Hey y’all! It’s about time I got a Masterlist going so here you go! I know it’s a little small right now but I’ll update this as I post things. Thanks for reading :)
Little Infinities- Bucky Barnes x OC 50′s AU. Rosaline Miles is an elementary school teacher and waitress at a diner in North Carolina. She meets Sheriff James Barnes working her night shift. Part 1Part 2
Birthday (Smut)– It’s Bucky’s birthday and you’ve organized a party with the Avengers. Bucky has other plans.
Innocence Is Gone (Smut) – Karaoke night with the Avengers leads to fun alone time with Bucky. Part 1Part 2
Hair is often considered very important in witchcraft. Hair is said to hold memories and power and can be used in spells and rituals for a variety of outcomes. The way we style our hair can have different affects on our energy.
An info post about Dyspraxia (Developmental Coordination Disorder) Please signal boost
Sadly Dyspraxia is hugely under-diagnosed in comparison to its sister conditions; Dyslexia and Dyscalculia both of which have been well-documented for nearly 100 years. It is believed that Dyspraxia affects four times as many boys as girls but girls with mild Dyspraxia are generally quicker at learning the social norms necessary to hide their condition so I never considered this hugely accurate.
Widespread knowledge of the condition was pretty much non-existent until the 70s and 80s so many people may have a parent or older relative with Dyspraxia who has never been diagnosed. It was originally believed to affect those born prematurely or even to be a very mild form of Cerebal Palzy but to this day no-one is 100% sure where it comes from though in many cases it does seem to run in families. In a class of 30 or more children at least one of them with have some level of Dyspraxia but the number could be as high as three or four.
Dyspraxia is on the autistic-spectrum and as will all autism-related conditions will present itself slightly differently in everyone but there are many indicators in people of different ages that they may have it; I’ve outlined these below.
The pre-school aged child with Dyspraxia may not appear very different to other children of that age, because of this, diagnosis under the age of five is exceedingly rare. They may be slower to talk and make less noises as an infant and they may bump into things more regularly than other children.
The 5-12 year old with Dyspraxia differs quite a lot from their peers and it is at this age that they are most likely to receive a formal diagnosis through school. They may read at a higher level than would be expected of their age but have trouble with strange fonts and larger bodies of text, hand-writing will likely be messy and misshapen though the child may perform well in IQ tests. They may talk too loud or too quietly and have trouble interacting with large groups of their peers. They will doubtless have trouble with many sports as coordination skills will be poor. They may need help dressing or brushing their hair. They may be overly sensitive to criticism and take longer than expected to learn and perform basic tasks. Because they develop emotionally at a slower rate than normal children but intellectually faster they are more likely to befriend children younger or older than themselves. As with autistic children they may begin to develop a specialist area of interest and have a better than average memory.
It’s important to remember that each basic task has several steps and the Dyspraxic child may forget or mix up some of these. For example just leaving the house to get to an appointment will require them to put on shoes and socks, make sure they have their keys and keep track of the time so that they aren’t late. They may forget their keys or put on shoes but no socks, difficultly tying laces or doing up buttons is common in Dyspraxic children so the very act of putting shoes on may take twice as long. They also have little to no concept of time passing so five minutes may feel the same as two hours.
There are no obvious visual signs that a child is Dyspraxic. They may be thin and wiry because of their sensitive palette and aversion to eating a wide variety of foods or they may be slightly overweight because of their dislike of most organized sports. Some people suffer from Verbal Dyspraxic and may have more trouble shaping sentences and expressing themselves. They may also tire more easily for no obvious physical reason because their brains have to process a lot more and they tend of over-think things.
During the teenage years many earlier difficulties with coordination, time-keeping, socializing and organizing themselves may present less of a challenge or they might have just gotten better at hiding them. This is when - through the different ways boys and girls are expected to act and behave - Dyspraxia begins to present itself differently in both sexes.
The teenage boy with Dyspraxia may have a few close friends or he may be a bit of a loner. He may be good with computers as they may have been his saving grace in avoiding the struggle of writing by hand. If he is bullied for any aspect of his condition he will likely cover it up. He may be awkward around the opposite sex. If he does get a girlfriend his lack of spatial awareness may cause problems depending on how physical the relationship becomes. The tragic thing about teenage boys and young men with Dyspraxia is that they are often creative, imaginative and highly intelligent but he may appear disorganized, unwilling to take part in activities that don’t interest him and may disguise genuine difficulty performing a task as apathy and boredom. For this reason boys with Dyspraxia often have trouble reaching their full potential academically.
The teenage girl with Dyspraxia may also be very clever but may present as shy and introverted. She may struggle with things expected of a girl her age such as applying make-up or shaving. If she has long hair she may have trouble styling and managing it. She may stick to plain clothes and express a lack of confidence in her own style or she may wear bright clashing colors and have trouble determining what suits her. She may be much better at subjects like English, Drama, History and Art than STEM subjects and practical tasks. Because Dyspraxic children need to ‘anchor’ themselves when seated to retain a sense of gravity she may sit like a boy with her legs far apart. She may struggle to manage birth control and menstruation.
Contrary to what was originally believed about Dyspraxia people do not ‘grow out of it’ and those who received no help at school and were simply labelled ‘clumsy’, ‘lazy’ or ‘easily distracted’ are much more likely to be affected by their condition in later life. Adults with Dyspraxia can be very good at hiding the effects of their condition from others so symptoms like those of children and teenagers are rare but there are many aspects that will continue to affect them.
The Dyspraxic adult may over-compensate for their lack of organisational skills and time-keeping by having a detailed planner or time-table and setting timers/alarms to remind themselves to leave the house on time for work/appointments. They may need high levels of structure in their working environment and may budget intensely to be sure that rent, bills and other expenses are paid on time. They may dislike admin jobs like filling out forms (though this is common in most people, Dyspraxic or not). They may have a higher level of empathy and be great with children, old people and animals. They may still be poor at reading body language and ques from others that what they’re saying isn’t what they mean. They may have very low self-esteem especially if they’ve never been formally diagnosed and are statistically more prone to anxiety and depression because they still doubt their ability to perform basic tasks.
I was diagnosed at age 6 and as a result have always had the help and support of family members, teachers, occupational therapists and later university lecturers and career advisers. Because of this I am now for the most part a well-rounded, functioning adult capable of living independently and holding down a job. So if you know anyone of any age no matter how mild their symptoms may seem I would urge you to show them this post and encourage them to get tested. A formal diagnosis however late can dramatically improve your self-confidence and your quality of life.
Hello! Could you please write something in which Mikasa and Armin join forces with Petra and Erwin to make Levi Eren and go out on a date? Thanks 💕
Petra had expected to the commander to try and stop her, not recruit more members for her cause, not only that but the helpers were an… odd choice. Armin, she could understand, he was smart and cared about Eren, so he was obviously a first pick - she also saw that Erwin seemed to favor him - But Mikasa… Didn`t she loathe Levi? Certainly she would flip if they were to get together, right?
“He makes Eren happy, I don`t know why, but he does.” The girl replied simply, Petra decided not to push because she didn`t look thrilled about her discovery.
“So, what`s the plan?” Armin asked, Petra felt some what embarrassed that the plan wasn`t exactly, formed yet.
Armin`s face fell into one of a mix of `done with your shit` and `are you kidding me?` and his budding Erwin eyebrows made it it hit that much harder.
“Well, it`s obvious we can`t just tell them we`re setting them up.” Erwin thought aloud.
“You`re right, we`ll need to trick them into it, Petra could get Levi to follow her and Mikasa could get Eren.” Armin added,
“Yes, and we could set up something romantic for them and have them alone!” Erwin finished, Mikasa looked between them quickly, and sighed.
“Not another one.” She mumbled.
“Did you say something Mikasa?” Petra asked.
“No, let`s get started already.”
- ℰ + ℒ -
“Petra, where`s this mold farm you`re talking about? I can`t see it.” Levi complained as Petra led him by the arm, he was asking so many questions, but they were nearly to the mess hall and everything would be worth it.
The women turned to look at her captain`s irritated face and held back a giggle, he`d look so good on Eren`s arm wouldn`t he? All blushy like a bride on her wedding day while Eren whispered sweet nothings in his ear and treated him like a princess and Petra was going to see it all!
Levi looked at her questioningly at the shrill `eek` she let slip.
Once the two reached the pitch black room, Petra waited, she needed to make sure Eren was there too, otherwise the entire operation would be blown and she`d never get her fan service- her friends together.
“Mikasa, tell me where we`re going! You can`t just drag me where ever you want!” Eren growled, Petra sighed at the girl`s lack of subtlety, but quickly pulled Levi into the room.
“Hey, watch it! And was that Eren? Why`s it so dark, I can`t see shit.”
“Was that captain Levi? What`s going on? Mikasa?”
It was hard maneuvering the two men into sitting position without hitting kneecaps, but once they were seated she and Mikasa scattered and scrambled to give the signal.
Just as Levi opened his mouth to complain, candles lit up to envelope the room in warm, low lighting, and thus reveal the deep red table cloth, the fine china and silverware that they never used, and Eren who was just as confused as he was.
Music filtered through the room because apparently Gunther could play sensual piano and did so in the far corner of the room.
“Sir?” The brunet murmured, Levi shook his head.
“Don`t look at me.”
“Ahem, good evening gentlemen.” A new voice said.
“Eld!?” Eren spat.
Eld stood there like a waiter in all formal wear and a tray and notepad in hand, his hair was allowed to fall over his shoulders elegantly, but Levi thought it was a bit backwards since his hair could get into food, but whatever, point was he was there.
“Eld, what the hell are you wearing?” Levi asked boredly, but his squad mate only smiled.
“Why, to take your orders sirs.” He said politely.
“We`ll have whatever the hell you made with a side of explanation.” The raven answered, Eld simply nidded and walked away, the service was terrible.
“Um, so…” Eren said awkwardly, and Levi finally turned to get a good look at him. Apparently some one thought it a good idea to try and spruce him up by slicking his hair back always from his face, leaving his strong jaw and intense eyes on full display/ He looked good in the soft candle light, the contours of his face were more defined in it, made him look older. Eren stared back at him with a weird look of fondness and awkwardness, finally breaking eyes contact after about five minutes of Levi`s gaze.
“Uh, you look nice tonight sir.” The boy stuttered.
He didn`t just say that, the cheesiest shit you say when you take someone out, Eren has to say it. But that statement made everything click, this was a set up. One he knew had to have been organized by nosy friends and he couldn`t say he was too angry. In fact, he would use this chance to the best of his ability.
Letting a sweet smile grace his lips, and ignoring the way Eren`s jaw nearly fell off his face, Levi nudged Eren`s leg with his use beneath the table in an innocent, but flirty game of footsie that Eren was completely dumbstruck by.
“Thank you, Eren.” He purred, Eren blinked for a moment, then proceeded to guzzle water like a fish to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Levi let a huff of a laugh escape him and Eren choked on his drink, making him laugh even more.
“Pardon me, your dinner, is served.”
Levi`s giggle caught in his throat when he turned to see Petra carrying food with a giddy grin on her face, she`d probably been watching them, in fact. He shot a look behind her, and low and behold his squad, Erwin and Arlert were all hanging out the kitchen door to eavesdrop, though they quickly scattered when he saw them.
“Thank you, Petra.” Eren piped up as the girl set the food down, scurrying away and giving them several signals, thumbs up, blown kisses, winks, a weird motion of her moving a hand back and forth in front of her mouth that look oddly obscene, it all said one thing. Get together, have fun, lots of fun, so much fun you can`t walk tomorrow.
“Everyone is acting so weird today, but this looks good!” Eren cheered, digging into his plate, Levi followed suit slowly, noticing their plates were different foods.
“Hey, wanna try mine?” Eren slopped out around a mouthful of food, which was beyond disgusting, but his cheeks filled like a chipmunks was endearing enough to keep him from gagging. Eren held out a forkful of whatever he was eating, it looked like pasta, and he probably expected to pop it onto Levi`s plate, but instead he leaned over the table and took it off the fork slowly, sliding his lips across it to get every piece of food.
“I just shared your germs, you better have a really nice dick Jaeger.” Levi expected a shriek in return, not the darkening of his cadet`s eyes and finally a nudge back under the table.
“I do. He answered.
- ℰ + ℒ -
“What are they doing?”
“Look! Their feet are touching!”
“I think they`re going to kiss!”
The group of supposed adult squealed and gasped at their subjects` flirtatious gestures and hooded gazes.
“Oh my walls, they are so fucking!”
“Don`t you `Petra` me, those are bedroom eyes they`re giving each other!”
As Eren leaned in and Levi`s eyes fell closed everyone geld their breath. Their lips met once, twice, no, trice, then met again for a low slow kiss as Eren`s hand came up behind Levi head to cradle it and Levi draped two arms over his shoulders.
It was a loving sight, even as it started up a full blown make out session, even though the soothing piano had stopped abruptly. Wait.
“Gunther`s still out there!” Oluo yelled, bounded out to save their traumatized friend, Petra wanted to say he ruined the moment, but the couple gave about, zero fucks, and kept necking each other like they were the only two that existed.
The Bright Lady is a woman of rank, often a Queen, Princess, other nobility or of otherwise high rank. Occasionally she will be a maiden of low rank, having significant beauty, kindness and grace whom the Knight has found admirable and worthy of his service. The White Knight has pledged his service to the lady and acts as The Champion to her. He has sworn his service to her above all else, not the country or some other greater organization, but dedicating himself solely to her protection and the furthering of her goals.
Like her bright counterpart, the Dark Lady is a woman of high status. She may have inherited her position, but just as likely she has accumulated power with cunning, and even dark magic, and clawed her way to significance through the use of that power. The Black Knight often starts out as a White Knight, but under a Dark Lady’s influence, that doesn’t last long. So devoted to his Lady is he that he will sacrifice anything, including his honor, pride and values, to serve her as she sees fit.
The muffins Y/N had made had just come out of the oven and they were Alexander’s favorite. After letting them cool, she wrapped them in a basket and made her way to the camp where she knew Alexander would be writing correspondence for General Washington. She had just stepped out of her front door and made it down her steps, when Y/N heard yelling coming from down the street. She knew what was happening before she saw it. The British were making a sneak attack on the city. She ran as fast and quietly as she could manage toward her fiancé’s tent at the camp. She was breathing heavy as she made it to the corner of the block. Y/N checked to make sure that the coast was clear before crossing over to the next block.
“Hey!!! Where do you think you’re going? Running off to warn the rebel scum?? I don’t think so!” A British soldier had been hiding in the shadows and had caught Y/N unawares. Not long after the soldier had made himself known, he stabbed Y/N with the bayonet on the end of his gun. For Y/N, the world went into slow motion, as the pain radiated from her midsection, she saw the basket tumble to the ground and the muffins bounce across the ground. A few seconds later, Y/N’s body joined them as they soaked up the blood pouring out of her body. The soldier was about to pick her up and take her as a prisoner of war when John Laurens ran around the corner and chased him away.
“Alexander! Alexander, where are you?” Y/N whimpers, looking for her fiancée. “I need you.”
“Y/N!!! Are you…” He notices the pool of blood surrounding her body. He quickly takes his coat off and balls it up to make a compress to try to ease the bleeding. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” John had picked Y/N up bridal style, so he can keep pressure on the wound, and started running towards the hospital.
As John made it to the next street, Lafayette spotted him. “Laurens, what did you…Mon dieu” His voice fell to a whisper when he noticed who John was carrying and the blood dripping from his hands. Lafayette fell in behind Laurens as he called over his shoulder to his comrade, Hercules Mulligan. “Mon ami, go find Hamilton. Now!” Herc saw Y/N in Laurens’ arms, the direction he was running in and the trial of blood drops. He then, turned and bolted for the camp, looking for his friend.
Y/N finally finds her voice and asks for her fiancé, “J-John, wh-ere’s Alex…”
“Shhh. Herc’s gone to find him.” John tried to soothe her.
“He promised. He can’t break his promise.” Y/N whispers over and over again.
John looks down at her, “Promise? Y/N, what promise?”
Y/N fades out of consciousness as she remembers the night that Alexander proposed to her.
Alexander has dropped to one knee in front of Y/N. Tears well up in her eyes as the man she loves professes his love for her and very elegantly and humbly, he asks for you for your hand in marriage. “I will always be there for you. I promise I will never let you down.” Pure love in his eyes as he pledged his love and devotion to Y/N and only to her.
After looking for half an hour, Herc made his way back to the hospital. After he located where Y/N’s room was, he told the guys that he couldn’t find Alexander. “Lafayette, go with Herc. Maybe the two of you can find him, Y/N needs him.” The two men nodded and took off to find their best friend.
Y/N came to a little while after the doctor had stitched up her wound. He had told Laurens that by the grace of God that no internal organs were majorly damaged, just a small nick in the large intestine that was easily found and fixed. Thanks to John’s quick thinking, he had prevented her wound from getting infected. “John, why does everything hurt? And where’s my Alexander?”
John looked at Y/N with tender care as he looked after his best friend’s fiancé. “Lafayette and Mulligan have gone to find him.” John whispered as he brushed away a few loose strands of hair that was sticking to her forehead.
“Why didn’t you go look for him, John? He maybe hurt too!” Y/N started to panic.
John did everything he could to keep her calm. “Y/N, he’s fine. I’m sure he’s going to run through that door any minute now. Nothing could keep him away from you.” Y/N sighs and closes her eyes.
“John!” She gasped, “It hurts so much. Can you see if there is anything they can give me to help with the pain?” Tears flowed freely down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut in pain. Laurens kissed her hand before he ran from the room.
Lafayette and Mulligan went straight to Alexander’s personal tent first and found it empty. The men turned and looked at each other, “Washington” they said in unison as they turned to make their way to the general’s tent.
Alexander was listening to George as he dictated a letter to Congress about their current situation; his quill furiously scratching away at the parchment before him. Lafayette and Mulligan burst into the tent, “Alexander! There you are! We have been looking for you everywhere!”
“What is the meaning of this?” Washington bellowed, not enthused that two of his soldiers had just burst into his, the general’s, personal tent.
“Deepest apologies, sir, but we need Hamilton to come with us, now! His fiancé was injured in the city by British insurgents who attacked the city earlier this evening.” Alexander went white.
“What are you waiting for, man? Go! That’s an order from your commander, go!” It took Washington’s command for Alexander shake off the shock and take off towards the hospital with Lafayette and Mulligan on his tail.
As the men ran from the camp, Lafayette told Alexander what had happened. Tears began to flow from his eyes at the thought of his beloved Y/N, not only hurting, but severely injured. Alexander burst into the hospital and cried out, “Where is she? Where is Y/N?”
The doctor had just stepped out of Y/N room. “Mr. Hamilton, this way. She has been well taken care of. Her surgery was a success. I was able to stop all the internal bleeding. Thanks to the quick thinking of Mr. Laurens, he prevented the wound from getting infected.” The group stepped into the room as the doctor finished. Y/N was resting with John by her side, holding her hand, but he had turned toward the door when it opened.
“Y/N, there is someone here for you.” Laurens whispered to Y/N.
Her eyes flutter open to look at Laurens, but she sees her sweet Alexander’s face first. She gives a slight smile as Laurens and Alexander switch places, with Alex now holding her hand. “My Alexander, where have you been?”
Tears were still silently falling down Alexander’s cheeks, “Oh, my love, I came as soon as I heard. I was working with the general.” He used his free hand to caress Y/N’s face. “I couldn’t break my promise.” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I will never let you down.” Y/N looked around her bed. Her beloved by her side and their three best friends surrounding the rest of her bed, Laurens and Lafayette on the other side and Herc at your feet. Y/N knew at that moment that none of them would ever let her down. They all would always be there for her.
A/N: Alright, it’s been a while since I last posted. Here is the promised Loki Hamilton fic. I’m not entirely sure how well this turned out, but I’m p sure it’s appropriately angsty. The song can be found right here.I hope you guys like it!!!
Word Count: 1608
Warnings: Mentions of infidelity(cheating), angst, threats of violence.
“Loki, what are these?” I ask, frozen to the spot, terrified at the thought of what I’ve just found.
“What are what, darling?” He answers with his own question.
“These.” I answer, holding up a small stack of letters.
“What?” He finally looks at me over his book. When his eyes land on the papers in my hand he stands abruptly, slamming his book closed, startling me. “Where did you find those?”
“I was just organizing the drawers…” My throat feels tight as I try to speak. “I…I didn’t write you these.”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” He reaches out to me as if he expects me to just place the papers in his hands.
“The way you’re acting doesn’t tell me that it’s nothing to worry about.” I step out of his reach and unfold one of the letters.
The handwriting is looping and graceful, By all meanings of the word, the writing is beautiful. But, to me, the words are anything but.
The letter is from a woman and, from the language she’s used , she’s been intimate with Loki. As I read on I try to rationalize, to convince myself that these letters are from years ago. That they’re from before Loki and I even met. My hopes are dashed entirely when I reach the end of the letter. The woman signed and dated it. The letter is from three days ago.
I drop the stack of papers like they’re a snake that’s just bitten me. I feel my knees buckle and I brace myself on the dresser. My stomach churns and I feel a wave of nausea on a level that I’ve never experienced before in my life wash over me. I cover my mouth with my hand, horrified by what I’ve just read.
“You…” I look around the room, disgusted with him and with myself. “How could you?”
“(Y/N), please,” He reaches out to cup my cheek and I quickly slap his hand away from me.
“You don’t get to touch me.” I hiss. “Not after what you’ve done. Not after you cheated on me.”
“I never meant for this to happen.” He looks at me, his eyes sad, but all I can see is a guilty man.
“Of course you didn’t. No one ever means to get caught when they cheat.” He just stands there, staring at me, his lips slightly parted, unable to say anything. “How long?”
“No, Loki.” I cut him off, knowing that he would be able to talk his way out of this if I allow him the opportunity. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“Seven months.” He says quietly.
“Seven.” My breath catches in my throat and my mouth goes dry.
Grabbing the zippo lighter from the top of the dresser, I slowly make my way to my nightstand. I pull a stack of papers tied with ribbon from the drawer. I stare at them, remembering the circumstances under which these letters were written. Loki wrote them to me in the beginning of our relationship. Now the memories I have of those times are tainted and the words leave a sour taste in my mouth.
“(Y/N), what are you going to do with those?” Loki asks. He sounds scared.
I ignore him and push past him, quickly striding into the bathroom. I stop in front of the bathtub. I look between the letters in my left hand and the zippo in my right and squeeze my eyes shut.
“I deserve better than this.” I whisper, only for myself to hear. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts when Loki grabs my shoulder and turns me around to face him.
“What are you planning to do to those letters?” He asks again.
“Oh, you remember these letters, right? The ones you wrote to make me fall in love with you?” He nods his head and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “These letters are the only things, the only memories that could possibly redeem you.” I flip open the zippo and light it. “I’m going to destroy them.”
“(Y/N)…” He looks at me forlornly. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I hiss. “Loki, I love you. You wrote the most beautiful letters for me. You built me palaces out of paragraphs and cathedrals with those carefully chosen letters.” I hold the flame to a corner of the papers and wait for them to catch fire. “I love you, but you’ve destroyed me. And you think sorry is enough to save this?”
“Who says it isn’t?”
“Me.” I throw the burning papers down into the tub and shove past him and out of the room.
I leave him, staring at the burning mass, and stuff my most important possessions and clothing into a duffel. If it doesn’t have any attachment to Loki, I take it with me. Everything ends up in the bag crumpled and in general disarray, but I don’t care. When I have everything I could possibly need I sling the duffel over my shoulder and snatch my purse from the chair at my desk and make for the door.
“Where are you going?” Loki asks. He sounds afraid.
“I don’t know.” I answer, not turning back to look at him. “But I’m not coming back.”
“(Y/N), wai-” I cut off his words by slamming the door behind me and rushing down the stairs of the apartment building.
I get about three blocks down the street before I stop at a street corner and allow myself to breathe. I’m not entirely sure where I am, but there’s a coffee shop on the corner and I decide to stop in for a moment and to collect myself and find a place to stay.
The shop is almost crowded and I’ve never been happier to look just like everyone else in my life. I park myself at a table and pull out my phone, scrolling my contacts list, trying to decide who to call. When my eyes land on one name, I know exactly who it needs to be. I dial the number and anxiously wait for them to pick up, looking around the coffee shop, my nerves getting the best of me.
“Hey, it’s me. Can I crash at yours for a bit?”
“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” Thor rises from his seat as soon as I step out of the elevator. He crosses the room in a few quick, long strides and places his hands gently on either side of my face.
“I…” Tears well up in my eyes before I can form coherent words and Thor pulls me to his chest, his arms circling around my body.
“Has my brother done something?” He asks. I nod feebly and I hear a low growl rising in his chest. “Whatever he has done, he will pay for it, I will see to that.”
“No, I think he’s lost enough.” I say quietly, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand. “I think I just need to see my brother.”
As the words leave my mouth Tony rounds the corner, locking eyes with me. He rushes over to me and pulls me from Thor’s arms into his. I wrap my arms around him and try not to be a terrible sibling and wipe my nose on his shirt. It’s his favorite ACDC shirt and he would kill me if something happened to it.
“What’d that bastard do now?” He asks. I can tell he’s trying not to sound demanding. He rubs my back, trying his best to soothe me the way mom did us.
“He cheated on me.” I answer, my voice hushed. Tony freezes and I instantly know he’s furious.
“I know what you told me… I just didn’t want to believe you. He was too good to be true. I was a total idiot.”
“No, you were in love, sweetheart. You were in love.” Tony presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Makes people do reckless shit.”
“They wrote letters to each other, and he kept the ones he got from her in our fucking sock drawer. I found them and confronted him and he actually seemed surprised that I found them, like I never go through the sock drawer. When I confronted him he told me they had been seeing each other for seven months a-”
“Seven months?” Tony hisses. “I’m going to destroy him. Come on tall and blonde, we’re gonna go kill a god.”
“Tony, no.” I grab his arm and he looks down at me, his eyes sad.
“Because I left. I’m not going back. I’m never going back to that-that man. Ever.”
“Wait, really?” His eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he gently places his hands on my shoulders.
“All of you warned me about him. You told me he would do what it takes to survive and now I realize how right you were. He flew too close to the sun.”
“My brother doesn’t deserve you (Y/N),” Thor says, deep creases forming above his brow. “He never did. I am glad that he did not win you. I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are happy.”
“Thank you, Thor.” I smile softly at him and he smiles back, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re too kind.”
“I can assure you,” Thor pulls me into a warm hug. “He will suffer greatly.”
“Chill out, hammer time.” Tony pats him on the arm. “Let’s round up the others. We have a godly ass to kick.”
Thank you so much for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!!
“What’s wrong, punk?” Bucky asked as he dropped himself down onto the spare chair usually reserved for clients in Steve’s cubicle.
Steve looked away from the document he was typing to glance over momentarily at Bucky before continuing his work. “Nothing’s wrong,” Steve answered, his eyes not leaving the screen.
Bucky scoffed and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes in the process. He has had enough of Steve’s sulky attitude and he was going to get to the bottom of it. “You’ve been in a grumpy mood ever since Tuesday morning. It’s now Friday, yet you still haven’t snapped out of it. You’re running behind on paperwork and we have to present this project to the higher ups next week. So if you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, I’m going to need you to start focusing,” Bucky lectured.
Steve’s fingers came to a halt and he froze. He twisted his chair around to face Bucky, dropping his head in embarrassment at the way he was acting. His hands rubbed against his face and he let out a deep, breathy sigh.
The biggest insecurity of their personality and physical trait(s)?
2P!America: his sensitivity, because he actually gets hurt feelings easily but tries to hide it by acting like a ‘badass’ or as though he doesn’t care.
2P!China: his single status because no matter how much he flirts with girls, they hardly like him back.
2P!England: his freckles/ paleness
2P!France: his appearance overall– he doesn’t see himself as beautiful the way his 1P does, but he usually doesn’t let this bother him.
2P!Russia: his natural expression. he always appears intimidating when really, he’s a pacifist who wants nothing but peace in the world.
2P!Italy: his height. although he prides himself on being graceful and slender, he wishes he could be taller like Lutz and perhaps be liked by women more.
2P!Germany: his intellect. he wishes he could be smarter and more organized, like his 1P or even Luciano. instead, everything about him and around him is always messy.
2P!Japan: his fighting skills. he is a perfectionist in his swordsmanship, but sees his 1P is better at it and this makes him envious as well as less-confident in his own ability.
2P!Canada: being unnoticed. although he’s quiet like his 1P, he has a temper, and people are afraid to upset him. he gets acknowledged by his cool yet frightening aura, even if he doesn’t do it on purpose, and he just wants people to listen to him in rare moments that he actually wants to converse with people.
2P!Romano: his natural hair color. he doesn’t see it as aesthetically pleasing so he always dyes it a nice shade of blonde and claims it as his real hair color.
2P!Austria: the fact that he can’t play instruments. It’s true that he prefers listening (not classical music) over playing, but he sees his 1P on the piano and feels as though he should be able to play it too, which he can’t.
2P!Prussia: the scars on his face/ body. he thinks they’re another reason people won’t approach him, but then again, he’s fine with that because he’s nervous about human interaction. in general, he has many, many insecurities.
ISTJ: Is too busy being productive to worry about whether or not they are an outsider. ISFJ: Is not an outsider. ESTJ: Is too busy organizing the world to worry about whether or not they fit in to it. ESFJ: Is not an outsider. Not in the least bit. Is the most inside insider to ever grace the earth. Creates the standard of “inside”. ISTP: Is an outsider. Loves it. Would not have it any other way. Ew, people. ISFP: Good at pretending not to be an outsider. Is one, but good at hiding it when it’s not convenient. Very sympathetic to outsiders who can’t hide it. ESTP: Forget society. Let’s go on an adventure. (Is an insider and doesn’t realize it or care.) ESFP: Fun. All the time, all the places. Can fit in anywhere. Has the ability to change the atmosphere in the room. INFP: Is an outsider. Does not want to be an insider. Almost hates the idea more than they deviate from it. INFJ: Is so much of a chameleon that it makes them the most outside outsider. Not that most people would even notice. ENFP: Loves everyone. Is an insider. But loves the outside more. ENFJ: Works well as an insider. Identifies as outsider because of their ability to relate to them, but is not really an outsider. INTP: They have bigger things to worry about than imaginary social constructs. Like quantum physics. And black holes. And… (Is an outsider) INTJ: Is an outsider. Does not try to hide it. People aren’t worth the effort. Moving on. ENTP: Argues equally well with everyone regardless of social labels. Shifts around. Does not conform. ENTJ: “Of course I’m an outsider. Do you see everyone else ruling the world? No, being the best is hardly “in”.
My first (to hopefully many more) RWBY fanfiction to go on my blog. I hope you guys like it ^^
Her method was simple. Defense. That was what she based most of her actions. And attacks on. The simpleness of defense. Then, when the opponent was tired from trying so many times to hit her. She’d strike. This for so long had been her go to method. That was at least, until she met you. You were meant to act as an undercover student at Beacon, but, before anything. Could happen, you would have to fight her. To… inhale your skill so to speak. So you would be ready for anything that came your way.
Neo happily volunteered to fight you. In honesty, it was mainly to show you your place, that you were below her, that she was the best. No stage was organized, just outside a building. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, somehow with much grace. She stood with poise and purpose as she held her umbrella delicately in her gloved hands. She was slightly confused by you. You did not exactly ready yourself the way she thought you would, considering that you were going to be fighting her. You did not stance yourself, or ready your weapon. In fact, you weren’t even using your main weapon, you didn’t have a weapon at all. Which was extremely odd for you as you never seemed to leave your weapon alone, it was always by your side. She brushed it off as you making a mistake.
She took a breath and waited for you to make the first move. She relied on that, it’s for the same reason why she was always black in a game of chess, she was strategic she needed to know everything about your fighting style and use it against you. You knew she was like this and took the first few steps forward and she did the same. You went to go punch her and she gracefully leaped out of the way, holding a smirk on her face as she did so. Oh how stupid you were for being so predictable. So, you were very forward and face on with your attacks. That was all she needed to know. As your next attacks came she easily dodged them, far too easily. The both of you were perfectly in sync, as though the both of you were in some kind of intricate and complicated dance.
Every time she made a hit towards you, you would swiftly dodge and block it as she had done for you. She couldn’t understand why you weren’t tiring out. She was doing what she always did, making sure that her opponents gave it their all so she could take them down when they were weak. You kicked her in the stomach and she flew back, she opened her umbrella and dug her heels into the concrete ground so it would slow her down before she hit a nearby building brick wall. A pink strand of her hair falling from her neat ponytail in front of her eye. It was then she realized, you were too perfect. You two were too in sync. She almost cursed at herself for realizing that you had been playing her this entire time. You had been using her own methods against her. Dick move.
“Oh no,” you smirked, walking up to her, “What’s the matter? Losing your touch?” You smirked.
She glared up at you and jumped back up and ran at you. You had touched a nerve. There was no way that she would let you win. No. She was the best. She was! No one was allowed to beat her. Every hit, kick, punch that she tried to aim at you, did nothing. You had copied her technique, you blocked all of them, and she couldn’t bother to concentrate that she was being played, she just wanted to win. She couldn’t lose.
Before she could register, you grabbed her arm when she tried to punch you and gripped it tightly. She looked up at you, not sure what to be thinking, you twisted her arm and pushed her to the ground.
“I think that it’s fair to say, Miss Neopolitan, that I won.” You returned the smug smirk that she had given you at the start of the match.
Roman clapped slowly as he walked over to the two of you, cane hooked on his arm and hat tilted down, “Well done, (your name).” His voice sounded somewhat surprised but he hid it. You got up and offered a hand to the defeated girl, normally she would just cheerily get up and reject anyone who would try to help, but normally she was never on the ground in the first place. She took your hand, not fully paying attention, she was filled with curiosity about you. She couldn’t help but to stare at you in amazement as Roman wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you away talking with you about what you had to do.
Her head tilted slightly, and she gave a smile, she definitely wanted to get to know you better. Not just for fighting reasons.
After all we have told you about the Gnosis, you know that the gospel must be taken as a mystery of initiation. We do not see historical reports in the Holy Language, but the very real activity of the person who works their way upward on the path.
The gospel, as one of the expressions of the universal doctrine, places the pupil before the requirement of producing what is essentially real. Understanding it in this way, we can liberate ourselves from the immersion in time, experienced by our fellow human beings, who speculatively look back in history and resort to affected sentimentality in sermons, music, and singing without any understanding whatsoever. That is why we approach these matters according to the new gnostic dimension and encourage one another along this path to the Mount of Olives, to the Garden of Gethsemane, hoping and praying that we may understand one another in spirit and in truth.
The Christian mystery of initiation is a very wonderful and strange story. It is a sequence of processes that cannot possibly be understood by a layman, because it requires deep insight into the sacred universal science. Understanding these processes is the grace that touches those who have been lifted up. Before the orange-red rose can unfold in the sunlight, the roots of the plant must force their way into the dark earth to obtain necessary food. In order to understand the things pertaining to the new, true, and original life, it is necessary to possess a corresponding state of consciousness. A person who lacks such a state has ears, but they are deaf; they have eyes, but they are blind. Nothing and no one can help them; they simply lack the sense organs required for understanding.
This is why we speak of sublunary consciousness and gnostic consciousness and, also, of two absolutely distinct types of people, showing not only spiritual and moral differences but also bodily differences. The differences between these two types are at a given point so basic, that finally they can no longer live in the same world. Each type needs a different life-field, a different respiration-field, a different vibration-field. This is why, in the history of the world, we witness from time to time a parting of the ways between the earthly human type and the human type belonging to the new field of life. The Holy Language calls it the separation of the sheep and the goats, of the righteous and the unrighteous.
A/N: Here we go with the seventh part. Thanks a ton for reading, you guys! So, this chapter has a lot of important past information, so brace yourselves for a long flashback. I try not to shove so much information down your throats at once, but let’s get past the business so that we can get to the fun part. No worries, though! I did throw in a good bit of interaction with the lovely Rob Benedict ;) Lyrics from She Waits by Louden Swain
Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader
Warnings: Explicit language, angst, mentions of death and violence
Ever since you met Rob, the weeks tended to fly by, minutes crashing into the next like uncontrollable waves, pushing you along before you were fully ready to take the next step. You hadn’t stumbled yet, hadn’t tripped up on your words, and it would remain that way. As long as you didn’t crash.
You free today?
At the buzzing sound of your phone, your mouth immediately curled up into a small smile, the action going unnoticed by your brain. It was becoming as natural as breathing. You grabbed your phone off of the coffee table, a faint groan sounding from you as you stretched your body. You hadn’t moved for quite awhile due to being sucked into Supernatural, and now you were into the fourth season. You went to text back, eyes flickering from your phone to the screen as a new episode started. The camera panned over the top of a couch to reveal a sleeping man lounged out across the cushions, robe open and mouth slightly parted. You slammed your thumb down on the call button, an unbelieving laugh rumbling from you.
“Hey-” Rob picked up a few rings in, his voice laced with a hint of surprise at the sudden call.
“It’s you! On the episode!” You exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement as you watched your boss on television. “Aw, look at you in your little robe. You’re so cute!” You rambled mindlessly for a moment until reality caught up with you and smacked the sense into you. You had just called your boss “cute.”
Rob laughed softly on the other end of the line, a faint red blush tainting his cheeks. “Oh, yeah? You dig the robe?” He smirked, tracing lines on his kitchen counter with his forefinger in a bashful manner.
You pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead, shaking your head at your flapping mouth. “It’s a nice robe,” you replied, shying away from the flirty response burning on your tongue.
ten million years later… sorry, guys. zero time and zero sleep means i’ve had next to no motivation to write this. But, i’ve been having some fun with the darker side of Joker. i think soon i’ll start playing with the jester side of him.
It didn’t matter how abusive he was and it didn’t matter how selfish he could be, you were starting to realize that maybe you didn’t want to be away from him. You’re a strong woman, you can take a little neglect and a little beating here and there… as long as it meant you could have Joker by your side. Your mind was throwing crazy thoughts back and forth while you walked back to your bedroom to get dressed like he’d asked. He acts out in wake of being emotionally stressed, so really, he must care. Inciting violence at the drop of a dime is him being careful, surely.
You made it back to your room and locked the door behind you, just in case anyone followed. You felt safe and in danger at the same time. Joker would keep you alive, but that wouldn’t stop him from keeping you submissive. Is this the life you were choosing to lead; being content with being afraid of every turn? Was Joker’s crazy rubbing off on you? Or was he striping you of your sanity, one test at a time? As desperate as you were becoming for him, you didn’t like this game. It was time to turn it in your favor. All this time you’ve been timid of him, and any time you did try to stand tall you would cower beneath him when he got serious. Not tonight. Not in front of his “important company.” Tonight you’d show him just how well you could match his “looney.”
You took in a deep breath and headed to the closet, now determined to change your image. Inside the closet was one single hanger, and on the hanger was a navy blue dress. The dress was beautiful, it had diamonds all around the bust-line and had a slit that went down the left leg. This was the epitome of a dream-come-true evening gown. The fabric felt like silk and it fit perfectly, hugging your curves just right. You had no idea how Mister J was so good at shopping for you, but somehow he always got it right. He’d even left shoes in the closet for you as well. They were black pumps, with diamonds on the straps to match the dress. The colors he chose were perfect, because you’d just remembered you had some black ribbon in your purse that would work perfectly as a make-shift garter belt to match, in case you were able to find a weapon on your way back to the foyer.
You checked yourself in the mirror one more time to get yourself organized and take a few deep breaths. It’s now or never. You tossed your hair behind your shoulder and walked tall down the hallway. When house maids and butlers weren’t around you checked the drawers of tables and chests on the way, in hopes of finding something dangerous. Before you turned the corner to get to the grand staircase, you desperately opened the last drawer you’d get the chance to rummage through. This was a small mahogany table, the half circle top was a pleasing accent to the geometric hall. Finally, someone or something above was gracing you with a stroke of luck: a revolver was laying perfectly centered in the drawer. You quickly took it and wrapped it in the ribbon around your leg, not thinking to check to see if it was loaded, or if there were extra bullets left behind.
People were talking loudly from the dining room and were easily heard from the second story of the mansion. Joker is distracted. Good. He’s not going to expect your newfound outgoing persona. You made your way into the room along with everyone else. Every new room in this house is more beautiful than the last. Black and gold granite floors sparkled beneath a dark wooden table and matching chairs. This was the longest table you’d ever seen in your life, it could easily sit 30 people. Tall windows lined the room on the left, and giant watercolor paintings lined the room on the right. Everyone was seated at the table, with Joker sitting at the end. He sat with his face resting on his gloved fist, unamused by his company. J’s black suit matched the floors, and his white shirt beneath matched his flawless skin. His eyes darted up when he saw you enter the room and he practically jumped out of his seat to greet you. Since when was he so eager to see you?
“Ladies and goons… let me interrupt to introduce to you… my muse.” He walked around the table with his hands reaching for you, an open smile fighting it’s way between words. The small crowd fell quiet, unsure of who you were or why you were here. Joker continued, “She caught me doing something bad, so now I gotta keep tabs on this pretty face.” He lifted his hand to touch your nose and you quickly snapped your teeth at him. He pulled his hand away and scowled at you. “Feisty.” He mumbled and growled and went back to his seat. He sat straight in his chair and straightened out his suit jacket before stabbing you with the harshest glare you’d seen from him yet. Everyone was still so quiet, his voice sounded almost too loud against the echoing walls, “Sit down, doll. You’re starting to look a little crazy.” His comment broke the tension for a few people and they started laughing to themselves.
You found your seat at the opposite end of the table from Joker, the opposite head, the perfect place to be. Not easily ignored and not easily reached. You knew you had no place being here, and so you didn’t try talking to anyone. You were beginning to wonder if there was even a reason to this meeting, when an unusually tall woman stood from her seat after being ushered to by Joker. She tapped on her glass with a silver spoon. CLINK CLINK.
“Hello, all. We’ve come here to discuss the pest issue scurrying through Gotham. I don’t think I need to verify who we’re talking about.” This was the perfect opportunity to piss him off. You slouched and knocked on the table, “I think you do, I have no idea what you’re talking about, lady.” you fought so hard to act casual, and not run away in embarrassment. You never spoke out of line, much less to deliberately anger a crime lord. The Towering Woman looked at Joker confused, waiting for him to act. Instead he crossed his hands on the table and stared you down, you could see from the other end of the room that he was clenching his teeth. It’s working. The woman started again, “Uhm… anyway… We’ve all come to separate conclusions that we need to exterminate a common enemy: The Batman.”
You piped back up again, and raised your hand to get her attention. “So, I’m confused, are we talking about animals here or a person? What are you weirdos trying to kill, and why does it take so many of you to not get it done?” Joker’s eye’s were furious, he pushed his chair back angrily and it fell to the floor. He was at your side pulling your hand to drag you out of the room before you could react. Yanking you out of the room, you waved to everyone as the doors closed behind you.
Turning around you were met with a hard slap across the face. “I have told you before, and I will tell you once again, do not defy me, doll. I will not hesitate to punish you.” You licked your lips playfully, trying not to cry, “Oh, Mister J, is that a promise?” Growling through his teeth, he grabbed your shoulders and hissed, “ What the fuck has gotten into you? Why are you acting like such a goddamn problem?” His fingers were digging into your skin through his gloves, the pain showing on your face. “You’ve been downright horrible to me, J. You can’t expect me to just take it.” Gritting his teeth, he kept a tight grip on your shoulders. “Listen to me good, girl. I will be as horrible as I want. I will be as mean and abusive and despicable as I fucking want. Don’t cross me again. I am warning you. You think you’ve seen horrible? Baby, you haven’t seen anything.” His eyes looked hard into yours. He dropped his hands from your shoulders and smoothed his hair. You could feel blood starting to come from your nose, and your shoulders felt like they were on fire from being crushed in his hands.
“I need to finish my meeting. You’re going to come back into that room with me, and you’re going to stand next to my chair. And you’re going to be silent, not a single word from you. Do you understand?” You shook your head in agreement, and followed him to the door. He sighed sharply before opening them and lead you to his spot at the table. This felt like the longest walk of shame you’d ever done. He picked his chair up off the floor and placed it back at the table before sitting down. He grabbed your hand and kissed it lightly, his dark red lips leaving a warm spot on your hand. “Red is a good color for you, sweetness.” he said as he handed you a napkin to wipe the blood from your face.
A list of lore questions I should probably answer when I’m not so tired. Feel free to steal them if you wish! Most of these are focused towards fleshing out a clan’s culture.
How to outsiders know when they’ve crossed you clan’s border? Marks painted or carved into trees or rocks? Glowing runes marking the edge?
How do you identify dragons from your clan? Is there a mark or uniform? Especially for the kingdoms/empires out there. There needs to be a way to quickly recognize an ally when the group is so large.
What about domesticated animals? Does your clan just go with the usual farm animals, or do they have something more exotic?
A community, especially a large one, needs a steady and reliable source of food. Where does you clan get its food? If they’re hunter-gatherers, what do they do when they can’t find anything?
What is the local food like? Do your dragons have a penchant for spices? Or perhaps they enjoy sugar more. Also, there’s also the question of how they eat. What sort of eating utensils do they use? Some cultures have something like rice, noodles, or bread, and then have the side dishes out so everyone can pick what they want and how much they want. Some cultures just give everyone the same thing. What about your clan?
What does your clan’s territory look like?
A follow-up to #5: Based on that description, what does your clan produce and export, if they trade at all?
If they don’t trade, then how does your clan earn money? Tourism?
If they do trade, where are a few trade routes?
What’s fashionable in your clan? Talk about the clothing, hairstyles, makeup, accessories, ect.
What are your clan’s more unique social rules?
What sort of symbolism is present in the clan? (For example, red roses=romance, 4-leaf clover=luck, swan=grace and beauty, ect.) Why?
We’ve talked a bunch about what the dragons think about beastclan, but what about the other way around? What would each of the beastclans think about your clan?
Talk about the clan’s social organization. It doesn’t have to all be about social classes!
What about family? Are they nuclear (husband, wife, children) or extended (several generations in one home)? Something else?
Are there any special customs or traditions?
ART. LITERATURE. Are there artists or writers? What sort of things do they create? Realistic works, or more fantastical/abstract things?
Follow up to #16: What materials do they use? (Do the writers carve into tablets? Do they use brushes, quills, or pens? If they write, what do they write on? Where do they get these materials? (For example, there are several territories that can’t possibly have enough trees for everyone to have access to paper. They’d have to import or steal it.)
What are your clan’s values? What’s considered “good” and what’s considered “bad”?
RELIGION. Okay, seeing as the gods irrefutably exist, most clans worship one or more of the elemental deities. However, religion will differ. How does your clan interpret the deities? How do they practice their religion? Are there religious festivals or holidays? Do they pray often, or do they only seek the divines in dire situations?
What are the luxury items? Why are they so expensive/rare?