You don’t begin it consciously, you really don’t, and yet when you comprehend what you’re doing, you don’t stop it, either. It starts the day you go barreling towards him at breakneck speed. To any one else it would look a grand gesture, the lady about to leap into her lord’s arms, but they cannot see your pinched face. Every crease is a split chasm of bubbling fire.
“How dare you,” you spit. “Is it not enough that I can’t make my own decisions regarding the matter?”
He won’t be faring well either, every nerve flayed and barely contained.
“Stop treating me like a child.”
“I will stop treating you like a child when you cease to act like one,” he says. You know he means it too, because no one pokes the Dragon’s Claws without getting scratched.
“Go back and tell Lord Masamune to change his mind.”
“I will not.”
You almost punch him. You almost tackle him to the ground. If you had a sword you think you would run him through with it. “I never thought you’d do something like this.”
He falters a little. “I won’t apologise, precious girl.”
And you don’t know why it suddenly hurts to look at him. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been fighting for days now, and both of you won’t have gotten much sleep in the interim. Or perhaps it’s because Masamune and Shigezane so easily take his side it will feel like all three are bullying you into submission. Or perhaps it’s simply that everything is falling apart for the first time.
Whatever it is, the fire gurgles and spits, and all you hear underneath the incredulity and disbelief is how much he doesn’t trust you, how much he doesn’t want you around.
Drinking Night with the Avengers is a monthly occurrence with a theme, full of mishaps and comedy. But as the night progresses and the numbers slowly dwindle down just to you and the brooding Bucky Barnes, things get take a turn to intensity.
The first Saturday night of each month was dedicated to Drinking Night in the Avengers Tour. Every month had a theme. October was the obvious Halloween theme. Steve went as Batman, Tony went as Steve and Thor wore a onesie. But with it being December, you’d all agreed on a winter theme and had a competition to see who could wear the most layers. For this reason, you held Drinking Night outside on one of the larger balconies that harboured a pool and several expansive sofas which you were all currently lounged across.
The night was cold and frosty, but you were wearing three coats, five scarfs and four pairs of pants- not including tights. Sam won the competition by declaring that each of his twenty-two hats counted as a layer, even Clint’s bedrock of gloves couldn’t compete.
So, as the rule goes, he got to decide on the game you were going to play.
“I must say..” The now hatless man declared with a hiccup. “I haven’t won a competition on Drinking Night since October when I dressed up as Natasha.” A roar of applause went up as you all pictured the outrageousness of his costume, a wink was sent Nat’s way as Sam swayed a little, the bottle of amber liquid in his hand betraying his pretence of sobriety.
“You know what?” He yelled, rising from his seat and standing on the glass table as Tony whipped at his ankles. “Let’s make this shit old school.” He hummed, his voice smooth like honey. Then without warning, he chugged the last of the liquid in his bottle and slammed it down on the table, Tony wincing. “Truth or Dare!” Sam whooped, clapping his hands as you all followed suit. Nat sported a smug grin as she eyed you up, you returned her mirth and soon enveloped yourself in the game, thinking up questions and dares for your fellow team mates. After Sam went over the rules and explained the basics of the game to a confused Thor, the bottle was sent spinning as you all sat and watched it with bated breath.
“Like an arrow straight out of heaven, it’s on you Clint!” Sam cheered, slapping his knees excitedly. One last spin set the decider for the Dare-r, and landed on an infinitely smug looking Tony.
“Oh, this ought to be entertaining.” You chuckled, nudging Wanda to your right who joined in on your snickering. Tony rose solemnly from his spot on the sofa and stared at Clint as if he was the only one in the room, or rather, on the balcony.
“Clint..” He whispered, drawing out the “i” and snapping out the “t” at the end, his eyes narrowing as he took his lip between his teeth. “You know, just last night I was wondering how I was gonna get revenge on you for that stunt you pulled last Tuesday. Good job I’ve had some forethought.” Tony mused, rubbing his stubble with an aura of thoughtfulness as he studiously assessed the grumbling archer sat below him.
“So..” He hummed, crouching down to meet Clint’s eye. “What’ll it be? Truth, or Dare?”
Clint huffed and stood up, Tony following suit and perching on his toes to remain level, appearing allthewhile nonchalant.
“Archer, father, most handsome Avenger- yes. But wimp? No.” Clint spat, “Dare me.”
Everyone on the sofa’s oo'ed and revelled in Tony’s cocky exuberance. “I dare.. you..” Tony began, turning his back on the unintimidated Clint as he began to pace a few footsteps ahead of him, drawing his words out slowly.
“I dare you to-”
“To spit it out!” Sam interrupted, earning a scowl from Tony who appeared rather caught of guard.
“Fine.” He glared, “I dare you to let Natasha give you a tattoo.”
“What?!” Clint sputtered, hating every ounce of Natasha’s smugness, she stood, immediately ready and discarding her gloves.
“Let’s dance.” She laughed, taking him by the collar.
The final product was a small wrist tattoo written in some foreign language, something about Budapest. You were all infinitely disappointed so Tony got Thor to place Mjilnor on his chest as he tattooed “Team Iron Man” across his left arm. Clint chased Tony across the compound for the remainder of the night. Wanda got the whole thing on tape, for next time.
Steve was next dared to list off all the curse words he knew and to deliver them in a rant aimed at Bucky, which was absolutely hilarious to watch. Thor was dared to down a 2 litre bottle of Hennessy’s, which he seemed unfazed about as you all watched with a mingled feeling of impress and horror.
Nat was later dared to give you a lap-dance. Needless to say, by the end of it, everyone had grown a little hot and heavy. A few, if not most, of the guys were exchanging flustered looks as you, Nat and Wanda laughed away, drinking in the atmosphere of testosterone and booze. From that point on the night grew progressively steamier. Wanda and Vision had wondered off somewhere, Sam had passed out and Thor had been tasked with damage control between Tony and Clint. That left Nat, Steve, Bucky and you. You all exchanged lopsided, drunken smiles.
You were growing tired of the childishness of Truth and Dare, expressing the sentiment as such and earning a scowl from Nat.
“When then you have to accept a dare.” She declared, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, toppling a few of your hats off. During the lap-dance Nat had removed most of her winter clothes, but you were still looking very much so like a native Antarctican.
You shrugged and nodded, it was getting quite late and the drama had subsided. Why not?
“Striptease.” Nat delivered with one of her trademark smirks. Your jaw dropped and you looked at her incredulously, “You can’t be serious?”
She cocked a brow at you and blinked, holding her ever-piercing gaze. “So I can give you a lap dance but you can’t even peel off a few layers for me?” She probed, flicking off your last cap with a wink. There was a finality to the action, as if it was a challenge she knew you couldn’t back down from. So you nodded and scrunched up your lips. “Well if I’m gonna do this I want some music, and I want a body.” You declared, rising and not feeling sexy at all in your Eskimo-do.
Steve and Bucky laughed nervously, both nudging each other. Nat watched them both with her keen eye and seemed to pick something up between the pair of them as she was soon pushing Bucky up to sit on the chair you’d set up for your “body.”
He looked borderline terrified sat in that chair and staring up at you. For a moment, you almost felt apologetic. Until you remembered who you were underneath all those layers, and you looked damn good. And damn it, you’d fantasised enough about standing in front of Bucky in your underwear. So if it was ever gonna happen, it was gonna happen to a bit of R Kelly and it was gonna happen now.
The base kicked in and you let the rhythm to the familiar song take over. Steve and Nat cheered and jibed at you as you began to move to the rhythm, exaggeratedly putting on a show of sexiness as you lowered your snow hood, eyeing up Bucky. “You’re mine, metal man.” You purred as he flashed you a smile. Your heart was sent into overdrive, the sight of him sat there and watching your every move igniting a passion within you that hadn’t felt in a long time.
Once you’d removed the excess of layers, the humour of the dance went with them and dropped to the floor, part of the heap of clothes, completely forgotten.
You stood before the small crowd, focusing only on Bucky as he focused on you, a tank top and thin leggings the only thing between you and almost-complete nudity. You could sense his anticipation, the veins in his neck pulsing that bit quicker, his knuckles whitening as he held onto the sides of the chair. And his eyes, surveying your every curve, every inch of movement, he drank it all in. You didn’t know when Nat and Steve had left, but the next moment you looked up from Bucky’s gaze they were nowhere to be seen. And you and Bucky were completely alone.
You bent and peeled your leggings down, allowing him a perfect shot of your cleavage as you held eye contact with him, watching his eyes rove and then roll back in agonising pleasure. You hadn’t even touched him, but watching him like this made your chest puff with pride. He was yours.
You teased him by lowering your fingertips to the fringe of your shirt, pulling it up then letting it snap back down. Pulling it an inch and then letting it fall, as Bucky grew excruciatingly impatient. His eyes were blown wide and in his head he was ravaging you over and over and over, and every time you let that top slip back down he felt himself be driven mad with the most carnal lust. So to be rewarded for his patience by having Sam wake up and interrupt you made him literally roar with anger and punch him square in the face, knocking him back unconscious.
You watched the whole event with your mouth hung open wide in shock, so when he turned back to you, knuckles bloodied and eyes wild you couldn’t help but whimper.
“I’ve waited long enough for this.” He growled, taking you by the waist and ripping the thin material of your shirt from your body.
Scrolling through Twitter and coming across this was a majorly disappointing
I think it’s insulting on two fronts.
It looks down on people who work in the service industry, which raises an instant red flag with me. Lots of people started their careers by working in the service industry and there is and should be nothing implicitly wrong with working in it in general. It’s a job, based on a necessity, and people get paid to do it. As with any job and career. It’s a blessed miracle to be getting a job in this economy in the first place. Diana Gabaldon is 65-years of age and would have had an easier time getting a job when she was in her twenties, regardless. I’m sick and tired of people looking down on those working in retail, working in restaurants, etc, because someone has to do it and it’s perpetuating an awful stereotype. When you decide you want a McFlurry, want to stay in a hotel, decide to purchase a book (ooh, maybe an Outlander book), decide to book a table in a fancy restaurant, you will be interacting with someone who works in the service industry. In all likelihood, every. single. day. And shitting on someone who is doing their job, whose job benefits you, is an awful, awful thing to do.
Then it’s reiterating the same myth that goes hand in hand with lots of subjects in the humanities. That studying history, studying English = zero job prospects. In my experience I’ve found that there’s a struggle to get a job or a decent career at all in the current economy. It’s bloody difficult. My cousin studied engineering, a degree people say will almost guarantee you a job. And a) it took him almost a year to find employment and b) he’s still not happy. So yeah, you can study accounting or engineering on the premise that you will be offered a job by the end of your degree, only to actual work said job (if you do get it) and hate every minute. Do you then want to actually spend another 30 or 40 years of your life working at a job that you hate, just so you have the money to write books? What a strange reality you live in.
You can study something you love, something that you are passionate about, and you can make something of it. English, and the majority of the humanities, are not vocational subjects (and never dressed themselves up as such) but they do teach valuable skills of communication, especially written communication, critical thinking and cross-cultural thought. I know English majors who have become teachers (and don’t you dare spit on the teaching profession too), lecturers, editors, writers, journalists, administrators, social workers, etc - some of them even went an entirely different direction and started working in business, marketing, rights, etc. There is no one way street to a “decent” career. Studying for the sake of studying is a wonderful, incredible thing and shouldn’t be classed as somehow less valuable than a purely vocational skill. And it’s not like your life stops with an English BA. It’s not unheard of to go a completely different direction for postgraduate studies, or just do whatever the hell you like.
I’m glad that Hank Green responded to your offensive tweet as follows:
Honestly. Your narrative doesn’t end with an English BA. It enriches your university years, your life, and it opens up a whole world of career choices.
Here it is. In response to this post I have searched deep through my Wattpad fanfictions to find the first one that I have ever made. I regret ever making that post as I cringe reading through this fanfic as I post it onto tumblr. So, in my exact words, here is my first fanfic:
This is an idea I came up with the other day. It’s fanfiction for the book, Carry On, when Simon and Baz were still at Watford. I have never written fanfiction before, so let me know what you think of it!
Characters belong to Rainbow Rowell. These are not my original characters.
“Truth or Dare?” I ask to Penelope. We are sitting on the grassy lawn of Watford School of Magicks, playing a friendly game of truth or dare. It’s just me and Penny. Agatha was here, but soon decided to leave after an embarrassing question came up. Penny is ruthless.
“I dare you to… skip all of your classes for a day,” I say. I know it’s a stupid dare, but Penny is really into her studies. For her, that’s like saying she can’t eat for a week. She lives and breathes everything school related.
“What!! NO!! MY MOM WOULD KILL ME!!”
“It’s just one day. It’s not like you would miss that much.”
“But, it’s a whole day!”
“Whatever. My turn.”
“Fine. Truth or Dare?”
“Dare!” I sit impatiently, waiting for her to bring her wrath down on me for the last dare.
“I dare you…”
“Spit it out, women.” She starts to giggle. It must be bad. Penny never giggles.
“I dare you to go into your room…”
“My god, you’re driving me crazy!”
“I dare you to go into your room and kiss Baz.”
“You heard me. Go into your room and kiss Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”
“You have got to be kidding me. No.”
“Then, I won’t do your dare.”
“I–but–um–fine! I’m going!” I say, storming off. Penelope smirks behind me. Ugh, this is going to be horrible. And interesting. I try to figure out how I’m going to do this. It’s not like I can barge in and just randomly kiss him out of the blue. I can’t believe I agreed to this. What will Baz think? I decide it’s better not to think about the after effects and focus on how I’m going to get there. By the time I get to the door, I have a vague idea, but not much I can move off of. Darn it Penny! Why do you have to come up with such good dares? I should have left with Agatha. Here goes nothing…
I walk in, trying to act as normal as possible. Baz is sitting at the desk, studying for our next exam. Typical. I close the door, but “accidentally” slam it. Baz jumps.
“Jesus Snow! Close the door like a normal person!”
“Sorry, I just–um…” WHAT DO I DO NOW!! Stupid Penny, this is more complicated than you think.
“Spit it out Snow!”
“I–well–um–” He stands up. His midnight black hair is perfectly smooth back and his school uniform is perfectly pressed and fits him in all the right ways. I collapsed onto my bed and he fixes his stormy grey eyes on me and his mouth twisting into a sneer.
“Use your words, Snow!” He is close enough that I can feel his hot breath on my face. This is going better than I could’ve hoped. I start to lean in. I see his eyes start to flutter closed. Wow, I am so close. Take that, Penny!
I was staring at words for hours. I didn’t know what else to do. There is literally nothing I could do other than study today. Then, Snow barges in our room like a crazy person, but I can tell it was with purpose. He’s planning something. What could he be planning. I can see uncertainty is is crystal clear blue eyes, but also something… I don’t know, a little mischievous. What is he planning? What is he going to do. I can tell it’s directed at me. There is no other explanation. Now I know what he feels all of the time. He’s plotting something, but what?
His eyes have me transfixed. They always have. Ever since I met him. I creep closer to him. I find his gaze fixing on my eyes as he tries to muster the words to create an actual sentence. His eyes drift to my lips. Oh, god. Please tell my fantasies aren’t becoming true? I feel like I’m blushing, yet I know that it’s probably very faint because of the whole vampire thing. But, I still start to feel self-conscious. He leans forward a little and I stay there uncertainly, my eyelids starting to droop as I give in. I feel a tug at my neck and notice that he is tugging on my green and purple school tie. Before I can even register anything, his lips are on mine and we are locked in a fierce kiss.
I’m kissing Simon Snow. Simon freakin’ Snow.
I can’t say how many times I’ve imagined this, but it’s even better than I could ever imagine. We click together like magnets and fit together smoothly. I passionately press against him and pull him towards me, not wanting this to end. I grip the back of his shirt tightly, wanting to make sure this is real. Wanting to make sure this is acutally happening. I’ve dreamed about this so long. How do I know it’s not a dream.
I’m kissing Simon Snow.
I don’t know how it happened, but soon we are both on my bed. Baz keeps going at me, pressing harder, kissing fiercer. He has a tight grip on the back of my shirt, as if he’s afraid to let go. I no longer seem to have control of the situation. It was just supposed to be a short, tiny kiss, but it seems it has turned into more that that, and I’m not sure what I feel. It’s nothing like when I kissed Agatha.
Of course it isn’t. Agatha is a girl. Your kissing a boy. And not just any boy.
I’m kissing Baz.
There’s so much passion in Baz, I’m afraid to break away and tell him it was just a dare. How could something so simple turn into something so… what’s the word… extraordinary. I feel a burning sensation starting at my lips and warming up my whole body. My magic even seems to be on edge and is tempted to leak out of me like a water fountain.
But, I’m kissing Baz? This isn’t Agatha. This feels…
I push him away. He stands there, looking bewildered. I’m scared for what’s going to happen next. Should I say it?
“You–” he says, breathing heavily. I worry that he’s going to yell at me, then I remember that it was supposed to be sort of a joke anyway. Just a joke. It’s not more than that… Is it?
“Don’t know how long–” he continues breathlessly, smiling stupidly, “I have been waiting to do that.” I feel my eyes start to widen. Oh, god! I really screwed up this time, didn’t I? Stupid Penelope! Now I have to tell him it was a dare and hurt his– or do I? I don’t know how to explain this, but that felt so right. But, it’s Baz. How can I–why?
“Um–well–I–um–it–” Come on, Simon. Say something. You can’t just leave him hanging there.
“I didn’t realize I wanted to too…” I say. It is, technically speaking, the truth.
“I–um– I should go,” I say, bursting out into the hallway. I start to breath heavily. I think I’m hyperventilating. Are those black dots starting to cloud my vision? What is happening to me? The world starts to melt to black. Before darkness consumes me, all I can think is, I kissed Baz… And I liked it.
What in freak just happened? Did I–did we just–? I can’t do this. This is all so confusing! I go back and sit on my bed, head in my hands. Was he just saying that? Surely not, surely he saw the fireworks they always talk about. But what if he didn’t. That’s my biggest fear. What if I made a fool out of myself? I don’t know what to do anymore. I stare at my hands when I hear a thump at the door. What could that be?
I open it to see an unconscious person on the floor with blonde hair that I definitely recognized. Snow. If what happened didn’t just happen, I’m pretty sure I would have laughed in his face. The Great Chosen One, fainting. But, I don’t think it will help the situation if I leave him there. I drag him onto his bed and leave him there because I have no idea what to do. What should I do?
When I wake up, I can immediately tell it’s morning. Baz has already left for breakfast. Was it all a dream? It doesn’t feel like it, but surely it was a dream, right? That can’t happen in real life.
Baz’s lips on mine. The absolute rightness of the situation.
It had to be a dream.
I walk to breakfast. I sit at my normal spot with Penelope and Agatha. I sneak a glance at Baz, but he seems to look anywhere but at me. It was a dream. It had to be. I turn my attention to my breakfast. As I dig into the school’s delicious scones, I hear Penelope whisper ever so softly into my ear.
“So… did you do it?” she asks. It was real. I did do it, but knowing Penny, she probably wants details. And I am not prepared to tell her that it was the greatest and most thrilling experience I have ever had.
“No,” I whisper back. It was real.
I kissed Baz, and I loved it.
Are y’all happy now? XD *crawls in a corner and cries*
MORE STUFF WITH OLD FRITZ AND GILBERT BECAUSE I AM TRASH. Part of the We reap what we sow sidestories.
For context, this is set during the Seven Years’ War, right after the battle of Kunersdorf. That particular battle was disastrous for the Prussians; it was also the battle in which Friedrich had two horses shot dead from under him and after which he mentioned that he didn’t expect (nor wish) to survive.
Goodbye + Jason Todd? Is this appropriate format? You just said angst and I figure you can make something heartbreaking out of this :)
“No no no, don’t you dare,” he spits, cradling you against his chest, eyes wet behind his mask. “You’re not allowed to leave me, okay? Not like this.”
“I don’t have a choice,” you laugh, weakly, wincing as another wave of white-hot pain washes over you. “Jaybird, I…”
“Don’t you say it,” he growls, pressing his face against your neck, biting back the painful sob that builds in his throat. “This isn’t goodbye, sweetheart. Bruce and the others are gonna be here real soon and they’re gonna take good care of you, okay? You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine.”
“Jay,” you croak, reaching for him with a bloodied hand. He helps you, guiding your palm to rest against his cheek, ignoring the wetness that sticks to his skin. The wound on your chest pulses, angry, and with every frail beat of your heart, you can feel yourself slipping out of his reach. His helmet sits next to you, splattered with your blood.
“Don’t hold on to this,” you whisper, fighting to keep your eyes focused on him. “I’m gonna die soon, and you gotta accept it, Jay. Please don’t hurt for me.”
“I love you,” he whispers, hoarse, turning slightly to press a watery kiss against your palm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I love you,” he repeats, choking on his breath when you don’t respond. “Please don’t leave me. Please…”
Archer withdrew a bit, turning away & thinking about what his husband had just said. Remembering the early months of their marriage, he was taken back to all the times Tobias had seemed pushy about the topic of jumping right into starting their family. His mind went back to memories of how the older man had practically begged, citing his age as a reason not to wait. Each time that Archer had denied him, he seemed disappointed but never deterred.
Look, Tobias, Archer growled, his voice low as he tried to keep his tone steady & calm. I know that you’re drunk & that you’re upset over this.. this news.. but if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t find it very funny.
A joke? Tobias repeated, tilting his head as he watched his husband’s face carefully. I’m making a point, sweetheart. It wasn’t nearly as easy to conceive Ellie as you seem to think it was.
You… the blond spit. You fucking asshole. I trusted you, with everything that I had. How could you do something like that?
Tobias shut his eyes tight, clenching his jaw as he realized his drunken mistake. Never had he planned to tell the younger man, fearful of his reaction. Archer, I’m sorry but you know how important this is to me. I finally found my one true love, I’m not exactly in the prime of my life & I knew that having a family would make us both happy. It did, didn’t it? You love Ellie; we both do. If I hadn’t….
Don’t you fucking dare, the blond spit, throwing his chair back as he jumped to his feet. Jabbing his finger into the older man’s face, he shook his head. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as his heart raced. I love Ellie more than anything in this world. I would never trade her or give that up. That doesn’t change what you fucking did to me. I told you that I was’t ready. I was 21 years old & I had already rushed into marriage. I wasn’t about to purposely rush into having a child. But you! he roared now, his voice nearly growing hoarse. You didn’t fucking care what I wanted. All of your bullshit about wanting me to be happy & caring about my feelings. I trusted you & I loved you & you took it upon yourself to take any choice that I had away from me. You lied to me, you selfish bastard.
Tobias rose as well, reaching for his husband to try to calm him. Baby, I am so sorry. Please…
Please nothing. Do you even realize how fucking betrayed I feel right now? Archer stepped back, shoving the man’s hands away from him as he did. I cannot fucking believe you Tobias. I don’t want you to touch me. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to even look at you right now. I’m not sure how I am ever supposed to look at your pathetic, lying face again.
Summary: The Evil Queen uses Hyde’s serum to separate Hook and Killian. After kidnapping Captain Hero, she asks Captain Hook to poison Emma, but his other half just refuses to let him. Season 6 Canon Divergence. Rated M for some lusty thoughts and swears. 1.2k preview.
Happy Valentine’s Day @cocohook38 from your (pitiful) CSSV! My name is Tessa and I’ve loved getting to know you these past couple weeks. Thank you so much for putting up with me. Between exams, performances of the musical I’m in, and coming down with a sickness, the universe has really been against me getting this to you at a decent time. I decided to post a preview. There is more to come, but I hope you like what I’ve written for you so far.
Art is by my lovely CSSV ~ go like and reblog it here!
Hook really does try his best not to stare down the food on his plate suspiciously. The Swan woman, Emma, sits across the table, prattling on about whatever happened at her job earlier in the day. From the window, Hook can see the Jolly Roger with dropped anchor in its proper port, so close that he could simply walk up to it and steal it if he tried.
He can feel his other half - he refuses to call it his better half, and has taken to calling the other Killian the “weaker one” - struggling in whatever brigg the Evil Queen has kept him in since their serum division. It’s a stark reminder of his task, the one the Evil Queen is paying him handsomely to do. If Hook can pretend to be Killian Jones long enough to slip the poison into Emma’s morning coffee, then her Royal Majesty Regina will put a brand new, shiny magic bean in his hand and he will never have to spend another gods forsaken minute in this land.
“Killian, you’re quiet this morning. Everything alright?” Hook’s attention snaps up to Emma, her worried eyes a sure sign that whatever she suspects, it isn’t about his true identity. For a moment, he forms his answer. It’s been awhile since any words that left his mouth weren’t cynical in nature, but if he’s going to do this right, he needs to really play his part well.
Summary: You were a senator from the wealthy planet of Naiadphae; where the rich spent their money enjoying the peaceful underwater kingdom and its outstanding flora. Your coworkers respected you for your peaceful ideals and humanitarian campaigns. What they didn’t know was that you, senator Anahita Ogym, were their presumed dead princess. By hiding your gruesome scars under the adorned masks Naiadphae’s elite liked to use and suppressing you Force sensitive abilities, you managed to fool the First Order’s spies and remain alive.
Will your planet’s alliance to the First Order ruin your fragile façade?
ryo-maybe: John Marston: “I’m many things, most of ‘em bad. But a man of feminist principles? No.”
Do anything remotely as bad as this in my presence one more time and I swear to your deity of choice I will loosen the bolts on your toilet seat so it becomes incapable of staying up whenever you are peeing.
how dare you cut me off and then talk about me behind my back. how dare you call my coping methods unhealthy and how dare you hurt me with the insecurities i shared with you when we were friends. how dare you spit in my face when all i wanted was someone to talk to during rough times. how. fucking. dare. you.
I was in the mood for some more IronFalcon today and so I wrote a continuation of this. You all demanded for Sam to go and ‘fuck up’ Steve and that’s what he does. This comes in at over 2k so watch out for the read more.
“I have to go back to Wakanda,” Sam
announced a week later and he cursed himself when he saw Tony hunch in on
He had made good progress with Sam there at
his side, though it didn’t keep the nightmares at bay. But he was not as tense
anymore and he also smiled every now and again. Sam counted it as a win.
“Of course,” Tony said and turned away from
him. “Your team is there. I knew you couldn’t stay, it’s fine,” he went on and
Sam could tell by the tone of his voice and the way he held his shoulders that
he was near tears with these words.
“I don’t care about my team,” Sam declared
and stepped up behind Tony, wrapped his arms around him. He could feel Tony
shake against him.
“I am not going back for them,” Sam said
and rested his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “T’Challa got some stuff from my place
and that is all still there.”
“You don’t have to lie,” Tony told him and
Sam gently turned him around.