#((I might move her to a side blog if I get too intense with the team? but not sure))

[chillin-at-partys-bar]

{some small changes to the OCs, will probably maybe write something later if I have time but our sketch show is coming up so we're trying to act like we know what we're doing.

Elia is gonna be moved to the Fire Tank Pirates under Bege because I love mafia shit and Elia's FC is from a mafia anime so there's that.

Cherise is going to get her own crew, the Cherry Pits, a baseball themed pirate crew and I'm not going to have chill on it because they do operate in baseball terms thank you Cherise is their pinch hitter.

Mercy might change too but I haven't decided where to put her or to have her as a free agent until she finds a crew she wants to be on. If anyone wants to adopt a Mercy lmk

[itsbeeble]

Enchanted

Summary: You lost each other once, holding out in hopes of crossing paths again. It's almost fate that you do, and Wonwoo doesn't want to let you leave him again

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, exes to lovers

Pairing: Idol!jeon Wonwoo x afab!reader

WC: 4.5k (i got REALLY carried away yall im so sorry)

Series Masterlist

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: hurt comfort, ex high school sweethearts to lovers, mentions of someone trying to get a little too touchy feely with reader so if you aren't comfortable, don't read it (nothing bad happens AT ALL, the guy is just a dumbass, but i figured i would put a warning for all of you), unprotected sex, making out, fingering, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, begging, kinda dom/sub themes again, mentions of drinking, swearing, marking, spanking, Wonwoo likes boobs, sexual tension, mentions of chemistry, idk there's a lot so let me know if i missed something important

Listen to Enchanted by Taylor Swift <3

A/N: Guys i wrote this all today/last night and i'm really proud of it. It's also the first smut fic that's like...i wouldn't call it intense but it's more than what I'm used to ig. I hope yall like it though <3. Also thank you to Fawn for beta reading again. teehee

You had always hated gatherings: holidays, work events, family reunions, weddings, you name it. You always hated being the only person there without a partner. Not that you felt the need to have one, but it got annoying when you got the same questions over and over and over again.

When are you going to settle down and marry a nice boy?

Your parents aren’t getting any younger, don’t you want them to have some grandkids?

What are you waiting for?

The truth is, you had the answer to only one of those questions. What were you waiting for?

It has to be some stroke of luck when the answer walks right through the door to your high school reunion decked in an all-black suit and the same nerdy glasses he’d had his whole life. 

Jeon Wonwoo. Your high school sweetheart turned drunk sob story to your best friends after a few too many cocktails. 

It’s ironic how the root of all of your relationship problems just so happens to hate your guts. Not that you blamed him for it. Everything that happened between the two of you, everything that went wrong in your relationship was because of you and your insecurities. Because you didn’t trust that the idol life wouldn’t ruin the two of you. If you were him, you’d cut contact and disappear as well.

Eunchae, your best friend from high school, nudges your arm, her eyes flicking between you and the man who hasn’t spotted your wide-eyed stare. 

“Did you know he was coming today?” She whispers harshly, jerking you out of your dumbstruck trance. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, awfully reminiscent of a goldfish.

“I— no, no I didn’t.” You feel out of breath, your heart beginning to pound against your ribs so hard that you fear the bones might snap. “Hana said that— that he didn’t RSVP.” 

You look up again, and your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s looking at you, through the crowd of people around him. Wonwoo had his eyes locked on you, his gaze unreadable from where you stood. It feels like he’s cast an enchantment on you, freezing you under the weight of his gaze. 

Your hands are shaking, and the drink in your hand almost spills before Eunchae grabs you. Someone steps in front of Wonwoo— a man, from here you can’t tell who— and your view of him is cut off.

You don’t see him try to gently nudge the man to the side while talking to him, trying to get a better look at you. You don’t see the disappointment when he finally gets him to move and you’re gone, out of his view. 

~

“Wonwoo,” one of his old friends, whose name has slipped his mind (Seonkyung maybe?), claps him on the shoulder. “You really have grown up, huh?” Wonwoo smiles politely, adjusting the expensive watch on his wrist. 

“I mean seriously,” another man comes forward, someone Wonwoo knows very well and for all the wrong reasons. Lee Jongdae, the man who planted seeds of doubt in your ear. The man who ruined something good, something that would have lasted. “You used to be like,” Jongdae raises his hand, waving it flat in the air next to his shoulder, “this tall? And now you’re a giant!”

“You must be getting all the girls, eh?” Seonkyung teases. Wonwoo wants to scream, wants to get out of this situation as fast as possible. “The idol life must make things easy, right?” 

“I don’t really go out much,” he shrugs, still holding that polite smile on his face. “The idol life is busier than you think.” Seonkyung scoffs at this. Jongdae narrows his eyes, but the near-mocking smile returns to his face.

“Come on~” Jongdae presses, “there’s gotta be some idol woman that you’ve snatched up. Someone has to have grabbed the attention of the great Jeon Wonwoo.” 

He hesitates. Yes, someone has grabbed his attention but it isn’t another idol in the industry. 

“Or, wait,” Jongdae’s hand collides with Wonwoo’s chest, something similar to malice appearing in his eyes. “Are you still hung up on that Y/N girl?”

Wonwoo goes rigid, and beside him Seonkyung gets quiet. Jongdae bursts into laughter, the sound ringing around the room and gathering the attention of a lot of people. Wonwoo feels his jaw tick in annoyance, fighting the urge to roll his eyes or knock the man to the ground. 

“No way are you still hung up on her!” Jongdae huffs out between laughs, seemingly uncaring that he’s the only one laughing. “Ten years, and you’re still going after someone who couldn’t care less about you anymore?”

Someone inside of Wonwoo breaks a little bit. Something inside him cracks, and his resolve crumbles slightly. He hadn’t expected the jab to hurt as much as it did, but god did it sting. 

“I never said I was hung up on her.” Wonwoo folds his arms over his chest. “Like you said, it’s been ten years. If she’s moved on then that’s her business.” 

“So it wouldn’t bother you if I got with her?” Jongdae takes a step forward, an eyebrow arching in challenge. “Because I won’t lie to you, she’s looking good.”

Wonwoo’s jaw ticks again, but he keeps a pleasant smile on his lips. Don’t say yes, don’t say yes. “Like I said, not my business.” 

That clearly isn’t the answer Jongdae is looking for, and a puff of pride fills Wonwoo. 

And then dread. He just gave the one man he would hate to see you with permission to do whatever he wanted. “Permission”, as if he has any control or say in the things, or people, that you do. 

~

When Jongdae approaches you, there’s an immediate pit of despair in your stomach, like some princess waiting to be saved from the tower she’d been locked in. There’s a menacing look in his eyes, and he walks with a swagger telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants out of a situation. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” You almost cringe at the first words out of his mouth, your lips twisting into an awkward, tense smile. 

“Hi…?” 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jongdae continues, not waiting for you to say or do anything. He’s only focused on getting what he wants, that much is obvious from the way he smirks and glances around to find…someone. Who, you aren’t sure. “You sure have…grown up a bit, haven’t you?” 

“I mean…yeah I’m 27. I would hope I’ve grown up a bit.” He laughs a bit too hard for something you hadn’t intended to be funny. 

“Say,” he leans closer to you, and you press yourself back against the wall. His hand comes to rest on the side of your thigh, right near the slit in your dress. “Why don’t we get out of here? You know, go somewhere a little bit more…quiet? Maybe Mrs. Ji’s old chemistry lab?” 

Your body is tense, and you try to pull away from him. 

“No, thank you.” Your hand tightens around the small plastic cup of cheap wine in your hand. “I think I’m fine where I am.”

“C’mon, don’t you wanna loosen up a bit?” He coos, and his grip tightens on part of your dress. Your body tenses.

Then his grip was gone, and his body is hitting the floor, and people were beginning to surround you and Jongdae and…Wonwoo? 

Wonwoo is standing next to you, his black jacket seemingly gone, and the sleeves of his black button-up are rolled up to his elbows. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a thin line. 

“What the hell was that for, Jeon?” Jongdae pulls himself to his feet, trying to approach him, but another man steps forward. “Thought you said it wasn’t your business?”

“It wasn’t,” Wonwoo agrees, “but that was only until you tried to do that.” 

Something about Wonwoo being this protective over you, even after what you did, makes your stomach twist into knots. You have to remind yourself that he’s just doing this because he had to. Because this is what anyone would do, and your heart sinks into your stomach. 

“We were just trying to have some fun,” Jongdae snaps, “right Y/N?”

Wonwoo looks at you, and when you return his gaze it’s like you’re back in high school again. 

Do you want to leave? His head tilts ever so slightly toward the door. 

Get me out of here. You hope your eyes are portraying that thought perfectly, but the tight smile on your ex’s lips tells you all you need to know. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you, Lee Jongdae.” Wonwoo’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and you find yourself tucking your body into his side just like you used to. 

Only this time, it’s like you fit perfectly under his arm. His very…very…very muscular arm and slim waist and when your arm wraps into the back of his shirt, you can just barely feel the tight muscles and—

Oh god, you’re gonna do something you shouldn’t if the two of you don’t leave right now. 

You’re lucky that Wonwoo is able to guide you away, and that Jongdae doesn’t try to come after the two of you. You figured that, while the man was stupid, he wasn’t going to try and harm someone making more than triple his annual income and with enough power to ruin his life with just one click of a button. Probably literally. 

~

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo has his hands wrapped around the headrest of the driver’s seat in his car, watching you as you pick at the skin around your manicured nails. You turn your head to look at him, pursing your lips. 

“I mean…I guess? He didn’t really do anything, thank god.” You let your hands drop to your lap and a heavy sigh escapes you when you let your head fall against your headrest. 

“I’m sorry that he did that.” Wonwoo’s voice is gravelly, and you have to take a moment to calm yourself before speaking.

“It isn’t like it’s your fault. You do know that, right?” Wonwoo shrugs.

“It kind of is, though. The only reason he went up to you is because of me. Because he wanted to get under my skin.” Oh? You arch an eyebrow, turning your body to face him. The slit in your dress shifts ever so slightly, exposing your bare thigh. Wonwoo turns his head away from you, his cheeks heating. 

“Why would he want to do that?” In your heart, you already know. The way the two of you easily slipped back into your old habits, the way he didn’t even hesitate to help you despite protesting that anyone would have done it. You knew, now, that he didn’t hate you. You just wanted him to admit it. 

Wonwoo lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his head to look at you. 

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” You nod, leaning your body across the center console to get close to him. You can tell he’s nervous, maybe embarrassed. 

“You know me, Wonwoo. I always get what I want.” You grin and Wonwoo turns to look at you again and suddenly you’re aware that you aren’t dating him anymore. That it’s weird for you to be that close to him. 

Your smile drops and you sink back into your seat. Wonwoo watches you, a frown replacing his previous smile. 

“I’m— I’m so sorry.” You press yourself as close to your door as possible. “I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo fights the itch in his brain that tells him to grab your hand and place a kiss on the back of it. He hadn’t realized just how enchanted with you he was until he saw you across the room for the first time in ten years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having you pulled against his side, although you fit much better now that he’d filled out and grown into his body. Wonwoo hadn’t missed the way your breathing hitched when he pulled you against him, hadn’t missed the dazed look in your eye when he looked down to ensure that you weren’t hurt. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I just— I shouldn’t have touched you like that—” 

“Y/N,” Wonwoo cuts you off. “You did nothing that I didn’t want you to do.” Your mouth snaps shut, and you look at him with wide eyes. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I…I still— fuck this is harder than I thought it would be. For a songwriter, you would think I’d know how to confess that I’m still enchanted by you.” He laughs nervously, and when he turns to look at you, you’re smiling gently. You understand.

You stay quiet and then turn to him again. He’s facing you too, and your faces are inches apart. 

“I was enchanted by you too, Jeon Wonwoo.” 

And then your lips are on his, and it’s a searing kiss that leaves him breathless from the moment it starts. His hand rises to your cheek, gently pulling you even closer to him. Your hands wrap around the fabric of his shirt, and you whine when his tongue hesitantly prods at the seam of your lips. 

You open your mouth for him, and his hand slides to tangle in your hair and pull you impossibly closer, nearly across the center console. He roams your mouth, his tongue licking at every inch, sliding against your own as if this was the last time he’d ever be able to kiss you. Your hand slides down, tracing down to his tie, then to his abdomen and you can feel the muscles tightening wherever your nails trace. 

Your hand trails even lower, and you feel him freeze against you when you place your hand over his crotch. He forces himself to pull his lips from yours, a string of spit connecting your tongues, and his eyes flutter shut again when your hand squeezes lightly around his hard-on. 

“Don’t do this to me,” he pleads. “I’m supposed to be a gentleman.” You smirk, raising your lips to his ear. 

“What if I don’t want you to be?” A gentle kiss was placed to the corner of his jaw, and his grip on your hair tightened to the point of near painful. This draws a whimper out of you, right in his ear. He pulls you back, not harshly but enough for your jaw to drop. 

“Tell me you’re sure,” he practically begs. “Tell me that this isn’t going to be a one-time thing, that you want me as much as I want you. Tell me that you aren’t in love with someone else, that there’s no one waiting for you at home.” 

Tell me you love me.

Your hand slips to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing just under his eye. 

“You know that you’ve always been it for me, Jeon Wonwoo.” You promise, and your lips are against his again. It’s sweeter than the first but still filled with ten years of words left unsaid. “Take me home.”

~

The moment Wonwoo locks the door to his apartment, you’re pressed against the wall with so much force you’re surprised there isn’t a hole in the shape of your body. His hands are on your hips, your thighs, your shoulders, and your chest. Every time he pulls away from your lips, he catches one between his teeth, nipping at the soft flesh before shifting his focus to your neck.

“Wonwoo,” your voice is shaking, your hand tangled in the dark strands of his once neatly styled hair. “Wonwoo, please?” Another hickey blooms across your neck, another on your shoulder, then your collarbone. 

“Please what, baby?” He rasps, tugging the strap of your dress to the side until it slips down your shoulder and exposes more of your breast. “What do you need from me?” He slides the other strap down, and you gasp when his cold hands reach up and grab at the soft mounds on your chest. 

“Wonwoo— Wonwoo, I—” Your brain has gone to mush the moment his mouth lands on your nipple, sucking at it and nipping at the bud. You breathe out soft moans, your hands struggling to move to the back of your dress to reach for the zipper. 

It’s impossible to function with Wonwoo flicking his tongue against one nipple, his fingers kneading and twisting and pinching at the other. Your hands shake as you finally catch the zipper, yanking it down as quickly, yet gently, as possible. 

Wonwoo pulls away from your chest, breathing heavily, eyes filled with nothing but lust. He examines your body, entirely nude from your choice to go braless and pantiless tonight, and his cock twitches in his slacks. 

“God, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He hisses. You peer up at him with eyes so innocent, but you both know that isn’t the case. “Did you know I was gonna be there? Hm?” He grabs your chin in one of his large hands, yanking you toward his face until you’re struggling to even stand on your tip toes. “Did you know that I was gonna give in to you?”

“No— Wonwoo, I didn’t know—” His free hand collides with your ass and you cry out, stumbling toward him. “Fuck, Wonwoo!” His hand strikes your skin again, and a gush of arousal practically drips down your legs. 

“I think you’re lying to me,” he hums thoughtfully. “Lying isn’t nice, you know.”

“I’m not lying— Oh, Wonwoo please—” His free hand has slipped down to your core, delicate fingers brushing against your sopping wet cunt. “Please touch me, please, I need it.” 

“Yeah, baby?” One finger pushes between your folds, and your knees almost buckle. Your nails dig into his biceps, squeezing the taut muscle as he sinks two long, slender fingers into you. “Need it so bad, don’t you? Had you waiting for so long. Did you miss me, baby? Miss this?”

“Missed you so bad, Wonwoo,” you arch your back into him, your hips jerking against his fingers. He slips a third inside of you. “Miss— Missed the way you t-touched me.” He hums, curling his fingers up into you and you emit a desperate cry of his name. “Right there, Wonwoo! Fu—fuck, right there!” 

“Tell me how much you missed me, pretty girl.” He continues to curl his fingers inside of you, watching you and enamored by the way your eyes roll back, the way your jaw is dropped, and the way your chest heaves. “Tell me how much you need me.” 

“N-Need you so–o bad. No o-one makes me fe-feel this good— oh god,” you clench around his fingers, pulsing and dripping down his wrist. “No one el-se made me c-cum like you d-do.” A swell of pride in his chest, and his thumb presses hard against your clit. You spasm around him, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch. “So close, Wonwoo.”

“It’s okay baby,” he purrs, “you can let go. I’m here now, gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you so good, never gonna have to turn to anyone else again. Just let go.” 

You spasm again, and your body sags as your orgasm rocks through you. Wonwoo has an arm around his waist, his other hand still working his fingers into you and easing you through your high. 

It takes you a few minutes to come down, and by the time you do, Wonwoo has removed his shirt and kicked his shoes off. He’s watching you as you try to step forward, catching you when you stumble. You reach for the button of his slacks and he stops you, smiling when you pout. 

“I’m not fucking you here, baby. You deserve to be fucked in an actual bed.” You let him guide you to his bedroom— correction try to guide you. It’s like you’re addicted to the taste of him, your lips practically gluing themselves to his biceps, licking and biting at the salty skin. You can feel every one of his breaths as he walks, and his pace picks up until he’s flinging open his bedroom door and shoving you in front of him. You stumble a bit, and he pushes you again so you fall face down onto his bed. Wonwoo isn’t far behind you, his body leaning over yours and his hand on the back of your neck and preventing you from pushing yourself up. 

“Do you know how much I missed this? Being able to fuck you wherever, whenever, and however I wanted?” He hisses into your ear, and you feel his free hand slip down your back as he reaches for the button on his pants. His hips keep rolling into yours, and the little grunts and moans that he releases are almost enough to get you to cum again. “Do you know how hard it was to not imagine that I was fucking your sweet little cunt every time I found someone to spend the night with? No one matched up to you, sweet girl. No one got me to cum like you do, got me as hard as you do.” You whine when he kicks your ankles apart, your nails gripping the duvet for dear life. 

When you feel his tip prodding at your entrance, it takes everything in you to not grind into him. He’s breathing heavily into your neck, slowly slipping in. Your body twitches and you fling your hand back, frantically searching for his own to squeeze and distract yourself from the pain of him stretching you out. 

“So tight,” he presses his forehead against the back of your neck, his body shuddering. “Fuck, it’s like nobody has fucked since me.”

“N-nobody else felt as good as you,” you gasp out. “No one could stretch me out like you do. Just fuck me, please.” 

“Gotta let you adjust, baby,” he argues. “Still got about half left.”

You whine again, jerking his arm in front of you and letting your face fall into it. He groans when your teeth sink into his skin, biting and sucking and gasping against him until you feel his hips connect with yours. 

“You ready?” He rubs your back gently, and you frantically nod your head.

“Please, please, please, please—” His hips pull back and you release a guttural moan as he slams his hips into yours. Again and again and again and again. Every thrust sends the tip of cock full force into that soft, pleasurable spot inside of you and it feels so good, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, and you don’t ask him to. Your mouth has fallen open, a neverending stream of cries and moans and begging leaving your lips.

His hands reach forward, and you feel a finger hook into your mouth on either side. It stings, the stretch of him holding your mouth open, and you feel your back arch, his cock somehow hitting even deeper inside of you. Drool slips down your chin and it’s so nasty but you can’t form the words to stop him. The only things that leave your mouth are nonsensical babbling and you feel Wonwoo begin to rise, taking you with him. One of his hands leaves your mouth and slips down to the base of your throat, and the other’s thumb hooks into your jaw and holds your mouth open. His hand squeezes around your throat, and you squeeze around his cock

“You close, baby?” Wonwoo coos into your ear but you don’t have the brains to form words. Your hips press back into his, one of your hands slipping down to frantically rub at your clit. You’re clenching rapidly around him now, almost in time with when he pulls out of you and you can feel him twitching inside of you. “Gonna cum again?” 

You try to tell him that, yes you’re so close and it feels so good and oh god Wonwoo please—

Your body shudders and a sound similar to a scream escapes you, your free hand gripping his forearm tightly and you can feel the skin tearing beneath your nails but neither of you cares as he pumps white-hot cum deep inside of you. His hips are still rolling, adding to the sensation of his cum inside of you. Your core begins to sting with overstimulation, and you try to pull away from Wonwoo with a whine. He just laughs, his hands settling on your waist and lowering you down onto the bed once his cock has softened. 

~

Your back is against his in the tub and he’s running a soft cloth along your body, along the marks on your body and the bruises on your hips. 

“You doing okay?” His voice is tender. “I know I was a little bit harsh on you.”

You chuckle. “Not like you haven’t done that before.” 

You play with the suds that float in the water, humming quietly. Wonwoo takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back a bit. 

“Why don’t you hate me?” You lean your head back on his chest, and he frowns at the question.

“Why would I hate you?” 

A shrug and you drop your arms into the water. 

“I threw away a nearly perfect relationship just because someone said you’d drop me the moment you found someone better in the idol industry.”

“So?” Wonwoo traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. “That’s not your fault. I get that it was scary. Neither of us knew what was gonna happen, you were already stressed about how things were gonna work with you being in college. I’m not gonna blame you or hate you for that choice. What matters is that we found each other again.”

Your cheeks heat up and you turn your body around in the tub to sit on his lap. He looks up at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask. He raises an eyebrow. “In the hallway. That I’d never have to turn to anyone else. Are we gonna…” Your voice trails off and Wonwoo raises his head to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I meant every single word I said tonight. I’m here to stay, Y/N.” His nose nudges against yours. “I was enchanted from the moment I met you, and I want to be yours again if you’ll let me.” 

You play with the strands of his hair, smiling like a madman. 

“And I meant everything I said as well,” You let your forehead rest against his, your eyes falling shut. “I want you to stay with me. Please.”

Wonwoo exhales softly. 

“Always. I will always stay.”

~

Taglist: @juyeonszn @leejihoonownsmyheart @nobraincellmode

[moonstruckme]

Hey!! I’ve spent most of my day catching up on my reading goal for the year, on your blog. I love your writing!! I wanted to know if you could write something poly!marauders where the reader comes home from work early due to chronic pain (winter weather sucks sometimes), and the boys take care of them? Pls add your own spin however you see fit! Hope your day is going well! :)

And happy holidays!

Thanks so much lovely, you're too sweet <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Breathe, angel,” James reminds you, eyeing you worriedly as he sinks into downward dog. “Deep breaths.” 

“I’m breathing,” you sigh, following him down. The movement, the stress it puts on your legs and back, aches, but you feel better than you had when you’d come home. 

You weren’t expecting James to be here (he typically likes to get out of the house on his days off, too energetic and cabin-fever-prone to stay in) but he hasn’t let you have even a moment of peace since you’d come in the door, unannounced and several hours from the end of your workday. He’d first tried to get you to go on a walk, but the frigid weather outside is what had doomed you in the first place so he’d settled for pulling up a short, low-intensity yoga video on his laptop. 

A small part of you resents him for it, just a little. The smarter part of you is grateful. 

“Just a bit longer,” James says, likely sensing your growing discontent. “After this we can get you a warm bath. Or a massage, if you like.” 

You hum a weary thanks. Either of those sound great, but a nap would be spectacular. You want to evanesce. Sink into a sleep beyond pain. 

The serene voice on James’ laptop guides you into a cat-cow pose, but you’re only starting your first cat when you hear the click of the door opening. You turn to James in confusion. He won’t quite look at you. 

You recognize the loud clunking sound of Sirius kicking off his shoes a moment before he comes into view. 

“Ooh, yoga.” He’s smiling, but there’s a watchful quality to his gaze as he drapes himself across the sofa. “Mind an audience?” 

You shoot James an accusatory look. “Why’d you call him?” 

“Excuse me,” Sirius says, reclaiming your attention. “Do you not want me here?” 

You give up on the yoga, sitting on your mat. “I don’t want you to have to leave work,” you say quietly. 

Sirius tsks, sliding off the couch and moving closer to you. “I couldn’t have been productive while I was worried about you anyways. Figured I’d save my boss the money.” His smile slips, a tiny pucker appearing between his brows. “You alright for a hug?” 

You answer by opening your arms, and he gathers you up. He doesn’t squeeze the way he normally might, hands careful on your back, but it’s still nice. 

“How bad is it?” he asks, turning his face to mush the words lovingly into the side of your head. 

“Not bad,” you murmur. 

“I’d say it’s pretty bad,” James contends gently, “if you had to come home from work.” 

You turn your head to look at him, offering a sheepish shrug. “The yoga helped some.” 

James’ smile is lopsided, eyes flickering with relief behind his glasses. Sirius isn’t so easily convinced, loosening his grip on you so he can see your face. Despite how used to it you should be, it’s still an effort not to shrink under that gaze. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, if he finds it or he doesn’t, but a few moments later Sirius’ hands slide up to your face. He kisses the skin next to your nose lightly. 

“Let me make you some tea, sweet girl,” he says, standing. “You’ve had pain meds already, yeah?” 

You hum that you have, and James says after him, “Not the chamomile, it’ll just make her sleepy.” 

You try not to sulk as Sirius calls back, “I’m not new here, Potter.” 

James is trying to get you back into the yoga when the door opens a second time. If you hadn’t gotten there by process of elimination, the soft, considerate footfalls would have let you know who it was. 

“Oh, hi,” Remus says when he finds you and James already waiting for him. Pity softens his expression as his eyes fall on you. “How are you, dove? Is the yoga helping?”

“It was,” James grouses, though his little smile lets you both know he’s only teasing. He extends his arms out in front of him, beckoning with his hands. “Come here, give us a hug. She got to go first last time.” 

Remus doesn’t put up any argument. James stands as he comes forward, weaving one arm over Remus’ shoulders and the other under. 

“I am ailing,” you point out. When Remus angles his head on James’ shoulder to give you a concerned look, you add softly, “Not terribly, though.” 

Remus chuckles, pushing a spindly hand slowly up and down James’ spine. The other cups the back of his boyfriend’s head, sinking into his plush nap of curls. “I think you’ve worried him down to the bone,” he observes. 

There’s a noncommittal hum, followed by a muffled smacking sound as James kisses Remus’ shoulder. 

“Have you considered that I’m just soaking up all the hug I can get?” 

“Nefarious,” Remus murmurs lovingly. 

“I leave the room for two seconds, and of course a lovefest commences.” Sirius strides in with a steaming cup of tea. “It should be outlawed. I feel swindled and scorned.” 

“You got to go first,” James argues, but Remus extricates himself from his hold anyway, folding a leg under himself to sit on the couch. 

“Irrelevant.” Sirius sets your tea down on the coffee tables, using his free hand to wave James off. “Do either of you want tea?” 

“No thank you,” Remus says while James shakes his head. “You didn’t give her chamomile, did you? Because that will only—”

“No,” you all say, you rather mopily. 

You scoot towards the table and reach for your tea. Sirius settles into the couch, leaning his back against Remus’ side. 

“Alright,” James relents, shutting his laptop, “we can call it quits on the yoga. We were basically at the end of the video anyway.” His big hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Want one of us to get a bath ready for you, lovie?” 

A whole new ache starts up, right in the center of your chest. You set your tea back on the coffee table, too hot to drink, and lean your head on James’ shoulder. Your throat clogs slightly. So, so sweet to you. A bath does sound nice, but you’re not sure you can commit to it. That’s at least a half hour between you and sleep. 

“Thank you,” you say, making sure he hears the sincerity in the words, “but I think I just want to go to bed.” 

James’ sigh is so soft you think you’re not meant to hear it. “It’s a bit early for that yet,” he says, thumb swiping back and forth on your shoulder. “How about a massage?” 

“I’m tired,” you complain, and you try not to whine but a bit of it comes through anyway.  

“I know, love,” Remus says, leaning his elbows onto his knees so that his face is nearly level with yours, “but if you nap now you won’t be able to sleep tonight, and then you’ll be tired all over again tomorrow.” He reaches across the coffee table, the tips of his fingers brushing yours. “This is to help you, I promise.” 

You let your little sigh fan cool air over your tea, raising it again to your lips as you nod. 

“Go for the massage,” Sirius says. He raises his eyebrows at you, grinning like he’s letting you in on some sort of secret. “Trust me, babe. Jamie missed his calling with that one. Hands of an angel.”

You look over, and James is grinning so hugely you wonder if his ears pop. “Alright, fine.” He shrugs, feigning reluctance. “After I’m done with her, you can have next turn.”

[scarletmultiverse]

your girlfriend is... | elizabeth olsen characters x reader

Hey people! New blog over here!

I've wanted to do something like this for a while, just with Lizzie's characters, because I feel like all my blogs always have pictures with them, but it's never enough...

Anyway, I'm starting here too and if you want to follow me on the other half inactive account, I think I'll write there again. @sawyercomfort is the user!

This is a preference that will kind of introduce the characters I'm going to write imagines about, so if you have any story suggestions, send me an ask!

Hope you like it!

----------------

your girlfriend is... wanda maximoff.

ok, we know that wanda is the sweetest of girlfriends.

she would literally move WORLDS (and multiverses) for you.

wanda certainly loves to pamper you in the best way.

occasionally she uses her abilities on you, but it's so rare because she's afraid she might hurt you by accident.

kisses and cuddles when you need them.

the fights between you are intense, but wanda loves you so much that it's impossible for her to really let you go all at once.

you are like best friends with each other, the ones you would trust with your life.

your girlfriend is... taylor sloane.

taylor is clearly a total dominatrix.

she LOVES the control she has over you.

to the point where she does drama to get what she wants.

but at the same time, she's a caring girlfriend and would probably drop any project just to pay attention to you.

she also likes to post pictures and show off your relationship to the world. She makes sure that the moments between you are always saved somewhere.

the fights between you are usually pretty hot too, and it's always the same reason: exaggerated jealousy and the pressure she puts on you.

but you always end up working out one way or another.

your girlfriend is... zooey kern.

personally, for me, zooey is the best on the list.

she may seem extremely laid back at first, but when you least expect it, she's capable of anything to surprise you.

and when I say anything, it means anything at all.

you guys love to drive around aimlessly, just enjoying the music on the radio and the ever-changing landscapes.

by the way, music is something that surprisingly involves your relationship almost completely.

zooey knows she can't fight you, but it's her instinct to be extremely overprotective of the things you do, and that can get pretty annoying.

your girlfriend is... jane banner.

you can expect jane to be controlling.

this is bad, but it's good at the same time.

in fact, she would equally move worlds for you.

including facing people who might treat you badly or criticize your relationship.

she is still a little afraid of losing you, because there were too many personal reasons for her to come to terms with who she was.

jane has her romantic side and makes a point of showing it to you when she feels like she needs it.

the fights between you are fervent and usually end up in a breakup or a night out.

but she always ends up admitting that she overreacted and promises that she won't raise her voice at you anymore, even if it seems impossible.

your girlfriend is... leigh shaw.

leigh has been through a lot to get here.

and she doesn't want that to happen again with you.

she has issues too strong to deal with alone, and you have become her safe haven since she appeared in your life

that's why she's sure you're the one.

leigh will do anything to make you feel loved, from sightseeing to places where you both have a story.

even cuddling in bed and secluding in your room.

a lot of music.

and you wouldn't dare fight with leigh, ever. she's too good for you, and you couldn't imagine a world where she wasn't by your side for your whole life.

hope you really enjoyed this short preference. just a note here, i don't know if i'm going to write about lizzie because i'm afraid i'm forcing something and that it might misunderstand me. but anyway, if you have requests with her, send them to me too, I can make an effort!

and if you feel comfortable, please specify the reader's gender in your request as well. there will be gender-neutral stories here, luckily!

thanks for reading!

(won’t be writing for candy as well, obv!)

[galaxyhux624]

part one of my tentative attempt at reuploading my old work to tumblr. i want to esp try and get the pieces up that were cut off by read mores, since obv the links will no longer take you to my old blog

enjoy!

--

The museum wasn’t crowded, or else Bucky might not have done it. But as soon as he saw Steve he panicked; his brain grew too warm and prickly. Rationality flew out the window. His higher thinking momentarily shut down and didn’t come back online until he’d walked up to the nearest security guard—a broad-shouldered man Bucky had seen a few times before at this same museum—and said, as quietly as he could,

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re working. But my ex-fiancé just walked in with his wife and…”

He trailed off, feeling monumentally stupid. If this was fantasy he would’ve just walked straight into the nearest painting and kept going. His face, already burning, caught on fire as the security guard turned to look at him—and oh, fuck, but he was good-looking; intense dark hazel eyes, olive skin. Bucky started to back away, mumbling apologies, but the guard shocked him by shaking his head.

“You want me to kick ‘em out?” he asked. “I can make some shit up; say I caught the wife touching paintings or—”

Bucky felt his mouth twitch. “Actually, I um.” He cleared his throat. Steve and Peggy were approaching; in a moment he knew Steve would see him. “I was kind of hoping you could—that we could pretend to—” Again he quit talking mid-sentence. His throat was twisting around and around itself. But the guard shocked him a second time: he reached out; took Bucky’s wrist. The mangled one, so Bucky didn’t really feel it. But he saw those broad fingers wrap around his scarred flesh, and his mouth went dry.

“Just don’t tell the director,” the guard said, wryly, and then Steve and Peggy were there. Steve opened his mouth; his eyes darted down between Bucky and the guard, and Bucky saw a tiny divot appear on his forehead.

“Buck,” he said. He was holding Peggy’s hand, too; Bucky couldn’t see his wedding ring at this angle, but he was pretty sure it was the same fucking one Steve was supposed to have worn at their wedding. The weird non-thinking twisting feeling was fading from his brain, and in its place was only annoyance, and anger. Maybe more anger.

“Steve,” Bucky said back, coolly.

“Who, um.” Steve glanced at the security guard, who was still loosely holding Bucky’s wrist. Bucky wanted to shift his hand so that they could curl their fingers together, but his hand didn’t always do what it was supposed to.

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Steve said.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky said.

“Brock Rumlow,” the guard said, briefly releasing Bucky’s wrist so he could shake Steve’s hand. Bucky was relieved he’d introduced himself for a number of reasons; beyond the obvious, it was nice to know his name. Rumlow. It had a rough, exotic feeling to it. It suited him.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said. Bucky could tell he was doing that stupid macho shit; holding Rumlow’s hand too tightly as they shook. Beside him Peggy had pulled out her phone. The case was pretty; sparkling pink.

After a few seconds Rumlow released Steve’s hand and took Bucky’s again. This time he did curl their fingers together; Bucky still couldn’t really feel it, but he felt the increase in pressure, and too the warm brush of Rumlow’s shoulder as he leaned in closer.

“How long have you been—together?” Steve asked. He was staring at Bucky in kind of a gobsmacked way. Bucky remembered the way he’d looked at the altar; the things he’d said, the way he’d teared up like it made the situation any better. He felt another surge of anger; he said,

“Four months,” and Steve winced. The wedding—well, the almost-wedding—had only been five months prior.

“Oh,” he said, and glanced at Peggy. She still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I guess you were right, Stevie—it is possible to move on really fast, after all.”

Another wince. Steve had walked out the side door of the church with everyone still staring after him, and Bucky at the altar, his heartbeat rush rush rushing through his ears. Natasha had told him later that when she’d run out to confront Steve, he was already standing at the passenger door of Peggy’s car.

“Well, listen,” Rumlow said—he had a wonderfully rough voice; Bucky could have spent hours listening to him talk. “Entertaining as this is, I gotta get back to work. Just stopped by to say hey—” and here he leaned in and kissed Bucky’s temple. His facial hair scratched Bucky’s skin, and Bucky thought he was going to melt into the floor. Releasing Bucky’s hand a second time, Rumlow nodded at Steve:

“Good to meet you, Rogers,” and then, to Bucky:

“See you after work, babe.”

“Yes,” Bucky said, smiling at him; it felt unforced, probably because of how hard his heart was pounding. “See you.”

Rumlow grinned—a crooked thing that shot straight between Bucky’s thighs. Then he walked off, security keys jangling at his hip. Bucky watched him go; then he turned back to Steve and Peggy.

“Bucky,” Steve said. “I didn’t know—I mean, I didn’t think you were going to come here—”

Bucky shrugged. “No big deal, Stevie,” he said. “I’m glad you got to meet Rumlow. And it was good to see you, anyway.”

After being jilted, he’d sobbed pretty much uncontrollably for two months. He’d had to take a week off work because he physically couldn’t rouse himself out of bed. Sam and/or Nat had come over almost every day—and sometimes Nat would bring Clint, who in turn would bring his dog—because they were scared to leave Bucky by himself. Bucky had written four scathing letters to Steve—two of which were illegible—which he’d then burned systematically with Nat’s lighter. And the whole time, catching inadvertent glimpses of Steve’s fucking “honeymoon” on Instagram. What a fucking joke.

Now, Steve gave Bucky a very strained smile. “Yeah,” he said. “You too.” Then, to Peggy: “Ready to go on, hon?”

She nodded, sliding her phone into her jeans pocket. She looked at Bucky like it was her first time registering he was even there. Fuck, but he wished he could deck her. As it was he just offered both of them a tense smile of his own, waited until they were out of sight—heading for the Rembrandts—and then went to the bathroom. His hands shook as he splashed water on his face, staring at the hollow-eyed, pale reflection in the mirror; then he caught sight of a familiar set of shoulders at the nearest urinal, and felt his mouth drop a little ways open. It couldn’t be—

—but it was. Same build; same hairstyle; same uniform. Bucky cleared his throat as the man zipped himself back up, and said,

“Um. Rumlow?”

Rumlow glanced over, eyebrows up; then his mouth lifted in one of those crooked grins, and he walked to the row of sinks.

“Hey, there,” he said. “Fancy seeing you again.”

Bucky smiled. He reached for a paper towel with which to dry his hands off.

“It’s Buck, right?” Rumlow said. Bucky winced a little; shook his head.

“That’s just—that’s what Steve calls… called me. We’ve known each other most of our lives, so it’s—but my name, my real name is James.” Then, on impulse—he had no idea where the fuck it came from: “Or Jay. Whichever.”

“Jay, huh,” Rumlow said. The drawl of his accent split it into two syllables. He finished washing his hands and shut his own sink faucet off before turning to face Bucky fully. “Well, listen, Jay—I got about three hours left on this shift. But after that—if you ain’t busy—maybe you oughta let me take you out for coffee.” He reached over and took Bucky’s hand for the third time, running his thumb slowly over the long, ragged scars. “I think I should at least try and get to know the guy I’m pretending to date, huh?”

That surprised a real laugh out of Bucky, which was—nice. Strange, but nice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed organically.

“I’d like that,” he said, softly. “I’ll meet you at the front steps of the museum?”

Another thumb stroke. “Sounds good to me,” Rumlow said. He let Bucky’s hand go, and Bucky swore he felt it when the warmth of Rumlow’s skin left his.

They exited the bathroom together. Rumlow headed off towards the Magrittes, waving once over his shoulder, and Bucky watched him go. His chest was shaking, but it felt fucking good. For the first time in five months, Bucky felt really, really good.

[thegamingcatmom]

Would the sisters know when MC is about to get her period? And how would they deal with it? Like as vampires would the blood bother them for example, or make them feel hungry(hope not yikes) or make them uncomfortable? Uncomfortable bc I think that kind of blood doesnt have the same scent as fresh blood from another source. What if MC got unbearable pain for a couple days with fever and such so she had to be on bed? (Maybe projecting myself there, is terrible) I have a feeling they would spoil her to no end after the panic fades away, perhaps Carmen would need to intervene, we can call it Divine intervention 😂😅

Would the sisters know when MC is about to get her period?

Yes. Defo. 100%.

I´ve made a post about this quite a while ago actually (I´d search my blog but...am too lazy atm tbh 😅). Basically, it´s all about those subtle changes that occur in and with the female body just before period hits. Yknow, things like-

hormonal shifts (estrogen levels and all that stuff)

release of pheromones (due to the hormonal shifts)

physical changes (bloating, tenderness, cramps)

mood swings (those are dangerous)

etc.

While mood swings are a dead giveaway, stuff like hormonal shifts isn't as obvious. At least not to your typical human. Meaning:

They can smell it. They can smell any changes occuring in- and outside MC´s body. They´ll probs know she´s about to bleed long before she does.

.

How would they deal with it?

I don´t think it would make them uncomfortable in the sense of making them hungry. They got centuries of experience when it comes to dealing with their bloodlust, so I think MC´s quite safe there, lol.

However, I can´t imagine that, in all their years, there hasn´t been an opportunity for them to get a taste. For a vampire, there´s gotta be some curiosity whether there´s any difference to their "usual" source. So I think the sisters very likely gave into their curiosity at some point. Especially during their Succubus phase in which they pretty much acted like horny teenagers 24/7. (Good times. When we leave out the why...)

Also, perhaps it works as some kind of...nutritional supplement? For some vamps? Like, I don´t think they could sustain themselves SOLELY on that type of blood. It´s just entirely different in composition, and the amount they´d get from it pales in comparison to their usual food source. Let´s also not forget the fact that it´s only available for a limited amount of time, then they´d have to wait for a new cycle to begin, literally lol. It´s just a very taxing way of getting blood because you constantly have to be on the move to get that good stuff before it runs out again. Can you imagine the pressure?? 🤯

Right, to get back to the sisters:

I don´t think it would bother them. On the contrary:

The need to be close to MC would probs increase tenfold because something about the way she smells is just so...addicting? But also kinda soothing?? Like you said, the smell is probs different because there´s other stuff mixed in that blood as well, so I´d like to think the experience wouldn´t be as intense for a vampire. It´s more like a cat getting a healthy dose of catnip I´d say:

The sisters just wanna bury themselves into MC, rub themselves in all that is their mate whilst purring aggressively, only to flop over and cease to function for a while. It´s like a drug. 😅

(Yes, that stick is MC. And there ain´t no way they gonna let her go anytime soon. And yes, they might also try to lick-)

Also, their protective instincts would go through the roof because of all those hormonal/pheromone changes. In the animal kingdom, lots of the communication happens through that stuff. Vampires are more on the animal side of the spectrum imo, so the need to defend what is theirs might be stronger than usual.

.

What if MC got unbearable pain for a couple days with fever and such so she had to be on bed?

(I feel that. Luckily for me, I only gotta deal with that crap twice a year. ✌️😎)

Right, as I said previously, there ain´t no way they´re gonna leave MC´s side if there´s no need for it (like to go hunting). Especially not if their fragile hooman is in pain. No power on earth could tear them away from her while she´s in that state. In fact, they might even cease to take care of themselves-

Carmen: "You need to feed, my loves."

The Sisters: *refuse to even acknowledge her presence*

Carmen, realizes she needs to get out the big guns: "For her."

The Sisters: *reluctantly lift their gazes from a sleeping MC to share a look, only to realize all the gold has indeed been swallowed by darkness*

The Sisters: *turn to regard Carmen*

Carmen: *has that I told you so look on her face*

.

LIKE, YKNOW???

I mean, they very likely would have thought to go hunting before that period hits. Especially because they´re aware of its presence before it´s even there. So, a scenario like that probs won´t happen unless the sisters weren´t able to hunt for some reason. BUT STILL-

It´s just so ugh to imagine, ain´t it?? 😩🤌

.

So yes, there´s defo gonna be lots of pampering and spoiling to no end. Anything MC desires shall be hers. In fact-

They´re a bit too overzealous. Bringing MC stuff that she didn´t even know existed. (They purchased it for that exact scenario.) Like, all MC wants is some chocolate, perhaps a heating pad and her wives showering her with their love. Which means lots of cuddles and kisses.

And what does she get instead?

Literally anything else because the only time the sisters aren´t on the move is when MC is asleep. Thus, they´re never stopping, always searching for something to get her and make her feel better-

Enter: The Divine Intervention

(I fucking love that btw.)

Carmen´s gonna have that look, yknow? The one that says how utterly charming she finds the attempts that have been made, but also *affectionate* wtf are you even doing, you fools? Like, yknow, she´s gonna go all "Oh, honey..." on them.

In other words: Carmen becomes (even more) Momma.

She´s gonna bring MC that chocolate and a heating pad, she´s gonna give her the biggest hug and a kiss on the forehead, and then she will proceed to fluff up that pillow, tuck in that blanket nice and tight, basically turning MC into a burrito-

And MC? Finally at peace, in heaven even. Can´t contain her sigh of utter relief and satisfaction. This is the shit-

...And the sisters?

...

What can I say? It´s the simple things, sometimes. 🤷‍♀️

The sisters will get it. Eventually.

...Perhaps.

LISTEN-

Only the best is good enough for their darling mate, aight?? Don´t judge them. 😭

.

.

.

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

[soupsopsoap]

My Hero Academia, Season 1 Episode 3.

Oh boy All Might! Please Retire!

ok, yes, he is very important to society or what ever. He is also coughing up blood. Maybe he should not do this anymore.

Im sorry?

Love the song, 10/10 stars, what do you mean inherit?

I like how the note books show the improvement in his hand writing over time, very neat detail, lets go back to the inherit thing, Cant only the bad guy move around quirks??

"excuse me mister mortal enemy, could you please take my super crazy magical girl powers and not keep them but give them to this child I found on the side of the road?"??????

Oh boy, I wish I had that suit

I appreciate that Midoriya just Sits There And Talks To Himself. Truly the representation we deserve.

Ah, I see. Bad guy can move around any quirk and All Might can move around only his. That makes no sense.

Successor so you can retire? I'm on board

Hey man. Who let the beach get like that.

??? I dont think this guy is qualified to train anyone. "oh, your limbs might explode, but dont worry, im sure moving this fridge will help" my guy lets get a professional in here please

ok sure, but I don't think that'll help his limbs from not exploding

I dont think this would be possible in ten months. More evidence of time bending quirk

stop why did they get matching track suits thats so funny

ALL MIGHT STOP WAVING HIM AROUND LIKE THAT

Midoriya when is the last time you slept?

wait how is he ripped, hes in middle school?

umm

no...

put that hair away

wait does this mean bad guy is constantly eating other people's hair to move quirks around? Thats really funny, dont tell me otherwise.

why is he like that hes so funny

OHH SPACE!!!!!!!

good job buddy, you sure talked to her

OH I KNOW THIS MAGICAL GIRL Hes from the episode I watched :3

oh buddy...

no reaction

bestie why did you make a video game animation for this presentation no one cares

OH BOYITS CLASS PRESIDENT WHO WANTS TO KILL A MAN!!!!!! He's my favorite character

Oh boy he's so intense

Why is he wearing a suit what that's so funny

Did Napoleon say "go beyond Plus Ultra" I dont think he ever said that

Well, this was an episode. Episode 3, season one, even. Im too eepy to continue "blogging" so you can wait a few hours. bye

[elliebear666]

Ellie...

Hi.

It's another nondescript friend figure when you need her.

So... let's talk about this.

This woman probably doesn't hate you. Did she care at one point? Probably to a degree? Matthew wasn't all bad. You aren't all bad. I'm sure most people can see that.

But... realistically? There's not a lot that'll happen between you two. You don't really know her. She just... saved you, in a way. And I know how much that means to you. Everything, really. She saved your life.

I know you're idealizing her. It's okay. If she does reach out? Don't freak out.

Ellie... Calm. The. Fuck. Down. Relax, girl. Breathe.

Don't spiral. It's okay. Hey, on the bright side, you've grown enough to ask for what you want in a... mostly healthy way. That's good!

You talked about your feelings in an honest and open and heartfelt way. That's great! I'm really proud of you. I know how scary it is to tell people what you feel.

You realize this isn't some like... soul connection like it's been with other favorite persons. You care a lot, and that's okay. That's part of who you are. You care and it's beautiful.

But... look at the complexity of the situation, girl. She doesn't really know you. You were kinda creepy, but desperately reaching out for connection while so terrified of the pain of rejection and abandonment that you couldn't be yourself.

Not everyone sees you as a creepy, pathetic, piece of shit. Some people will, but honestly? Fuck 'em.

Realistically, no one is fucking with you or sending you messages. I know... you wish someone was sending messages? But... I don't think so, hon.

It's okay to fantasize and crush on someone. It's normal. You just happen to be a little too intense. There's nothing WRONG with that.

But, I also know that you're not going to be an absolute crazy person in text anymore from here on out. I know it's hard, Ellie.

It's those big feelings of yours. It's okay to feel.

That doesn't mean that what you feel is always true. I doubt all these people are out here trying to hurt you. You don't hate any of these people... so... why would they hate you, years later? You're actively working on yourself. Most people don't go out of their way to hurt people like that.

I know you care about her. That's okay too. I'm sure she's a wonderful person on the inside. But... be real. Even if you became friends? That'd be it. You don't know her at all, even though you want to.

I understand how hard it can be. I really do.

Not everyone is trying to hurt you, Ellie. You're okay. You're okay, boo. I love you, okay? I know you're constantly thinking about other people. Especially favorite people. But that's a big burden to put on someone else.

That's too much to ask.

Be patient. Maybe things aren't as bad as you think it is? Don't... get your hopes up too much, though. I know you get carried away. That big heart, girl. It hurts. I know.

Maybe things will turn out better than you think they will? Maybe nothing ever happens.

You moved on from *her* finally. Even if it took you stopping lying to yourself. I'm proud of your progress.

Don't let anyone hold your power in their hands, but understand that in this situation? The ball is in her court. She might not even see your blog. That might be an entire fabrication.

I know you didn't used to think everything was about you. Why let your ex hold all that power over you, girl? Take that power back.

You're a powerful, strong, brave, tough, fiery, passionate young woman.

You are a sight to behold.

You are loved. Truly.

I love you, Ellie.

Breathe.

I'll be here if you need it.

Bye for now <3

[necroplushhiko]

Cw:trauma, abuse

There's some things that I just post here because it seems right or because I know no one I know irl will see and it gives me space to just process, breathe and be weird. That's what I love about this site.

So right now I'm just going to vent here a bit, for me, on my own blog even though it feels weird to take up this space.

Let me just get this out there before I go to deep. Fenris' story from dragon age 2 really resonates with me. When it first came out Dragon Age 2 wasn't well received around me. I guess Origins set a standard which was just too big or EA just wanted to knock out a sequel because capatilsm and cash cows or something. But this isn't about that. Just know that it kind of flopped at first but was loved in the long run, at least in my experience. In contrast, DA2 is my favourite in the franchise. Yes it's smaller and the areas are repetitive, but I love it. I will hold that game close to my heart till my dying day. This is because I learnt so much from just one plot line that could be missed I you didn't add Fenris to your party or if you weren't friends with him. I don't know if the writers aimed for a story that would resonate with domestic abuse survivors but it really hits home for me. I would obsessively play Fenris' story missions over and over again. I thought I was just a hungry fan boy who just couldn't let go of this one character.

It was as if there was a hook in my heart with his name on it.

Every play through I would just spend all my energy trying to make him feel loved and safe. And so it went on for years. I never thought it was weird. I just assumed I was oddly attracted to him in that trans way where I didn't know if I wanted to fuck him or be him.

Until one day a partner of mine pointed out that it was a bit unusual and asked me why I would want to be anything like Fenris. A character that was for all intensive purposes, broken down, abused, warped into a killing machine and treated like a prized possession or pet by Denarius.

My answer, "because he's free in the end. He battles his demons, kills his master and learns to love."

It was at that point everything changed for me. I knew what I was feeling wasn't attraction. I was seeing myself in Fenris. I was also being the Hawke I wished would appear and help save me from my demons.

From then on I started to see the parallels I had been subconsciously drawing between me and Fenris. I started to see how I was being abused, neglected and mistreated by my mother. I noticed the ways she'd get me to drop everything on command, do whatever she wanted and even noticed a command phrase she'd engineered into me for years. (Think of it like a golem's control rod) My whole world had been shaped by this woman that even now that I'm physically free of her, still haunts me. I still wake up screaming some nights from nightmares that are partially buried memories. I still jump and look over my shoulder for a monster that feels like it's at my heels. I still struggle going out incase we cross paths. Even though it's been years since I ran away.

I know I've got a long recovery ahead.

But what has prompted this post right now? I hear nobody ask because I'm just a guy on the other side of a phone, still in bed because the comfy duvet demons and depression has a hold over me today. Well I found out that my abuser is in hospital. She's in critical condition in an ICU and could die. And even though she's my mother (in family tree only), I'm not crying. I'm not sad that she might die. I've realised that it won't matter if she dies. It won't change the fact that the damage is done. She doesn't see what she did as wrong. She never will. She's never once apologised or saught help. So just like that scene in The Hanged Man, little will change the outcome for me. I don't even care if she dies or not. Part of me has long since moved on from a lust for vengeance.

So I just post to Tumblr instead.

Anyway. All just text to say, I'm still learning life lessons from a game that came out in 2011. It's been over 11 years as of posting. I doubt this post will get seen by anyone and I don't think I want it to be. But I do wish that I could find a way to thank the team behind DA2. That game saved me. It woke me up to the horrors of my reality and helped me grow. I still have a long way to go but I'll be forever grateful of Fenris.

[nightbwoy]

I’m sorry to any of my friends who follow me and see these posts. I’m not really on social media at the moment and I feel like I have no one to talk to. I don’t really know where else to get this shit out.

I know I’m bad. I know Im problematic and I can be controlling. But I’ve worked SO HARD to improve those behaviors be a better person. Bpd sucks so fucking bad and I know mental illness is no excuse for negative behaviors. Since covid I let myself fall back into letting my insecurity and invasive thoughts control me. Everything feels so intense and painful all the time and I’ve been so scared of losing the most important person in my life that I lost sight of the connection we share and her feelings.

Maybe I deserve to lose. I don’t know. She never stopped telling me she wants me and wants to be with me. We still talked like we were dating. We still had sexual interactions very recently and she always told me I’m the only one she ever wants. Even after all of this she still tells me that she prefers me and would rather be with me if I could move there??? It’s so fucking confusing and painful and I can’t eat without getting so nauseous that I’m hardly eating anything. Im constantly sobbing and I don’t think it’s going to get better. I’m losing the one person I thought truly cherished me and would never give up on me.

How can I be simultaneously too much and not enough at the same time. I feel like my entire life has been nothing but losses and now I’m suffering the biggest loss I’ve ever experienced and there’s just nothing I can do but beg for another chance.

I’ll probably delete this. Idk if anyone even looks at my blog or tumblr or gives a shit anyway. All I know right now is she and I have something sacred and amazing and beautiful and I’m just lost. I was already dealing with really bad suicidal ideation on a fairly regular basis when my bipolar fluctuated toward depression. And no I don’t mean this as “omg I’m going to kill myself if you leave me.” I have been FIGHTING those feelings with everything I have in me and trying to love my life for what it is, and to appreciate my friends and my time on this planet. And I’m so scared that it’s going to be impossible. Maybe I need to consider being hospitalized again if this all goes to shit. I probably would have hospitalized myself sometime in the last year if I wasn’t so scared of getting sick in the horribly run psych wards in Charlotte. I don’t even know if they’ll let me have my infusion meds to keep my immune system working while I’m in there. I’ve felt more stable this last month which is why I’ve been streaming again but I’m just so fucked up now.

I wish I felt like someone was on my side. I feel like I could disappear off the face of the planet and a few people might be sad at first, but then they would just forget me like I was never even there. My heart is so heavy and tight nonstop and it hurts so fucking bad. Everything hurts and is so overwhelming.

All I know for sure is that I love her so much and I will work so fucking hard to be myself again and focus on what’s important and giving her the best version of myself I possibly can if she gives me another chance. Maybe I’m just a selfish asshole for standing in the way of something that could give her a little happiness. It just feels like I’m gonna lose her forever. And I don’t know if I can ever come back from that

[multiplayingorg]

Dear Most Trendy Gamer in the World

| Repost: Originally posted by Rer on December 6, 2011

How's it going big man? Its been quite some time since we last had a chat. You know it always amazes me how cutting edge you are given your age, you always seem to have the newest technology or the latest toy craze in stock.

It seems like the holiday chain letters have started back up too, tis the season to be blogging!  So with that in mind, I too, would like to write you a quick little letter.  I know over the past few years I haven’t asked much from you, what with having younger siblings who needed your Christmas cheer much more than myself, so maybe this year I can kind of pool all of that unspent good-will?  Anyways here’s what I’d love to see from you Big Red.

1. To start, could you maybe help out the United States with some of our current woes?  What with the economy not doing so hot, Congress at each other’s throats, and bills like SOPA on the horizon, I think its about time for a refresher on the ideals of empathy, understanding, and all around good nature towards one’s fellow man. Its a tough first pick I know, so just do your best.  Now with that rather less than cheerful bit out of the way lets move onto some more game-centric wishes.

2. Can we please get some fresh blood into the AAA-MMO development cycle?  Surely by now someone must have thought of something awesome, or at least revolutionary (and I mean actually revolutionary not just ‘oh we’re gonna change or add one big feature’), to try out in an MMO.  Can you maybe swoosh by some CEO’s office and just leave him a note (after you’ve eaten his corporate milk and cookies) about how doing something risky and new might be a solid endeavor in 2012?

3.  As an addendum to wish #2, it’d be really awesome if you could make a small sidetrip to CCP’s headquarters when you do your Reykjavik run.  Just give all of developers, artists, programmers, Q&A folk, and other members of the CCP team a big thank you present on my behalf.  If I had to guess what they might want most it’d probably be a break to spend some time with their families, and given all of the hard work they pounded into Crucible I’d say they’ve earned it.  Its a good thing you make your rounds in December because if I was writing this in July I probably would have said to drop a giant mountain of coal on top of their office, but its cool, they’ve got their heads on straight and are finally back on the path of

4.  This one’s a bit more personal.  Do you think you could find a game that’s multiplayer, not time intensive, and is something both my sister and I would love to play?  We don’t hang out as often as I’d like, but looking through my Steam library its hard for me to find a game we can both play and enjoy together in the span of say, 30 minutes.  Not an MMO either, she’s low on funds, and I want to spend time with her.  Not her and one million other people.

5. Mass Effect 3 is going to feature a fully fleshed out Co-Op campaign.  Honestly, this more than anything else excites me for the game.  Could we maybe see other popular titles consider adding Co-Op play to their games as well?  I can only imagine how awesome it would be to have a friend helping me kill Templars in Assassins’ Creed, or having an actual buddy at my side in Skyrim instead of a lifeless NPC (Sorry Lydia but really you have no soul).  Just make it an optional thing, that way no one feels left out if they dig running around worlds unseen on their own.

6. Oh, oh, oh, and could 2012 finally be the year that developers bridge the gap between consoles and PCs?  That way no one feels remorse for buying a game on their PC only to be unable to hang out with friends who have it for the XBox 360 or PS3.  That would be super ballin’ Santa, work that Christmas magic!

That’s all I got Papa Noel, keep warm and be merry this month.  Hell maybe on the 26th you can take a break, sit down, and play some Skyrim, that game kicks ass!

[writefightandflightclub]

Right behind you:(Bodyguard!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x M!Celebrity!reader)

This is my offering for this week’s #writerwednesday from @autumnleaves1991-blog, which this week is joint with @flightlessangelwings’ Jey’s Pride celebration! 🥳

The verbal prompt was: glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

The visual prompt is the photo below.

This gave me the idea for a very quickly written one shot with bodyguard!Santi and male celebrity reader! I hope you like it!

Warnings: food mentions; mentions of panic attack / hyperventilating. Mentions of sensory overload. One mention of Santi “sucking off” reader. Language. TYPOS, undoubtedly.

Rating: mature for mentions of oral sex but no explicit / actual smut.

Gender stuff: he/him pronouns / masc! terms of endearment used for reader. Implied that reader is a penis owner - no other physical descriptions besides reader wearing a suit and some make-up.

Genre: angst then mainly fluff and happiness! Hurt / comfort, I guess.

ALSO: BONUS CAMEO FROM ANOTHER OSCAR CHARACTER. Did you spot him?

You perch on the couch in your suite, taking steadying breaths and trying desperately to ward off hyperventilation as your bodyguard grips your trembling hand firmly in his. The air is quaking in and out of your lungs and you can no longer help the tears which spike in your eyes and spill over on to your cheeks.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he crouches before you, and you can’t help the surge of guilt that this is so far outside of his job description. He’s meant to protect you, not comfort you. His work centres on your physical well-being, but you can’t count the times he’s bolstered your emotional well-being too. Then again, this is the only time he’s done so quite as blatantly in front of the rest of your staff, perhaps.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cry, sweetie,” your make-up artist - who will not be getting rehired you decide suddenly- flaps around you, attempting to fuss over you with a tissue. Her panic about her work being ruined at the worst possible moment is plain as day, and it only makes your chest constrict further.

“This isn’t helping” is the only thought blaring loudly in your mind, but you cannot for the life of you push the words out right now. You shut your eyes in an attempt to block it all out. To subdue the sensory overload.

You are thankful that your bodyguard intuits that sentiment on your behalf when you can’t, and you hear his voice is coming from a different angle now, his head whipped sharply sideward and up towards the offending MUA.

“For real? Ffff....” you close your eyes and hear Santi bite down on a curse. You’d laugh if you weren’t so preoccupied, trying desperately to focus on his voice amidst the chaotic, intersecting hubbub of the room. “Ma’am, could you please back the shit up?” He bites. Apparently he can’t stifle the cursing entirely.

Your limp hand travels along with his as he waves his arm around emphatically. “In fact. Out. Everyone out. Now. Please.”

His request slices through the nervous air in the room, his words deep and commanding and delivered with an authority that you doubt anyone would dare question. This man must be obeyed, and in the back of your mind you congratulate yourself for your decision to take a chance on hiring this moody ex-soldier with creaky knees. When he needed to he could certainly clear a room. And on top of that, he offers you a whole lot more besides.

Indeed, here he is, going above and beyond, kneeling on said creaky knees for you. Protecting you, and comforting you too.

Your eyes are still closed as the room gradually quietens, until it is so still you could hear a pin drop. Until you can hear the steady rise and fall of Santi’s breath. Until you can hear the delicate wet noise of his lips parting so his tongue can skim his lips. You can hear him swallow.

As you hear the sound of the final remaining person shuffle out, and the door gently click closed behind them, you are finally able to peel open your eyes. You are able finally able to release your bottom lip from the grip of your teeth, an indent having formed where you have bitten down so hard you have threatened to draw blood.

Santi is as still as death as he waits, and as soon as he hears that final click, he is moving. Only then, does he allow his (thin) veneer of professionalism to collapse. He allows the flats of his palms to snake up your thighs, rubbing reassuring shapes into you, and you feel the familiar heat and press of of him through the luxe fabric of your suit trousers.

“Look at me, cariño,” he soothes, in a deep, fond tone, entirely different to those bitten off commands reserved for the rest of your entourage. “It’s just you and me now. Look at me, baby.”

You do. You look into his big brown eyes and you and he could be the only two people in the world, never mind the room. You sniff, and you fumble away a stray tear before settling your palms on top of his.

You slow your breathing and Santi flashes you a small, proud smile. “That’s it, honey. Nice and slow. Just like that.”

Then, he flinches, his head leaning to the side as though he could physically retreat from whatever angry voice is no doubt blaring into his ear. Then, he makes a point of taking the earpiece out altogether, letting it hang over the collar of his white shirt.

He tugs in a huge exhale too, letting go of the tension he held in his body through his concern for you, although his eyes slit flit around your face in residual concern.

“They’ll be mad you did that,” you warn, with a nod to his earpiece.

“Whatever. It’s not my job to get you to the red carpet on time. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Your job? Hmm? That all I am to you?”

He flashes you a lopsided smile as you tease him. “I’m a lucky man. My job happens to be a thing I love doing outside of work too.” You lift your palm to his face, the familiar texture of his stubble beneath your fingers. “Now, honey. No rush. But do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You look away from him then as you realise he won’t let you distract him enough to avoid the true issue at hand, but his hands are still languidly smoothing your thighs, and you know he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to before you’re ready. He might dole out some tough love, eventually, but not until he is sure that you can take it. He lets you fumble until you find the words. “It’s... even the thought of it, Santi. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done. All those cameras. All those eyes on me, I...”

Santi shushes you, as he hears the resurgent panic creep into your voice, even as your fingertips idly trace over his handsome features, a self-soothing unconscious thing, as he continues to kneel before you.

But while you may be panicked, he’s smiling. Looking up at you earnestly. “You deserve all those eyes on you, hermoso.” You don’t mind at all that when his voice comes out now it’s both fond and a just a little dirty as his own, very attentive eyes sweep over you.

“I don’t know...” You nibble on your lip again.

“Baby. You deserve this night. You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re so talented. And holy shit. You look so fucking hot in this suit I can barely function.” You let out a small, tentative laugh, which Santi seems pleased by, his own eyes creasing at the corners in return. “Besides,” he continues, tone more earnest now, his thick brows raised as he hammers his point home. “I’ll be right there. Just a few steps behind you, okay, mi Principe?”

You take one more deep breath, expelling it slowly and steadily through the “o” of your mouth, and Santi can’t resist your pursed lips a moment longer. Yet, for all his comments about how hot you are, his kiss is not as devouring as you might expect. It is a soft, tender thing, barely skimming your lips, and yet even so it appears to inspire a reverent heat in him, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek as his eyes remain closed a moment longer. As he expels a gust of disbelieving air at how you make him feel from this alone.

“Or,” he proposes, his voice breathy. “We could sack this whole thing off? We could order chilli cheese fries to the room and I can suck you off until you can’t think straight?”

You kiss him again, this time giving him just a hint of tongue, even as you laugh musically into his open, increasingly eager mouth.

“Appealing as that sounds, my love, I probably shouldn’t miss this...” you nod your head towards the door “...lil thing.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Santi concedes with a fond, lopsided smile, his eyes flashing with adoration, until he reluctantly schools himself back to something resembling professionalism. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, and for his... eagerness to subside, before asking “You ready?”.

You nod. “Ready as I’m gonna get.”

“There he is. That’s my man.” Santi gives your thighs one more squeeze before he stands, and you swear you hear his poor knees creak; and then, he is replacing his ear piece, his face becoming all business as he presses two fingers to his ear. “Kolpakov? We’re ready to move out. Everyone in position?”

He awaits the response before turning back to you, practically gasping as he sees you stood there in all your glory for the first time. His eyes sweep up and down the length of you. He shakes his head incredulously, switching his mic off for a moment more. “Fuck me. You look like a fucking dream.”

“Not so bad yourself,” you respond in a loving, flirtatious tone, dancing your fingertips across his chest as you sweep past him towards the doorway and he turns with you as if in your thrall.

As you prepare, taking another deep breath and gripping the handle, Santi reaches for your arm, delaying you for just another moment. “Santi,” you laugh. “We can do the chilli cheese fries later, I promise.”

But that’s not quite what he has in mind. He looks at you intensely, and he cups your face in his broad palm. “Don’t forget. You deserve those eyes on you. But if you get overwhelmed, know that my eyes are on you. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

The sentiment and sincerity with which he says this makes your mouth fall open in shock. Makes your chest constrict with happiness rather than nerves - but you aren’t afforded the opportunity to respond. In the next moments, the door is flung open, and your entourage is flooding you, barking directions and whisking you down the staircase and out on to the red carpet.

You are pulled away from Santi, and you don’t get to be near him again, besides a quick, surreptitious whisper into the shell of your ear as he follows you out the door “we need to talk about your ass in these pants because holy shit” - but that is all you can steal.

True to his word though, wherever you go he is right behind you. He is there with a firm arm to form a protective wall should a photographer come too close, or a fan get too handsy over a barrier. He is standing, stern and formidable to your rear as you provide sound bites to the tv stations forming a line up to the venue (and, trying very hard not to ogle your ass in these pants, probably).

He’s right behind you, designed to fade into the background in every sense. For all his charisma, he’s good at it. Not drawing attention. Even his suit is designed to be non-descript.

But... that’s not where he should be, you realise.

And, when you are almost at the end of the carpet, you stop in your tracks. You hesitate, and you turn around, your gaze instantly finding him in the crowd. He looks concerned, alarmed, as though you may have gotten the jitters again and like you might be about to do a runner.

But that’s not it. That’s not it at all.

In fact, you are more calm and sure than you have been all evening, looking at his befuddled, deer in headlights expression as all the attention suddenly falls on him. He has some big talk and a tough exterior, but the centre of him is soft, and you love that about him.

And so, a cautious smile blooms on your face as you settle firmly on your plan of action, and you walk determinedly in the “wrong” direction, going against the stream of attendees and making a beeline for your love, as he, for once -your man of action- stands frozen in confusion.

Then, when you arrive at him you stop, placing both your hands flat on the lapels of his suit, smoothing them down.

“What are you-?” he begins to ask, but you cut him off.

“Santi, my love. This is ridiculous. I don’t want you behind me. I want you by my side. Where you should be. So, fuck it. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to this premiere?”

He answers with a smile. With sparkling eyes. With his arms flung around your waist. With the press of his curved lips against yours, and a slip of his supple tongue. “Baby. I’ll always be by your side.” His hands slip a little lower. “Or - you know - sometimes right behind you.” He winks at you. God, you adore this idiot.

So, you wrap your arms around him, guffawing fondly into his neck before kissing him again, more deeply, not caring who’s watching. Your face splits with a beaming smile as you break from the embrace and link your arm into his, proceeding to walk up the carpet again: together this time.

“Fuck me though, honey,” Santi leans over to confide in you as he straightens up his tie, as if suddenly noticing the photographers for the first time now that they are noticing him. “You could have warned me you were going to french me on the red carpet, I would have put on a better suit.”

You laugh warmly as he continues to babble, and you reassure him that he looks perfect.

You know he’s doing his best to mask it, but he’s the nervous one now - you can tell. “Don’t worry, handsome,” you reassure. “Just you and me, remember?”

No-one else in the world.

“Jesus. How do you do this?” he asks, balking at all of the camera flashes going off in his face, his voice choked.

Luckily, Kolpakov - his second in command- figures out what’s happening and takes the cue to intervene, shifting the line back just a little to give the two of you some space. A good job too as you see beads of sweat forming on your love’s brow.

“How do I do this?” you ponder. “Well, I always have you to protect me, right?” You squeeze his arm tenderly. “And I’ll protect you now, my darling.”

This- having him by your side? You have no doubt that this feels right. It is where he has been all along, albeit only in the shadows. In private moments. But tonight, as he encouraged you into the spotlight, you realised how little you cared for hiding. You need him with you.

“Jesus,” Santi chuckles, looking around and trying to take everything in. “The boys are gonna have a fucking field day with this one. I didn’t even tell them we were dating.”

“What the hell, Garcia?!” you chide fondly, mouth open in a shocked “o”, before beginning to chatter and banter away with him as you easily fall into step together. Distracting him from his nerves like he always does for you.

With Santi by your side, you no longer care about all of the other eyes on you. All of the camera flashes. The crowds. Those watching at home.

You’re proud of your achievements. You’re proud of your relationship. And besides, the only eyes on you which you pay any heed to are his. Santiago’s gorgeous brown eyes, which, right now, shine with nothing but pride.

Yours shine right back.

You think he is the one who deserves all eyes on him, tonight.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Eight: Family Dinner (Pranks/Dad Jokes)

Prev

AO3

Bruce Wayne was not an emotional man. In fact, his emotional capability had once been compared to that of a teaspoon. He had emotions, obviously, but he didn’t express them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to express them. But staring down at the photo album in front of him, it was almost painful having no way to express his emotions. It was the most thoughtful gift he had ever received, and it was one that he would treasure forever. He didn’t have baby pictures of his other children. Dick’s were lost at some point while he was still with Haley’s Circus. Jason’s were lost when he had to live on the street. Tim...well, there were a few pictures of Tim. But they were all highly staged school pictures. And those didn’t start until kindergarten. And Damian….Talia wasn’t ever the type to be sentimental. Which meant there were no baby pictures of him either. But Marinette...her entire life had been catalogued. From sonograms, to her first Christmas and the first competition she won. Everything was laid out in order. Bruce turns back to the start of the book, prepared to close it, when an envelope catches his eye. He wasn’t focused on it when he first opened the book. He glances at Marinette and quirks an eyebrow. She frowns.

“Oh, that. Um, it’s the letter that Bridgette wrote to you. I haven’t actually read it, Maman said she hasn’t either. Your name was on the front and apparently she felt awkward opening a letter not addressed to her even with the situation and-” She stops talking, taking a deep breath before smiling. “Sorry. But, you can read it, if you want. I thought you might want to have it.”

“Thank you, Marinette.” He says, smiling slightly. He tries not to laugh when her face lights up seeing him smile. Note, try and show emotions more around Marinette, he thinks. Sitting back on his chair, he opens the envelope and stares down at the letter he should’ve received fourteen years ago.

Dear Bruce…

---

Marinette lets out a sigh of relief as Mr. Wayne sits to read the letter. Tugging Adrien over to her brothers and plopping down on the loveseat, she smiles.

“So Marinette, I noticed the last time you were here you had a sketchbook. Do you draw a lot?” Dick asks, eyeing the lack of space between her and Adrien. Marinette resists the urge to glare at her brother. Was he seriously plotting some way to get her and Adrien away from each other right now? After Mr. Wayne had invited him? Seriously?

“Well, kinda.” She answers, pulling out her mini sketchbook from her purse. “I actually design clothes. So I draw, but it’s mostly clothes. Sometimes I’ll sketch architecture or flowers or something for inspiration but..” She trails off, tentatively passing her sketchbook to Dick. She watches, bouncing her leg as the awkward silence stretches on while Dick looks at the sketchbook with Tim and Jason glancing over his shoulders. And Cass standing behind the couch was also looking at the sketches. Trying not to feel awkward the longer the silence stretches, Marinette jumps as Tim starts choking on his coffee. He jumps towards her and she yelps, leaping off the loveseat and to the side in order to avoid him.

“What the hell Replacement?” Jason huffs. Tim ignores him, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” He says.

“Language, Master Tim. Dinner is ready.” Alfred says, popping out of nowhere.

“What do you mean it’s me?” Marinette asks, taking her sketchbook back and stuffing it back into her purse.

“You’re MDC!” Tim practically yells, waving his (not empty) coffee cup around, barely missing dumping it on her head.

“Um, yes?” She says, confused at his level of excitement.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Tim asks, turning to Dick and Jason who were trying to get him to follow them to the dining room. Key word being trying.

“Am I supposed to?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Richard Grayson! As a fellow Jagged Stone fan you cannot tell me that you don’t recognize the name of his personal designer!” Tim yells. Dick’s eyes widen in realization, turning to Marinette with a shocked smile.

“Wait, that’s you? Marinette, that’s amazing! I knew your sketches were good, but wow. That’s just- wow!” Dick says, his entire face filled with pride. Marinette laughs awkwardly, her face heating up with all the attention. It was….a lot. But also nice.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t done an entire tour wardrobe yet, but I’m proud of the pieces that I have done.” She says.

“Terribly sorry, but it might be nice if we moved our conversations to the dining room.” Alfred says, a twinge of amusement clear on his face. Marinette glances over at Mr. Wayne who was still frozen, clutching the letter from her birth mother. She looks at Alfred and raises an eyebrow. He simply shakes his head and motions for her to go on. Sighing, she nods and follows her brothers (and Adrien, who was suddenly in an intense conversation with Tim about Jagged Stone) to the dining room. As they walk into the dining room, Marinette darts around Dick to snag the seat on the other side of Adrien. Tim sitting on one side of Adrien was fine. Adrien stuck between Tim and Dick? Not fine. She gives Dick a look, and he just smiles innocently before walking around and taking the seat across from Adrien. Should’ve seen that one coming. Once everyone is seated (besides Mr. Wayne, who had sent Alfred back in and instructed everyone to start without him) the conversations taper off, leaving the dining room in an awkward silence.

“Marinette, I have a very serious question for you.” Dick says, his smile telling her that the chances of it actually being a ‘very serious’ question are slim to none.

“Okay, sure.”

“Where do fruits go on vacation?” He asks, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Pear-is!” Marinette just blinks at him. That was almost as bad as-

“Oh my god! That was amazing!” Adrien cheers, laughing so hard he has to set his fork down. Oh god. There’s two of them.

“Really?” Dick asks, his face bright. Oh dear god please no.

“Oh yeah. That joke was pun-derful.” Adrien replies with a snort. Please god. Make it stop.

“I’m glad you think so. Everyone else seems a bit pun-sive.” Dick replies. That’s it. She’d willingly give Hawkmoth her Miraculous if it meant she could leave this dinner and the awful jokes happening. She’d even listen to her Papa’s jokes for an entire hour. As long as she could leave this cursed dinner. The sudden blaring from both her phone and Adrien’s makes her jump, and her eyes widen. Okay, no. She didn’t say the thing about the Miraculous out loud, so she doesn’t actually have to give it up, right? No, it’s fine. Taking it back won’t lead to anything crazy, right?

“Uh, I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” Marinette says, jumping up, frowning at Adrien as he jumps up with her.

“Me too!” He says. Marinette frowns. Way to make it obvious, Kitty.

“I’m fine, I can go to the bathroom by myself.” She insists, rushing off to the bathroom before Adrien can argue. She’d figure something out.

---

Dick raises an eyebrow at Adrien’s shocked face.

“Did you need to go to the bathroom? We have more than one bathroom.” He says, worried that maybe the kid’s shocked face wasn’t because of Marinette’s hasty departure and instead because he really needed the bathroom.

“Oh. Um. No, I’m fine. Apparently.” He mutters the last word, dropping down into his seat and staring at his plate. Dick could see the boy’s hands twitching towards his phone like he wanted to check it, but was afraid of being rude. He was about to tell him that it was okay to check his phone when a blue circle of light appeared over the table. An arm covered in red spandex with black spots sticks out of the light (portal) and grabs Adrien by the front of his shirt. Before anyone can stop the arm, Adrien is through the portal. Gone. Well shit.

“Where are Adrien and Marinette?” Bruce asks, walking into the room and frowning at the empty chairs. Well shit!

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

[thealternatesmashbros]

Link: I-is this on?

Link: Hi! I’m, uh, Link. And these are m-my roommates! Yoshi said I should start this blog to help b-boost my confidence?

Yoshi: You’re doing great, Link! (Sotto voce) Guys, pay attention.

DK: Huh? What? Oh, ‘sup Link! Have you been recording this whole time or-

Pikachu: Recording!? Gimme that! (Swipes Link’s phone) YO SMASHVILLE! We are the Brothers Smash, and we’re about to rock. Your. World. Mars, hold this a sec.

Mario: (Takes camera)

Pikachu: Check out this move! Took Sammy and me, like, a solid hour to come up with, but we can level a city block with it!

Fox: What!? I did not okay this! (To the camera, politely) Hello, I’m Fox McCloud. (To Pikachu) and we can’t just blow things up willy-nilly! Other people live in this town, too!

Link: M-Mr. Mayor might literally kick us out if anyone gets hurt again!

Samus: All the more reason to practice. (Fox groans irritably in the background) Pikachu! (Pikachu jumps onto Samus’ arm as she forms her arm cannon around it. She blasts him into the air)

DK: Dudes, this is getting intense.

Fox: (deadpan) I’ll alert the media.

Yoshi: Everyone, move! (Yoshi attempts to grab Kirby and run, but Pikachu crashes back down to earth, trashing the yard, leaving a large gaping whole in the side of the house, and knocking out everyone but Mario and Kirby)

Link: (Dazed) That was great, guys…so much…fun…(passes out)

(Time passes)

Kirby: Hi! Everyone’s been napping (read: unconscious) for a looong time now. I think I’ll end the video now. Link will be pretty grumpy if he wakes up and his phone’s run out. Say bye bye to the audience, Mario!

Mario: (Turns camera toward him)…It’s not usually this peaceful.

…

An athletic slacker gorilla. An aggressive, sharp-tongued Pokémon. A silent Renaissance man with a mysterious past. An eldritch cutie. A reckless and bombastic bounty huntress. An upbeat mama dinosaur. An intelligent and cynical fox-man. And a neurotic, meek young man who just got his Smasher’s License. What could possibly go right?

[dandelionflower]

I saw on one of your post that said to send you prompts sooo... can I request A childhood friend AU either Felix or Marinette moves away and then reuniting in college in France at age 14 in Felix's school with the Quantic Kids.

It was a pretty normal day, which probably meant something was going to happen. If it wasn’t a normal day, something was bound to happen as well; life in Paris hadn’t been normal in months. It being a normal day meant that Marinette was late. Super late. Way, way, so very late she might as well be early for the next thing kind of late. So late that- (oh, she’s beginning to catch onto why she’s so late.)

She knew even as she was shoving toothpaste into her bag for Tikki and brushing her teeth with frosting (wait, switch that) that she would be late, and her erratic movements were enough to convince her parents to write her an excuse. Not that anyone could blame her; she had to deal with three akumas in one night. Three akumas. Who could blame her, or anyone for that matter, for being late when there were three emotionally-stunted teens each wreaking havoc upon the city? It was a wonder that anyone else got to class on time, except for Alya, who Marinette was pretty sure didn’t sleep.

Marinette kissed both parents goodbye, thanking them again for the excuse note. They shoved a box of pastries into her hands, as was their habit whenever she didn’t leave school fast enough.

They had done it since her first day at her new school, when she was tiny and frightened of new people; having the same best friend since birth would do that. Her father had shoved a box of macaroons in her arms and her mother placed a bracing arm on her back. They told her what to do and she tried her hardest to follow their instructions, standing up straight at the front of the class, introducing herself, and offering cookies. Unfortunately, that was the same day Chloe Bourgeois was joining public school, and compared to cookies, her offer of money to ten year-olds wasn’t all that effective. And Chloe was excellent at holding a grudge.

Of course, she ended up with friends: Alya, Nino, Adrien, and everyone in art class, but it was hard to go about her first couple years of school without anyone in her corner. Becoming Ladybug really gave her the boost of confidence she needed to break out of her shell and make new friends, and now she had a whole class full.

She stopped in the classroom to put her stuff away, pausing for a second to breathe. How was she out of shape? She’s Ladybug, for heavens’ sakes! Those three akumas really took it out of her. Luckily enough, she had gym class up next. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)

“Girl! Where have you been?” Alya smiled up at her from where she was stretching her hamstrings.

“Sorry Alya, slept in too much.” She fell into place beside her, choosing one of the more advanced stretches to accomplish instead. “Three akumas yesterday; couldn’t get much sleep.”

“You need to get over yourself, Mari. Ladybug and Chat Noir always win against the akumas, this fear of yours is ridiculous.” Alya glanced at her with an incredulous look, but when she saw her intense yoga pose, the look shifted and she yelled over her shoulder. “Adrien! Get over here! Marinette’s doing her physics-defying stuff again!”

Adrien joined them, laughing at Alya’s exaggerated despair. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to-” He fell into the position easily and began matching her movements. “There.”

“How on EARTH?” Alya shrieked and threw herself to the right, toppling into Nino, who was in a shaky warrior two. They ended up in a heap on the floor, Alya staring in horror at the two still upright and Nino staring bewildered at his girlfriend. “How are you two doing that?”

“Well, I don’t know about Marinette,” Adrien moved into an upward dog, “but father insisted that I be physically active in some way and my mother used to do yoga. So I picked it up.”

Nino leaned close to Alya’s ear. “I’m not sure whether to add this to the ‘reasons Gabriel sucks’ list or be happy he has this thing with his mom.”

“Both I guess?”

“What about you Marinette?” He moved into a handstand-like position. “Why do you know all this stuff?”

My superhero moonlighting requires me to be as stretchy as a rubber band, so my partner, who is also a furry, taught me yoga. “My first best friend and I learned tai chi, and this just felt like the next step.” Not a lie, just not why she chose yoga.

“Okay, you’re fine.” Alya pointed a finger between them both. “But next time you do something weird, I’m starting a cryptid blog about you.”

“You don’t have the guts.” Marinette leaned in and Adrien flipped down to join her. It felt familiar, like deja vu; not her crush, she killed that with fire once he started dating Kagami.

“Heey!” Nino opened his arms in front of them. “Let’s change the subject, what about that new student?”

“There’s a new student?” Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were all stretching dutifully. No new faces whatsoever. “Where are they?”

“Not here, he went to the office over a scheduling conflict. Seems like a jerk.” Alya pulled an arm behind her head, glaring with derision in the direction of the office.

“Alya, don’t.” Adrien nudged her with a foot. “First impressions don’t mean anything, right Marinette?” He shot her a playful glance.

“Don’t remind me.”

“That one was a misunderstanding. Mister Ice Cold over there doesn’t even say a word, just nods and walks into the back of the class. At least Adrien did something and he asked for forgiveness afterwards. Frosty doesn’t even look at us.” With that final comment, Alya joined the rest of the class in dodgeball.

“Is she alright?” Adrien side-eyed her.

“Yeah, she just really hates people acting superior to her. Let’s go.” Marinette shrugged it off and joined her in picking teams.

Dodgeball was a mess; it always was. The entirety of the class had been akumatized at one point, and some of the strategic prowess remained. Marinette’s team always won, which everyone attributed to her agility, but it was really that Ladybug had more practice in strategy. The only way the teams could be considered even was if Adrien was against her.

She still won; she always won. When it was all over, each team, sweating and exhausted, gravitated to the center line to shake hands and congratulate one another on a game well played. Adrien met her in the middle with a weary smirk. His hair was disheveled, but there was a spark in his eyes that made him seem more familiar than he already was.

“I almost got you that time.” He gripped her hand tight.

“All that training with Kagami is really upping your game.” She quipped, shaking his hand. “Better luck next time.”

With that promise of another match, everyone vacated the gym to the locker rooms, where Alya continued to warn Marinette against the new student.

“Even Chloe doesn’t like him and he seems like the kind of rich boy that would be right up her alley.”

“Alya, I get it. You aren’t the new guy’s biggest fan.”

“And the feeling’s mutual too.” She griped.

“So just don’t talk to him; it works with Chloe. Why not this guy too?” She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to their desk.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“You don’t have to like him either.” She pulled out her notebook and began writing down the date.

Before Alya could make another passive aggressive comment about the mystery new boy, Miss Bustier walked in, the usual skip in her step. “Class, I know I already introduced you to our new student but since some of us weren’t here for the first period,” Marinette ducked her head with a sheepish smile, “I’ve decided there’s nothing better than a redo. So, here’s Mister Culpa, introducing himself again.”

Culpa?

A boy with pale blond hair and paler skin strode into the room. He wore what could only be called business-casual, all monochrome. His eyes were a one-in-a-million breathtaking ice blue.

Culpa?

“Hello.” His eyes scanned the room emotionlessly. “As I previously said, my name is Felix Culpa and I am from-” He stopped when he reached her. “Nette?”

“Felix.” She breathed, barely even daring to say it louder, lest he disappear.

He was a blur, climbing the steps and reaching her in the time it took her to stand. There were no words when they hugged, other than the other’s name. She was on the tips of her toes, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. Felix got tall.

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing just a little tighter.

“I missed you too.” She laughed, pulling back to see his face. He was crying. She was crying.

“What in Ladybug’s name is happening?” Alya’s shout broke them from whatever pocket dimension they were inhabiting together. “You two know each other?”

“Alya, this is Felix.” She turned to look at her, hand still on Felix’s shoulder. “He was my best friend from birth to ten.”

“Was?” He bumped her hip with his. “Didn’t know I’ve been replaced, Netta.”

“I couldn’t contact you after I moved! I was ten and your mom never told us what her new number was.” She punched his elbow. “What are you doing here?”

“My family moved. I didn’t know you were in this area too; imagine my surprise when I see what the current events in Paris are and find out that there are superheroes and my best friend is now a borderline celebrity.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“We have to catch up some time.” She grabbed his arm.

“Certainly, maybe not here and now, though.” He gestures to the class around them, avidly watching the exchange.

“Right.” She released his arm and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Coffee and macarons later then? My place?”

“I would like nothing more.” He quirked a smile that would seem tiny to anyone else, but to Marinette was as bright as the sun. “Until then.” Felix squeezed her hand and moved to the back of the class with a little wave.

She returned it, a goofy smile definitely on her face as she sat back down.

“Well,” Miss Bustier coughed, “since Felix has been so thoroughly introduced to everyone else, I suppose I should start the lesson.” And she dove into a spiel about the first World War.

“Dang, girl. Is it just me, or do you have a date after class?” Alya whispered to her from behind her textbook.

“It’s not a date! We’re just catching up.”

“Sure.”

She spared a quick glance at Felix, who was nose-deep in his book, just like when they were kids. He had such sharp features, and upon reconsideration, his eyes looked even more beautiful than she remembered. Felix grew up just fine without her. Really fine, in fact.

It took Marinette a couple seconds to realize she was staring, and when she did, her head turned back to the front of the room so fast she swore she heard a snap.

This was... going to be complicated.

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

So... I have a lot of thoughts on the finale. I've deliberately kept my mouth shut, more or less, on the campaign overall because I'm a firm believer that you can't pass judgement -- at least not complete judgement -- on stories until they're over and done with.

Well, it's done! Kind of crazy. I've been watching Critical Role with almost insane consistency, viewing almost every single episode live, with maybe five-ish exceptions, since episode 19, and I've been blogging it for, what, two and a half years?

It's a weird feeling. It's been such a constant thing for me that I'm always gonna have love for it and remember with a lot of fondness.

...Which is in spite of the fact that I can now comfortably say I'm pretty eh on the ending. I know not being positive about something most of us have loved a lot for a very long time can sting a bit, but I personally think it also stings when people relentlessly crow over how good they think it is or want it to be, to the point where you feel you can't voice your absolutely valid upsets or dissatisfactions. So, here goes, if anyone's interested! I'd be curious to see other opinions, too!

I actually drafted a post talking about my overall frustrations with the campaign a whole two weeks ago, and then scrapped most of it when 140 blew me out of the water. I was really touched, and really happy. I hadn't expected it, but it shockingly felt right, you know?

Unfortunately 141 robbed me of most of that satisfaction and brought me right back to neutral.

The blanket statement you have to make, of course, is that you can’t criticise this as a DnD game, and you can’t be mad at the cast for playing it in a way they think is best for them. They’re the players, Matt’s the DM, and in the end it makes no sense for them to try to make themselves act how they think the audience wants them to, and I’m sure most of the audience wouldn’t like the result anyway.

That said, there is an audience. And that’s where I see this clash coming in. As a DnD game, as long as the players and DM have all enjoyed it and been satisfied, it’s a successful game! But for us, it’s not a DnD game. For us, we’re watching a story be written in real time through the medium of an RPG. And while as a DnD game you can’t fault it, as a piece of media, I completely get why the way things have gone has sat weirdly for a lot of people.

It's not satisfying to see so many character hooks dealt with so quickly or left as an offscreen "and then you do it." If they don't want to keep playing to dive into it, absolutely, but for us who have been watching this as a story with all these character elements get so built up, it's a huge anti-climax.

Which is a lot of what this campaign has been, really.

Oh, Nott’s cursed! But through a really cool character moment that problem is completely taken care of with no consequences we see. Yay, I want her to be Veth and that was an iconic move from Jester! Still, it kind of feels like this was built up to be a big problem and at the first success it was let go... Caleb's got a really intense frightening past he tries to hide, I wonder how the Mighty Nein will respond? Oh, they found out, but it's not a difficult revelation for anyone. Looks like it's easy for them to move past it and forgive. Yeah, that's healthiest for the characters, but huh, kinda undercuts it as a storyline or point of interest. Oooh, Avantika’s back! Ah, they’ve killed her and grabbed the eye again. I mean I don’t want them to die or for Uk’otoa to be free, but I’m starting to feel like that’s not much of a threat anyway. The Traveler’s been kidnapped! Nah he hasn’t, he tried to save Jester so he was let go with no further issue, and also he wasn’t actually in any danger anyway. Oh... Cool. So... Why should I care or be worried?

And these are just the biggest ones I remember being kind of let down by. I wanted to see them STRUGGLE for the successes to have meaning. To my view, threats of failure -- real failure -- really decreased the more the campaign went on, with a few exceptions.

Because don't get me wrong, we've definitely had struggles, and those have made for some of the best moments! Molly’s death, Yasha’s kidnapping, Yeza’s imprisonment. When failures that were threatened are allowed to occur, it’s far more gratifying when it’s followed by success, because you understand that that success was actually necessary. It shows us that what they do really means something.

Honestly, that's why the final battle really shut me up, because nothing makes you quite feel stakes and failure like having two PCs die, and having a resurrection ritual fail -- AND knowing that failure would be delivered on, had it not been for a seemingly miraculous roll of the dice to turn it around. One of the greatest failure's -- Molly's death -- made the success of his resurrection put a lot of my other issues to rest immediately, because to be honest? Molly's resurrection was the biggest success of the campaign, exactly because it was originally the biggest failure.

But this episode, we got to see the other side of making threats and successes feel disappointing -- when you get the impression that success was robbed from you. Again, their characters, their choices, but to have them roll an intervention to get Molly's soul, to convince Molly to come back with his own possessions they've so loved, after so long and so many struggles... only to apparently not get Molly at all?

Changed, of course. Memories, maybe he'd never get them back, though that seems inconsistent to how the initial resurrection was played and Matt's hints. It even makes sense that not having his memories and being a bit different, he might forge a new identity, but insisting Molly was a different person entirely after such a supposed hard won success to get Molly back, especially after what his death meant to the audience and potentially healing that old wound? It robs the narrative of a LOT of catharsis, at least for me and I know many others.

Trent, too, I'm very up and down on. He was so built up -- and what fun that build up had -- and I very much disagreed with the idea that the best story would be dealing with him offscreen.

It's true that you don’t need to explicitly address, confront, or explore every big aspect of character's story hooks and background ties for PCs to move past them and grow healthily. But that does not make it a satisfying viewing experience. People quietly healing in real life is healthy. People quietly healing in an explosive fantasy setting is frustrating for the audience.

What on earth is the point of a story if you don’t get to SEE THE ESTABLISHED CONFLICTS go anywhere? A lot of the characters got distant, quiet resolutions, if that, to everything we wanted to see.

Except, we did get to see Trent. It was a really fun, inventive battle, from opening to conclusion, but much like Travelercon, much like Nott's/Veth's problem with the hag, these were things that the audience in general wanted to see be really dug into and explored, and every single one of them got, in my opinion, quickly tidied up instead. Trent got beaten in the first and only proper battle they had with him, which, after all his build up, is pretty disappointing for a villain many of us wanted to see be a big deal. It really just felt like they were trying to tidy up to get on with the epilogue, which is not what a lot of us were looking for with Trent especially.

And that's how most of their endings felt to me. It didn't feel like any of them had reached a comfortable conclusion. Literally all of them, bar Veth and Caduceus, continued on their character journey threads, without each other and very quickly. Meeting Yasha's tribe and Vandran, Caleb finally openly debating changing time for his parents, Trent and Zeenoth's trials and the changing of the guard at the Assembly... All were things it would have been so fun to have all the PCs react to and explore together, and instead they were fleeting encounters in the latter half of a seven hour finale.

Is all this, from Molly not really coming back to Trent being a finale side plot to the Nein continuing on their individual journeys, potentially realistic to how these fantastical things might go down in real life? Sure! But that's not necessarily a good thing.

Stories THRIVE on conflict and resolution. That’s what makes them FUN! Conflict isn’t nearly so fun in real life and resolutions are often frustrating question marks, so no, past a certain point I don’t WANT stories to be realistic. I want stories to be SATISFYING.

And campaign 2 has fallen far short of the mark.

I haven’t spoken... Basically a word of this for most of the campaign, because as I said I’m a firm believer that you can’t necessarily judge something until it’s over, and because I ALSO firmly believe that being negative WHILE trying to enjoy something is counterproductive. I have had no interest in spoiling or naysaying the fun of the campaign for anyone, least of all myself.

But it's done now, and all I can say is... I really have had fun. I love the characters. I love their relationships. I’m pretty okay with where they’ve ended up. I’m not mad, really, and I’m still going to think of this campaign with a lot of affection. But it hasn’t been a satisfying story, even though for a week following episode 140 I thought, despite all the brushed over story threads, it might be.

So... to try and reclaim some of that satisfaction for myself, I might ignore some aspects of the finale proper. Namely Kingsley specifically. Taliesin's choice -- but to me, it's pretty clear that who we saw at the end of 140 was Molly, and the tags on my posts will reflect that, just as my 141 tags will be for both Kingsley and Molly, for clarity's sake. I personally want to believe Molly did come back, however others might want to interpret it. The victory in 140 that meant so much to me is hollow otherwise, and it just kind of hurts that we would lose Molly after everything. I was okay with him being dead -- I'm not so okay with his resurrection being stolen.

Kingsley will always be canon, but Molly is what I choose to acknowledge. I get if you don't like that take, and that's okay! I didn't care for canon's in the end. That's the good thing about storytelling, is that no one can stop you from making your own versions.

For the people who are hopefully hyped for campaign 3, heck yeah have fun! I’m on the fence. My investment, which... I think I can objectively say was pretty substantive as this blog will attest, doesn't feel rewarded, so I’m not convinced I can faithfully keep up for over three years all over again with a strong possibility that I will once again be left disappointed. It's been a huge chunk of my life, and... yeah!

I’ll take a break, probably, view (and liveblog, if people want!) campaign 1 when I’ve had a mental stretch and vacation, and then... I might start campaign 3. I definitely won’t be able to put the same time in it I did campaign 2 (my first love no matter what), knowing that it’s likely to not be so vindicated, in the end.

I swear I’m actually writing this in fairly good humour, but I totally get its always disappointing when the people you come to for fandom enjoyment just aren't sharing your fun. Honestly I’m half tempted to write all those frigging AUs I have sitting around! But I wanted to say my piece, and try and logically outline why this ending has been lacklustre for so many people, ultimately myself included.

Episode 140 felt right because it felt like a natural conclusion -- these disparate people coming together and finally being whole, finally soothing the hurt that MADE them so long ago. Episode 141 spat on that sentiment -- they all scattered to the winds, not as happy people to live out their dreams, but as confused people chasing up loose threads towards an unknown future, with the friend they thought returned still lost to them, ultimately.

It doesn't feel like the ending we should have gotten for the Mighty Nine, who were finally, finally all together. Until they weren't. So to me? I choose to acknowledge that they were, even if I have to force it to happen post-epilogue in my head.