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princeescaluswords · 2 months

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Seeing your Sterek thoughts is fun, because sometimes I'll want to read a fun story about like Parrish dating, idk, Peter or adult Theo, or want to talk about Teen Wolf for other side characters, and have to wade, knee deep, through Sterek and the ways every character are props for Stiles/Derek

It's a frustrating part of the TW fandom, how prevalent and inescapable the ship is

Here's something to think about.

Let's say you were entirely innocent of fandom and its wily ways. Let's say you watched a 100 episode television show named Teen Wolf. If another person, also entirely innocent of fandom, asked you what happened in it, what would you say? If another person asked you what were the most important relationships in the story, which ones would you list? If another person asked you who the lead protagonist was and asked you to describe that character's arc, how would you answer?

I am absolutely confident that the romantic relationship between Stiles and Derek would not appear in any of those answers. I could describe the entire plot, episode by episode, of Teen Wolf without even implying that Stiles and Derek were friends and it would be almost entirely complete. I would list the most important relationships as Scott and Stiles, and Scott and Derek, and Scott and Allison, and Scott and Kira, and Scott and Liam, and I would even include Stiles and Lydia. But the truth is, if Derek and Stiles had never had a scene alone together, it wouldn't ultimately change anything about the show. Furthermore, it is simply not credible to say that the lead protagonist isn't Scott McCall. Every character, every plot line, every resolution hinged on Scott's choices and behavior -- even the ones where the focus may have been on Stiles, such as the nogitsune arc and the wild hunt arc.

And, while this should go out with saying, it has to be said in order to forestall the tedious foot-stomping discussion-derailing simplistic arguments that usually happen at this point: there is nothing wrong with shipping Sterek. There is nothing wrong with enjoying what might have happened between these two but didn't. Shipping is not the problem.

The problem is the fandom's entitlement to force a romantic relationship between two white men into obscene prominence. The problem is that there is an entire culture based around recontextualizing an entire 100-episode show and a movie around a romantic relationship that didn't exist to such a degree that the actual reality of the story is often lost.

Whoever you are and whatever draws to you the story, once you engage with the fandom, there is one unstoppable force that swamps everything. Love it or hate it. Dread it. Run from it. Sterek arrives all the same. You have to deal with it. The only way to avoid Sterek is to avoid the fandom.

Staying clear of clearly-labeled Sterek content won't help, because the tropes that have grew out of Sterek have metastasized. For example, "Pack-Mom Stiles" has replaced Stiles's canon characterization in 90 percent of fandom content, even fandom content that has nothing to do with Sterek. Think about "Oblivious Scott" and "Stupid Scott." These tropes appeared in order to explain why Scott wasn't aware of Stiles's true feelings for Derek and have now become the baseline for any analysis of Scott's behavior, even though it was Scott who figured out how to convince Derek to turn on Peter, Scott who noticed and took advantage of Gerard's cancer, Scott who noticed that Derek painting only one side of a door in a falling down house, etc., etc., ad nauseam.

Think about Scott and Derek's developing relationship throughout the show and when, in the final episode, Derek and Scott hug after not seeing each other for a long time and one person bravely posted on the Internet, "As a Sterek shipper, I reject this." Or Sterek shippers who hated the movie without watching it. They are so firmly entrenched in this entitled alternative world that they feel they have the right to invalidate scenes that actually occur on the screen.

I could go on, for like, an hour, but there are even worse aspects. This culture influenced the production because it became so omnipresent during public relations events (conventions, polls, etc) that they couldn't really ignore it anymore. Think about 6B's ridiculous and demeaning "Stiles, in his first day at the FBI, sees recycled film of shirtless Derek" scene. Or the uselessness of the line in the movie about Stiles having his own fires to put out. If you were our theoretical individual not exposed to fandom, you must have wondered why that line and that scene were even filmed!

At a certain point, the production realized that they had been caught in an inescapable trap. If they didn't include scenes where Stiles and Derek interacted with each other -- such as season 3B -- they were accused of homophobia and queerbaiting; if they did include scenes where Stiles and Derek interacted with each other -- such as Season 4 -- but the relationship didn't become canon, they were accused of homophobia and queerbaiting. By this point, they must have felt that they had no choice as Sterek -- something the production had never intended nor even indicated -- had become so much a part of the fandom perspective that they felt they had to do something to acknowledge it.

I'm sure you can point out other fandoms where something like this happened, and I'm sure you can point out that fandom response became so extreme that it damaged the story itself. But we got Sterek, and we have to deal with it.

#anti sterek #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fandom problems #fandom racism

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homielander · 2 months

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the most interesting character detail about maeve through which i have extrapolated at least half my understanding of her is that she prefers to be called maeve. i frequently see "maggie" pop up in meta and fic as her chosen name, but quite literally nobody calls her that, including (and most significantly) elena. elena is maeve's tether to her humanity and her refuge away from vought, yet even elena only ever refers to her as maeve. (and in season 2, we learn that maeve started dating elena before she joined the seven -- before queen maeve's popularity would have become so inescapable that she would feel compelled to introduce herself by that name.) it's especially notable that in her final scene, maeve refers to starlight as annie for only the second time, but she is still called maeve by both annie and elena.

here's what we know about maeve's life as maggie: she had a rocky relationship with her father whom she doesn't seem to speak to anymore, she's from a "cousin-fucker hick town" as described by homelander -- i can't imagine this place being terribly lgbt-friendly, and she generally lacks connection with anyone she would have known before becoming queen maeve. she doesn't have fond memories of this time of her life, and perhaps that extends to all associations with it, including the name maggie.

i tend to think that becoming queen maeve was, in many ways, self-actualizing for her. the act that garners her national attention and earns her a ticket to vought is a heroic one -- she breaks every single bone in her right arm to save a school bus from falling off a bridge. and i know madelyn says she is responsible for the mythos of queen maeve, but this character was still aspirational, and likely someone maeve wanted to live up to. in any case, this new identity gave her a purpose and tools to achieve it: she wanted to help people! by her own admission, maeve enters vought bright-eyed and hopeful, not far off from annie. (maeve is also one of the only supes in the seven not to know about compound v -- she doesn't strike me as religious but believing she's among the very few born with powers would have strengthened her internal drive to be a hero.)

it's for the same reason that i think maeve actually... liked having powers? of course she says otherwise in her last season, but season 3 maeve is cynical and weary from about two decades of dealing with vought and homelander's abuse. they've used her first as the token woman and then the token gay person of the seven. after growing largely passive to the brutality of the job, the flight 37 incident forces her to confront all of the violence she's witnessed and tolerated. she's given pieces of herself away and she loathes the husk of herself that's left. i don't find it surprising that she would want to relinquish every single connection to vought, including her powers.

assuring herself that she will be better off without her powers comes with an added benefit: she gets to distinguish herself from homelander, who would be lost without his powers. and i think she is eager to make this distinction in her mind because there are some uncomfortable similarities between their initiations into vought. the mantle of homelander allows him to exert agency for the first time in his life, just as the mantle of queen maeve endows her with purpose for the first time in hers. (crucially, none of his current circle call him john, either.) they both enjoy being the most powerful superheroes in the world, the unending public adoration, and (in my interpretation) each other. they're also both overwhelmingly lonely and they know it -- homelander teases her multiple times about how she has no friends with a bit more bite in every passing season, while maeve is keenly aware of his isolation and exploits his yearning for love pretty effectively.

maeve steadily grows disillusioned with her position at vought because she still has a moral code, suppressed though it may be. even so, she nearly relents to homelander's vision: that they will be lonely at the top but lonely together. she's pulled out of her miserable state of inaction by annie and elena. annie reminds her of what a hero should be (what she was, once); elena offers her a way out of vought, serving as maeve's light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

she escapes that tower as maeve, not maggie. she rejects homelander's god complex which engenders his cruelty towards regular people and 'lesser' supes -- no one will call her queen maeve ever again, at least -- but it is still important to her to be a hero, and for better or for worse, she found that as maeve. i feel like she'd struggle to exist without her powers (possibly the self-awareness hasn't settled in yet) for all the reasons mentioned above. i like to think that eventually, she'll circle around to helping people and resisting vought however possible -- albeit on a smaller, more covert scale so she can continue living a peaceful life with elena.

#sorry for this word vomit i have just been thinking about maeve! what's in a name...#motivated by 2 years of reading takes about maeve wanting to be a normie (during s1-3 and prior) that i don't rly agree with #i'm not offering this as the 'right' interpretation of course this is just what makes sense for me!!#i have a couple of things i wanted to add (particularly re: maeve x HL since i know how consensual their relationship was #is controversial and i feel a bit weird slipping in that characterization of it w/o any follow-up)#but for now i am just going to say it fits with how i perceive her character trajectory and leave it there??#because i don't want to disrupt this post my thoughts on that #i also have mixed feelings on her ending but again not the post for it i suppose #queen maeve #the boys #maeve x elena #maeve x homelander #annie x maeve #supe names in this show are interesting... curious to see what they will do w annie next season

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sixx-writes · 1 year

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Desire II

Frieza x Reader

Word Count: 1,934

cw: choking, noncon, pheromones, size difference, second form frieza, rough sex, vaginal fingering, stomach bulge, creampie, pwp, forced orgasm

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: Frieza is in heat and reader ends up being the one to ‘help out’. PWP. Straight into the lewd this time lads hehe.

Part One

18+ ONLY NSFW BELOW

It's thrilling to imagine that you were most likely the first of any species that Frieza had fucked. It certainly seems that way with how he's selfishly taking his own pleasure without a care for your own fragile human needs. He's clearly getting off on how you tighten around his cock each time his tail constricts around your throat, using it to lift you up and down along with the movements of his hips, a lascivious smirk twisting his full black lips.

Still, this was Frieza, the most selfish prick in the universe, and even if he'd fucked a hundred before you the outcome would probably be the same.

You'd lost count of how many times he'd emptied himself inside you in this way. Three? Four? You were out of your mind for the last two times that you were aware of so it could have been more and he showed no signs of tiring. Whether he was bored or had thought of a new way to torture you his tail uncoiled from around your throat and you all but fell off of him to the side with a weak cry into the soiled sheets.

You gasped down lungfuls of air as your oxygen deprived brain righted itself. Through hazy eyes you thought you saw Frieza strolling around the bed before he began powering up until reaching a new transformation right in front of you.

In all your time as a soldier you had never seen Frieza in any of his other forms and now you were rightfully terrified of what he intended to do with you.

He was absolutely demonic with his intimidating height and much larger horns you blanched at the sight of it.

"I've had an epiphany during our time together," he mused, his voice deeper than before, sending chills down your back, "perhaps in my suppressed state I cannot fully experience my release. So, I wondered what would happen if I did this. Since you've so enthusiastically volunteered yourself I'm sure you are as excited as I am to explore this fully."

Frieza wore a wicked smirk and your eyes drifted down to his, Gods above, much larger cock that pulsed angrily with unsated lust. Even as slicked inside and out as you were it was frightening to think of Frieza trying to force himself inside you as much as it excited you.

You were paralyzed when he approached you again and it wasn't until his hand clamped down around your ankle in an inescapable manacle that you snapped out of it and tried to struggle pleading the entire time, "Please, Lord Frieza, it won't fit. Allow me to use my hands or mouth at least."

Nervousness made you act foolishly as it was never the right decision to deny Frieza anything that he desired, but he merely chuckled at your change in attitude, "What's wrong? There's no point in running away now is there? Not when you so obviously want this as well."

You jumped at the sensation of his tail trailing through the fresh slick mingling with his cum between your legs and you had to bite back a whimper. Perhaps he found your hesitance charming because he seemed more relaxed than before, almost playful. In a movement so fast that your head was left spinning you were turned over and your armor was suddenly gone from your lower half making you gasp.

Your cunt was fully on display from behind and Frieza ran his fingers along your folds parting them and learning your flesh for the first time. Humans had never interested the emperor as they reminded him too much of the saiyans that he despised so greatly and until now he had only felt disgust at the mere thought of copulating with them.

You, however, sparked a new interest in Frieza's cold heart that perhaps there was something to your species after all. The way you fluttered around his fingers when he slipped them deeper sparked something primal within him and he would have to take great care not to break you too early.

You bit back a whine as his thick fingers filled you nearly as much as his cock had in his first form, even in the inexperienced way that he probed your insides it still brought pleasure in your over-sensitized state. Frieza seemed to catch on quickly to your reactions, how you liked it when he stroked that uniquely textured spot along the ceiling of your cunt, unable to hold back your mewls.

His thumb accidentally grazed your clit and you moaned loudly trying to seek friction already so close but needing more. Frieza caught onto this immediately as well pinching the engorged nub and smearing it with your fluids. Your orgasm was nearly painful from being touched too roughly and your mouth dropped open in a soundless scream while he continued toying between your legs well past the point of over-stimulation.

"S-Stop," you choked out, feeling your eyes start to burn with unshed tears.

Again, Frieza surprised you by listening, ending the onslaught on your cunt. You turned to see what he had planned next and felt nearly delirious seeing his purple tongue sliding along those same fingers that were just inside you. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made your fear return like a lead weight in your stomach.

Especially with how his behavior was becoming noticeably less controlled with the way he stroked himself shamelessly and buried those fingers in his mouth with a low growl sucking until there was nothing left on them. It was both horrifying and horrifyingly erotic knowing how easily he could hurt you right then without even meaning to but those same feelings of fear only made you more excited. You silently cursed your own weakness.

Frieza noticed you staring and he grinned knowingly, "My turn."

You had believed he intended to take you from behind but his tail wound around your wrists knocking you flat before lifting you into the air with a startled squeak. Your back hit something hard, his chest, leaving you suspended over his cock while his lips ghosted along your throat. This new position was far too intimate and you couldn't help the flush that crept up on your cheeks and across your chest.

Frieza's hands were on your body again, this time removing the rest of your armor without any care for if it survived or not, easily breaking the straps of your chest piece until you were left fully nude. One big hand slid along your ribs until finding a breast and you gasped feeling your nipple harden under his palm. Like everything else about you Frieza focused his attention on this new discovery, squeezing and kneading pliant flesh, while your shoulders burned as if they would be torn from the sockets.

You were conflicted, panting, and could feel pulsating cool flesh brushing against your nether lips so near to having Frieza's cock back inside you that it had you salivating in anticipation. You were grateful when he stopped abusing your breasts and gripped your thighs from beneath, spreading your legs so there was no escape from what came next, the head of his cock starting to breach you.

"You should relax or this will hurt much worse," Frieza purred into your skin making you shudder.

Easy for you to say..

How you weren't supposed to be tense in this situation was beyond you, although you did try, the first pop of his cock past your entrance made you hiss in pain. The stretch pushed you to the edges of your limits and he wasn't even halfway in yet. Frieza's hands flexed around your thighs while his own limits were being tested as he struggled not to claim your cunt fully in one stroke.

If you were torn you would have to be sent away to the healing tank and that would take time he didn't care to waste. Not when he could savor your velvety walls around him instead. Besides that, Frieza enjoyed the little noises you made when you came, or when he touched you in just the right way. It was more appealing than imagining your screams of pain and was very effective at quelling his urges. Although not nearly as effective as filling you with his seed over and over. The sight of your swollen little cunt dripping with his essence was truly delicious and something he could get used to.

Allowing his thoughts to drift in such a way Frieza couldn't stop his hips from reacting forcing in a few more inches that made you sob and arch your back overwhelmed.

"Gods, fuck, ah-"

Frieza's fingers returned to your clit molding your suffering into something so intense it scared you. It felt like you needed to relieve yourself, the familiar sensation of needing to urinate building, and you couldn't get the words out to warn him. Not with the way his fingers moved relentlessly against you faster and faster - fuck if he wasn't already too good at knowing how to touch you - until you fell apart spraying fluid from between your legs.

He groaned at the irresistible sensation of being milked by the tightly stretched confines of your cunt, finally brought to his own limit, he started to move inside you while you babbled uselessly for him to stop and wait just a few minutes more giving you no time to recover from what had just happened.

Frieza's primal instinct to breed you had finally won the battle and your words fell on deaf ears. Truthfully, it no longer hurt, and the pressure inside you had already shifted into blistering ecstasy leaving you a drooling moaning mess. His massive cock stimulated new places that had never been touched before and you were certain you had lost your mind already.

"Shall I show you something special?" Frieza said trailing his tongue along your pulse to taste your sweat. You were such an intoxicating thing for him with the way your arousal leaked from your very pores turning his claiming of your cunt violent. Wet slaps filled your ears as he took out his frustration on your body and you struggled to find your voice.

"Y..es.." you choked out and felt him grin against your throat.

Inside you, the shape of him changed, punching all the air out of your lungs as Frieza's cock grew even thicker. You screamed trying to twist away absolutely certain you would turn inside out at that point if you didn't. His hands clamped down around your waist halting your movements before he started using you like a literal sex toy, easily manhandling you up and down his length without moving his hips. You were reduced to Frieza's living fleshlight and he reveled in the bulge of his cock beneath your skin where it pressed at his fingers on each downward thrust.

Most of all, Frieza enjoyed your warmth, it brought him to greater heights feeling the heat of your body against his own. Something he could never experience mating with his own kind and the main reason he reached climax so quickly. The coolness of his cum felt blissfully soothing against your abused insides, trapped against your womb unable to leak out, plugged by his sheer girth, you were forced into another orgasm at the same time with a ragged sob pleading with the Gods for mercy.

Frieza's hearty chuckle made you realize you'd spoken out loud.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he promised, starting to move your body up and down his cock again.

#frieza #frieza x reader #dragon ball

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scarletwritesshit · 2 months

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🌸 Kotone Shiomi x Akihiko Sanada 🌸March 6th, 2010

Akihiko wished that he could’ve found the strength to speak up in those few sweet moments that they shared together. He had plenty of opportunities to be strong, to show Kotone that he would always be by her side. Ultimately, death was an inescapable fate for her, though after losing both his younger sister and best friend, he couldn’t help but feel as if he should’ve done more to prevent the loss of his beloved.

At the very least, he wanted to say more. Even after Kotone accepted his quickly improvised confession, he still struggled greatly to put his feelings for her into words.

Time and again, it led to awkward silence between the two. Thankfully, Kotone was well aware of his lack of interpersonal communication skills. In fact, she somehow found his awkward demeanor to be quite charming, much to his mystery.

The hours that were usually spent in silence together, with Akihiko barely able to start a conversation without tripping over his words, was something that he so desperately missed. No matter how painful the awkward silence would get for him, Akihiko found himself unable to distance himself from Kotone, even when his embarrassment felt borderline unbearable. Over the few short months they spent together, both as simply teammates and as a couple, he gradually began to understand her. The reasons why she cared for him so much, what she saw in him, all of it was gradually beginning to make sense to Akihiko. He’d only wished that he, too, could open up to her at the same rate.

Sitting back on the couch, Akihiko began to think back to one of the first conversations, if one could even call it that, that they had together.

Akihiko wished that he was a little more prepared for her. There wasn’t anywhere to sit in his room other than his bed, which he had neglected to tidy up prior. Kotone didn’t seem to mind sitting on the floor one bit. She did seem like the type to do so normally, but Akihiko still felt as if he should’ve done more to make her feel more comfortable. Once they both sat down across from each other on the floor, neither of them said a word. The silence was deafening and the pause was long as the awkwardness polluted the air. Should Akihiko say something? Should he wait for her to speak first? What should they even talk about?

They have known each other for months by now, and Akihiko initially didn’t find it too difficult to talk to Kotone - she was just another close member of S.E.E.S. Now, they were far more than just teammates, or even friends. Akihiko and Kotone were closer than ever, but words seemed harder for him than before.

Akihiko felt tense. He didn’t have a reason to, as he had already cleared the air with his now girlfriend Kotone, but something kept him from being able to relax.

For a short while, they sat and looked at each other. Kotone seemed to be unable to contain the smile on her face, while Akihiko couldn’t stop himself from turning red with embarrassment. He eventually averted his gaze entirely, fidgeting with the floor in an attempt to not make himself look as if he passed away on the spot.

"So," Kotone said, finally breaking the awkward silence and grabbing his attention, "what would you like to do, Aki?"

What didn’t he want to do? He wanted to do everything that he possibly could with her, from hanging out, fighting shadows side by side in Tartarus, but most importantly, finally allow himself to indulge in some time with Kotone without a worry.

He wanted to pull her into his bed and kiss her wherever she would permit him to. Akihiko wanted to show her all of these long-withheld feelings that lied within him. Though it was fairly recently when everything began to make sense to him, he couldn’t possibly imagine another second without her by his side. Kotone’s short time in S.E.E.S. and in Gekkoukan High School have changed his outlook on life for the better, whereas the days long before, he was unsure of if he would ever be able to quell the survivor’s guilt within him.

But, as truthful as his feelings were, dumping all of that on Kotone seemed a little much a bit too soon. Even though she was clearly chipper about spending as much time as she could with him, Akihiko didn’t want to push things too far. He already felt a lingering anxiety that he was pushing his luck, with Kotone having to clarify Akihiko’s own feelings, yet somehow still enthusiastic to accept him as a boyfriend.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

"What? N-no, nothing at all!" he stammered. "I just...don’t know."

"Don’t know what?"

"What to say...or even what to do," Akihiko said, looking away out of pure shame.

"Its fine, Aki. I’m happy just being here with you."

"I still feel as if I should offer you something. Anything. It’s just...too awkward here sitting in silence,” he said, looking around his bedroom. “I don’t think you have any interest in passing the time by lifting weights..."

"Don’t worry yourself, Aki. There’s no need to rush ourselves into living out our lives together in a single day."

Akihiko looked down at the floor and began to tear up. His efforts to hold back his emotions were proving to be in vain as the weight of those very words came crashing down onto him all at once. Sure, they didn’t have to rush to do everything, at the time anyways. Little to Akihiko’s knowledge, they didn’t have much time left together, leaving far too many loose ends for Akihiko's liking.

If he would’ve known how little time they had remaining, then perhaps Akihiko would’ve forced himself to be a bit stronger and told her everything that had been on his mind.

Would that have hurt them both more in the end, though? Knowing that she would never make it long enough to do everything that Akihiko wanted to with her? How she wouldn’t even live to hear a heartfelt marriage proposal from Akihiko?

Still attempting to hold his tears back, Akihiko clenched his fists. He didn’t know what to say then, and didn’t know what to do now.

"I-I guess you’re right, but I don’t want to waste your time regardless."

Kotone slid over so that she was now sitting directly beside Akihiko. His body tensed up, as he was not yet used to this sort of attention from her. Kotone did not hesitate to lay her head on his shoulder, causing him to freeze him in utter shock. A few deep breaths later, Akihiko managed to compose himself, but his heart rate was still rather high. He was baffled at how Kotone had managed to keep calm around him, but perhaps she, too, was experiencing her fair share of intense emotions.

Fighting through the anxiety that he had yet to fully conquer, Akihiko wrapped one of his arms around Kotone and gently pulled her closer. He was hoping that she would find some sort of comfort in his gesture, as he was still unsure if he bought her the same kind of joy that Kotone did for him. She practically melted into his side, much to Akihiko’s unspoken delight. Ironically, his heart rate only increased further, despite the reassurance that Kotone did genuinely love him.

Eventually, he would find her presence to be therapeutic, but fending off his initial nervousness was going to be rather difficult for Akihiko. Thankfully, she seemed to find his awkward nature to be quite charming, so he did not need to worry himself too much about being a flawless human being for her. Despite his lingering anxiety, it was reassuring. Perhaps it ultimately didn’t matter how awkward he was. Kotone was well aware of how Akihiko was, and if she didn’t love him for all of his flaws, she wouldn’t be laying so closely to him in this moment.

"Hey, Aki," she said in a voice half-muffled by Akihiko’s shirt.

"Huh?"

"I love you."

"I-I love you too."

"Akihiko, it's about time to go."

He snapped back into reality, looking up to see Mitsuru coming down from the upper floors with the last of her things.

"Right..." Akihiko said, his voice completely devoid of life.

"Look, I know the loss of Kotone has devastated us all but..." Mitsuru said, before abruptly going silent.

It seemed as if she too, was left with a gaping hole in her heart. Normally, she was one who pressed forward alongside Kotone, keeping S.E.E.S. on track even when faced with devastation or the face of death. Now, with shadows and the Dark Hour being a thing of the past, there really was no goal for them to press on towards. Nothing was left to conquer in memory of Kotone.

Mitsuru quickly realized that, and so she stopped herself before speaking any futher.

Her words, though incomplete, caused him to finally break, and the tears would not stop flowing. Akihiko knew that the day would come where Kotone would forever rest to secure the world a brighter future, and he thought that he had braced himself well for it. However, once the cruel reality sank in, his heart shattered instantaneously, causing him to break into an uncontrollable mess of tears.

Mitsuru felt helpless. She was grieving too. All of the former S.E.E.S. members were. But she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Akihiko felt after losing the woman he had his heart set on marrying.

In an attempt to soothe his pain, Mitsuru walked up to behind Akihiko and gently wrapped her arms around him, unable to hold her tears back as well.

"I’m sorry, Aki," she said through tears of her own.

#persona 3 #p3 #kotone shiomi #akihiko sanada #akiham #persona 3 spoilers #p3 spoilers #happy march 5th everyone i will now proceed to go cry in a corner #fanfiction #fanfic

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stinkypossumblogs · 21 days

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a Morning Routine with Bad Reception

every morning the same thing

i wake up to a layer of plexiglass between me and the world

i struggle to move my body enough

to get enough momentum

to sit up

then stand

then step

all the way to the toilet to relieve the pressure

one I've been feeling for nearly an hour now as I've been struggling

desperately

to connect my mind to my body

just enough

to twitch a finger

to cause that cascade of movement

until I have come to rest again

and risk facing that struggle once more, once the need arises

to pilot my body to another location

the connection between my controller and my console seems to be faulty.

it resets without warning.

minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, decades, millenia pass.

like radio static, filling my skull.

like the buzzing of thousands upon thousands of bees.

the vibrations become heat that liquefies the grey matter.

there is no sound but the universe is So Loud

there is only sound, inescapable

the pounding heart in my chest sounding so far away

but sounding nonetheless

distant drums from across a dark abyss

is this droning in my ears that is drowning out the world

the call of the Nothing that I feel that it is?

or is this sound simply Everything

All At Once

every thought I've ever had, am having, will ever have

all playing on top of each other

like standing in the center of a crowd of voices

all saying different things

but all of them directed at Me.

and then

aware again.

how much time has passed?

when did I lose track of it?

I open my phone to check if I sent any messages during the time I spent in the static of the Noverything.

I look for any evidence I have left from before and compare the time stamps to the present clock.

when i find out that the centuries I spent in the static were only

a handful

of minutes

the plexiglass thickens.

I muster up the strength to relocate.

I stand

I step

I go to wash the cats' bowls

to feed them their breakfast

a meal they are pestering me for

with meows and purrs and rubbing their fur against my ankles

making me have to focus more of my attention

on each step

by step

to the sink

and as the water makes contact with my hands

I realize, abruptly

that while I was lost in the echoing garbled gibberish from earlier

I neglected to piss.

and I must return to step one

of my morning

and hope

my perception and reception on reality remain

just stable enough

to make it to another hour

another moment

another chance

for the plexiglass to thin

perhaps even lift

even if for a moment

and even though the memory of those moments

however recent they may be

may feel as though it was experienced lifetimes ago

once on the other side

the moments can still replay, however distantly

reminding me that even though reality may seem to

skip

and repeat

and jump

like a faulty CD

the continuity of my life can be traced

to a single being

a human one

a human being now increasingly aware of the burden of the task of self-maintenance

until it abruptly isn't aware anymore

the fog

the static

the abyss of nothingeverything

the body going limp

catatonic

only aware of itself enough to know it has done so

but with no power to change anything about it

nothing left but the whirling wheels of thoughtless thinking to taunt me

the knowledge of my state of being driving me further into it

until I can grasp at just enough of a thought

to follow its trail

back up to reality

somehow finding myself only minutes ahead of where I was before

once again

and now must continue the burst of whatever task needs doing.

tasks always need doing.

what task was I doing?

the plexiglass thickens again.

I think I have to pee.

#words #original poem #poetry #cw dissociation

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springtimesdaughter · 4 months

Note

Ethan and Percy began by Ethan gently taking Percy's hand in his own, and he slightly intertwined their fingers.

They ended up hugging each other so tightly that they seemed to be two pieces of the same whole and each of them needed so much strength to let go of the other.

They start slightly different in my fic, but you gage me an idea so here is a drabble.

----

They had been sitting there for a while. Long enough that the thermos of hot chocolate had gotten cool. Neither having moved much. Just going from looking at the other to the various sounds being made as unsuspecting mortals passed by. Unaware of the whole other part of the world hidden from them.

It had been a long couple of days. Percy had been asked to help a small group of demigods on the last leg of their journey to Camp Half Blood when they had been attacked by a recon squad of Kronos Army. It was Percy and one partially trained demigod against a small hoard of monsters and three demigods. All while protecting Teo other demigods. They got out alive and in one peice but there were a couple moments where Percy had to act increasingly reckless to keep a monster or two away from the younger demigods.

Now sitting next to eachother, neither really knew what to do. Ethan couldn't have possibly have know that the squad he assigned recon would enf up running into Percy, and Percy knew that Ethan wasn't aware that a group of demigods was on their way. This was a poorly timed confrontation. But both knee that this would only increase as summer started and the months drained down to the start of fall.

The long silence was broken by the slightly shifting of fabric made by Ethan as his hand moves to clutch Percy's. Not inescapable but tightly enough that Percy could feel the desperation. He slowley repositions his hand and figures so that the two of their hands are interlocked.

It's grounding. Knowing that the other is there. This is real. The other isn't gone and this isn't a dream.

Over the course of the next couple minutes they end up sitting side by side as if the closer they get the more real it all becomes. If only for a moment it would just be eachother and nothing else. Kronos, Zeus, the gods, and the Titans. For just a moment it's just two teens holding eachother in the slightly brisk evening in Spring. They don't have to worry about a war or prophecies. The Greek Gods are nothing more than a religion belonging to a mostly bygone era. The most pressing thing at the moment is studying for a test both will struggle through completing. There are no celestial bronze swords and hellhounds. It's just them.

Percy starts clutching onto Ethan with his other arm, bringing him into a hug. One that Ethan readily joins. The two of them shaking slightly. This is real. The other is here and breathing. They are hugging eachother.

They both start crying. Not of complete saddness but because there is no way to express the mix of emotions and the only way to express it is through tears.

And for just a moment it's just them hugging, crying, shaking, and the increasingly cooling hot chocolate. Nothing else in that moment matters.

#percethan #percy jackson #ethan nakamura #pjo #pjo hoo toa

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thestalwartheart · 1 year

Text

care

Rating: Mature/Explicit Words: 1,376 Relationship: James Bond/Q Tags: Hurt/comfort, PTSD, sex, allusions to cbt (and that scene in Casino Royale). Summary:

In bed, things don't go exactly to plan. Inspired by the following anon prompt I got from this list forever ago: one person turning the other off. [Read on AO3.]

Like most men, it’s right on the edge of an orgasm that Q lets slip his stupidest thoughts.

It’s even worse after he’s been denied, as he has been now. He and Bond have been in bed for an age. A long, languid, wonderful age full of teasing and laughing and kisses like treacle, as inescapable as the sticky tree sap Q had worked with in the lab last week.

And now Q is cresting, burning. Falling. He feels like he’s being entirely undone until—

Bond’s fingers circle like a vice around the base of Q’s cock, putting a vicious and immediate stop to the wave overcoming him. Q makes a sound that, in the light of day to come, he will never ever admit to making.

“I’ll have your balls for that,” Q gasps, incensed. “I should have brought a whip. I’ve got one, you know.”

(Never mind that he’d got it as a gag gift when he was promoted to Quartermaster — from Tanner, of all people — and that, even if Q had any real intention of using it, the thing probably holds no sting at all. Bond needn’t know that.)

Q expects a joke in turn. At the very least, a pithy comment. A sounds delightful, or a you’re welcome to try your hardest, darling, but Bond says nothing. It takes a moment for Q’s brain to return to full awareness, and when it does, something doesn’t quite feel right.

Q is no agent, but he hopes he’s considerate enough in bed that he knows when his partner is having a bad time. Bond is doing a very good impression of someone who wants to keep calm and carry on, but there’s a tightness in his that Q is only used to seeing after very bad missions and in meetings with Mallory that aren’t going his way. Never has he looked like this in bed. At least, not in the dozen or so times he’s occupied the same one as Q.

“Ah. Was that terribly unfunny?” asks Q. “I suppose cock and ball torture is a bit of a niche subject for comedic relief. The crown jewels are probably in enough danger out in the field.”

“Yes,” replies Bond carefully. His hand lets go of Q.

There’s a look Bond usually gets when they talk about things to try in bed. It’s a cheeky, heated spark that usually sets Q’s brain (as well as one other, far less cerebral organ) into overdrive. After all, Bond has an extensive back catalogue of lovers and, at nearly forty, Q’s no blushing maiden either. So the look happens fairly often, and it usually leads to an hour or so of furious passion where they try to outdo their own imaginations or memories as much as each other.

That look is nowhere to be found now, which must mean—

Oh. Oh, God.

Q wonders if it was a mission, and if so, which one it was, and whether it was in bed or during some less overtly sexual horror show outside of it. Stupidly, he also wonders whether it was a woman or a man. Would that have mattered to Bond at the time? He imagines it probably didn’t — getting one’s cock and balls smashed to smithereens probably shuts down most higher brain functioning related to things like gender. The thought of it happening at all turns Q’s stomach. Even before they’d started sleeping together, he’d never been very good at witnessing Bond in agony.

Before he can move off Bond’s lap and ask any more questions, Q finds himself being flipped until he’s under a wall of muscle. Bond wastes no time in kissing a path down Q’s neck. It’s usually one of Q’s very favourite things, particularly now that Bond seems to have memorised every sensitive spot, but now, it’s a lost cause. The delicious burn of earlier has faded to ash.

“James—”

“Relax.”

The affected smoothness of that voice is nothing but a front. Q only knows it is because Bond never talks to him that way, not anymore.

“No. No, you’re upset.”

“I’m not.”

Q swears as Bond licks around his nipple. It feels much too pleasurable for the moment. “You are. I’ve upset you.”

“I don’t get upset.”

“Oh, bullshit. You have a tell, you know.”

Bond huffs incredulously into Q’s chest. “You’re hardly one to be talking about tells.”

“You don’t have to be good at hiding them to recognise one. And yours is—”

“Shut up, Q.”

Bond’s tongue snakes over his other nipple. At any other time, this would feel luscious. Now, it only provokes an unpleasant shiver.

“Stop. Just stop. I’m not…” Q can feel his cock lolling against his leg. He’s not even half-hard anymore. “I’d really rather talk about this.”

Bond looks up at him with a bit of cold steel in his eye. “I wouldn’t.”

“I understand that, but…”

He trails off as Bond sits up, his thighs framing Q’s skinny hips, and gives him an awful look — a kind of sardonic smile that speaks volumes about how much he thinks Q understands. Q’s mouth goes dry at the sight of it.

“No, you don’t.”

“All right, then. I don’t.”

Bond’s fingers dig in around his wrist, where they’ve been playing pleasantly since Bond flipped him over. It’s no longer very pleasant.

“You’re hurting me,” says Q, even though Bond isn’t, really. Not physically.

The pressure on his wrist abates. Bond looks towards the door, and Q thinks about all the times they’ve mapped exit points from missions gone wrong. He makes a sound low in his throat.

“Wait,” he says, shifting over so there is space to the right of him. “Here, just…I won’t make you talk about it, but I don't—”

I don't want you to leave.

“You don’t want to fuck me anymore.”

Q sighs. “There’s no need to pout. I’m sure my resistance will last all of fifteen minutes.”

Bond tries a smile and a quip about what danger MI6 will be in if Q is ever pressed for information, but his humour is short-lived. As he lies down beside Q, his muscles are tight. Q kneads at them gently, feeling the handful of bicep sitting in his palm; the mole on the meaty part of Bond’s shoulder blade, which, paired with the thin scar from a knife, forms the dot to a gruesome exclamation mark; the tight band of muscle stretching over the radius bone while Bond’s fist clenches in between his chest and Q’s.

One by one, Q loosens his fingers from that fist and twines them with his own.

He longs to say something helpful, but he isn’t sure anything he says would help at the minute, and Bond is a man who seems to prefer the language of touch. So he keeps his mouth shut and his fingers moving in slow motion and breathes a little sigh of relief when, eventually, Bond tilts his head forward and grunts into his shoulder.

“I don’t enjoy pain, Q. Not anywhere, but especially not there.”

“That’s fortunate, then. I don’t enjoy seeing you in pain.” With a touch to Bond’s bottom lip, Q whispers, “I apologise for the terrible joke. And it was just a joke. Unlike some people, I try to be gentle with the equipment in my care.”

“And I’m in your care, am I?”

Ah. Right. Q worries his lip between his teeth. They’ve never ventured this far into the realm of feelings and emotions. But there’s a smile tugging at the corners of Bond’s mouth, one that wouldn’t be there if he were completely allergic to the idea of Q caring for him.

“Perhaps since we sat down in front of that Turner painting,” says Q, feeling as if he’s standing on the edge of a rooftop. “Are you, erm—is that—?”

Q’s answer is a long, insistent kiss that Q feels down to his toes. A few very pleasurable hours later, it’s also a “thank you” whispered in the dark that Q isn’t sure he was meant to hear at all.

He presses a kiss to Bond’s shoulder and makes a mental note to throw out the whip hidden at the back of the bedroom cupboard.

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond

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cyberdragoninfinity · 8 months

Note

Hi! Your pizzeria au is so cool! (I actually can relate to the whole Jakob and Primo yelling at each other and Jakob being the terror grandparent thing *side-eyes grandma* and I dont know why but i really like that i absolutely get it)

I wanted to ask, does Primo still have his seeking validation but not getting it thing (aka oldest child syndrome)? I feel like that's a big part of the show's character (even though it's not talked about you can tell he just wants someone to love him), so does your pizzeria au Primo also have that? Or is he in a perfectly loving healthy family dynamic

WAHHH THANK YOU!! ;_; sobs ive been wanting to answer this for weeks ive just been turbo-busy and Primo's family life in this AU is, a real Kettle of Fish hhfdhgf..... i Love thinkin and talking about him, he's so so dear to me and this is a great question!!

the short answer is: you bet your ass he still does <3

the long answer is: well,

allow me to bring up THE MANCINI FAMILY DISASTER HURRICANE OF A RELATIONSHIP WEB

"perfectly loving healthy family dynamic" lol. lmao. roflcopter. not in the Mancini house!!!!!!!!!! This is three generations of autistic Hispanic Italians who do NOT know how to talk to each other or work through their own feelings and emotions in any sort of healthy way, and it SHOWS. :,)

(and honestly it's Jakob's fault for a lot of it--he's a heavy-handed crusty abusive old son of a bitch with enough untreated war veteran PTSD to black out the sun, and he managed to critically fuck up not just his son's emotional development but his grandsons' too in the process!!!! GREAT JOB YOU OLD BASTARD.)

Like. Aporia loves his kids. He does, he really really does. Primo almost died in a motorcycle crash when he was 17 and the thought of losing him scares Aporia so fucking much. He's just.. chronically so fucking bad at verbally expressing "i love you," and in general is a, often very emotionally distant person. He's not the World's Worst Dad, he just fumbled the bag on being there much for Primo and Lester until *checks* Extremely Recently, instead caught up with his demanding work of running a steel distribution component, and then later the death of his wife (which left him shaken and numb for YEARS,) and on top of all of that the lingering inescapable drive to Make Jakob Proud of Him (a trait Primo has too <3) (insert meta commentary on how these are all Versions of The Same Guy in 5Ds Canon <333)

So anyway, all that said, you can imagine that Primo seeks validation like a starving hyena seeking out a wildebeest carcass--desperately, relentlessly, and like his very life depends on it. He's hero worshiped Jakob for being a """"Cool War Hero"""" since he was a kid, and he kind of hero worships his boss Zone now for his intense demeanor and storied history, despite the fact neither of these men seem to like him much (because they dont.) Between that and his aforementioned dad being awkwardly distant for much of his childhood and teen years, his ratio if "wanting validation vs. actually getting it" is, uh, NOT VERY GREAT :( He STILL yearns so SO much for his abuelo's approval especially, and the fact Primo feels his missed his one opportunity to get it (enlist in the army and die bravely and brilliantly on the battlefield) (dude you were never gonna be let into the army you have one eye first of all) keeps him up at night, like, a Lot. (sorry world but I KNOW Primo would be a bit of a cringefail military bootlicker. but the details on that is its own side tangent ghghdgdg)

it's just a mess, this whole family is a mess. at least on the bright side Primo's starting to make friends who Do care so much about him, and Aporia IS actively trying to make strides in connecting with his kids and making it clear to Primo how much he loves him, AND Primo is getting mature enough now to reflect on his upbringing and realize how fucked things have been. He isnt QUITE self aware enough yet to realize that chasing Jakob's approval is a fool's errand he'll never achieve, but he IS steadily starting to fully recognize that the way Jakob treats his dad and Lester makes him feel, um, Sick to His Stomach. (but the way Jakob treats him? no, no. thats. thats fine. thats what he (Primo) deserves.his brother and father dont deserve to be yelled at and demeaned and hit. but he does. failures do.)

(if i get into this AU Primo's complex about his self-worth that's absolutely spurred on by his struggle to obtain what he deems the most important forms of validation i will be here another nine hours and another 20 paragraphs. but i think about it VERY much. post for another time methinks.)

but yeah his eldest child syndrome is off the absolute charts. he might stomp around and loudly proclaim Lester is ruining his life but he loves that kid so much. He would put himself between Lester and their furious grandfather to take the brunt of the blast every time. He is not doing well but he will spend two hours putting ice on a bruise Jakob gave his little brother with as must care as someone as big and gnarly as he can muster. i love them so much.

#ygo posting #5ds pizza au #asks #angel-of-sweet-revenge #AGAIN SORRY THIS TOOK TEN THOUSAND YEARS. ALSO SORRY LONG POST ALERT DFJDSG HAD A LOT TO SAY #ygoart #iliasterliker9000 #tw for abuse mentions. it's not great at grandpa's house #theres a MASSIVE amount of stuff to unpack with the mancini clan but hopefully this answered your question!!

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blackjackkent · 6 months

Text

Aight, busy day but now pokin' some more BG3 before bedz. (As always, block "#bjk plays baldur's gate 3" to skip the liveblogging shenanigans. :D

Hector, the fish-out-of-water monk, is currently proceeding with his party in search of Halsin, who will hopefully a) solve the issue with Kagha trying to evict the tiefling refugees from the grove and b) know something about how to get the tadpoles out of their heads.

We left off having reached the goblin camp where Halsin is apparently imprisoned, and Hector having been tricked into rubbing shit on his face unnecessarily to get inside. So he's...not really in a good mood right now.

He even gets a fun little status buff(?) for it:

The goblins don't appear to be bothered by our presence - after rereading my liveblog from yesterday, I realized it's because we're marked with the parasite and so are they (or at least marked by mind flayers) so they're viewing us as allies. That gives us, apparently, a certain amount of leeway to wander around but we need to make sure we don't do anything suspicious.

At least until the jailbreak.

With this in mind...he's pretty surprised when a wave of pain bursts through him out of nowhere, hard enough to knock him off his feet.

It's the same feeling as the pain that comes with the telepathic connections - but orders of magnitude stronger. His vision blurs and he staggers, falling to his knees in the camp's putrid muck. Every muscle in his body clenches and writhes with the need to escape, but the pain is coming from within, and there is no running from it.

Dimly he is aware of his companions also collapsing, each of them locked in their own world of agony.

The pain forms into white-hot, blinding words, a voice searing through him like a knife.

"HEAR MY VOICE. OBEY MY COMMAND."

Narrator: The voice is irresistible. You recognize the overwhelming authority that you've used on others, only infinitely stronger, and turned against you...

Narrator: Your vision clouds, leaving you in a dark, featureless shadowscape. Nothingness in every direction.

Narrator: Then, there are three figures before you. An armored male elf, exuding power and command. A handsome younger man with a quick, easy smile. And a pale young woman with even paler eyes...

He tries to shift, to cry out, to scream, but the sound emerges choked, a strangled, desperate moan. Tears stream from his eyes and the image of the strange figures blurs. He tries to curl into himself, to look away, but they are there whichever way he writhes.

And the voice is inescapable, a hammer-beat of syllables in his mind.

"THESE ARE MY CHOSEN. THEY SPEAK FOR ME. AID THEIR SEARCH FOR THE PRISM, AND YOU WILL BE WORTHY TO STAND BESIDE THEM. IN MY PRESENCE."

The pain is unbearable. The words flow over him and he doesn't understand them.

Dimly he is aware of movement at his side in this black void. Shadowheart has struggled onto her knees, and the abyss is lit by a pale pink glow from between her fingers as she lifts the artifact she carries.

Rather than the inert block he has seen it as before, it is shining a sudden, radiant light from each sharpened tip. As she lifts it into the air, an orb of glowing energy begins to spread outward from it in all directions...and then it bursts, filling the void with light and knocking Shadowheart back onto her heels.

...and the pain eases...

Narrator: You feel energy pulsing from the artefact. Lifting the pain from you. Pushing the voice away.

Slowly, in the light of the artifact's burst, Hector begins to come back to himself. He can feel his legs, move his arms again. The pain begins to fade, and he becomes aware of the dry sandpaper feeling on his tongue and the tight clench of his teeth.

The voice still speaks, though its words are more distant now, fading. "MY POWER GROWS. MY FORCES GATHER. THE RECKONING DRAWS NEAR..."

He slowly pushes himself up from where he has been lying face down in the muck. His companions are also sitting up slowly, and there is the sound of the harsh breathing of four sets of lungs in tandem, trying to slow their heart rates.

Slowly Hector manages to gain his feet. Reaching over, he grabs Gale's forearm and helps him up as well, and as he does so, his eyes lock on Shadowheart, who has stumbled to a standing position and is looking down at the artefact, now inert again, clutched in both hands.

She flinches when she feels his gaze on her.

"Don't give me that look. I don't know what just happened any more than you do. We should keep going."

"I don't know what that toy of hers is," Astarion mutters, staggering upright and swaying slightly. "But I'm glad it's on our side."

Hector isn't to be shaken off, and takes a step forward towards her. "You've got some explaining to do first," he says firmly. "What is that thing you have?"

She pauses, meets his eyes for a moment and then looks away again. "I don't know," she says. "Not exactly. All I know is it's important I get it back to Baldur's Gate. At any cost."

He lets out a heavy breath between his teeth, eyeing her. He suspects what she is saying is truth - just not all of it. She seems as lost as he feels, but there must be more to the story. "Why Baldur's Gate?" he asks. "What aren't you telling me?"

She squares her shoulders, turns to look at him fully, visibly coming to some important decision. "I suppose if we're to continue together, I may as well tell you. I serve Shar. My home is a secret cloister in Baldur's Gate."

He feels as if a sucker punch has just landed in his stomach, almost as impactful as the pain they just suffered through. Shar - the antithetical goddess to that which Hector has served in the monastery all his life. Shar is the twin goddess of Selune - the goddess of primal dark where Selune is that of light and creation.

And he has been traveling with one of the dark one's clerics.

She's still speaking, either unaware of his reaction or trying to ignore it. "A group of us were sent to retrieve the artifact. Now I'm the only one left. I can't afford to fail." She fidgets with the object, nervously rubbing her thumb along one of its edges. "I can't tell you any more. This mission required utmost secrecy - we all submitted to having our memories suppressed so that we couldn't betray Shar's confidence. If I reach my contact in the city, I'll have my memories restored. Until then, I have to guard the artifact with my life."

Her fist clenches around it and she tucks it forcefully into her belt. "There. You have the truth, for all it's worth. Let's continue."

Gale shifts uneasily, glancing at Hector. "You worship Shar? Blimey. She and my beloved Mystra are not exactly friends."

"I didn't agree to join up with a Shar worshipper," Hector snaps out before he can stop himself. Perhaps in some other circumstance he might be more controlled about a difference of faith, but he was already frightened, humiliated, and smelling of warg shit, and after what just happened the terror has taken full hold again.

"Then it's your own fault for not asking," she snaps back, flaring a little at the unexpected fierceness of the jab.

His jaw works, but he regains a little control over himself, turns away sharply, struggling for the internal rituals to calm himself that always came naturally to him before all this began. He can't afford to alienate her completely...he needs allies in this mess...but this is all too much, too much to handle...

Finally, he grinds out, "In future, I expect you to be honest. Let's leave it at that for now."

"Gladly," she says coolly, and turns and walks away.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #holy shit everything just escalated so quickly #hector is NOT having a good time #also these posts are getting longer and longer and i'm so sorry lmao

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mortal-song · 2 years

Text

“you’re afraid of failure, so you refuse to even try”

i want to talk about that scene between reginald and klaus in 3x7, in which reginald told him, “you’re afraid of failure, so you refuse to even try -- because you’d rather quit than disappoint.”

i will be the first person to say Fuck Reginald Hargreeves, but there was a lot of truth to what he said there. klaus is someone who’d rather stay stagnant in certain areas of his life than try to change, because the indisputable fact about trying is that it always, always leaves room for failure. and for klaus, someone who is constantly on the search for life’s larger purpose, failing in certain areas, areas that are important to him, would nearly equate to losing everything.

“you’d rather quit than disappoint” doesn’t just necessarily mean that klaus is afraid of disappointing other people, hence his question, “disappoint who?” (this doesn’t mean he’s NOT afraid of disappointing others, ofc, it’s just not the only thing). i think klaus is also very afraid of disappointing himself. i think, sometimes, it’s hard for him to even dare to dream of something better, much less try to reach out for it, because what’s left if he can’t take hold of it?

this brings me to my next point: learned helplessness. to first offer some context, learned helplessness is a very real response and something that’s often seen in victims of extreme + repeated trauma (and also people who suffer with long-term mental health issues, etc). the theory of learned helplessness was first discovered by a psychologist named martin seligman, (and by accident, too, but i don’t want to go off topic). he decided to conduct some unethical experiments on dogs. he split a number of dogs into two groups, and both groups of dogs were given electric shocks at random times. each dog’s shock was the same intensity as another’s, however, one group of dogs were able to stop the shocks at any moment by pressing a lever. the other group had no lever to push, and so this group’s traumatic situation was effectively inescapable as it was happening. eventually, he put both groups of dogs in another situation, one in which they were still given electric shocks but this time, both groups had a clear way to escape, a way to stop the shocks. the group who’d previously had a way to escape immediately caught on, whereas the other group of dogs instead became passive and made no real attempt to stop their shocks.

i may have gotten some details wrong, but that’s the gist of it: learned helplessness. when you are trapped in a traumatic situation for a long period of time and have no clear way to escape, this behavior of remaining stagnant becomes learned, and you subconsciously become passive in future traumas and negative emotions. this is especially true if these stressors and traumas first occurred in childhood, when the brain is still in its prime time of developing.

i believe this is something klaus experiences. his entire childhood was a trauma he was unable to escape, and so, now, he often is hesitant to make an attempt to change (tap into his powers, in this instance). he’d rather stay stuck in the familiarity of stress than attempt to escape it and potentially find that there really is no way out, because if that happens, what’s left? he doesn’t want to be left with nothing else.

it reminds me of the scene in s1 where he pretty immediately was ready to turn back to drugs when he believed sobriety wasn’t getting him anywhere.

i wonder if this learned helplessness plays a part in why he stayed in the streets for so long? living on the streets obviously was not ideal, and it was not an objectively good time in his life, by any means. but i don’t think he’d wanted to face the possibility of attempting to leave, attempting to build a good life for himself, and then failing.

so, yeah. learned helplessness. it’s not his fault, and it’s something he can become aware of and work past. it’ll just take time. 3x7 was good for him because it taught him that he CAN escape certain things, he CAN take back control. he’d managed to banish the ghosts that haunted him his entire life. and that is exactly what a brain stuck in learned helplessness needs -- proof that things can change if you try.

#klaus hargreeves #tua #the umbrella academy #tua meta #klaus hargreeves meta #psychology #it's my special interest #and i WILL take hold of any opportunity to mix it with an existing hyperfixation of mine #trauma #cptsd #learned helplessness #tua3 #reginald hargreeves

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princess-kk9 · 10 months

Text

Just some filler from the book I started writing🤷‍♀️

____________________

Life.

In the English dictionary, life can be defined as the existence of an individual, human being or animal.

In philosophy, life is the aspect of existence that processes, acts, reacts, evaluates, and evolves through growth.

It is the state of which an organism is still performing the acts that prevents passing.

Life is something that everyone on this earth experiences from the day conceived from within the womb.

Birth is the first breath, sound, step into life. Life is eternal.

—————————

Death.

The destruction or permanent end of something.

Or in philosophy, death is typically regarded as a great evil, especially if it strikes someone too soon.

It is the state of which an organism stops doing acts needed to survive completely.

Death is an inescapable goodbye.

Life may be eternal,

But death is even more so.

—————————

Life and death.

Two contrasting concepts used to signify the beginning and end of existence as we know it.

The start and finish of any scene. The white and black of any rainbow. Good, and bad, of every outcome.

Many think that they are complete opposites. That they have nothing in common. But what if I told you they have many similarities?

It sounds odd, doesn't it? But believe me when I say that life and death aren't entirely different.

One thing they have in common is that both are questions unanswered.

Many people ask what is life? What is the meaning of life? Or the most popular being: Who made life? What made life? Where did it come from?

Opinions worldwide differ from 'we evolved from apes' to 'the universe was created by the big bang'

Another theory would be we were made by gods. Supreme deity that had existed before existence itself. And different cultures have different gods.

I don't know the answer to that, nor do I choose to have an opinion.

On the opposing side, people ask, 'where do you go when you die?'

Some believe when you die, you go to heaven if you were good in your life, and hell if you were bad.

Others believe you will be reincarnated into another body without your memories.

Another lot says you will just be gone. No way to be aware of whom, where or what you are.

Again, I don't know which is right or wrong. All I do know is that people fear both concepts.

You see, we humans are incredibly cowardly creatures. We fear what we do not understand. Thus, we created theories to pretend to be brave and answer what we do not know

People debate which is scarier between the two. Most say death, I don't blame them, though. Only those who have experienced it can truly comprehend what it is.

A smaller amount, says life. I don't blame them, either. The longer we exist on this earth, the more we try to build our society to fit the different ideals of our vast majority.

Different motives and comments flowing and crashing in on each other like an ocean filled to the brim of waste and useless material.

Making it difficult for those with less like them to prosper. No, I don't blame them at all.

But at the same time, I don't agree with either of these options.

No, I think the both of them are incredibly terrifying.

That little space where one hangs in the balance between the both of them, and it only takes one action to tip the scale in favor of one.

That space where you're so close to death, but not quite there yet. So close that you can see your entire life flash before your eyes and then abruptly stop when you reach where you are at the time. Like a cliffhanger to a suspenseful blockbuster.

I tell you this, so you know this is my position right now.

The moment those words spilled from the vice principals mouth. I knew that my death was set in stone.

Because I knew that the moment they saw me, I was involved. My ghost was soon to walk the living realm.

And no, I don't believe in ghosts. In fact, their existence is an entirely different story, meant to be told by an entirely different person.

If I were to use them in this context, though. I would say, 'the ghosts of my past have come back to haunt me.'

An expression that means the actions you performed in the past left unfinished are still in effect.

What I mean by that is I wish I didn't go back for my notebook last night. Because now it's my problem.

There is nothing more terrifying than being alive knowing that you're going to die.

_______________________

If you have any advice or feedback than that would be appreciated 😁🙃

#writing #philosophy #philosophical quotes #philosophical questions #poetry #life quotes #death quotes #life and death #original story #literature

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dragonseeds · 8 months

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it’s always so interesting to me that i rarely see discussions about the pseudo-incest in emma, esp with reference to the (suggested) imagery of mr. knightley at 16 holding her as an infant. the complexity of their relationships is so fascinating: emma herself being in an incredibly privileged position with no need to ever marry or worry for her future; the acknowledged difference in life experience and resulting power imbalance, which emma continuously disregards, creating some of their spiciest tension; the specter of grooming, inescapable from a modern pov, though knightley asserts that he didn’t know he was in love with with her until he got jealous of frank churchill, and yet we see how he does shape her, teach her, guide her, berate her, even if it wasn’t sexual—and they are both fully aware of this, playing into and with it, dissecting it, joking about it. underneath all of that is their very clear love and respect for each other, the depth of their connection: aside from being old friends (with emma at 21 and him at 37), they are already family; they always were. the evolution of their relationship feels perfectly natural, but at the same time there is an awkwardness to it—a slight discomfort if you examine it too closely, which i like.

i think the general acceptance of emma and knightley despite their age gap and his adult presence/influence on her during her youth comes from emma infecting the narration. she is comfortable with it (like her father, she does not like change unless she’s directing it and even then lol) and with him; her perspective, which is seemingly shared by all of the other characters, presents him as the moral center of the novel. his own actions reflect this, hinting at a self-awareness of how easy it would be for him to be petty or cruel, etc. there’s also emma herself: charming, clever, stubborn, proud, extremely manipulative and high-handed—young but certainly an adult and an extremely wealthy one. we’re not meant to worry about emma, so much as what she’ll do and what the consequences will be for people less fortunate than her—and that comes from the brilliant construction of her character and voice: this is also something emma knows (learns) about herself. i also think emma generally tends to be cast older than she should be in adaptations and that very much informs people’s reactions: they look closer in age than they are and become more palatable.

#that’s not even touching their relationship as an exploration of power fantasies #but that’s in no way unique to their relationship—emmas’s just kind of like that aksjdj #or jane austen was just kind like that generally in her work akdjd #usually in a way that feels both extremely cynical and ultimately hopeful?#i really do love them and find ppl’s reaction to them to be so interesting #esp when compared to the way people react to age gaps in general #and specifically age gaps where one character was a child/teen when they met the other #it’s the fid emma perspective vortex and no one escapes #anyway now i want to reread emma it’s been a minute #emma

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literaphobe · 11 months

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anyone who thinks lovesquare reveal should just be adrienette realizing they’re ladynoir while dating and being oh cool yay! and moving on with their lives are simply not sick enough in the head!! adrienette and ladynoir ARE the same people!! u CANNOT say there is only love on one side and the other side dont have feelings BECAUSE they are not separate couples. nothing will ever be perfect or complete unless there is this mutual awareness that adrien = chat noir & marinette = ladybug and so UNTIL that reveal occurs…. every side of the lovesquare is inevitably doomed. its not that they cannot be happy together!! its not that good times cannot be had!! but to truly be MADE for each other as adrichat and maribug are…. there will always be a love and tenderness on all sides that is inescapable!! there will always be a certain confusion, a certain awareness that secrets are being kept, that things are being hidden. Feelings. love that felt lost. and in order for all the walls to come crumbling down, things have to REALLY fall apart first. and that doesn’t happen w a happily dating couple

#sorry i am on twitter a lot #‘adrien loves marinette more than he ever loved ladybug’ -> STUPIDEST take ive ever seen #did we not both watch jubilation ?#mlbposting #ladynoir

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ascendingaeons · 1 month

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The Primordial Dynamic

“There are marvelous relations between beings and things, in this inexhaustible whole, from sun to grub, there is no scorn, each needs the other… Every bird that flies has the thread of the infinite in its claw. Germination includes the hatching of a meteor and the tap of a swallow's beak breaking the egg, and it guides the birth of the earthworm, and the advent of Socrates. Where the telescope ends, the microscope begins… A bit of mold is a pleiad of flowers; a nebula is an anthill of stars. The same promiscuity, and still more wonderful, between the things of the intellect and material things. Elements and principles are mingled, combined, espoused, multiplied one by another, to the point that the material world, and the moral world are brought into the same light… In the vast cosmic changes, universal life comes and goes in unknown quantities, rolling everything up in the invisible mystery of the emanations, using everything, losing no dream from any single sleep, sowing a microscopic animal here, crumbling a star there, oscillating and gyrating, making a force of light, and an element of thought, disseminated and indivisible dissolving all, that geometric point, the self.”

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Love and Fear are the quintessential forces of expansion and restriction within the physical universe. In human terms, they are what we instinctively gravitate towards and expel from. In the physical sciences, they are regarded as opposing binaries. In cosmology and religion, they have been regarded as primeval beings or forces associated with creation and destruction. Regarding the psyche, they are the First Principles of positive and negative emotion. To strip any emotion of its social and behavioral trappings is to reduce it to either Love or Fear. When viewed in this light human behavior becomes far more understandable and a great many obstacles no longer appear so impossible to surmount.

Love and Fear are dynamic forces as opposed to static binaries; a magnetism altogether different from that of the humble classroom magnet. I have come to regard them similarly to Aeons in the sense that they behave like higher organisms of which descending orders of matter, energy, and consciousness are essentially involved components (e.g. cells). They are part of us, flow through us, but are simultaneously beyond us. Humanity is not insignificant or meaningless compared to them, but quite the contrary. They grant us the opportunity and means to attain completion.

A fundamental truth of Love and Fear is that they exist in varying degrees within the sum composite of the created universe, including but not up to:

Biocentric (as a mechanism/particle)

Anthropocentric (as a thought-form)

Logocentric (as frequencies/emotions)

Cosmocentric (as energy/waves)

Psychocentric (as an organism)

Inherent in man is a unique separateness and the awareness thereof: we descend from Nature but are not of it. This has been conveyed in allegory (Genesis 3:4, 3:22-24) and verified through paleoanthropology. It is an inescapable human trait to deviate from the natural order, struggling against complacency while ascending the steps of higher ideals. The cosmos is kept in balance by the principle of duality, from the tiniest particle to the grandest star, which is reflected in the microcosm: when one defies their true nature and chosen purpose they begin to stagnate and suffer.

About 4 million years ago, our planet experienced a climate shift which set our hominid ancestors on the course towards civilization. Among the biological shifts they underwent was the straightening of the spine. As our ancestors began to walk upright, they were forced to look forward, creating a scission between the emergent species and the homeostatic order of Nature; whence came a new kind of intellect, once concerned with the future. One of the most significant differences between Homo sapiens and earlier hominids was the dramatic increase of the cranial capacity and the simultaneous development of smaller jaws and teeth. These evolutionary changes paved the first steps toward a species genetically predisposed towards communication.

We are a species that doesn’t quite have a place in the natural order. While emotion and intellect are clearly observable in the behavior of animals, they lack the creative spark known to humanity—the qualitative difference between the soul and spirit. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that given their nature animals possess no need for our spiritual flame and the complications thereof. It is because of this Promethean Spark that humanity is prone to genius and madness in equal measure, as we are easily defined by our passion, inspiration, beauty, ingenuity, advancement, suffering, and irrationality—essentially, that which brings about empowerment, evolution, and change.

Humans are the only species on Earth known to possess a sense of Self. Carl Jung defined the Self as the sum composite of an individual consciousness. Ian Lungold defined consciousness as “the awareness of being aware” and man, as Erich Fromm writes, “is life being aware of itself.” To quote a line from The Shoes of the Fisherman (a film I’m perhaps too fond of), “man is the animal that knows and knows that he knows.”

There is balance in all things and from the moment humanity gained that Promethean Spark, the presence of Self, we have been children of both Chaos and Cosmos. Their dance can be observed on the subatomic level in electrons existing in superposition and the instinctual consciousness of flora and fauna. It is with the human species that it begins to meet genuine resistance, as we are uniquely displaced from the natural order. To deny one is to deny a critical part of ourselves. It is unhealthy for the psyche to be always happy, always loving, and never hateful or despaired. Such a mind inhibits growth.

It’s far easier to paint the world in corridors of shadows and lights rather than take stock of the vastness. Love is chaotic, messy, and without guarantees but without it we would still be living in caves, brutalizing one another over genetic material. It is a single half of the primordial magnetism, a vitality older than the Cosmos. I do not doubt that there is symmetry enough in the cosmos for the dynamism of Love to flourish and unpredictability enough for us to evolve that we may appreciate it all the more.

The Primordial Dynamic has appeared in allegory and symbolism for thousands of years. It has been embodied in symbols such as the sonnenrad, taijitu, hunab ku, and merkaba. Nearly every ancient civilization developed an understanding of the cosmic equilibrium and many creation myths illustrated this with warring titans and primeval forces. Although this cosmic mystery play changed its countenance with each retelling, it maintains certain characteristics:

It is a perpetual struggle in infinite space between opposing forces, e.g. attraction and repulsion, in a process that ensures continued life, death, and rebirth in the Cosmos.

The Laws of Heaven are the same as the Laws of Earth. The universe resonates with the same current which is disseminated through descending orders of consciousness. The changing tension of the Primordial Dynamic plays out in a series of rises and falls, affecting gods and planets as much as human beings. Humanity’s journey is linked to that of the stars, for what happens in the Cosmos happens on Earth.

Matter and energy exist in a state of entanglement. Every particle interacts with every other particle and every object interacts with every other object. As such, time and space are not detrimental to the completion of the cosmic mystery play.

The Primordial Dynamic is a balance between the Principle or Form of Being (Physis) and the assertion of it (Logos). Human perception is grounded in the interaction between matter and vibration. Matter is inherently passive and catalytic, the seat of potential that manifests in the womb or an ungerminated seed. It is defined by feminine, receptive energy. Vibration is dynamic and volatile, capable of both creation and destruction and is thus understood as an inherently masculine force.

Just as human cells comprise organs, which in turn comprise our physical selves, so too does humanity function as the active cells of the planet Earth. The human body mirrors the surface of the Earth; circulatory pathways become rivers, the lungs become trees, the womb becomes the effervescent mantle, and the atmosphere becomes the skin, which happens to be the largest organ in the human body.

For much of their lives, some human beings are not unlike fitful dreamers encapsulated in the volcanic womb of the maternal Earth. A womb is a place of passive development and safety, a realm of unbridled potentiality borne of the chaotic waters that precede creation; yet all too often humans find themselves clashing with their nature and destroying their sanctuary. By our very nature, human beings are intimate with and separate from the natural order. As the only species on Earth to have evolved a sense of Self, we are the means for a conscious universe to experience itself; for evidence, we need only to look to the developing fetus.

We begin our journey as a single-celled organism called a zygote, a synthesis of masculine and feminine principles. After the egg is fertilized it divides and multiplies rapidly to form an embryo. The fourth week of development gives way to the pharyngeal arches, the precursors to gills in aquatic species. In terrestrial vertebrates these form parts of the jaw, larynx, and inner ear. Through the course of our evolution, human beings have modified these tissues for verbal communication as opposed to extracting oxygen from water. In the fifth and sixth weeks of development, the heart and lungs form and descend as well as the vestigial tail, giving the embryo a reptilian appearance. By the eighth week, the vestigial tail is absorbed into the body forming the tailbone, giving the child a more mammalian appearance; it is from this point forward that the child is referred to as a fetus.

Around the sixteenth week, the fetus develops its first hairs called the lanugo. These cover the body in abundance by the twentieth week, giving the fetus a recognizable primate appearance. By the thirty-sixth week, the fetus has shed most if not all of its lanugo and begins to resemble a human child. Human gestation is a reflection of the entire span of the evolution of all life on this planet. We are not viruses or parasites, but the manifestation of consciousness. This has been observed since time immemorial by ancient peoples and recorded in modern religions.

There is still so much more for us to discover about our history, our place in the universe, and most importantly about ourselves. I’ve always believed that there is profound goodness in the seat of the human soul. We are capable of great compassion and terrible cruelty in an unequivocal measure, yet at the core of our being, there is an unbounded iridescence that defies the mere duality of light and shadow. Our existence is neither meaningless and random nor fated and supreme. A slight shift in the stellar winds or mutation in a virus could have forever altered the course of human history and that makes humanity all the more precious.

Title image is a relief on throne of Senwosret I, second pharaoh of the 12th Dynasty. It depicts Set and Heru-wer, twin forces in the Primordial Dynamic, Uniting the Two Lands. (Credited to wikipedia)

Table concerning the Primordial Dynamic is credited to Joey Rivers (ascendingaeons).

#as above so below #love and fear #holographic universe #consciousness #metaphysics #metaphysical #cosmic consciousness #merkaba #yin yang #balance #hope #synchronicity #cosmic love #cosmos #chaos #pagan #paganism #eclectic pagan #occult

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