter set with matching sheets. Small potted plants hung from the corner near the window and an array of makeup and perfumes littered the top of the wooden dresser.

Tentatively you opened the dressers to find a whole new wardrobe waiting for you. There were basics: such as t-shirts, jeans, bras and panties but there was also a whole drawer dedicated to skimpy lingerie that you knew was expensive. The walk-in closet was filled with dresses, some formal and some you wouldn’t let your grandmother even see hanging off the rack.

“Well done, Fury.” You mumbled to yourself as your fingers ran down the silk fabric of a long evening gown.

You were settling on to your couch, sweats on and a glass of wine in your hand when you heard a knock on the door. Slowly you got up, grabbing your gun from the plant next to the door. You looked through the peephole and let out a curse when you saw none other than Steve Rogers standing outside your apartment.

You shoved the gun back into the plant and ran your fingers through your hair before opening the door, but leaving the chain attached.

“Mr. Rogers, how can I help you?” Your eyes twinkled as the man in front of you rested his arm on the top of the door frame and leaned close to the opening you had created.

“You said I would see you soon, princess. Looks like soon is now.” The nickname again caused your stomach to flutter.

“I was just getting ready for bed. You’ll have to come by another time.” You feigned a yawn. Steve’s eyes blared as he stood up straight.

“It’s rude to keep your guests waiting, Miss Monroe.” Your heart jumped at the use of your alias. Thank god your team worked fast.

“And it’s rude to show up to people’s apartments unannounced, Mr. Rogers.”

“Open the door, sweetheart.” He hissed, but his eyes held anything but anger. He was intrigued. He never found a woman before who wasn’t afraid to dish back his sass. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

“Say please.” You teased through the opening.

“Please.” He said through gritted teeth.

Chuckling you closed the door gently and undid the chain. Before you could reopen it though, Steve pushed his way through scooping you up in his arms as he did. You naturally wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms held tight around him as you squealed against his neck.

He walked you back into the living room and plopped down on the couch, holding you so you were still straddling him.

You pulled away but kept your arms hanging loosely around him. He smirked up at you as his fingers toyed with the hem of the tank top you had on. His eyes fell to the wine that was only half drank on your coffee table.

“Heading off to bed soon, huh?”

“My bedtime snack.”

There was a part of your brain that recognized him for who he was: evil. But another part of your brain saw him as the man who made your body feel things that it had never felt before and that had your heart racing like a schoolgirl with a crush. The part that recognized that he was so easy to talk and joke with. The great sex wasn’t a bummer either.

His smirk was replaced by a genuine smile as he pulled you down and gave you a kiss that had your toes curling. He moaned into your mouth as you slowly ground your hips against his, your fingers tugging at the hair by his neck. His tongue massaged yours, letting you know exactly who was in charge at this moment. His hands ran underneath your tank top, fingers tracing up your spine before reaching the front and giving your nipples a slight twist.

He moved his mouth from yours and peppered kisses along the side of your neck as he lifted the tank top over your head. He threw it to the side as his mouth attached to your protruding bud while his fingers pinched and toyed with the other one. Skillfully, and with his mouth still attached to you, Steve flipped you over so your back was on the couch and he was on top of you. He lifted his head, his blue eyes clouded with lust as he started kissing down from the center of your chest, down your stomach and down your legs as he pulled your sweats along with him.

He hummed as he spread your bottom lips apart with his fingers, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. You wiggled your hips against his face but he responded with a smack against your core.

“Honey, you gotta learn who’s in charge here and who’s-“ he kissed your clit ever so slightly, teasing you. “Just a little cock slut.”

His tongue circled over your bundle of nerves while fingers toyed with your slick. Gently he pushed two fingers into your pussy. Your eyes fluttered closed as his steady rhythm and flick of his tongue brought your orgasm to the forefront.

“Shit, Steve…” you whimpered, gripping his hair and pulling him close. “Oh fuck, I’m close!”

“Let me taste you, princess.” Steve growled. You nearly lost it at the sigh of your juices dripping from his chin. “Give it to me like the good girl you are.”

“Oh god!” You called out as he hit that spongy spot that caused your thighs to tighten around his head. Your body spasmed as it rode out your orgasm. Your chest heaving and your legs shaking as he slowly pulled his fingers from you. A moan was caught in your throat as you watched him put his soaked fingers between his lips, a look of pure satisfaction covering his perfect face.

Steve leaned his body over yours but careful not to let his full weight fall on you. He ran his nose up the side of your neck, along your cheek before letting it rub against your own. You grabbed his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. There was something so erotic about tasting yourself when your tongues met.

“Show me your bedroom?” Steve pulled away. You gave a weak nod. Steve stood up and hoisted you up, your legs weak beneath you.

“Poor baby.” He cooed in your ear. “Only one orgasm down and already can’t walk. I can’t imagine how you’ll be when I’m done with you.”

With that he lifted you and walked down your short hallway to the bedroom. In your hazy, post orgasm mind you hoped the mattress was comfy. You hadn’t even tested out beforehand.

Steve threw you on the bed and you sighed as you fell into the cloud. You leaned back on your elbows and watched as Steve unbuttoned the new shirt and trousers he had on. You stifled your laughter thinking about the wine stained ones back at his house.

“Something amusing to you, sweetheart?” He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards the end of the bed. He lifted your foot up, setting it over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of your calf.

“No, sir.” You teased.

“You’re a bad liar.” He nipped at your knee.

Not as bad as you might think.

Steve made you come at least four more times that night. Your body completely spent when he finally rolled over and laid next to you, yours and his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You rolled over and threw your leg and arm over his body, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. Steve’s fingers toyed with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Spend the night?” You asked into the darkness. It was nearly three in the morning and your eyes were slowly closing no matter how much you willed them to stay open.

“I have some business things that I have to take care of early in the morning.” He answered, his fingers running up and down your arm.

“Oh, okay.” You said sadly. Steve’s chest rumbled with light laughter as he brought your hand that was in his up to his lips and gave it a kiss. You were soon realizing that he was actually a very affectionate person.

“But I want you to come back to the house tomorrow. I’ll send one of my guys for you in the afternoon.”

“Really?” You sat up. Steve blindly reached for your nightstand and turned on the lamp that was on it. His hair was tousled from the numerous times you had run your fingers through it and his lips were red and swollen. He looked like the epitome of sex and it was fucking hot.

“Yes, really.” He chuckled. He grabbed your phone that was on the nightstand and held it out for you to unlock. You did quickly and he took it back and started typing. “I don’t give out my personal number to a lot of people.”

“So I’m special.” You wiggled in your spot, a grin covering your face.

“Yes. You are.” Steve looked back at you and you were taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. He handed your phone back to you and you laughed at the name he had for his contact: Steve Rogers and an eggplant emoji.

“You’re a child.” You giggled.

Steve rolled his eyes and got out of bed and you took the time to appreciate his bum as he walked over to get his pants.

You gathered the soft sheets in your hand and brought them up to your chest. Although you weren’t sure what you were trying to hide, he had seen it all.

Once he was dressed and you slipped on a robe that you found hanging behind the door, you walked him out. He stood in your doorframe, his large figure making the space seem very small. He smiled as he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your head and leaned down and gave you a kiss.

“Make sure to lock all the doors behind me. And text me when you wake up tomorrow.” He demanded softly.

“Mmmkay, I will.” You said hazily.

“Go get some sleep, princess.” He laughed as he pushed away from the door and walked to the elevator. You watched as he got in and gave you a quick wave before whipping out his phone to make a call.

Once he was out of sight you closed the door softly, making sure to bolt everything before heading back to your bed. You were too tired to even clean up before you passed out.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #mob steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mob! steve x reader

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

Note

Hey, you once mentioned something about Tom Riddle being a little suicidal. Your new post reminded of that and I wonder why you think that. It’s the complete opposite of what the books want you to think.

Alright, it’s time, let’s do this.

My standard disclaimer whenever we venture into the dark pit that is my thoughts on Tom Riddle: I’m going to say a lot of controversial stuff that fandom generally doesn’t agree with, I will say so much of this shit that I simply do not have time to explain it all, I expect 99% of you to disagree with me and the other 1% to be so horrifyingly offended that I dare to contemplate a world in which Tom isn’t always an overly competent psychopath that they leave me notes telling me to take this trash out of their character tags.

We good? Alright.

So, when I say a little suicidal, I mean that he is suicidal.

Not on the level that he’s going to kill himself tomorrow, or even has plans to kill himself, but in that he makes very strange decisions for someone who desperately wants to live.

And yes, I realize I speak blasphemy given that Tom Riddle’s entire m.o. is supposed to be his crippling fear of death.

Oh man, this one’s going to be so long.

So, my reasoning comes down to a few things:

The location of the horcruxes and the nature of their protections.

The events of Deathly Hallows and Tom’s final actions in the novel

The nature of horcruxes and what it means to not only be able to create one but what it does to you (caveat that I am going to headcanon hard here and speak utter blasphemy)

So, let’s start in order this time, because I think the first two are actually far easier for me to explain.

The Location and Nature of the Horcrux Protections and the Trouble with Backdoors in Security

So, first, the horcruxes are all conveniently located in Great Britain. Not even just in Great Britain, all in places that Albus Dumbledore and later Harry Potter can track down with relative ease, all fairly close to each other.

Now, part of this is undoubtedly attributable to Tom’s overly romantic nature.

Yes, Tom Riddle is a giant romantic, though not necessarily in the traditional sense everyone thinks of. The film “Patton” and its treatment of Patton comes to mind. Tom Riddle is a man enamored by a sense of greatness, of being remembered in this world rather than fading into oblivion, by the significance of places and times in history not only of the world but of himself. He creates an entire, grand, persona for himself because to live an ordinary life for him is to be worthy of nothing.

So, given that, of course Tom places the horcruxes in sentimental locations that have personal meaning to him.

However, it also makes them perilously easy to find and collect.

By itself, this wouldn’t spark my notice.

The ability to destroy horcruxes are not easy to come by. There’s only one basilisk and it’s by chance/Lucius fucking up that Harry gains access to the necessary basilisk venom. Using Fyendfire is an incredibly dangerous thing to do and just as likely to blow up you and the next three towns over as it is to destroy a horcrux. And if there are other means of destroying a horcrux they’re just as hard to come by or just as dangerous.

It’s not quite throwing it into the fires of Mt. Doom from which it was forged but it’s pretty damn close.

So, really, without JKR’s convenient Deus Ex Machina giving both him and Dumbledore the means to actually destroy these things, Tom Riddle’s horcruxes are pretty damn safe no matter where we put them. As we see from the locket, which Regulus manages to collect but Kreacher cannot destroy even after several decades.

However, what does spark my notice, is that the horcruxes can be collected by someone other than Tom Riddle when it appears as if they were never intended to be. What do I mean by this?

From what we see, there’s no benefit to Tom if the original horcruxes are found by anyone. He doesn’t seek them out to restore his original body, they’re just anchor points that should be hidden at all costs. So, he’ll never need a Death Eater to go collect them for him should he be indisposed (indeed, to do so would require a tremendous amount of trust in people he has very little trust in).

So, why hide them in such a way that others can access them? There are canon based options which would have prevented anyone else from reaching them. Given the existence of age lines, I imagine Tom Riddle could make some arbitrary barrier keyed only to himself. There are mokeskin pouches, such as the one Harry is given in the seventh book, which we know can only be accessed by whoever they’re keyed to. There’s the Fidelius Charm which, true requires a secret keeper which Tom would be very meh on, but options exist.

Tom Riddle could wipe the locations of his horcruxes off the face of the map. He chooses not to. Which leads me to believe that, at least on some unconscious level, he wants the horcruxes to be found.

Then we have the protections.

Specifically, I’m thinking of the locket here.

Yes, the protections are very formidable, but they’re also goddamn weird.

Rather than make the horcrux simply inaccessible, kill all those intruding, instead the intruder has to go through a very “Saw” like puzzle in which they drown themselves in despair until they finally get the locket, at which point they likely suicide by zombie.

More, there’s no hint that there’s any other way to retrieve the locket.

Backdoors in security are a very bad idea. What they do is weaken the security as a whole and, if you can take a short cut is, it means that someone who is clever enough and motivated enough can to. Dumbledore is both clever and motivated enough, and I imagine if there was a way to get the horcrux that involved not doing this ridiculous task he would have done it.

More, we’d be back to the land of Tom making sure only he can access the horcrux by requiring a password, keying it to his magical signature, or something so that no one else could get it.

Which means, that’s right, if Tom wants to get the locket he’s drinking the goddamn despair juice just like the rest of us.

What kind of a person would do any of this?

I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t think Tom Riddle’s crazy. Rather, in this case, I think he’s driven by an unbelievable amount of nihilist rage and is also quite depressed.

Tom goes to collect his horcrux, “Ah, it’s time to remember what a miserable life I’ve led and the sheer awfulness of my own existence. Good, I was starting to feel a little too happy. Let’s see if I get eaten by my undead, vengeful, victims today.”

The Events of Deathly Hallows and Tom Riddle’s Death

I think Tom Riddle’s final death in the books was suicide.

Tom takes over the Wizarding World, finally, and it’s as miserable as ever.

He’s trapped in this sham, barely functional, probably very painful body. His Death Eaters are completely out of control and for all that he wanted society to burn it’s now burning and no one’s even learned anything from this. Children in Hogwarts are being routinely tortured and have now staged a rebellion in which he’s having to slaughter them (I have reasons to believe that this is not what Tom Riddle wanted, at all, but that’s best saved for another post), and then he learns his horcruxes have all been destroyed without him even noticing.

There’s so little left of him, he has accomplished nothing, and there’s Harry Potter back from the dead yet again, gloating at him that love conquers all and Tom Riddle will never understand.

And Harry’s right, Tom Riddle will never understand, the world is meaningless and flat to him now and he finally understand that there’s no point to it. I think Tom Riddle decides he’s done. He’s just done.

He enters in a duel with Harry Potter knowing the weird nature of their wands. Now, it can be assumed he used the Elder Wand, but we know they get locked in Priori Incatatum , and that makes no damn sense with the Elder Wand (well, wandlore in general is silly, but I’m working with what JKR gave me here). So I choose to take JKR at her somewhat established canon and say that, no matter what Harry thought, Voldemort was using his original wand.

He throws out the killing curse, despite having now witnessed Harry resurrecting twice to this thing, and within two seconds it rebounds and kills him.

Voldemort’s death is a lot like this scene from the recent, terrible, 2020 live action Mulan (10/10 do not recommend). Now, we’re supposed to think that this scene is the witch saving Mulan’s life and thus showing her hope for the next generation. In actuality, the witch literally flies into an arrow she could have easily deflected from Mulan’s path. It’s a suicide that Mulan is too stupid to notice.

Tom chooses suicide in the most ridiculous, flamboyant, and easily written off manner one can and no one even notices. Instead Harry crows that he has personally defeated Voldemort, with the power of love no less, HUZZAH!

And the castle parties.

The Nature of Horcruxes

I almost don’t want to include this because it’s so... well, I’m really drifting far from canon and fandom now.

However, with horcruxes, there’s always an overriding question of why Tom is able to make so many when we don’t see anyone else with these things around (especially as it’s clear that murder doesn’t simply happen for those that now have horcruxes).

Usually, you have fic authors just sort of shrug and go, “Well, he’s that evil, I guess.” Sometimes you have them go, “No one else is crazy enough to keep going, and that’s why Voldemort’s cuckoo bananas.”

One very good explanation I’ve seen is that it’s because most people, when they murder, feel remorse immediately. The soul split happens, but they’re haunted by the murder for the rest of their life, and thus the horcrux isn’t made. Voldemort, feeling nothing when he kills anyone, is thus able to make them even for when he’s only indirectly associated with the death in question.

However, to me that never really jived philosophically.

Mostly, I simply cannot imagine that tearing apart your very soul is an act of indifference. Here’s how I see it: to do something like that to yourself, you must care, you must care beyond all imagine and human endurance. Your soul literally cannot abide it and saws itself in half, purging what you cannot stand about yourself the most.

The remorse part is, yes, remorse for the act and the victim but more to the point it is the ability to forgive and reaccept the worst part of yourself. That part of yourself that you purged and destroyed, which is nearly impossible to do and might very well destroy the fabric of who you are).

In other words, while creating a horcrux is an abominable act of hatred, it is also one of profound self-hatred.

Tom Riddle loathes himself so much that he is able to do this over and over and over again.

As Tom Riddle goes on he makes himself into less and less and less of himself until he probably doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He just knows, whatever is left of him, he loathes that too.

And then, of course, he gives up, runs into the nearest flying arrow, and dies.

TL;DR: Tom Riddle’s is a miserable existence that ended in a miserable if unintentionally hilarious manner

#ask #anon #tom riddle #voldemort

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pedropascalunofficial · 3 years

Text

Pedro Pascal and Lena Headey

Head to head interview

Hunger Magazine, Issue 6. Released December 28, 2014. Photoshoot October 15, 2013.

Thirteen million. That's the number of people, on average, who tuned into each episode of the third season of Game of Thrones. Among them was Chilean actor Pedro Pascal, who was as enthralled by the sex and slaughter as the rest of us. But little did he know that within a few months he'd be pitching up on the shores of Belfast to join the cast as Oberyn Martell, affectionately known as the Red Viper. Sound ominous? It is. The Red Viper is GoTs newest anti-hero, “sexy and charming but driven by hate”. Sounds like he'll be right at home.

Pedro, on the other hand, though he looks good on paper, wasn't the obvious choice for the role. Expecting a big name to ride into King’s Landing, the show's fans took to forums to express their concerns as soon as the news broke. So is he worried? Like hell he is. “The fans had the part cast in their minds already. They knew who they wanted and it certainly was not me. But I'm not stupid, | presumed that people were going to say ‘who the fuck is this guy’. Since I anticipated the reaction it didn't throw me off.”

“There are so many different ways to go into battle with yourself when you're trying to get a job. I felt a certain amount of pressure because I wanted to make everyone happy. The fan base is so specific and, as a fan myself, I understand the relationship that they have with the show. The Red Viper is the best part I've ever played, and in season four shocks come at the most unexpected times. You might think you know, but you have no idea,” he explains.

Looks like the Red Viper could be in line to fill a Walter-White-sized-hole in television, but to test the theory we pit Pascal against Lena Headey, aka the Queen. Because if you can come away from Cersei unscathed, you can handle anything.

LH: So, Pedro, you come into Game of Thrones in season four, playing a pretty major character. Does that fill you with joy or dread?

PP: I'd say it fills me with joy because it’s a really fucking fun part. He’s a badass. He comes up against a lot of the main characters in the show. I'm very aware of the show. I watch it like a fan.

LH: Were you a fan before you arrived in Belfast?

PP: Yeah, I was a proper fan. I was caught up in the drama of it before I even auditioned for the part. I was already up to speed.

LH: I remember meeting you and thinking, “he fucking loves the show’.

PP: I kissed your ass.

LH: Well, it worked. We're friends now.

PP: I was like a tourist visiting the set, and yet I had to act with you and be in a scene with the characters that I had such a specific association with already.

LH: So you’re saying it’s boring?

PP: No, it wasn’t boring at all. It was extremely, relentlessly surreal.

LH: And who were your favourite characters up until that point?

PP: Not you.

LH: I realise that!

PP: There are too many characters to have a favourite, but I was fascinated by the Lannisters because they're so frightening. They scared me and then you would come in and pull sympathy from your audience somehow, and I found that rather fascinating. The Northerners were so easy to like or get behind, but it was quite something to see people sympathise with a Lannister, after you made people see things from their perspective.

LH: Speaking of being slightly ambiguous as a character, you come in as a major player and a very well-loved character in the eyes of people who read the books, and he’s somewhat of an anti-hero. Did you base him on anyone?

PP: What does an anti-hero mean exactly?

LH: It means he doesn't wear deodorant, doesn't it? [Laughs]. Someone you shouldn't champion, but you do, like Walter White in Breaking Bad.

PP: No, | didn’t really base him on anyone.

LH: Did you take anything from classic movies that you thought you could use and spin to your advantage playing the Red Viper?

PP: God, that’s a good question. I probably did subconsciously. Now I feel under the spotlight because I need to think of somebody, and I have so many in my mind! I think that’s something that is happening a lot in TV today: the anti-heroes are central to these television shows, and people are really getting behind them, even though they're not necessarily the most moral characters. So I'd say that ‘ve become more familiar with the character who's obviously very flawed but gets you on their side — you have complicated feelings about them. But I think I saw the story too much from this character's perspective to perceive any flaws.

LH: He has some.

PP: I know, from the outside. But I don't see any of them. What are his flaws?

LH: His flaws? He's a dirty bastard!

PP: Why is he a dirty bastard? He likes to fucking fight, for sure.

LH: Back to you as an actor. You've done it for a long time and, as we all know, the path is not always golden, and sometimes you think, “fuck it” and you want to leave it and do something else. Have there been moments where you wanted to give up?

PP: Yes, there have been moments where I came very close to giving up. But I never had anything to fall back on. I think you can understand that.

LH: Because were stupid?

PP: We're stupid.

LH: I can't even make pizza!

PP: We don’t have any other skills.

LH: None at all!

PP: And that’s the odd conundrum. You get to a point where you think, “This isn’t going to happen. This isn’t sustainable. I'm too exhausted, and it can't be good for me.” There were moments where I truly did try to formulate an idea of what I'd do. I thought I'd go back to school, start pre-med again and go to medical school or something like that.

LH: But that didn't happen, you just thought about it?

PP: Yes, I'd have thoughts, but it was still fantasy really. But at the time it felt like a practical life plan. Do you know what I mean?

LH: Yeah of course, you need to pay the fucking rent.

PP: Exactly. You just try to escape from the chaos of what you're feeling by trying to create order in your life. Order seems like a solution to save you from the pain of acting!

LH: It's a mental pain. Who was the first person you called when you got the role?

PP: My sister.

LH: Does she watch the show?

PP: Yes, she does.

LH: Pedro Pascal... or Pablo as I called you when I had too much wine, which was deeply insulting.

PP: Even family members have done that to me! Do I look more like a Pablo? Because it happens with about ninety-five percent of the people I meet.

LH: No, I think I’m just an ignorant drunk person.

PP: No, you were an ignorant drunk person that night is what you're saying.

LH: And now I’m educated.

PP: [Whispers] But | want you to call me Pablo.

LH: Ok, Pablo! When you first arrived on set in Northern Ireland, what was your feeling showing up to a bunch of British actors? Did it feel different to doing an American project?

PP: Yes, but I loved it. It wasn’t intimidating. I found it surreal because I’d watched and loved the show. I hadn't had the opportunity to work on something that I was really familiar with before, so it was overwhelming. But it was far more delightful than intimidating. Also you guys were really cool. Everyone was friendly.

LH: Oh, that’s just fake.

PP: Well, you guys were good at it!

LH: We know Game of Thrones is very popular obviously. Do you have any thoughts, or fears, about what this is going to bring you in terms of exposure?

PP: I have hope.

LH: Oh, God. I don’t mean to shatter that, but give it up.

PP: I don’t know really. It’s all been filmed, and now I'm back to my normal routine, so I haven't really thought about it. I remember when we finished filming and we were on our way to the airport, you asked me, “How does it feel you're all done?” and I couldn't really answer.

LH: You were quite emotional that day.

PP: I was very emotional because I’d had such an amazing time doing the part. Also just being there immersed in the experience... You described it to me best. You told me how I'd be feeling.

LH: We don't know your character's backstory when you enter the show, and you have some rather brutal scenes. Anyone who has read the books will know what I’m talking about.

PP: My character comes in, he stirs a bunch of shit up, and then he makes this fucking enormous exit. Now can | ask you a question?

LH: What is it? I’m not going to sleep with you. Give it up.

PP: Oh, come on! This has gone to shit and it’s your fault, so good luck to whoever has to edit it! But anyway, sometimes I'd hang out with the cast members and we'd go to dinner and they would get stopped constantly. There was no denying who they played because they were so recognisable, but you got away with it because you have this beautiful blonde wig on in the show, and in real life you are...

LH: Grey?

PP: {Laughs] No! You have beautiful chestnut hair! Is it liberating to not be recognised the way some of the other cast members are?

LH: Yes, it is liberating.

PP: Liberating being able to walk down an alley in Dubrovnik without being stopped?

LH: Yes, except sometimes | get recognised in the weirdest places. A woman was emptying my bag at Heathrow Airport's security gates and just went, “Are you the Queen?” while rummaging through my underwear. It was so fucking weird.

PP: It seems they're more respectful to you?

LH: Because they're frightened. Wait until they meet the Viper.

PP: Well, that covers it.

LH: I think we're going to get our own show out of this, you know

youtube

Interested in learning more about Pedro? Check out Pedro Pascal Unofficial on Pinterest!

#pedro pascal #lena headey #hunger magazine #shot October 2013 #published December 2014 #game of thrones #queen cersei #prince oberyn #oberyn #oberyn martell #hunger tv

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