#destruqtivist

[bcbliophile]

@destruqtivist​ asked: “   why  do  you  always  think  you  have  to  do  everything  on  your  own ??   ” ( For Lilliandil ! )

“Is there any other way to do it? Besides isn’t that a bit hypocritical coming from you?” Lilliandil looked at her husband, blonde brow arched from her place standing on the counter. The Princess was putting away their food rations when he caught her, in all honesty she could have asked a guard to help her or a droid-- but that seemed outside of their tasks “not all of us can wave a hand and everything go to it’s perfect place, Kylo.”

[wellfell]

 the target must be dead after the explosion and if he's alive he probably isn't in a good shape to give any information akina was ordered to squeeze out of him . done with digging through the corpses and rubbles , akina sits stop a large rock and takes out her water to sip from it greedily . she was watching the unwanted guest wander among the ruins , search for something too perhaps ? akina lets him come a little closer before carefully kicking a tiny rock down the rubbles to catch his attention — when the helmet finally turns toward her , she gives him a smile . ❛ wow . . . never seen one up close . ❜ a mandalorian , she means . mandalorians and the angels on moons , two creatures she was always quite eager to see since she was a little girl . they work for whoever pays them but akina hasn't heard them work for the empire yet , so she's cautious , refuses to approach him so quickly . ❛ are you guys human ? ❜ she asks instead , crossing her arms under her chest with a crooked grin . ❛ . . . you're smaller than what i imagined . ❜

  📼 cont. : @destruqtivist

[jedischild]

“ be careful not to choke on your aspirations. ” - kylo @destruqtivist

"I wouldn't worry about that, considering out of the two of us, you're the one with aspirations to take on the legacy of our grandfather." Even with all the anger in her heart, all Allea could see was her older cousin.

The boy who was more like a brother than a cousin.

"Ben, I don't want to fight you."

[invncibleiron]

@destruqtivist continued from here 

It was one of those things that seemed to just make sense to him. Steve liked to think he was a relatively decent person. He genuinely wanted the best for everyone and the world around him, often at his own detriment. Tony had been someone he hadn’t thought too favorably of at the start. He had taken Tony’s bravado at face value and hadn’t seen the motives behind his beliefs. They had different methods but ultimately, they had wanted the same thing.

After that stumble, Steve was able to see Tony a lot more properly. A man smarter than those around him, more witty and clever; aggravatingly so at times, and charming--completely able to suck anyone’s attention in any room. Somewhere along the way of these realizations Steve had staggered his way into caring about the other man a lot more than he could have ever expected. With that came Steve wanting to help him in his goals, support him on a daily basis, and sneak a lot of kisses when Tony was wrapped up in his work--he always looked so adorable talking science to a Steve who didn’t quite fully understand any of it--so, yes... Steve just wanted Tony. He didn’t want to say he was ‘old schooled’ ‘cause he was certain Tony would chew that up and tease him relentlessly but there was a dissonance to modern world. People could be awful and the way they navigated this world they shared was often deceitful, self-motivated, and for their own benefit with little regard to anyone else around them.

Steve feels a little stuffy in the suit as he reaches over for Tony, a gentle pat to the other’s arm. He probably wouldn’t have come if not for Tony. There were soldiers and those behind the scenes--Steve’s expertise was on a battle field, not navigating senators, politicians, celebrities'.. He didn’t really care much for this part of ‘hero business’. He understood the importance of public support for the things the Avengers did but it didn’t mean he welcomed the idea of rubbing elbows with those who didn’t take the risks they did yet found it in themselves to be hyper critical or think of monetary gain.

However, he did like watching Tony verbally waltz his way through a room looking devastatingly handsome and intelligent. Being arm candy to the smartest man in the room wasn’t too bad especially when Tony would probably be awarded and congratulated for some thing he had inevitably invented or done, Steve finding a lot of pride for the other and everything he was capable of. “Little do they know I’m getting the best deal.” Steve mutters as he leans over to press an encouraging kiss to Tony’s cheek chaste and light, “You can offer me anything in this world and I would always be decided on just having you.” Cheesy, ridiculous, sickeningly in love, but honest. “If you need to be rescued any tonight just give me a look. I’ll come and sweep you away from them with a convincingly real lovesick boyfriend act.”

Sometimes, Tony still couldn’t believe Steve was real. How was it that there was anyone in the world so completely and achingly earnest? Even just a few short months ago, Tony might have raised an eyebrow at the cheesy line, and a few months before that, he’d have thought Steve was softening him up for something--or playing some sort of prank. He might have even teased Steve for being an old timer, throwing out lines like he was playing a role in the sort of sickening (and unrealistic) love story you’d find in the paper-pack section of a grocery store. Maybe it was something about the time he’d been born, maybe it was just who Steve was to his core--a hopeless romantic--but Tony had learned to take him at his word. Steve meant every word he said, and he wasn’t playing at wearing his heart on his sleeve. He meant it all, and that still made no sense to Tony, still seemed like a strange fever dream that, of everyone in the world, Steve had chosen to be here with him. But he was learning, slowly, to accept it. After all, his life was filled with impossible things--aliens, monsters, and more--so why shouldn’t love be one of them?

One thing was for certain: getting Steve to one of these events was a whole lot more fun when he could imagine sneaking away into a coat closet with him and getting his own up-close-and-personal interview. 

But they hadn’t needed to be dating for Tony to force Steve into a suit and take him to a party where he stood out like a sore thumb. This, as Tony had been telling the team from the beginning, was part of their job, and while he took center stage as often as he could--not just because of his ego too big to fit through the door, as the newspapers like to say, but because he was used to it, had been trained for it since he was a child, because he could answer interview questions in his sleep, and because he knew the rest of the team hated the press circus--Tony couldn’t always be the only face of the Avengers. A public appearance was needed now and then from all of them. To show they were united. To show that the city could count on them. 

Tonight was no different. Tony was accepting an award from the medical foundation for his newest invention--a sort of holographic x-ray machine that essentially erased all possibility for error in surgery and which ran completely on clean energy--but there was more to this night than just holding up the plaque and thanking the audience. There was the mingling before and after the ceremony, the shaking hands, the answering questions, the navigating of every politician, mathematician, and business man who wanted Tony’s expertise, time, and--especially--money. Then there was the small fact of the matter that these sorts of events reeked of Tony’s old life: an open bar, and more than a few faces in the crowd he’d dated--or had some other dramatic fall out with--over the years. To say he was grateful to have Steve by his side was an understatement. 

“I might take you up on that.” He squeezed Steve’s hand. “You know, I was three the first time I went to one of these events,” he remembered, taking a sip of his (non-alcoholic) cider. “My dad was accepting an award for Protecting the Country. Meaning he blew something up, and lot of people died, and they called him a hero for it. But at the time, I really thought he was saving the world. I wonder what he’d think of this, if he knew--” He broke off as he was approached by another suited man, and Tony let go of Steve’s hand so he could shake the one offered to him. Immediately, Tony’s expression changed--or more accurately, the mask he wore for events like this took over, obscuring anything real or honest, and he became not Tony--at least not the one he was with Steve--but just Stark, the man everyone in the room was expecting. 

[decorescagotshadowbanned]

-ˏˋ  ♡   @destruqtivist​    /    𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂   ˚ ⁀➷   ♡

She was a paragon of virtue, so much so that it had caused waves when their duet had first been announced. So many people decided to hate it before they even listened, forming their final opinion without even hearing a note. Most people from both ends ranted about how it would ruin the other side          and oh how the tabloids had a field day writing piece after piece about how the bad boy lead man of the Knights of Ren was going to corrupt and ruin the princess of pop.

If only anyone knew about the  drama behind the scenes. They told her Kylo Ren would ruin her image, destroy her career         they didn’t want her doing the song with him, they didn’t want her to even be in the same room. She sold so well as an image of purity, they didn’t want to risk that.

It was amusing to her how wrong they had been about who was going to tempt the other into darkness. She knew exactly what she was doing when she got dressed this morning. The only reason he was looking at her so was because she wanted him to. She orchestrated her outfit to bring as much of his attention to her as possible. Unfortunately, he had a great deal of self-control when it came to her. 

It had been hours and all he had done was look. His eyes so ravenously on her, and she was just suppoed to pretend she didn’t notice. She couldnt take it anymore. She had been ten seconds from ripping the clothing off her body         but she had to try one more time for a diplomatic approach. She had hoped her words would spur him into action and they did.

Well a little.

His touch on her waist was still chaste and when she expected him to drag her body against his, he just invited her a few inches closer. His mouth was a breath away from her own and just when she thought she would finally get everything she wanted, he had to say one last charming thing:  “You’re just so pretty. sorry, I was admiring.”

How could any right-minded person just ignore that and go on as they had been ? A rare burst of agression possessed the singer and she shoved him a little more rougly than she intended into the wall behind him, pressing against him. She kissed his lips in a needy, almost desperate manner. ❛ All day ! ❜ She gasped, ❛ all day I’ve been waiting ! ❜ Frustration was evident in her voice. She had dropped her pen over ten times today, that was not accidental. She just wanted an excuse to bend over to invite his attention.

She had been such a patient and well-behaved young lady. Maybe he was the one that corrupted her. She had never been this needy before. ❛ You drive me crazy. ❜

[fluxofthemouth]

@destruqtivist

How many times did the scene play out? Something needed to be done outdoors in the harsh Arrakeen sun, and Piter would cheerfully volunteer not to get involved. Dehydration takes the edge off of cognitive abilities, he would explain; sometimes gravely, sometimes with laughter in his eyes. He’d had no devastating personal experiences with the phenomenon. He simply hadn’t wanted to to go. In those days, dehydration and heatstroke were cautionary tales that lived in books. Lists of facts and symptoms to memorize and playfully inflict on people. A defunct promise of a landscape that, in practice, always stayed on the appropriate side of a window. Someone else’s boring story, the thing that must have happened to anyone he sent into the desert to die.

The joke isn’t funny anymore. But it should have killed him by now, and the fact that it hasn’t is puzzling.

He can’t remember if he negotiated with his rescuer out in the desert, or if he woke up here and his mind is only trying to fill in details of a clever persuasive victory to numb the sense of powerlessness. He can’t have said anything comprehensible, supposing he had the chance to try. His head is a bit clearer now, but it still feels like there’s sand caught up in the works, if sand was also a miserable headache. Finding his thoughts so scattered comes as a massive blow, even with the very real threat of death competing for his attention. The story of a boy with glasses being informed that he is not a wizard, that everything special about him got lost. People recover from this quickly enough, he thinks. But only when they’re allowed to. He knows more about the sand in his head than the sand in his hourglass.

Speak of the devil. The Fremen is coming back into the cave, a presence of purposeful footsteps, rustling garments, and a gaze of wary blue-in-blue. And Piter feels guilty; guilty of spending so much time lying there feeling miserable instead of forcing himself to come up with the kind of master plan he knows he’s capable of. Comfort-seeking has always been a weakness of his, he's aware.

“When you’re done with me, how are you going to kill me, please?” he asks the Fremen, politely.

[crimsonscorpii]

               “Make sure to lock up when you leave!”

      There’s a clatter of keys as they hit the bar and Bucky’s irritated expression might have been cause for a reprimand if Pierce had bothered to stay long enough for an answer. As it stands, he’s out the door and into the night with the rest of his goons before Bucky’s even looked up from the checklist in his hands, though he provides an exaggerated eye-roll for his own satisfaction.

               “As if I ever forget,” he mutters under his breath. With a grunt, Bucky leans across the bar and picks up the keys, returning them to their usual home in his back pocket. They rarely left there unless someone, like tonight, got too handsy; since no one else wanted the responsibility of the bar, and no one else was dumb enough to rack up a life ending debt to Alexander Pierce. Three years in that bastard's back pocket and he’d barely put a dent in the debt that had stopped his life in his tracks, and shackled him to a bar he might have had a fond connection to in any other circumstance.

       The sound of bike engines fill the air and Bucky watches through the windows as wobbly tail lights gather in the parking lot then drive off into the night, leaving nothing but silence in their wake. Silence... and the dying whine of the jukebox. Had he any extra cash, he would have gotten that thing fixed months ago. Bucky sighs, trudging over an always sticky floor to slam his hand on top of the jukebox, bringing a strangled end to the dying whine. He’s almost jealous.

       Clipboard in hand, he returns to the backside of the bar and resumes his inventory check, noting already that someone’s swiped a few bottles without paying. That’ll be coming out of his non-existent pay check... or his hide, depending on Alexander’s mood when he finds out. The bar itself was almost cosy, in the neon lights by the side of the road tucked on the edge of town. It was far enough away from civilization that no one could complain about the noise, yet tucked neat enough into neutral territory that no one could really start any beef here. Those in the know, however, know that Pierce’s gang HYDRA have had their claws in the bar for years now and while they maintain it’s neutral ground for fun and important gatherings, Bucky knows it’s a control thing.

        What better way to keep an eye on the enemy than to invite them right on to your doorstep? Another bottle down, another check on the board and Bucky’s finished. He sighs, dumping the board and pen on the bar and stretching his arms far above his head until his shoulders click and a minute amount of tension eases from his spine. He’s tired, and lonely. He might run the busiest biker bar for 100 miles but everyone knows that HYDRA brands his skin, and debt rules his life. He makes light of it when people bring it up, but the ache to slip into the night never leaves his bones. He would, if he wasn’t certain Pierce would find him by sun up.

      The clock’s ticking close to 2am and while there’s still some clean up to do in the kitchen, Bucky decides to wave it off until morning and instead returns to the front of the bar and begins to turn the chairs up to the tables. He needs a shower to wash off the stank of the night, and then, hopefully, a decent night's sleep.

@destruqtivist || plotted starter

[wexarethewalkingxdead]

“  you’re either really desperate to be coming to me,  or you think i’m a lot stupider than i am.  ” - Carol 

@destruqtivist // destruqtivist:

Desperation was by no means new to Negan. Rather, it was a means to end. He’d like to stay alive and it was that simple. But Carol had to know that, didn’t she? It wasn’t a quality that was inherent or unique to Negan. Most of them that had survived this long had ensured that they no longer knew shame and were quite familiar with desperation. Negan happened to live a little more honestly than most. ❝ It’s Maggie. ❞ But she already knew that. Negan was not fool enough to think they’d ever choose him over her but he had imagined he had done his fair share of work around here in keeping people alive and risking his life to be owed some sort of fairness. What happened with Maggie was a long time ago and he wasn’t the same person as then. ❝ Can you put in a good word for me? ❞

Carol knew the moment that he'd returned to Alexandria from the cabin that she and Daryl had set up for him that this would happen. She knew that Maggie would take her shot as soon as it was possible to do so. And maybe if she didn't, the people that were loyal to her would likely try on her behalf. She'd promised Negan his freedom in exchange for his help in killing Alpha, and he'd come through for her. Not that she had to keep that promise.

With everything else that had happened with the Whisperers, it was too much trouble to keep him under lock and key and expect any of them to risk their lives to just keep him alive. So he'd been granted and maintained his freedom much to the distress of some of the others. She understood why they felt the way they did, but it's how life was now. Nothing he could do would ever make up for him killing Glenn and Abraham, but she had to think that the man that did those things was no longer the same man that stood before her.

She narrowed her eyes as their eyes locked and held for a long, silent moment. "You really think that will do any good?" Nothing she could say, or any of them at this point, would ever make her see Negan as a human being worthy of being free and breathing the same air as those that Maggie loved and cared about.

She didn't wait for him to answer her. It hadn't really been a question she needed an answer to. "All I can do is try." And she would try, but that didn't mean she had to put much effort into it, did it?