#I am so sad to see it end but the journey was the best part

[ick-aruss]

Me and my best friend (@thatone-ranboofan996) absolutely adore the Handplates comic by @zarla-s. It was a big part of both our childhoods so I decided to try drawing us in their style and how we'd look in the story!

The plot behind why there would be humans being tested instead of just taking their souls to cross the barrier is mainly based around gasters insecurities. Two humans go on a hike and fall down Mount Ebott. They travel through the ruins and end up staying with toriel for a while because she's awesome and sweet. They later leave but as soon as they do they're caught on alphys' cameras and she immediately tells gaster.

In this side timeliness we imagined that gaster was worried that the two souls wouldn't be enough and since he had already created paps and sans, gaster thought that if he could study the human souls then he could figure out how to better them and combine a human and a monster soul to make it a more powerful singular soul. Of course alphys is confused on where the humans went but gaster wipes the cameras and lightly gaslights her. I am also 93% sure he'd love the opportunity to get revenge on the humans

I am also unsure how Zarla feels about aus of her au but if she doesn't like them I will take this post down

[norrizzandpia]

Masterlist 1

- Disclaimer! All of these have happy endings, I am not one for sad endings lol

- More works on Masterlist 2 which you can find the link to on the pinned post on my blog

Lando Norris:

Reckless Driving

When McLaren thinks its funny to put Y/n in a sports-car with her boyfriend and a set of question cards. Spoiler Alert: She doesn’t!

The Infamous Stream

When Max streams and the chat goes wild for Lando and Y/n’s sappy love.

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You Pt. 2

What if love isn’t enough? What if the obstacles are too great and all the whirlwind romance ends up being is the right person, but wrong time?

Call Your Mom

Y/n’s struggle with mental health and the journey, accompanied by Lando and her best friends, she goes through in order to get better.

London Boy

In which she falls in love with a London boy as an American girl.

Flowers

After the Silverstone Grand Prix, Y/n wants to do something nice for her successful boyfriend, but she quickly finds out her kind gesture means a lot more to him than what she expected.

Used Pt. 2

A bet can do more harm than good.

She Doesn’t Know Who I Am Pt. 2

Lando’s in New York and no one knows who he is. Especially the girl who asks for his number.

Enemies To Lovers, Ya Know?

They’ve always hated each other. Always. Right?

Gentle

In which Y/n’s past is a little haunted, but Lando knows exactly how to make her understand that she is safe with him.

Spa

When a reality check causes Y/n to worry about him coming home to her every day for the rest of their lives.

The Softest Launch

He tried to be a secret, but the eyes never lie.

The Video Pt. 2

Y/n and Lando’s club dancing sends the F1 world into a frenzy.

Lando’s Biggest Fangirl Pt. 2 Pt. 3

His girlfriend. Lando’s biggest fangirl is his girlfriend.

I’m Sorry To Go

She’s not quite ready to have him leave just yet.

What Are You Doing Up?

She can’t go to sleep when he isn’t there.

Happy Birthday

It’s his favorite person’s birthday.

Lacy Pt. 2 (Oscar Ending) Pt. 2 (Lando Ending)

To the song “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo, that should be enough summarized.

I Love Your Body

It was the mirrors.

Boyfriend Lando

Where the chat goes crazy for Boyfriend Lando.

Longing Glances and Whispered Confessions Pt. 2

In which, in the darkness of the night, Lando Norris loves Y/n Fewtrell, only for the pain of their secrecy to plague them in the daylight.

Oscar Piastri:

*I also have another Oscar imagine under the Lando section. It is titled Lacy and has an Oscar ending, something you will see if you look at it. It is the second part to an imagine focused on reader loving Lando when he loves someone else. The Oscar ending was incredibly popular and one of my favorites to write! Hope you stumble across this and find that Lacy (Oscar’s Ending)*

Let Me Love You

A friendship where the lines are incredibly blurred is risky, but it’s even more risky to fall in love with a girl who won’t let anyone in romantically.

This Is About Oscar?! Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Y/n’s new song exposes a side of Oscar no one knew about.

I’ll Be The Fred To Your Daphne

He’ll always be the Fred to her Daphne, the peanut butter to her pb and j, and the salt to her pepper.

Best Friends To Benefits To Lovers

They’ve been dating for months after being the closest of friends for years. The question is, however, did they start out as best friends with benefits?

Hurt Me Once Pt. 2

In which they just miss the childhood best friends to lovers trope.

Let Me Help

She’s got a math test the next day and unfortunately, she can’t do math. However, her boyfriend can.

Loving You in the Shadows Pt. 2

They’ve been together for years. Well, they haven’t been together for years. Yet.

Cover It Up

That one piece of clothing was covering so much and Oscar just had to take it off.

She’s Missed You

In which Nicole and Chris welcome Oscar’s longtime girlfriend to live with them after he leaves, only to not tell him and have to update him when he shows up for a surprise visit.

Charles Leclerc:

Edits

When Carlos exposes Y/n watching edits of her boyfriend on Instagram. She’s incredibly embarrassed, but after an interesting conversation with the man himself, should she really be?

[f1version]

OUR FAMILY ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x no-social!reader

summary: Charles does another update on your relationship, you’re now married but with a bigger family.

note: am i actually posting twice today? yes. also this is a part two to this

charlesleclerc

Liked by sebastianvettel, arthur_leclerc and 3,976,523 others

charlesleclerc A year ago today, my heart became full. All I ever wanted was to become a reality, my beautiful wife told me I was going to be a father. Months later, she gave birth to the most beautiful baby ever. And after a year of craziness, here are some photos of our journey.

First I want to address something: Yes, we have a daughter, but Y/n and I have decided not to expose her for now, her name will remain between our close ones, her face too. I hope you can respect this, and even have a good time trying to guess her name. (No, she’s not called Joris, Perrine, Max, Maxine, or anything like that) (They tried)

Now, I wanted to take a moment to show my love and gratitude for my wife. Y/n, I’m so in love with you, thank you for choosing me to start a family, start this never ending journey. You are the whole universe, the stars, the planets, there’s no one else I would rather share this moments with. Thank you for letting me be me, for listening to me, advocating for me, loving me, for letting me be vulnerable, for being there regardless if there was happiness, sadness, or madness. You made me believe that love truly conquers all things, you made me surrender to love. Thank you for giving me another little person to love. This is our family and it always will be, no matter what.

Finally, my daughter. Mon amour, mon trésor, you have brought light into our lives, our happiness multiplied because of you. And even if you won’t read this because you are months old, I want to express how much you made me fall in love with life. I can’t wait to see you grow, to see you find your path in life, to see you achieve the impossible. I can’t wait to see you make a name of your own. I hope we have until the end of time to live as father and daughter, to share moments together with your mother. We love you, mon amour, I hope I can be enough for you.

Charles Leclerc,

Husband, and father.

view all comments

arthur_leclerc I’m officially an uncle, this is amazing.

lorenzotl Yes but are you the best one?

charlesleclerc Oh no

sebastianvettel So happy of you, you’ll be an amazing father! ❤️

charlesleclerc Danke Seb ❤️

alexalbon i’m not crying

charlesleclerc I said the same thing

andferrari007 A little angel

charlesleclerc SHE IS. SHE REALLY IS

mickschumacher She’s so beautiful!! 💙

charlesleclerc Thank you, Mick ❤️❤️

landonorris sometimes i wish i was y/n

danielricciardo lando what 😭

danielricciardo MINI CHARLES

charlesleclerc mini y/n*

joris__trouche she literally is your copy stfu

charlesleclerc ok AGGRESSIVE

lewishamilton Congratulations father Charles!!

charlesleclerc Thank youuuuuuuu ❤️

maxverstappen1 she’s literally called maxine leclerc guys, don’t trust him

pierregasly shut up max she’s obviously not.

maxverstappen1 you’re just jealous

pierregasly i’m just being honest

charlesleclerc can you guys STOP they are going to start believing this is true

joris__trouche That kid is my favorite thing you’ve done

charlesleclerc I have no idea how to feel about this because she is, but I also think that’s supposed to be an insult so ouch ???

"Our Family" Instagram highlights

[gazeofseer]

Soul Connection💙

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

'Love is too much glorified to ones dream

And quite petrified to savor it in life.........

Before you give up I want you to give in..

To your soul and find the other end of the

String that aches, arches, and embeds

you every night wondering

If there is no one for me what is this

love mourning for then..?'

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Pick A Image

And let your heart guide you allow that feeling to stir out and take you in the message calling upon you ;

Image.1

Best Friends, Platonic, Caring, Values, Spouse, Wrong Place with the Right Person

Message : The soul of yours is on a journey, of self discovery be it understanding what you truly want and need as an soul through life of human, to knowing it later after many lessons down the line that makes you see all the wrong things first and then things awaits on you to be corrected,

The connection you have is a Platonic one in this lifetime above mentioned are the forms you might have already met them or they are quite close but there is a wall of strangeness in between or a veil of unknown who is yet to arrive they are important part of your journey this makes you sad to not love like others, settle like others, but you are not one of them right? You are here for different things..they would be one of your greatest chapters that makes you worth the go towards the next.

Even if there is a separation it will be quite endearing and worth it. Because they would still wish the best from afar for you.

'Maybe love was about a moment of relief for the one who was on a quest of the living'

- S ✍🏽☘️

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Image.2

Karmic Bond, Purpose, Intent, Contract, Redemption, Salvation

Message : The dreams can weigh at times to, even if things seems enraging you hold it well behind a smile that a moment of ignorance and you would disappear amidst of the crowd to find your corner, comfort, of space where you shed all your emotions into a flow of thoughts that keeps you under greys before it rains.

There is a ache in your abdominal or chest, or a heavy guilt of feeling sorry towards something I am not able to see what exactly as I see you even feel hard to speak up like two Gulps down you take and sigh of eye rolls you go after doing any kinds of talk, your soul has a karmic bond it can be anyone in your family, but I see more in your social and friends group maybe even a colleague or romantic person, there is so much gloom, blues, and black here, a contract of hurt has begun that needs to be redeemed by the one who did to set the other person free with that state of feeling.

It will be really quite peaceful, refreshing yet painful as this heaviness will set both of your souls to move ahead in your life journey without holding anything back that can drown you at any time.

Timeline is near to 2-3 years it seems to be near the end by this year or next year's july.. monsoon is prominent and winter too.

The beauty of life is, there can be an end to whatever happens within it, but beautiful things hurt too badly like love

- S ♥️

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Image.3

Twin flame, Reflection, Transcend, Frequency, Attune, Trance, Mirror

Message : The idea or myth has a say that karma mirrors when it comes to twin flame but the reality has always been different and distinctive, You imbibe each other's nature timely..if you drink coffee now they might be having tea..

But the very same evening there will be a swap and you would wonder why did chose this when I am a specific this person; is how mirroring situations occurs in between you and your twin flame, I see you don't like to be too stereotypically girl but you have your own way to carry femininity same goes for masculinity,

To find a balance between the frequency of your energy will bring the space of mirrors into existence your twin flame is also seeking you the dreams you had about someone's safe touch but you have never been touched a dagger slashing something into two, all this is a sign of confirmation.

You will meet them when everything is balanced and attuned like a manifestation this entirely depends on how is your energy, divine timing, purpose, frequency, and attuning of your souls.

We exist under the same sky sharing the same breath, the day we will meet what exchanges is the trance of our being till date gets seen, heard and felt a dream come true.

- S🌊

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Image.4

Soulmates, Inner Knowing, Fidelity, Longing

Message : Everything speaks to you about love, hope and light no matter how much dark and cold things around may get there is warmth within, it is the longing towards your soulmate every songs remind you of the visions that you could possibly have with them not the delusions but the kisses on cheeks leaves a smile on your face by now for real as if you felt it happen for real but it is yet to.

I see you are quite pure at heart to see shades and imposters which makes you get influenced at a flinch but god's grace you deal with things very well that even through a mishap you come out like a boon.

It is a part and parcel of the growth towards enlightenment but just be cautious in case things can snap at you anytime even if you are ready for a war no need to invite one to prove everytime that you can do it. trust me this is from your soul mate you keep hurting yourself and they feel really helpless right now to not be able to help you through, so just let go of conflicts if it is around ignore..dodge deal it with grace or address it collectively instead of going and reacting rashly on your own.

To look feel and experience one's soul all you need is love inside your heart's core to connect beyond all the veils of falls and lows, that elevates you heightens you through grounding your roots of existence deeply in each other's heart through foot imprints.

- S🩷

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

Paid Readings are Open Check my Pinned Post !!

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.9 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

Is this real? Is any of it even real?

Amren....this is Amren.....well, she had a ghost body and bright light all around her but it still IS her!

"Amren!"

The hope that fluttered in y/n's chest was unimaginable. It felt so good to finally see someone from your world. Even if you do not consider that someone as a friend anymore. But...whatever it takes to leave this place. Even if a tiny part of her was refusing the idea.

Amren's eyes widened slightly as she spoke, her voice imbued with an otherworldly resonance from the magic. "Y/n! Fucking finally!"

Y/n tried coming closer but Fenrys grabbed her waist and pulled her back to his chest. She tried moving but his strong grip wouldn't budge and when she looked at his face, it showed no emotion but a warriors gaze, daring Amren to even try something.

She sighed but looked back at Amren, who was watching the interaction with an amused look, "Amren...how? I-what is going on? I mean, I have been trying to come back but so far it's not working. How did you find me? Is the Book of Breathings with you?"

The female replied while still keeping her narrowed gaze on the male behind y/n "It's a long story and I do not have much time but yes I came here after managing to break through the book's spells. Clearly not with my physical body though. We have been searching for ways to bring you back ever since you left. Azriel has been going feral, even threatened to kill Rhysand if you aren't back saf-"

"You expect me to believe that? You all lied to m-"

"There is no time for this sappy nonsense talk, girl. We can all discuss it when all of this craziness is over and you're back. There is not enough time. Listen to me, I finally found where you are so just wait a little longer and we will get to you-"

"Amren no, you don't understand. There are gates opening, evil beings are coming back and I somehow am the one who needs to be the one to close those gates and then come home and...we have to kill those evil beings an- you probably have no idea what I am talking about but listen to me, I need the Book of Breathings. How can you send it to me?"

Amren's figure started to slowly disappear "I just managed to get to you, find your location after a whole month of searching and now you are telling me that I need to find a way to send the book to you? I don't understand-"

"Months? It has only been a week here-"

Amren was almost gone now "Time is different in each world girl. Just be patient a little more. We will find a way."

"No! Amren, the gate-"

Rowan, Aelin and Manon came running into the room, a shocked expression overtaking their features when they sew what was going on.

Amren looked at them before her figure completely disappeared and all the traces of an ancient magic left the room.

Aedion looked at her and Fenrys, who was still clutching her tightly to his chest, before saying "Well, are any of you planning to explain what the fuck this was?"

Fenrys seemingly cooled down becuse the second Aedion finished talking, he silently unwrapped his arm from around her and moved back. Why was she feeling sad because of it? Get your hormones together y/n.

She cleared her throat and spoke "The female you saw, she is from my world and apparently they have been searching for me for a whole month. She said now that she knows I am here, they will try their best to get me back but I tried telling her about the gates and that I need the Book of Breathings but she...she didn't underst- anyways there wasn't enough time and....well, yes."

They looked at Fenrys to see if she was lying or not but when he just nodded in confirmation, they stared at her with varying expressions. It was Manon who spoke first, her voice sharp "Your people are coming here?"

"Well, yes....maybe? They want to get me out of here, not to cause any troubles so..relax."

Aelin just sighed before heading towards the door, followed by the other two "This was definitely not how I planned my afternoon to go."

Once everyone had left, y/n also moved towards the door when his voice stopped her "So, Azriel is going mad for you?"

She turned around to see him staring out the window, not looking at her. But if those clenched hands were any indicator, Fenrys was clearly mad.

She scoffed "Out of everything that just happened, you only care about that?"

When Fenrys remained silent, y/n sighed softly. "Don't believe it. He's probably just struggling with guilt."

With those words hanging in the air, she left the room and headed towards the royal gardens, leaving Fenrys alone with his thoughts.

Too much. This was too much for her. She just wanted to go home. To leave all this behind. Why her? Why is she even special when all her life she was told the opposite? Why can't it all stop?!

Y/n was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't even realize where she ended up in the garden. It was a small, wooden gazebo that had roses of all colors covering its sides and roof. But what caught her attention the most was the blond queen sitting inside it, eyes closed and head tilted back, resting against the wood.

Seems like Aelin also was seeking a moment of peace. Best to turn around and leave-

"Don't go."

Y/n turned around to see the female in the same position with her eyes still closed. She hesitantly came closer and sat a little further away from the queen.

Aelin sighed before speaking "This place is where I find sanctuary when it all gets too much to handle."

Y/n nodded slightly as she looked towards the gardens, the birds chirping bringing her a sense of comfort, as she relaxed against the wooden pillar behind her.

"I understand you, you know. I understand how it feels to hide yourself, your secrets, from the world. To think of yourself as so unworthy, that you are doing a favor to your loved ones by hiding your true self from them."

Y/n's shock and confusion was evident on her face as she looked at her "What? I don- How?"

Did she know about the whole witch thing? Did Manon tell her?

Aelin just smirked slightly "You may seem unbreakable but even you sometimes let out your emotions through your facial expressions. And let's not talk about the obvious fact that you are in a different place surrounded by us, strangers. Of course you will feel out of place."

The winged female sighed as she just stared at the view in front of them "It is draining. I don't know what to feel or do anymore. I don't know anything."

At that, Aelin opened her eyes and looked at y/n "You know, everyone thought that I was dead until I got my throne back three years ago."

Y/n whipped her head back around and looked to her side, at the queen "What?!"

Aelin just laughed as she said "Yes! My parents and everyone I ever loved were murdered ten years ago by the King of Adarlan. Long story short, a man....Arobynn, he found me unconscious out in the open in the middle of the night and took me in. Turns out he was the King of Assasins which is why I spent the next seven years of my life under his watch, training to be the best assassin- which I did end up becoming. And all that time, I went under a false name, Celaena Sardothien, it was hilarious! no one ever knew my true identity because I would always dress in black and cover every part of my body, making it impossible for people to even tell my age."

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. This female was not queen the whole time? What?

Aelin just continued with a sigh "But....when I was seventeen it all changed. By that point, I was tired of Arobynn. He was a paradox. He put me through the toughest fights, challenges and missions just to make me into what I am now, he would shower me with gifts, making me filthy rich at such a young age but....he wouldn't hesitate to punish me when I would 'let him down'. He lied when he said that he would let me go, he lied because he saw me as a posession. An object of which he couldn't let go. He was a paradox. A manipulator, caretaker, father, mentor, maybe even lover."

Y/n didn't know when she got closer to the queen, coming to sit right next to her as she silently said "That....I can understand it slightly....while mine wasn't showering me in gifts or training me to be an asassin he would beat me up, do unspeakable things but then he would ask for forgiveness, say its my fault, but he loves me....that he knows what's best for me."

The female beside her nodded her head, needing no explanation on what y/n just said "They may come in different forms but they are all monsters nonetheless. Arobynn indirectly killed the boy I loved and then acted devastated as I cried next to his dead, mutilated body. Then, when I tried to get my revenge, he was the one who informed the enemy and got me sent into a slave camp where I spent a whole year of my life. Dorian and Chaol? I know them because they were the ones to save me from that camp, even though we all hated each other at first. Lysandra? I know her because she was also under his control."

"That....that is horrible. I-I am so sorry I don't even know what to say....is- is he alive now?"

Aelin just gave her a small, sad smile "Don't worry, Lysandra slit his throat when he was asleep. Which was then followed by a shit ton of chaos."

Y/n smiled too, happy to know that this monster also got his deserved end.

"Did you kill yours too?"

She nodded "Yes, he wanted to clip my wings so that I never even thought of leaving him. It was also a stupid tradition. I trained myself, then opened an academy to train others so that they wouldn't go through what I did. It was quite the shock really, a female Illyrian whose wings weren't clipped, training others how to fight."

Aelin's hand on Y/n's shoulder was warm, a gesture of solidarity that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Her proud smile softened the edges of her usually fierce expression.

"You survived," Aelin said softly, her voice carrying the weight of understanding. "And you've grown stronger despite everything. That's what matters."

Y/n nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude toward Aelin. They may have come from different worlds, faced different kinds of horrors, but in that moment, their shared experience of overcoming abuse and manipulation bound them together.

Aelin squeezed her shoulder gently before withdrawing her hand. "We're stronger together," she said firmly. "And we'll make sure no one else suffers like we did."

With those words hanging in the air, Y/n felt a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the darkness of their pasts, there was hope in their shared resolve to protect others from similar fates.

When they left the gardens, they saw others on the training grounds. Fenrys and Rowan were fighting each other, half naked, while Aedion, Manon and Chaol watched from the sidelines, Aedion with his bandaged arm and Chaol with his cane by his side. Eva and Lysandra were sitting on one of the benches while the teen was pointing at the book in her hands, showing something to her. Abraxos was sleeping on the grass.

When they reached Lysandra and Eva, the latter looked up at y/n from her place on the bench “Y/n! You have to read this book! I will give it to you once I am done with it but it has the most exhilarating plot!” 

Y/n smiled as she looked at the book “Oh really? Then I can’t wait for it.”

Eva grinned and hugged the book to her chest. “Trust me, you’ll be hooked from the first chapter. The characters are so well-written, and the twists are mind-blowing.”

Lysandra chuckled, shaking her head. “Eva’s been talking about that book non-stop since she started it. It’s a wonder she hasn’t finished it already.”

Eva rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, I want to savor it. It’s not every day you come across such a gem.”

Y/n laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. I’m always on the lookout for a good read.”

Aelin smiled at the small interaction before looking at Chaol with a concerned gaze, “Something happened to Yreene?”

Lysandra sighed, “Apparently. He was sparring with Fenrys when his legs began hurting. Hopefully whatever Yrene is doing with the book, she is taking precautions.” 

Before anyone could say anything, Lysandra looked at y/n “Speaking of, care to explain why Fenrys is so riled up that he has been fighting nonstop for the past two hours? Aelin, you might want to check up on your birdie because he looks quite exhausted.” 

Once again, before y/n could even begin to reply, she heard a familiar voice behind her say “You liar.”

Aelin and y/n both turned around to see Manon staring at y/n with fire in her eyes.

Y/n and all three females behind her were just as confused as her when she asked, “What are you talking about, Manon?”

The witch just stepped closer to her as she said, “Knew you were a deceiving snake.” 

Manon’s fists were clenched, her muscles taut with readiness. “Let’s see if you can lie about this as well, y/n.”

With a sudden burst of speed, Manon lunged forward, her fist aiming straight for y/n’s face. She sidestepped the punch and retaliated with a swift jab to Manon’s ribs. The impact made Manon grunt, but she shook it off quickly, eyes blazing with determination.

Manon countered with a roundhouse kick aimed at y/n’s midsection. She blocked the kick with her forearm, the force of the blow sending a shockwave through her arm. Ignoring the pain, y/n grabbed Manon’s leg and twisted, attempting to throw her off balance. Manon, however, used the momentum to her advantage, flipping gracefully and landing on her feet.

The fight intensified as they exchanged blows with lightning speed. Manon’s fists were like hammers, each punch coming with incredible force. Y/n dodged and weaved, her movements fluid and precise. She countered with a powerful uppercut that connected with Manon’s jaw, sending her staggering back.

She closed the distance, launching a series of rapid punches aimed at Manon’s torso. Manon blocked and deflected, her reflexes sharp. She ducked under a particularly vicious swing and delivered a brutal knee strike to Y/N’s stomach.

The blow knocked the wind out of y/n, but she didn’t go down. Instead, she gritted their teeth and grabbed Manon’s arm, pulling her into a close-quarters grapple. The two struggled for dominance, muscles straining, breaths coming in ragged gasps.

In the distance, she could hear screams and shouts to stop, to just back off. Fenrys’ voice was the loudest of all. 

For some reason, y/n turned around to cast him a quick glance and was met with his beyond concerned gaze. It held a mixture of anger, shock and….fear. His breaths were ragged and his hands were shaking as he slowly made his way ove-

A punch to her stomach forced her backwards and onto the ground as she looked back at Manon who just told her “Coward.”

That was it. That was the final straw. Y/n didn’t know when or how she felt it but she did. Her transformation began with a disorienting sensation, her body shifting in ways she couldn't immediately comprehend. A strange taste filled her mouth, the metallic tang of iron, as her gums contorted and stretched, forming into sharp, unforgiving iron teeth. Simultaneously, her nails extended, hardening into gleaming, steel-like claws that seemed to elongate with every passing second.

Everything else became a blur. All the gasps, all the noise, everything but Manon, who was now smirking triumphantly at her. 

Y/n lunged for the witch, pinning her down with a snarl that displayed her fangs “You did it all to rile me up. It was an act wasn’t it? You planned it.”

Manon had the audacity to just smirk and shrug her shoulder while still pinned down “It worked though, didn’t it?”

“I will kill you.”

“Go ahead.”

She raised her hand, her iron nails glinting in the sun as she aimed for the queens throat but….she couldn’t do it. Something inside her refused to obey. 

With a sigh, she pushed back and away from Manon and got up. Y/n felt as her body shifted back to normal, her nails and teeth disappearing once again.

Silence fell over the area like a heavy blanket, each person frozen in shock. Aelin and Eva's mouths hung open in disbelief, Lysandra's hand instinctively covering hers. Aedion and Chaol stared, their expressions a mix of bewilderment directed at her and then at Manon. Rowan's smile was faint but discernible, while Fenrys stood wide-eyed and rigid, caught between amazement and apprehension.

Aelin closed her mouth and cleared her throat before asking "You- you are an Ironteeth Witch? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I didn't know what I was until I came here and even if I did, I consider it a curse so why should I tell you?"

She felt Manon come and stand right beside her as she said with a harsh tone "Call us a curse one more time and see what happens. You are a witch so stop denying it."

Before y/n could reply, Eva shouted "That is so amazing! A witch with wings of her own!"

Lysandra clapped "Well done you two for putting on such a brilliant show."

Y/n sighed as Manon snickered and Aedion muttered an "I am so confused" before earning a small nod in agreement from Chaol who was still questioningly staring at y/n.

Her gaze moved towards Fenrys but he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was staring at the ground with his brows furrowed and when Rowan patted him on the shoulder, he just turned around and left.

Y/n wanted to go after him but was stopped when Aelin and everyone else just came over to her, asking questions.

Fenrys thought that throughout his long life, he had seen enough shocking things that it would take a lot to ever surprise him. Well, apparently everything is different when it comes to y/n. It's like she manages to be the exception to his every thought and feeling.

She is an Ironteeth Witch? How is that even possible, isn't she from a different world? Does her world also have Ironteeth Witches?

Earlier he was angry at....well he had no idea why he was angry. For some reason, even hearing the name Azriel made him want to punch a wall. He also didn't like or trust Amren. In fact, Fenrys didn't like y/n's whole little friend group back in her world. They lied to her, ignored her when she needed a shoulder to cry on-

And why do you care, Fenrys?

Yes, why does he care, exactly? Y/n is only here temporarily. Once they solve the problem, she will go back to her home world and they will never see each other again so why does even the thought of that bother him so much?

Why does the thought of her going back to those liars that call themselves her family make him frustrated?

And worst of all, why does the thought of her going back to Azriel's arms make him want to rip out heads?

For the past hour, she couldn't find Fenrys anywhere and by the time y/n made it to her room, she was too exhausted to even think about anything but sleep. So, she collapsed on the bed and slept her exhaustion of the last few days away.

Four hours later, y/n stood in front of her mirror, assesing her look before dinner.

Thanks to Isolde, her neck was completely healed and looking as smooth as ever. This, of course, meant that she didn't need to wear a turtleneck anymore which is why she chose this simple yet still eye catching dress.

The dress she chose was a masterpiece of delicate craftsmanship, tailored to accentuate her figure in all the right places. Made from a flowing fabric that shimmered with every movement, it draped elegantly over her curves. The neckline was designed to draw attention to her healed neck, framing it gracefully while also accentuating her chest. Intricate embroidery adorned the sleeves and hem, adding a touch of detailed beauty to its otherwise understated elegance. The color, a soft shade of lavender, complemented her complexion, enhancing her natural radiance. Paired with subtle yet tasteful accessories, the dress completed a look that exuded both sophistication and effortless charm.

Not bad, y/n, not bad at all.

With a final look at herself, she opened her door to-

Fenrys was here, leaving his room as well.

Their eyes locked, holding a silent conversation of their own as they appraised each other's appearance. Fenrys stood tall, his hair styled in a casual half bun that allowed strands of golden hair to cascade over his broad shoulders. His attire was both practical and stylish—a crisp white tunic formed the foundation, complemented by a deep forest green vest that added a touch of color and structure. Dark brown pants, tucked neatly into knee-high boots, completed the ensemble, emphasizing the sturdy and agile nature of his build.

Despite the layers of clothing, Fenrys's physique was unmistakable—rippling muscles hinted at strength honed through rigorous training and battles fought. The tunic's sleeves hinted at the definition of his arms, while the vest accentuated his broad chest and shoulders. His stance exuded confidence and readiness, every movement suggesting a poised and capable warrior.

He was absolutely delicious to look at-

Mother above, y/n. Look back at his eyes. Be respectful.

She hesitantly lifted her gaze over to him but lost all her abilitiy to speak when she saw how his dark eyes were practically devouring her. Y/n cleared her throat which made him look back at her with those lust-filled and fierce eyes that made her feel all hot and bothered.

Then, as if coming back to reality, Fenrys straightened and started moving towards the stairs.

No. She had to talk to him. About what? She had no idea but-

"Are you upset with me?"

Once he heard her voice, Fenrys stopped, his back was towards her as he said "Why would I be upset with you?"

Y/n took a small step towards him. "Because you left when it was revealed that I was a....a witch. Because you refuse to look me in the face."

"And since when do you care about my feelings towards you?"

"You are right. I shouldn't but I do- you know what? This was very foolish of me, just forget this ever happened."

When y/n moved past him towards the stairs, she felt his hand grip her wrist, making her turn around to look at him.

Y/n frowned slightly, "Fenrys..."

He hesitated, then spoke in a voice laced with uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I don't trust them," he admitted quietly. "Your people, from your world. They say they want to bring you back, but what if they're not as trustworthy as you think? Didn't you say they neglected you when you needed them the most?"

Y/n sighed, understanding his concerns. "I get it. But they're my people, Fenrys. Even if things between us are complicated, I have known them for over fifty years, enough to know that they wouldn't harm m-"

"But they did. They didn't tell you when your lover was being unfaithful for two years, they didn't do shit as you got worse day by day so why should you trust them now?"

Y/n ripped her arm away from his hold as she turned to fully look at him with a narrowed gaze "What is this about Fenrys? I didn't tell you all this so that you could pity me. It was just a moment of vulnerability and you happened to be the-"

"I know because I understand you."

At her questioning gaze, Fenrys sighed before looking at the ground "Before Aelin, I.....I was.....sort of chained to another queen. Blood sworn, actually. It meant that I was her slave for as long as she pleases and that I could only ever be free of her with my honor intact if she willingly gave me her blessing and freed me from service. If not, then.....anyways what I want to say is that I know what it means to struggle and not have anyone by your side. My brother had his own demons to fight so we never could really lean on one another for support. Rowan, Lorcan and Gavriel they.....they also suffered in their own ways. Maeve made sure to traumatise each one of us differently,"

He couldn't look at her. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Y/n gently put her hand on his chest "Fenrys, you don't have to force yourself to talk about it-"

"It is true, I see Rowan, Lorcan -unfortunately- and Gavriel as my brothers. We went through so much together and I am only standing here today because we made it, together. Gavriel made it too, I know it because I feel his presence sometimes. But even then, we all hid our pain from one another. I always only had myself to heal my own wounds. Both physical and mental."

"Oh my-"

"This is why I want you to be careful, y/n. I never had anyone to soothe my pain and I don't want you going through the same thing. When....when you go back to you world, just leave them. Promise me that you will leave them and find a better place for yourself."

"Fenrys I-"

He looked up from the ground, his eyes holding a hint of determination within them "Promise me, y/n."

She sighed "Yes. I promise, Fenrys."

He slowly nodded his head but made no move to leave and neither did y/n want to remove her hand from his chest.

The comfort Fenrys was feeling right now was unimaginable. He had never felt so at ease, so safe in someone's presence before. Even if the middle of a hallway isn't the most perfect place to experience this. He couldn't care less. He just showed her a part of him he never showed anyone, not even Aelin.

His vulnerability.

And for some reason, he wanted to keep telling her more, and in turn, hear more about her as well.

His gaze fell to her lips as his hands ached to touch her. Fenrys whispered, "You....you don't have a curse. Be proud of yourself and your lineage."

Y/n's came closer as she whispered back, "I....it will take time....getting used to that."

He smiled slightly, "That's fine. I will be proud of you anyway."

He saw her pupils dilate and her eyes widen but it seems like he was under some hypnotic curse because he added, "You...you are really beautiful."

Her lips parted and he saw a blush make it's way onto her adorable cheeks.

"I-thank you. You....you are very attractive as well."

Fenrys couldn't help the smirk that made its way onto his face "Yeah?"

She was a full red tomato now and he thought it was the most adorable sight ever. She replied with a shaky and barely audible voice, "Yeah."

They got closer and Fenrys was about to gently grab her waist when a cough interrupted their moment.

They both immediately detached and turned around to see Eva and Manon. The latter had a huge cheshire grin plastered on her face while the former had the look of a sad puppy.

Manon took eva's hand as they both started walking past y/n and Fenrys but not before Manon said, "See Eva, told you she wouldn't accept your love confession."

The younger girl playfully shoved aside the witch as she whisper shouted, "Shhh Manon! You just announced my crush to the entire kingdom!"

Y/n giggled as she followed them, Fenrys close behind her as she said, "Eva, don't listen to her! She likes to rile everyone up it seems."

Manon turned around with an amused gaze, "Glad you could finally understand that about me."

Y/n glared at her "I am still not done with you."

Manon just smiled and mused "I will keep my door open for you. Make the job easier."

Y/n just scoffed and she could feel Fenrys' chuckle from behind her as she turned her head sideways to look at him. "Something's funny, Fenny?"

She heard the witch chuckle and Eva audibly laugh while Fenrys' eyes widened "What kind of a nickname is that?"

Y/n just smirked and turned her head back around "Didn't like it? What about Fen? Or maybe Rys orrrrr Fenzo!"

Manon was full on cackling now and Eva was about to fall over because of laughing so hard. Fenrys just smiled while shaking his head "Gods save me."

As they reached the doors of the dining room, y/n smiled as she said, "No Gods to save you now. Perhaps you should change it to Aelin save me."

They were all laughing by the time they entered the room and saw the others, except Lorcan and Elide, sitting around. It was nice, yet so unusual to see Manon actually laugh. But, she wouldn't take it for granted, that woman is a paradox. Who knows, she may be laughing now but she may want to kill y/n the next moment.

Y/n just shook her head with a smile as she took her place next to Fenrys on the table. However that smile soon started disappearing when she felt a pair of eyes on her from somewhere in the room, making her feel uncomfortable.

It's just nerves. You are hungry. Just ignore it, the feeling will pass.

Aelin had an amused look as she took a bite out of her meal and said, "I think this may be the first time I ever saw Manon laugh in the past three years."

Manon just rolled her eyes "First and only. Not everyone is lucky enough to see it."

Yrene just said in a playful tone from beside Manon, "Everyone but Dorian right? I bet he gets to see it all the time."

Aedion smirked "Oh, yes. How are you feeling Manon dearest? Your princeling is coming soon."

Lysandra took a sip of her wine "Aelin, make sure that once Dorian is here, you send these two to the furthest part of the palace. They haven't seen each other in months, so it will be our poor ears that will bleed because of their 'union'."

Manon just scoffed and replied dryly, "I'll have you know, princeling's visits are strictly business." She shot a pointed glance at Yrene, who grinned mischievously.

Aedion chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Business, huh? I'm sure it's a very serious matter, indeed."

Yrene raised her hands innocently. "Who am I to argue with our King?"

Aelin laughed, shaking her head. "Well, let's hope Dorian's arrival brings some distraction from all this impending doom." She glanced at Rowan, who was deep in conversation with Chaol about strategy.

Lysandra smirked. "If anyone can distract Manon from her duties, it's Dorian."

Manon rolled her eyes again but couldn't hide a small smile. 

Everyone, including Fenrys laughed at that and y/n felt a moment of pure bliss, seeing them interact so closely with one another. It reminded her of the inner circle but.....for some reason that didn't make her miss home at all.

But her moment of happiness was still mixed with discomfort as that mysterious gaze kept on burning a hole through her skull. When she turned her head around, she saw a servant girl who was just refilling the pitcher with water.

Everyone around her were busy with conversation, but she still felt uneasy. What was-

Fenrys gently put his hand on hers under the table and looked at her with a concerning gaze. "Are you well?"

She nodded her head slightly but that didn't ease her growing unease that someone was watching her.

The servant girl came closer to her, filled her cup with water and said "Take it."

Y/n just smiled, slightly uncomfortable as she replied, "I'm not thirsty."

The girl just gave her a cruel smile as she said in a sharp tone, "No, take what's coming for you, Winged Fury."

Before y/n could even process what was going on, the servant lunged for her, effectively throwing y/n down as everything around them erupted into chaos.

Y/n felt like she was suffocating as the the girl kept on choking her. From her peripheral vision, she saw Fenrys doing something but....her vision started going dark. This girl was inhumanly strong.

The last thing she heard before darkness enveloped her was "The Valg princes send their regards."

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[angelicbeaut]

Being (the “I am” state)

(Long post)

I think the most common instance I see in the community when interacting with asks and reading different struggles we all have/have had during our journey, is that people don’t just let themselves be.

A lot of us believe(d) that we have to work hard for everything, and we take that and apply it to manifestation. Maybe you feel it is too easy to just provide to yourself in imagination, you think there must be something else you have to do, that it can’t be that easy. Well, my love, I see you, I hear you, and I have been you. But, I am glad to inform you that when you reach this beautiful garden of truth and learning yourself and how this world works, that it is in fact, that easy.

As children, we played so freely in our imagination, even when we did not have the best days. We were always enthralled with our wildest dreams, excited by the mere glimmer of something new, even if we may have lost the ability to return to that sanctity as life become complicated, and imagination was thrown away for the sharp and harsh situations that life may have thrown at us. But I assure you, that you never lose the ability to imagine, it is never gone for good, maybe put to the side but never lost.

Imagine states being in a big shopping mall. You can try on any state you want, you can fill your cart up with fancy coats and dolce bags if you embody being rich (I am rich, I am financial free, I am always receiving gifts), you can fill your cart with heart patterned sweaters and lovely smelling candles if you are focusing on manifesting love or self love (I am loved, I am chosen, I am beautiful), and if you are trying to embody the state of being unloved you can fill your cart with no happy ending romance books and candles that smell like cat piss and back way alleys after it rains (I am unloved, I am not appreciated). Best deal is, it’s all on the house, all you have to do is pay in your mentality and accept this state as your own.

Now, let’s say you get to the register and you realize you don’t have enough mental bucks to spend on feeling rich today, let’s say life has been going crazy and you can only lay in bed, you feel overwhelmed by everything and you can’t raise your vibes right now.

Well, you’re in luck!

There is a layaway where you can store any state you plan to return to, even if you just need to wallow for a bit. The person at the register doesn’t look angry or upset, the look at you with the same witty smile, and hand you slippers, comfy socks, and a complimentary box of chocolates! You get your receipt and it lists all of what you have on layaway, waiting for you at any time! You can leave confidently knowing that you still have them, they just have to be picked up when you’re ready!

Now let’s break this down:

Clothes and different items you can place in your cart = the state you are wanting to be in

employee at the register = your subconscious, you

Layaway = an infinite amount of states that are always accessible to you because everything is you, they never go away, they are just not being made aware of to come into fruition

The register = the point of deciding, from the moment you make that transaction and put on your new clothes, you are now occupying that state, and the unfolding begins.

My love, those parts of you that you may feel like you have lost due to the harshities of this world are never gone, you just had to put them down because all you had the energy to focus on at that time was what you had to get done (working to make ends meet, dealing with a tumultuous relationship, having mental health issues) and that is okay. It may feel like you need to apply that survival mode to get these good things too. But no my love, you do not. You have been doing this since you were a child, your gift is limitless and always exists inside of you. Use your beautiful and boundless imagination internally to give yourself what you want externally.

When you are down, when you are sad, when you feel like you cannot hold yourself to a new state, work through your current one, do not run away, do not ignore it, do not fight against it to be perfect. You are already perfect and you always will be, Angel. Imagine yourself on a throne, as a famous movie star, go into the depths of your imagination and soar, feel the essence of what is like to be your true self. That doesn’t require you to lift a finger, so be gentle with yourself. No one is angry that you didn’t stay in the state today, you are not a failure, you are learning, and time is not your god, you are god.

when you feel as though you cannot do it today, don’t, but when you can, return to yourself as a child, and bask in your boundless imagination, treat yourself to bliss and never stop and your 3D will have no choice but to give it to you. All you gotta do is go shopping, and that mall is always there for you sweetheart. It is never too late to shop for a new look, you can change it at any time.

I love you, from my gracious heart to yours,

Luv, che 🌷

P.S

PUT THE 369 method DOWN, GET SOME SLEEP AND WATCH A COMFORT SHOW! 💕

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making  effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it.  It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it,  much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts  her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject. 

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?” 

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp. 

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point. 

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue. 

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?” 

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly. 

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.” 

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it,  then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?” 

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together. 

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip. 

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege. 

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

[drdemonprince]

Hi I keep thinking back to your book unmasking autism, I recently was diagnosed with level 1 by my new psychiatrist but with losing my healthcare I feel lost on how to function without medical assistance. I typically mask and been learning how not to, but it always feel at the opportunity cost of more money, overly explaining to family or grief. I’ve been in a loop of feeling I shouldn’t exist due to my disability and it a sad feeling.

I am so sorry to hear that you are going through this. I'm certain you already know this, but it's not the case that you shouldn't exist because you are disabled. The vast majority of people on this planet find it absolutely soul-sucking and exhausting to present as what gets called "neurotypical" at work. It's too many hours of pretending to be someone you are not, with no space allotted for your full humanity, with not enough energy or hours left behind to look after oneself, have nourishing authentic relationships, and ample space to recover, be playful and joyful, and dream. Every person requires ample time and space for themselves to recouperate, and to listen to the actual feelings that they have inside, and capitalism instead demands that we suppress all of it, and it can slowly eat away at us and make it difficult to access authentic pleasure or connectedness. For Autistics it's especially pronounced because we are such a bad mismatch with what capitalism demands, and because we need so much energy recovery time, but it's simply the case that you are not broken or defective for failing to fit within such an oppressive system. It is that system that should not exist, and that terrorizes everybody, to varying degrees. I bet if you look at the most "well adjusted" hard working people that you know, you see how their lives have been totally ruined by overworking and killing what's wild and free about themselves, or what used to be those things.

I have spoken to hundreds of Autistic people in the situation you are in at this point, and I have found that for the majority of us, embracing our disability and articulating our needs means that very dramatic changes have to happen in our lives. Some people have to reorient how they interact with their families, establish new boundaries, push to really educate them on neurodivergence, go no contact, or rethink what family means to them altogether. Lots of us leave careers or switch to part-time or remote work, or have to get incredibly creative and resourceful in order to survive in a way that we can stand: going on disability benefits, public assistance, living with friends, pooling resources, going off the grid in some way, finding some side hustle or scam that makes it possible to survive, doing sex work or freelance, taking on childcare or eldercare duties for a friend who is employed, or something of that nature are all options I've seen a lot of unmasking Autistics pursue. None of these options are ideal, and they all come with significant costs and risk factors. But then, so does killing oneself slowly with work.

I have a whole book coming out next year in March about these specific considerations, with lots of tools and decision trees and research and quotes from other Autistics. The book is designed to help Autistics who are in that second stage of their unmasking journey sort out what a life where it is possible to be less masked means for them. Where can they live? Who is gonna support them? What matters to them in their life? How can they reset their relationships in light of their neurodivergence? What does it mean to grow old as a disabled person? These are the kinds of questions the book will hopefully help me explore, and discover the best answers for themselves. Of course, many people would say that their only way out of this is the downfall of capitalism, but I personally am of the mind that we have to make that end happen ourselves by working less hard, consuming less where possible, leaning on other people, providing support to our neighbors, becoming less reliant upon our employers and the government, and building our collective escape from the capitalistic machine. And we can all have some small part in that, even if only for ourselves and those immediately closest to us. That's enough.

I hope that you find a way of life that is sustaining and feels whole and good for you. As neurodivergent people we do things very differently. And that is both the curse and the beauty of us. The prescribed script we've been given for how life is supposed to look is never going to work for us. Indeed, it's not working for most anybody else either. There way forward will not be easy, and the lot you've been given to deal with is not fair, but there are also millions of other disabled people just like you who are leaning on one another, slowing down, refusing to play into the existing system's hand as much as is possible for them, and making a new world. And just by pondering the things that you are, you're helping already to make that new world too.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

as much as i love buggy, i’m gonna request sanji for the fluffy alphabet!

let’s go foooor… C, D, N, U, and Y please! (my goldfish brain forgot if you said five at the most lol)

i love your work sm and i really wish you all the best!

Yay flirty chef!! Most of the requests for the Fluffabet have been Mihawk so far, which I am NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT I love him a very abnormal amount; but Sanji is just so precious and writing for him just

*melts into a silly giggling puddle*

Aaaaanyway. I very much want to thank you for requesting the letter U, I've kind of been looking forward to it, since it gives me creative freedom to brainstorm further and deeper into the characters and their quirks/psychologies, and I always love doing that.

Thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy!!!

Also feel free to come back and make requests for Buggy, as I've gotten none for him yet at all. Sad clown noises.

Also also, since someone else asked, requests for the Fluffy Alphabet will remain open until all letters are claimed for all characters; and I'll still accept requests for other characters I haven't listed if I feel I can write them and do them justice, I just listed the ones I did because they're the ones I've written the most. Until I state on my Masterpost that requests are closed, they are very much open!!

C is for Courtship (How would they court you?)

“The heavens must be dull these days with their most beautiful goddess stuck down here.”

Firmly believes it was love at first sight, and Sanji is absolutely determined to win you over. As much as he wants to pull you in by your hands, wrap his arms around you, and tell you he’s loved you since the moment he first laid eyes on you; he also doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and risk blowing his chances.

Flirty, flirty, flirty. He can’t help it, it's just what he does—but he’s respectful about it, dropping silly little lines designed to make you giggle, hopefully make you blush a little. Beyond that, though, he’s going to make every effort possible to legitimately get to know you; your likes and dislikes, your goals, your dreams, everything, wanting to ensure that you know he’s interested in you for more than just being a pretty face that happened to catch his eye.

If you flirt back, you’re never going to be able to get rid of him, he’s your responsibility now, basically a lost puppy that followed you home, end of story.

He’s bent on impressing you, so your first date he’s going to insist on cooking for you, just the two of you—meeting you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers (he made sure to ask in passing about your favorites at some point beforehand), with a light kiss on the cheek and a soft touch at your waist.

D is for Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning and other such household chores?)

“No, no, you sit down and relax, I can handle this, love. Really.”

Settling down with you would be a dream come true. He does have his dream of finding the All Blue, but if you’re willing to come with him on that adventure, then the journey there would be just as much of a dream to him as the destination itself.

It doesn’t take him very long at all to decide that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and he’ll do anything to make that happen.

He’s quite cleanly and organized in general—having spent the better part of his formative years working in a professional kitchen, it’s become a force of habit. If something needs to be cleaned, to be tidied up or organized, he’s going to do so automatically, without even really thinking about it. He would much rather just see you relaxing, will probably protest a bit about you “doing too much” if you lift a finger to so much as sweep a floor.

You already know that cooking is handled. Cooking, kitchen maintenance in general. That goes without saying. Even if you enjoy cooking as well and you want to cook with him (absolute bonus, he loves cooking with you), he’s going to be right behind you wiping down the counters, washing and drying all the dishes as you go before you even have a chance to drop them in the sink.

N is for Needs (What do they need in a healthy relationship?)

“I don’t know how I ever survived without you in my life, sweetheart.”

Sanji can be a bit on the needy side. It isn’t that he lacks confidence, or that he absolutely requires constant reassurance—he just adores you, and wants to spend every minute possible with you, making sure that you know how precious you are to him.

If you’re near him, he needs to be touching you in some capacity. Whether it’s subtle, his hand resting at the small of your back while he stands next to you, or his arm curled around you and touching your waist; or if he’s pulling you back against him, arms around your waist or hands at your hips, resting his chin at your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your cheek, he always wants to be close to you.

Constantly telling you how much he loves you, showering you with praise for every little thing you do. If it gets to be too overwhelming he will back off—but you’re still going to catch him out of the corner of your vision with his own eyes glued to you, smiling and sighing as if you’re the single most incredible thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

That being said, if you argue about anything at all, he’ll be an absolute wreck, apologizing incessantly and begging your forgiveness; and he might need a fair amount of reassurance after the fact that you aren’t upset anymore. He can’t stomach the thought of upsetting you, because losing you would utterly devastate him.

U is for Unique (What’s something unique about them that no one knows but you?)

“It’s fine, just couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get a head start on breakfast. You can go back to bed.”

Cooking is of course his passion—but it can, and sometimes does, double as a coping mechanism. He has a deeply troubled past, and every so often it might plague him in the form of nightmares.

In which case you’ll often  wake up to find his side of the bed empty; to find him in the kitchen in the wee hours of the night or morning, while everyone else is asleep, either prepping meals for the day or experimenting with new recipes to set his mind at ease.

He’s happy to accept if you offer to help, or if you just decide to sit up with him and offer your company. He’ll probably try to convince you to go back to bed, that there’s no need for you to lose sleep, but he’s not going to turn you down if you insist. It’s a gamble whether or not he’ll talk with you about what’s bothering him, or if he’ll keep a bit more quiet than usual while he immerses himself in his work. Either way, he appreciates your presence and your support more than you could ever know.

The menial, repetitive task of preparing ingredients in particular offers a pillar of stability and structure that helps him to breathe a little easier, to sort through that turmoil and make better sense of it; while the act of experimenting with something new helps steer his mind back to the present rather than dwelling on what woke him in the first place.

Y is for Yearning (What’s something that they yearn for when you’re separated?)

“Oh, no, love, I assure you, I definitely missed you more.”

It would be better to ask what he doesn’t yearn for. He simply can’t stand being apart from you, for any length of time. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust you, that doesn’t even cross his mind. He knows you’ll come back to him. He just can’t stand the length of time that you aren’t there.

Your touch, your scent, your face, your eyes, your body—your smile, your laugh, your voice, your embrace, your kisses—whether it’s minutes or hours or days that you happen to be apart, you’re the only thing that he can think about, having you back by his side, in his arms, safe and sound.

Life on the sea isn’t the safest, and he’s going to spend the entire time you're apart worried that something might happen to you. Even if you’re capable of handling yourself, he would feel much better being with you, knowing that he’s there to keep you safe.

And when you are together again, he makes it very clear just how much he missed you, all but literally gluing himself to your side, incessant in his insistence of how much he missed you, how he doesn’t ever want to spend that long apart again.

Even if it was only five minutes. Doesn’t matter, time is irrelevant, any amount of time away from you is far too long.

[dragon-ashes1485]

TROP s2 ep8

Wow. OK I...am mostly not coherent at the moment so I will be doing character breakdowns because SHIT A BRICK there is so much to unpack.

Durin:

I want to start by saying how fantastic that opening was?! Durin bidding goodbye to Disa as he went to confront his father was so good. Owain portrayed the look of a son in this episode, someone who truly admires his father and wants the best for him, but he also portrayed a king, a dwarf that desires the best for his people with all his heart. I am disappointed we didn't get an Elrond & Durin reunion but his dad had just died so...fair I guess.

I really enjoyed the dwarf storyline, especially watching them descend into greed, especially Durin III, who let me say had an absolutely metal exit. The story of them arm-wrestling when Durin was a child really shows that he feels put under by his Father, only for Durin III to admit in his final minutes that Durin was always strong, and that he would need to be strong. I loved that part, the dialogue made me very sad.

A moment to appreciate this scene please!

The end of the story in season 2 for the dwarves feels like we might see more of them in possible season 3? I really hope so. I liked that Durin was ready to offer aid to the Elves, it's clear how awful he felt that Eregion fell in part because he could not send his army until it was too late.

Aside: DISA LIVES SO I LIVE ALSO.

Also: baby Balrog, anyone? I love how that firey bastard looked. They made it look like it had been plucked straight from the depths of hell itself.

I really hope the Dwarven storyline is a key focus in season 3, especially if it means getting the three amigos (or the two amigos and their tag-along elf) back together.

The Stranger:

It has been revealed! He has his beautiful staff! I love that it was taken from the ruins of the Stoor tree, kind of continuing the storyline of beauty coming from peril that seems to follow Gandalf around in the finales of the last two seasons. I very much enjoyed the little scene with Tom Bombadil. I'd heard them singing in the soundtrack and was very pleased to see it.

I'm including the Harfoots in this section, too, as they weren't in it much. Poppy's story of what Saddoc told her after she lost her family was so heartfelt and very Tolkein, I think that was my favourite bit of the Harfoot storyline this episode. For Nori...is it cruel for me to say that her ending of the journey with the Stranger felt a bit...sudden? I enjoyed her storyline and then she simply walks away from him. While I appreciate that she's doing her own thing, it feels like we were given such a character who was kind of swept away a little? I don't know, I liked parts of it but some felt like an untouched cup of tea, lukewarm and slightly disappointing. I might be alone in this but who knows! I only hope her story isn't left there.

Elendil: (and others)

Oh Elendil, thank you for acknowledging the existence of your other son, Anarion! Also he has Narsil now!! *happy noises* oh Miriel letting him go, sacrificing herself for him once more. This poor woman, please treat her and Elendil nicely next season? Pretty please? Eärien redeemed herself very slightly, I'm glad Kemem wasn't in Numenor when she snuck her father from the chaos. That scene reminds me of all the religious toil that took place during the Tudors, with the Reformation of the church, it all felt very alike. Anyway, I really enjoyed the little we saw of Numenor and hope there's more shown next season. It felt a little disappointing screen-time wise, so maybe s3 can give us a little more!

Alright then. Celebrimbor:

The amount of pain he endures to protect the rings was horrifying to see. I honestly thought they wouldn't show his torture at the hands of Sauron, nor the famous Celebrimbanner. But honestly? Good for you, not shying away from his tragedy of a death, giving him the honour he deserves. Also Charles Edwards? Brilliant work with Charlie Vickers. The writers really went for likening his time spent with Annatar to domestic violence. "Look what you have done to yourself" and all the talk in ep7 about how it was actually Celebrimbor's fault. The torture was horrifying, please feel for me as I had to watch it twice to find the screenshots. I will miss Celebrimbor's character but I am glad the writers gave him the true ending, evidenced the true tragedy of his death.

The shot of the forge is so upsetting. It was once a place of craft and happiness for Celebrimbor, all of Eregion was, but then it was the place of his torture and death.

Isildur:

Not much to say about him to be honest as it felt rather overshadowed by the Estrid romance that, if I'm honest, hasn't really interested me. Like, at all. The moment with Theo was sweet though, as was his acknowledgement of what he had become since his mother's death. I hope we find put what happens to Theo at some point, and that he might reunite with Arondir.

People who can get fucked:

Kemen. Little shit wanting to harm the trees, starve the settlers and this bitch threatened to kill Berek so he deserves nothing more than death. I'm getting angry just typing this so I will say no more.

Adar:

For a sec I was like, why is he so smooth. Then it all went to shit. I still want to know who he is! He was such a good villain but his death was inevitable. He had become too enamoured with killing Sauron, and his children suffered for it. I liked that his death mirrored when he killed Sauron, even the angle was spot on. It saddened me that Glûg was the one who did it, but not wholly unsurprising. His last words were awful and made me feel terribly sorry for him.As a side note, Glûg's death was sad, he had killed his father, found a new master and suffered a cruel death as a result. Also well done effects/makeup team for the transition back into Adar's scars.

Galadriel:

Flipping heck, the whole fight sequence with Sauron made me kick my feet. The part where he shapeshifted was so cool to watch! Also the fight was so dance-like, it was mesmerising. I am enjoying her character becoming wiser in this season, not even tempted this time by Sauron's offers. But she's still the warrior determined to vanquish him, literally crawling across the ground to defeat him. Oh the way I squirmed when Morgoth's stupid crown stabbed her so deeply.

SHE DID AN ELROND. SHE JUMPED. FORESHADOWING *CHEFS KISS*

Just saying, she looked fabulous in the cottage-core dress she wore in Imladris. I really hope the writers continue to make her the wise Galadriel we know in the third age, and also that she gets to fight in battle, of course.

I have so many hopes for her character in s3. Very proud of her not going back to Sauron, that bitch is abusive.

Sauron: dickhead. He killed Celebrimbor. Absolute kettle.

Gil-Galad:

He was great, I liked his joke about Galadriel. They might have redeemed his character a bit, in the last two episodes so I hope we see some more of that!

I love him fully about to rip off an orcs head because it made Elrond sad an dishonoured Celebrimbors work.

Elrond:

Best til last? I just have more to say about his character and also the parallels making my heart sing, so expect many crappy quality snapshots.

Firstly, I'd like to point out how much I loved that he was the one to save Galadriel. He has rejected the Elven rings (with rightful caution) but not enough to leave his friend to perish. He jumped off of a cliff to save his friends from the ring, and then when Galadriel mirrors his actions to stop Sauron getting them, he saves her. He is constantly looking after those he loves, rings or no rings.

This moment here made me sad. Elrond, fresh from the blood on the battlefield, trying to preserve the purity of Celebrimbor's legacy. He even addresses the orcs as they prefer, trying desperately to preserve anything of his friend, who he knows has fallen with Eregion. And they make him watch the burning, as though he was watching the last memory of Celebrimbor dwindle.

I swear, if he and Durin do not reunite in s3 and fix this look on Elrond's face, I will be disappointed. I need the comedy of those two again, help me recover from this season.

PARALELL OF S2 EP1 WHEN GALADRIEL PICKS UP THE RING. Oh I love me a cheeky parallel.

Please praise the cinematographers. They seem to give all the fancy shots to Elrond which is quite funny.

"We barely had the strength to flee" oh my heart fucking broke. Why do they do this to this guy? Let the poor elf retire in Imladris in peace. (Also, imladris?! Yay!) Thank you to the writers and Elrond for finally acknowledging the physical and mental toll of war. It's literally the reason Imladris becomes what it will be, because Elrond saw war and lived it, lived WITH it all his life. Let him retire please.

THIS IS WHAT I MEAN. PRAISE THE CINEMATOGRAPHERS. The look into the camera, the decision he has to make, chefs kiss.

I don't know what to expect to happen with his character next season, but I very much hope it involves Durin. His character arcs over the last 2 seasons have been insane, that's why he's so easy to ramble about, the characterisation and acting of him is phenomenal. Please be kind with them all, Amazon.

Lastly: ARONDIR AND VOROHIL LIVE. Please let Camnir be in Lindon, untouched, making maps and drinking tea.

Overall I really enjoyed the episode. Some of the Harfoots bits as I've said were a little odd but overall a great episode. Loved the parallels in this, the gorgeous shots, representing the mental toll from torture and war and also having the bravery to show that kind of thing on screen! I hope dearly that season 3 will only be better and continue to flesh out these character we love so much.

[astridhoff03]

My thoughts on Season 2 of the greatest Chaos in the World of DreamWorks TV…

Oh my gosh, did this season yet again not disappoint, even if it has a bit of a slow start, it is still a great story. I definitely can see past the little flaws, because it’s still a good show with emotional moments and thrilling adventures. Also at the end of the season it will get really dark, darker than the Jurassic World Trilogy ever could’ve gone. I got goosebumps just like watching the Jurassic Park movies. And more emotional than every movie in the Jurassic Park/World franchise. Such compelling, complex characters with well developed backstory’s. I honestly was speechless when I finished season two and thought again, wow they scored again with this show,

My favorite episode is definitely two because how they showed us, how Brooklynn reacts to the loss of her arm and the fact that everyone thinks she’s dead. Kiersten Kelly does a great job in executing Brooklynns emotional journey in this, I think she has took a bit inspiration of herself loosing an important part of the body.

And Soyona Santos is an incredible villain, her backstory is also really interesting and how she interacts in the whole show with Brooklynn is just amazing. My favorite scene of her is when she draws Brooklynn, she never was so intimidating and seems extremely intelligent and dangerous. Together with the Raptor Lady she’s now one of the best villains in the Jurassic Park franchise. Also I just noticed that the thing with the lazer makes actually a lot of sense, even if I think it’s not as scary as the whistle of the Raptor Lady. Also Soyonas animated version is prettier than her live action counterpart. It’s just funny how much more intimidating and dangerous the JW: Dominion villains are in the series.

What Brooklynn does is not good for her but I can also understand her, she wants to protect her friends and family. But it was sad to see that Ben was near at a panic attack when Brooklynn called him. Also Yaz and Sammy are still the cutest and heathliest relationship in the entire camp fam but I like that Darius and Kenji finally get along again, I missed their friendship and dynamic so much. Kenji has gone through so much, he’s the most tragic figure in the entire cast of how much he experienced loss in his life. And Yaz and Sammy have grown stronger together. I love how Sammy tries to decorate the container and Yaz watches her with so much love and admiration.

And don’t let me start on the dinosaurs this season. They were incredible. The Suchomimus or as Billy would said it Suchimimus has a beautiful design and many incredible action scenes, my favorite is when he fights the hippo. I also like the the communication between the Albino Baryonyx and the Atrociraptor Red, was very scary and also how he walked behind Brooklynn was bizarre. Leucotistic Baryonyx is also the perfect combination of the idea of the hybrids and the normal dinosaur from Jurassic Park. It’s like they’ve found a perfect compromise where every fan gets something out of it. The chase in the dark with the eyeless Baryonyx was scary as hell, I can’t find words for it and also with what calmness Soyona Santos guides Brooklynn through the darkness, while her friends get chased. Geba was also pretty cute and funny, I feared for her life in the last episodes. It was actually a really good Idea to show how humans, animals and the dinosaurs get along on other continents. Was very interesting to witness and also helped to understand the world better our heroes are now in. The Majungasaurus was also very cool to see finally in the Jurassic Franchise and I am happy that my favorite dinosaur of all time, the Allosaurus has a final hurrah in episode two. This magnificent beast was going through a lot, blindness, serval fights who could’ve easily ended deadly, she was blamed for killing Brooklynn, was hunted and serval times imprisoned. I feel very sorry for my favorite predator of the Jurassic Park franchise, hopefully she can find finally peace in her future as our Camp Family. But I guess we have to wait until season three. I am happy when I see DODGSON again and the biosyn valley.

[that-ari-blogger]

Content. Warning. (Poison)

Hazbin Hotel has a predicament that I haven’t really come across anywhere else. The episode that I would use to recommend this series is also the episode that I would use to recommend people away.

I would recommend another tale for the characters and the storyline and how the writers weaved in a dissection of subject matter more nuanced than I expected. But Hazbin Hotel is, in my opinion, at its best when it deals with that material front and centre.

There’s a reason I have titled this post what I have. Episode four of this series isn’t shy about what it’s talking about. But there’s an interesting difference between the idea of something being subtle and something being nuanced, and there’s also another weird thing about this episode and especially the first song contained therein.

Masquerade feels like it is written by a comedian, and I mean that in the most straight faced, complimentary way possible.

Let me explain.

CONTENT WARNING: (Mention of Abuse, Mental Health, Sexual Assault, Addiction, Bodily Harm)

SPOILERS AHEAD: (Hazbin Hotel, Six)

I am an absolutely awful judge of the cultural zeitgeist, but I have observed that the music I like rarely gets described as “pop”. Partially, this is because I see a bunch of people liking a specific thing and I walk in the opposite direction, but partially this is because my musical taste isn’t limited to any specific genre.

My main musical tastes are centred around the emotionality of the song, rather than the musical distinctions. I will look at Harry Styles’ Watermelon Sugar and think it’s nice to listen to, but I will gravitate towards Olivia Rodrigo’s Vampire because of the emotional journey that song takes me on. The former of those two makes you want to dance; the latter makes you want to shout your rage at the sky.

Naturally, this leads me to ballads, songs that tell a story. The Crane Wives are particularly good at these, Curses is the archetypical example of a tale of personal guilt. But, for the sake of a constant thematic, let’s talk about Bitter Medicine for a moment.

“I bite my tongue to keep the worst of the words in So they don’t hurt nobody but me Swallow the poison I wanna spit Bitter medicine I think it’s making me sick Don’t look up to me I’m not as tall as you think You see, I talk a big game But it’s bullshit”

Bitter medicine is about bad coping mechanisms, kind of. The Crane Wives excels at exploring powerful emotions but leaves the scenarios open to interpretation. It’s not how you got here that matters, but where “here” is.

This is why the same few of their songs have gained popularity in Asexual spaces as well as in spaces for those recovering from their own actions. Reformed abusers and aces don’t tend to share much, except for a feeling of guilt.

It’s an unfortunate part of the ace experience that the realising of who you are feels like a betrayal. It feels like you have strung someone along with promises you can’t keep. I’ve been there, and it feels awful.

I do want to stress that this isn’t betrayal in reality. Being ace does not make you a bad person, you haven’t actually strung someone along. You are valid, end of argument.

The issue is that the mind isn’t always a rational thing. Sometimes it internalises things in an unhealthy way. Odds are the partner who you think you betrayed wouldn’t agree with you on that. People that like you have a habit of supporting you.

Essentially, part of being ace is that self-imposed guilt. Not every ace goes through it, but for those who do, that feeling is difficult to overcome.

But that idea of being the reason a relationship fallen apart has a lot of other applicable situations, hence the diversity of popularity.

Bitter Medicine isn’t about that, its about guilt for feeling bad. Its about the type of trauma response that is selfishness masquerading as selflessness.

The emotion on display is pain, with a song about bottling up everything until it explodes. You can’t be angry, you can’t be sad, you can’t let people help you because "there’s nothing wrong". You just have to keep things tight to your chest and let other people suffer. This is a song about becoming distant from those who can see you hurting and can’t do anything to help you.

It's about how bad coping mechanisms act as a poison that can’t be escaped, almost like an addiction.

The music video centres around the idea of others getting caught up in the crossfire of internal emotions. It’s monochromatic so you can see the stains left behind even more starkly, and those stains get everywhere. The protagonist has to be rescued by these others, but she has to let them.

You will notice that ballads don’t usually tell you the events of their stories. Everything is a metaphor; everything is a symbol. Sometimes a song will tell you outright what’s going on. That’s a strength of the medium, not a plot hole.

Which leads me to a song called Poison, a ballad that is entirely centred around the metaphor of its title.

Poison was written by Alice Cooper (with help from Desmond Child and John McCurry) and released in 1989 as a single, and it is surreal.

It’s about Cooper’s alcohol and drug addictions, which is weird considering the lyrics are ostensibly about someone he’s in a relationship with, and that’s the point.

The song depicts Cooper’s addiction as an abusive relationship, dedicating the song to that part. It’s singing to “you”, as if he’s in conversation with it, telling it to its face all the damage that he has taken.

This is personification, ascribing a will to an inanimate object, although its more than that. In this case, it’s ascribing an attraction to the object, a seductiveness. He blames himself for falling for a trap and frames the song as his own realisation of his agency. He got himself into this situation, he recognises what the problem is, he decides where to go from here.

I want to highlight that the central metaphor is used differently in both songs mentioned above. That’s part of the fun of literary analysis. Everything works together to provide context for everything else.

Poison is a song about alcoholism, so it uses the titular concept to focus on the realisation and consequences. Bitter Medicine focuses on how the poison masquerades as a cure to emphasise its point about bad coping mechanisms being traps. Hazbin Hotel’s Poison is the opposite of all these things.

The song in Hazbin Hotel is about an abusive relationship, and it uses the poison to step in for the addictiveness of that. It’s a reverse of Alice Cooper’s song, comparing a person to a drug rather than the other way around.

It is also gloriously unsubtle in a way that is really difficult to explain, so I’m going to have to use another, wildly different example.

I recently read a book called This Gilded Abyss. It’s by Rebecca Thorne (@rebeccathornewrites), and it struck me as a book that was graceful in the same way that a person can be “cool”. It’s not pompously dancing around clever wordplay. The book feels like the art is in the tale, rather than the telling, and I mean that in the best way. It’s more art than form.

The reason I bring this up is because that is the same feeling I get from listening to Hazbin Hotel’s Poison. There are cool details in the presentation, sure, but they are outshone entirely by the emotion on display. I don’t listen to the song or read the book to dwell on the fine details, not because they aren’t there, but because the story has me in a death grip and I am too enthralled by it to pay attention.

I could talk about how Poison uses high notes to ground itself, I could talk about how the songs instruments imply a fakeness. But that doesn’t seem like the point to me. Instead, I want to elaborate on what I said earlier about this song and comedy writing.

The song isn’t funny, per say. If you were insincere, you could point out that this is about a spider singing to a moth, so haha jokey joke joke. But that’s the key. Sincerity.

The golden rule of comedy is “commit to the bit”. It’s less funny to draw back and undercut yourself than it is to subvert expectations or do something dumb and go for it, despite seeing it coming a mile away.

I was a theatre kid (if you are shocked by this, welcome to the blog), and I remember being told by the theatre sports coach that for a joke to be funny, it can never be acknowledged as such. I don't know how much I agree with this, but it's a useful idea.

Hazbin Hotel does this in a big way with its entire design. It’s set in hell, and the main character is the most optimistic person you will ever meet. Pentious is a villain, and also a goober, and the show does not acknowledge the inherent silliness of this for a moment.

As such, the punchline of Poison is the final verse, which is a tour de force of Blake Roman’s acting skill. Everything cuts away and you get the emotional centre of the entire song. It’s like the dick joke you can see coming, but instead of making you laugh, it destroys you.

This is how the final scream in All You Wanna Do works. The song part of the musical Six, which I hope to cover on this blog at some point and follows the breaking down of Katherine Howard. She is seeking a kinship without any preconceptions, but everyone around her views her as nothing more than a vehicle for sex.

At the end of the song, she screams out into the stage:

"Bite my lip and pull my hair as you tell me I'm the fairest of the fair."

Six is a tragedy that has already happened. The characters know their fates, but the audience gets to learn them in real time, and is powerless but to watch with joy that turns rapidly into horror.

In this case, Howard hasn't been allowed to complain. She's been something pretty for people to look upon, and she has to be happy, right? She's married to the king. But she isn't, because nobody has at any point asked what it is that she wants.

So, she screams, letting all that rage and frustration out, letting the audience know how she really feels, and displaying her complete vulnerability in the face of history, and then she is gone, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Poison also does this with each chorus. There are mini punchlines, mini beats that make you react and keep you interested.

“What’s the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.”

This forms a bridge to the chorus, drawing you back like an arrow in a bowstring to send you rocketing forwards into an aggressively upbeat flurry of music. The same thing happens later on in the song.

“So far beyond difficult, To resist another gulp.”

This is use of the titular metaphor, but its also ascribing blame. Angel has been abused and sexually assaulted by Valentino, and this is the song about how he has internalised that. Namely, through condemning himself.

There are two things to note here, and I think the series disagrees with Angel on both accounts.

First up, there is the importance of proportionality. Falling for someone with more red flags than a beach in shark season wasn’t a good decision, I think we can all agree on that, but it doesn’t condemn someone to abuse.

Especially since this is the internet for Pete's sake. You only have to imply that a character is attractive, and you will have a collection of people who will defend their every move. Part of this is the "I can fix him" mentality and the fact that fictional characters aren't real, but still. Come on.

Second up, is Angel really to blame? More to blame than, say, Valentino? The victim is blaming himself for his victimhood, in order to deflect from the person who has put himself in that situation.

Episode four has one scene in it that is both my favourite and my least favourite, the one in which Charlie sets fire to the set.

This was a scene that made me reflect on the difference between something being good craft and something being enjoyable, as Valentino’s switch in tone when moving between Angel and Charlie is so viscerally uncomfortable that it made me pause the episode to sit back and take it in. It’s intentionally jarring, and it's not trying to present this character as benevolent.

What it is trying to do is present Valentino as seductive, someone who has two modes that he can switch between. Angel fell for the nice Valentino who got the gifts and was kind and charming and was blindsided by the more aggressive version of this character.

In other words, the highs were what he was drawn in by, the lows caught him off guard. Valentino is like a drug.

This truly is the opposite of Alice Cooper’s song. Where that personified the drug to give it agency, Angel dehumanises Valentino to place the agency on himself and take the blame.

“Because I know you’re poison, you’re feeding me poison. Addicted to this feeling I can’t help but swallow up your poison. I made my choice and every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow.”

If we focus on the line I put in bold, there’s some similarity to another song, previously in the musical.

“Hell is forever, whether you like it or not. Had their chance to behave better now they boil in a pot”

The idea that choices are final and that everyone gets one chance that they must then commit to is a key antagonistic force in the series. The show is about hope, and the desire for things to get better, but Heaven and Angel say that if you make a decision, the rest of your life must be dedicated to the follow up of that.

If you got into a bad relationship, sucks to suck, you’re stuck there. If you got into a bind and had to do dark things to stay alive, sorry, no redoes.

There's a word for this: "Damnation".

Committing to the bit here is making the bit your entire deal. The theme is the dichotomy between change and stagnation, and every source of conflict comes from that one concept. It’s milking the joke for all its worth, but again, repurposed.

Although, there is one other advantage that comedians have in storytelling, an advantage I like to call the “What’s My Mother’s Name?” Moment.

Sam Riegel is a voice actor and a regular cast member on Critical Role. He is famous for being incredibly funny, but also for his relationship with humour. Several times across the series’ three campaigns, it has become clear that Riegel was being fully serious, and neither the audience not the cast saw it coming until far too late.

There’s an obvious example here but let’s get topical and talk about the latest episode of the series, as of writing this.

“He had a perspective and a goal and he laid it out very clearly. He wanted to get his family back and assume power. He did not set out to kill a city, to destroy a city. He wanted to get back with his family. The others prevented him. He gave them a choice to sit down at a table and they said, ‘No, we'd rather kill a city.’”

Riegel is playing Braius Doomseed, a minotaur champion of an evil deity, and in episode 102, there is a discussion of what has gone before. Braius starts to make a case for one of the villainous deities, and the rest of the cast assumes he’s just joking and committing to the bit. Instead, Reigel commits to the bit so thoroughly that he bypasses humour and plays it straight. This is someone genuinely making a case for the lord of the hells.

The question isn’t about when Reigel started beings serious because he’s always been that. The question, is “when did he stop being funny?”

Hazbin Hotel does this with Poison, and it causes the audience to reflect on what has gone before. All of Angels’s actions up to this point have now been recontextualised, and it's far too late to do anything about it. Angel has always been serious, the show has always been aware of this character as a damaged person, but now the lighting is different, and you aren’t shielded by the joke.

The punchline is the commitment to the bit.

Final Thoughts

I’ve seen a lot of praise online for this song, and while I agree that this song’s grip on you is unbreakable, I think that it gets outdone by the very next number.

I also want to point out why, in my opinion, episode four is the best in the series.

The show has a pacing problem, it’s in a hurry to tell its story because it’s had artificial constraints put upon it. But Masquerade takes its time and gives you a story without compromises and without outside input. In my eyes, this is a flawless episode of television.

Next week, we will stick with the episode, and look at Loser Baby, and how hope becomes triumph. Stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[missezramay]

ted lasso, post-finale thoughts.

I went into the finale thinking yeah, if the writing serves, I can accept any outcome even if it's not exactly what I want. Instead, I was hit with a plethora of mixed emotions I didn't expect to have. Confusion, anger, hurt, annoyance, small bursts of joy in between, and just deep sadness. Almost 20 hours later and I'm still incredibly dissatisfied and processing. For the most part, finales should provide a feeling of celebration and relief. I... don't feel any of that.

I'm just really trying to pinpoint why I'm so sad.

Of course everything inevitably has to come to an end. Of course Ted was always going to reunite with his kid. Of course it's not about winning or losing. Of course Tedbecca can remain platonic if that was always the plan. Of course that's the way life goes, but...

For a show (and this season particularly) that constantly encouraged us to 'believe' and 'hope' in the idea that 'everything will work out', all those 75 minutes did was take me on an unsettling, emotional journey for no concrete reason other than to mess with the audience (the opening scene was just adding salt in the Tedbecca wound I've had since S2). Because everything in a macro sense, "worked out". But the WAY it "worked out" does not sit well with me?? And it's supposed to? For a lot of people (on Reddit/Facebook, lol), it was enough?? Richmond not technically winning and Ted leaving like that without so much as a tear? What am I missing??

When I tell you I'm trying to embrace the good parts, I'm really trying. Yes to KBPR & the women's team, Yes to Colin kissing his fella, Yes to Rebecca & Mae & the guys owning the club, Yes to Roy becoming Manager.

So... why am I still so upset? Hmm, let's see.

The boys' musical number? The cutest. Ted didn't think so.

Nate's apology? Heartbreaking. Ted didn't bat an eyelash.

Rebecca begging twice for Ted to stay? Ted, absolute silence.

Beard staying/getting married in London to his toxic gf? Comic relief, haha, fine. Except Ted wasn't there as Best Man.

Don't even get me started on the huge disservice to the Roy/Keeley/Jamie triangle.

Now listen, I get that he misses Henry & Henry misses his dad. I'm not that cold. A father/son's love is important. It was always the catalyst for this show; for him to work on himself so he can be a better father unlike the one he grew up with. That's fine.

But on this particular week. His last week with his Richmond family. There was NO sense of him being sad to leave them. He can be sad about missing Henry but he can ALSO be sad about leaving. No, he just completely checked out. He let everyone pour out their hearts (Hannah's getting her third Emmy, mark my words) to him, and he just stone-faced the entire time.

THIS DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME.

The argument is that he was internally processing, he was overwhelmed, he was trying to distance himself so it would hurt less. Fair points, okay. But this is a television show, moreover, A FINALE. TV characters, while relatable, are heightened versions of ourselves, there so we can better process our emotions and learn to handle things better in our real lives. Ted deserved MORE dialogue and displaying MORE emotion than whatever this was.

We're never going to see him again. We're over here crying along with Rebecca, Nate & Beard, but he didn't sob once. Even though he spent three years building a family with them. I even thought, hey at least he left his legacy with Trent's book but newsflash, he wanted his name taken off that too! Complete erasure.

I just feel so robbed of better moments. Like there were nice moments here and there. But they could've been BETTER. Honestly, Nate & Rebecca's breakdowns were close to perfection, so much love there. But the lack of dialogue and Ted not reciprocating? Broke ME.

I just cannot. understand. this. choice.

Massive sigh. I'm just truly baffled by the way everything wrapped up and not getting the satisfied feeling that one half of the viewership got. Maybe I'm in the minority, but that means something. It carries weight. Also, for a "three-season arc" that was planned well in advance, why all the rewrites and parallels and fakeouts... it's just cruel. But as the theme says (and maybe this was a warning all along), yeah, I guess this might well be it.

This show has given us so much and the last season flailed for the most part. I don't want to disrespect the show by being negative and cynical (looks like I failed!!) or cast blame on anyone in particular. The cast/crew are amazing people and I'll be grateful for being a part of the journey but I'm just so sad and this feeling sucks and I will never get over it.

Going to miss them. x

[everythingharrypotterblog]

charmed [15]: 'padfoot' (wolfstar x reader smut)

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYSSS. we're ALMOST NEARING THE END. enjoy this short lil part. its spicy, its sweet, its sad. it's rly been a journey and i am so not ready for it to end. as always, itd make me so happy to hear from you.

warnings: smut, mmf threesome, oral f! and m! receiving

series summary: set in the prisoner of azkaban, including its major plot points. remus and y/n get hired by dumbledore last minute to teach at hogwarts, defense against the dark arts and charms respectively. not wanting the students to know they are married, they navigate the challenging year through hidden glances, hand holds underneath the table and loving moments in their offices. even with all their efforts to conceal their relationship, their chemistry does not go unnoticed by the student population of hogwarts, who grow fond of the pair as they offer them some of the best classes they’ve had in a while. their relationship as newlyweds is strengthened as teaching the next generation of wizards unlocks a sea of memories of their love story. for the second time in his life, remus holds hogwarts responsible for some of his happiest memories. he’s given the chance to create them with the love of his life, y/n, who has taught and continues to teach him that every part of him is lovable, remaining forever under her charm.

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15.

1980. Very shortly after Y/N joined the Order.

“Dog.” Remus pointed out.

“Dog.”

Y/N and Remus were on a walk in a little London park. 

“I need to pet it so bad.” Y/N said. Remus chuckled, sneaking a glance at her.

And luckily enough, as they walked past the owner, the fluffy golden retriever with a waggy tail proved to be friendly, running over to Y/N and Remus.

“Hi! Hello!” Y/N exclaimed happily as the dog ran up to her, sniffing and licking her legs. “May I pet him?” She looked up at the owner.

“Of course.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet aren’t you— oh!” Y/N giggled, kneeling down and petting the dog, giving him good scratches everywhere and letting him lick her face.

Remus looked down on her with fondness on his face before crouching down beside her to pat the dog’s head.

“Have a great day.” Y/N smiled as they got up. The owner tipped his hat at them, and they walked away from each other.

“Big dog lover, eh?” Remus said.

“Yes.” Y/N smiled. “I just love them so much, they’re so cuddly and happy. They make me feel better every single time.”

“That’s really cute.” Remus said, refraining from saying “you’re”. They had just began being friends, he was way too shy to let his crush on her show just yet.

+

It was a Tuesday evening in November and a few Order members were gathered at Number 12 Grimmauld Place after a meeting.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?” Remus said as he walked in on Y/N in the living room, laid down on the couch under a blanket.

“Yeah.” Y/N replied. “Just traditional seasonal depression. It makes me want to hole up and do nothing.”

Remus took a seat at her feet. They stayed in silence for a little while until Remus sat up suddenly. “Wait here.”

He went to the kitchen where Sirius was and whispered something in his ear.

A few moments later, a big shaggy black dog burst through the living room, running straight for Y/N.

“Oh my GOD!” Y/N sat up immediately, closing her eyes as the dog jumped on her and started licking her face. “OH MY GOD, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM—“ She squealed out of happiness as he wagged his tail, nuzzling her and happily accepting her scratches.

Remus felt warmth fill his chest and cheeks as Y/N’s hearty loud laugh filled the room. He realized that he loved seeing her happy like this. And he did like that it was his doing.

+

The kitchen was filled with the clunk of glass Butterbeer bottles hitting the table, the crunch of biting into a handful of chips and loud booming voices.

“Y/N, your turn.” Remus said.

“Mkay,” Y/N said, leaning over to pick up a card. She read it, “Question. Have you ever lied to me and if yes, what was the lie? Hmm…. I’m gonna ask it to the both of you, can I do that?”

Sirius shrugged from across the table. “Okay. So a time where both Moony and I have lied to you?”

Y/N nodded, leaning back in her chair. She looked at the two, smiling. “This should be good.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, pensively. Remus burst out laughing. “Well, there is a big thing that we’ve been keeping from you…”

“What?” Sirius looked at Remus confusedly. Remus stuck his tongue out and panted, and Sirius threw his head back in laughter upon comprehending. “Okay, yeah, Y/N there is one thing.”

“What?” Y/N asked in anticipation.

“You know that black dog that Remus brings around whenever you’re sad?”

“Yeah…” Y/N raised an eyebrow. This was not where she expected it to go. 

“Well… it’s ME!”

Y/N spat out her drink. “The fuck you mean it’s you?”

“It’s literally me.”

“Shut up.”

Remus was laughing to the point of tears right now.

Sirius stood up, did a little twirl and transformed into the dog. Y/N fell out of her seat.

“WHAT? REMUS JOHN LUPIN, THIS WHOLE TIME THAT DOG YOU’VE BEEN BRINGING IS MOTHERFUCKIN JUST SIRIUS??? SIRIUS?!”

Remus nodded, unable to speak as he wiped the tears of laughter from his face.

“Hold on… SO THAT’S WHY THEY CALL YOU PADFOOT?” Y/N yelled at the dog. Remus let out a howl of laughter. Y/N was under so much shock that she didn’t even think of admitting that she herself was also an Animagus.

Sirius transformed back into human form and come up behind Y/N to hug her.

“I feel so betrayed what—“ Y/N laughed. “I let you sleep on my lap!”

“And you still can, darling.” Sirius winked.

Remus rolled his eyes. 

“What, jealous Moony? Get over here.”

Remus joined his friends on the floor and the three tangled themselves in some sort of three-way hug.

“Guys?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you guys.” Y/N said, voice muffed in their embrace.

“To friendship.”

“To friendship”.

+

Y/N found herself watching Sirius undo his long mane of hair and comb his fingers through the knots before he threw it back into an updo.

“Siri?” She hummed.

“Yes?”

“You have such nice hair.” She complimented him.

He blushed slightly. “Well, thank you lovely.”

He walked out of the kitchen. Remus, who was sitting across the table from Y/N, lifted an eyebrow. He put down his coffee mug and a mischievous smile came upon his lips.

“Dove…”

“Hmm?”

“Can you come here for a sec?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs.

No need to ask twice for that. Y/N hopped up, and took a seat on Remus’ lap.

“What’s up?” She said, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Can I ask you something?” Remus said cheekily, tracing his thumb over the side of her hip. “Do you find Sirius attractive?”

That was not what Y/N was expecting to hear. She looked slightly taken aback. Her cheeks heat up. “He’s your best friend, Remmy!”

Remus shrugged. “I know. I just wanna know. I wouldn’t be offended you know, the opposite even.”

Y/N looked at him weirdly. Remus let out a shy chuckle. “I’ve never admitted this to you but… Sirius and I… we have in the past… occasionally…”

Y/N’s eyes widened.

“WHAT?”

That was even less of what Y/N expected to hear. “I’ve known you for a while now, and I’ve never heard of this!! What else have you not told me?”

“Just this, I promise.” Remus laughed, burying his head in her neck.

Y/N licked her teeth. “Damn. That’s kinda hot.”

“Really?” Remus lifted off her, reading her face for expression.

“Yeah…” Y/N said. She felt herself become shy. “And to answer your question, yeah Siri is cute. But you know you’re the love of my life, Remus.”

Remus smiled broadly. “I know. But it doesn’t mean we don’t get to have any fun, right?”

Y/N swallowed. She felt herself get aroused. And she knew that Remus would be able to smell it. It was a sense that had been permanently changed since his werewolf bite.

He did.

“You like the idea?” He whispered into her ear, hand sliding up between her thighs.

“Yes.” Y/N breathed, closing her eyes.

+

Y/N hummed to herself as she twirled around in her room in a bright red dress that she had just made herself. 

She heard the apartment door open and two pairs of footsteps walk in. It must be Remus with one of the other Marauders.

“Knock knock.” A voice said.

She looked up above her own reflection in the mirror. “Siri!”

Sirius came in and gave her a quick hug. “You’re the only one who calls me that.”

“It’s cute. Do you mind it?”

“No, not at all. What are you all dressed up for?”

“Oh, nothing. Just one of my latest boredom creations.”

Sirius hummed. “It looks nice.”

His gaze was respectful. It always was extremely respectful with Sirius and Y/N. He was like her gay best friend, except he wasn’t gay. At least not fully.

“Thanks.” Y/N smiled. “If I were to go out in this, how would I do my hair?” She pondered, going back to look at the mirror.

“Up. For sure.” Sirius answered.

Y/N gathered her hair up. “Like this?”

“Hmm. Yeah, but— may I?” He asked. She nodded and Sirius made his way to her.

He settled behind her and ran his fingers through her hair to gather it up in a ponytail. His fingers felt soft as they grazed her scalp.

“Like that.” Sirius said, holding the ponytail with one hand as his other came to rest on her bare shoulder. She felt her pulse in her neck dangerously close to where his hand was.

She looked at him in the mirror’s reflection. He met her gaze.

“Well, well, well, what fun are we up to here?”

Remus stepped in the room, jolting Y/N and Sirius apart. He let go of her hair and it came cascading down. 

“Hey!” Y/N whipped around to face him.

Although nothing really out of the ordinary had happened, the energy was different in the room.

“It feels like I’m interrupting something.” Remus chuckled, a hint of cheekiness in his voice.

“Course not.” Sirius said, plopping himself onto Y/N’s bed.

“I was just showing Pads my newest project.” Y/N gave a light twirl to show off the new dress. “You like?”

Remus licked his lips, stroking his chin. “Very beautiful.” Y/N grinned. From the side of his eye, he caught Sirius watching her too.

“Sirius, you like?”

Sirius broke off his gaze. “Hmm, wha- oh yes of course, our little bird’s quite the seamstress!”

Remus walked up to Y/N, greeting her with a hug. He leaned down placing a quick kiss on her lips. Y/N smiled through it.

She was about to pull away but Remus wrapped his arm around her waist. He slid his finger along her jaw and deepened the kiss.

Sirius looked away.

Y/N opened her eyes, giggling nervously. “Um, baby, Sirius is right there.” She whispered.

Remus opened his, glancing over at his friend on the bed. “Sirius, want to join?”

Both Y/N and Sirius looked at him, taken aback. They grew shy.

Sirius laughed it off, insinuating Remus played too much. But Remus didn’t drop the question.

“Listen, I don’t want to make any of you uncomfortable.” He began. “But… I do know for a fact that you two do find each other attractive.. and God knows it would be the hottest thing for me too. Maybe we can have a bit of fun?”

Y/N swallowed. She did not know what to feel except for a certain ache that began pooling between her legs.

“I- uh.” Sirius breathed. He ran his hand through his hair. He laughed, biting his lip. Y/N almost whimpered. “I’m down for anything if you are.”

Y/N let go of Remus. She nodded. Taking a hesitant step towards Sirius, she glanced back at Remus, who winked at her.

“Why don’t you climb onto his lap, dove, you love doing that.” Remus said, taking a seat in a nearby chair.

Sirius leaned back on his elbows, licking his lips as he watched Y/N climb onto him, a knee on either side of him.

“You’re such a pretty thing,” Sirius sighed.

“Could say the same about you,” Y/N responded as she ran her hands down his chest.

Sirius sat up, placing both of his hands on her hips.

“You can kiss her,” Remus grunted, thoroughly enjoying the sight of this.

Taking a deep breath in through their noses, Sirius and Y/N pressed their lips together. Letting out a moan, Sirius pulled her tighter against him, pressing her center to his.

Y/N cried out, the sound muffled by the kiss, as she wrapped her arms around Sirius’ neck and ground her hips under his hold.

“Merlin,” Sirius panted as the two pulled apart. ��You’re exquisite. Can I touch you, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded and Sirius brought both hands up, sliding up her ribs and coming to cup her breasts. He squeezed them, sending Y/N’s eyes rolling back.

“Such cute tits, oh I wanna see em,” he said, pulling the dress out of the way. He smiled when they were revealed to him, bringing his mouth to one of her nipples.

Remus loosened his tie from his corner, feeling hot.

“Isn’t she something?” He said, getting up and walking towards them. “I bet you’ve got Pads all hard and straining under there.”

Y/N grinned and nodded. “Let’s take care of that.”

She climbed off and Sirius undid his belt, pulling his pants off. Both Remus and Y/N kneeled down in front of him.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius swore again. It wasn’t even his birthday or Christmas.

He revealed himself. He indeed was already furiously hard.

“Gorgeous.”  Remus hummed. It had been a while. He placed a soft kiss on the head, licking over the slit.

Sirius hissed and squeezed his eyes closed. Y/N leaned forward, dragging her tongue down the base of his shaft as Remus sucked at the tip.

“Fucking hell!” He dared to look down, the sight of his best friend and his girl both sucking him off simultaneously enough to bring him closer over the edge.

He cradled both their heads with one hand, shaking and swearing until he finally came. Y/N wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Wow”.

Remus smiled, catching his breath. His eyes darkened. He could smell Y/N. And she was sopping.

“You wanna taste Y/N, Padfoot? I promise you she’s got the prettiest fucking pussy you’ll ever see.”

“Hell yes.”

Y/N whimpered, squeezing her thighs together before switching places with Sirius. Remus climbed onto the bed behind her, pulling her dress off over her head. Her breasts were still pink from Sirius’ hands beforehand.

Sirius’ eyes trailed down to her stomach, to the navy cotton underwear that hugged her hips. She spread legs and revealed a wet spot that had soaked through. Sirius almost fainted.

“Aw baby, you’re this wet huh? Sirius teased. He brought a finger to the warm fabric, spreading it and pressing against her clit.

Y/N cried, throwing her head back and Remus was behind her to bear her weight. “Who got you this wet, huh dove?” Remus asked, looking at her panting face as she settled her back nicely into his chest.

“You. You two.”

Sirius removed his hand and replaced it with his tongue, licking along the wet spot and dampening it even further. 

“Oh fuck,” Y/N gasped, crumbling onto Remus. “Take them fucking off.”

Sirius slid her panties down her legs, her pussy so wet that it already dripped and stained the sheet beneath her.

“Open up darling, open up. Let Padfoot see.” 

He slid his tongue up her folds once and wasted no time brushing it over her clit, taking it between his lips and sucking it.

Remus ran his warm hands over her stomach, then brought them up to her chest. With the pressure of Sirius’ tongue on her clit and Remus’ hands on her breasts, she moaned in ecstasy and threw her head back on Remus’ shoulder.

She cried, a string of half-gibberish swears leaving her mouth. Remus’ hand came and caressed her throat, then he ran his fingers over her lips, parting them so she can suck on them.

“So fucking good.”

+

Present day. 1993, Hogwarts.

Y/N took a swig from her goblet of orange juice as she opened the Daily Prophet that was laying around on the teacher’s table in the Great Hall. The headline wrote: “Sirius Black, newly sighted near Hertfordshire”. She lay her goblet down and quickly turned the paper to another page.

She glanced over at her side. Remus was quietly enjoying his breakfast.

“Anything interesting?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Nah.”

[thebennettdiaries]

the oak king

( a little merry christmas to the Klonnie fandom )

Bonnie closes the door behind her, shutting away the cold (but more importantly the people). The world is so fast this time of year, moving with a sense of urgency that is counterproductive to its surroundings. There is so much noise, so many bright colors --- far too many expectations.

She doesn't want to be a part of it. At least not at the moment.

She is bone tired as she carefully sets her bag on the nearest flat surface. This room has been her home for close to three days now, a temporary stop on her never ending journey. As far as places to rest her head, she likes this one. It is cozy, just what she needs this time of year.

With her day's work done, Bonnie decides that she will slip into the bath and soak away any aches (any reminders of what she is missing). But first ---

--- just because she doesn't want to be a part of the madness of the world outside doesn't mean she will ignore it all together.

She reaches into her bag and pulls free the tiny branch of a fir tree sticking out of a pot. She had almost passed it by, resting on a table in an overcrowded Christmas market. But in the end, it had called to her and now it finds a home on the antique desk, giving it a view of the busy streets below where the snow is beginning to collect.

She runs a finger along it, feeling its dying strength as she does so. It should have never been clipped and stuffed into a tiny red container. It should have been allowed to continue its life uninterrupted. So, although she cannot fully restore it, she can do the next best thing.

Bonnie summons her magic, which has waned significantly after the day's demands. However, she just has enough left to tickle the branch back to its vibrant green. It stands a little taller, and for good measure, she leans in and blows. It seems to twinkle now, a more natural replica of its larger relatives littering homes all over the city.

For a moment, she stands there, thinking of all the Christmases that have come before this one. So many of them are filled with sadness --- missing her mother, missing her grandmother, worrying that death had been close by. Then there is that one she spent all alone in a pocket of the universe.

She has never really had Christmases worth remembering.

Her mouth is set in a firm line. She isn't sad now. She might be alone but this time she has chosen to be. She may no longer have roots but she is doing real good in this world. Besides, she knows damn well that Caroline will be Facetiming her to document every second of the Forbes Family Christmas (Bonnie rolls her eyes but deep down she knows she wouldn't miss it for the world).

She turns, leaving the tree to glimmer in its resting place. As she does so, she waves her hand and candles flare to life, basking the rest of the darkened room in a warm glow. She can already feel her magic stirring, beginning to rebound.

The hot water is filling the bathtub when her quiet is shattered by a knock at the door. She furrows her brows together as she slips her arms back into her sweater. She is done for the day. She is not interested in taking on anything else. She has earned this moment.

She waits a beat, hoping they will just give up and go back where they came from. When the knock comes again, more insistent this time, Bonnie sighs. So much for peace on earth.

She crosses the space in a few steps, intent on turning her visitor away. "I am not..." And then her voice dies. Her body tenses. It feels as if all the warmth she has created in her little room is pulled out the open door to lay at his feet.

A true ghost of her Christmas past.

Klaus Mikaelson stands there, looking at her in much the same vein she looks at him. Like he cannot fathom what he is seeing. It only serves to confuse her more --- because of the two, he is the one that has been dead for at least three years.

Then the moment is shattered and he gives her a wolfish grin.

"Merry Christmas, little witch."

[socialfakes]

the devils in the details- luke hughes

chapter 3; part 4: love hiatus

nhl x platonic!fem!reader

eventual luke hughes x fem!reader

the masterlist

Liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, lhughes_06 and 13,417 others

yourinstagram | hey guys. it’s nico and y/n here. we decided to do a joint statement about our relationship to inform everyone of our split. we know some of you loved seeing us together and we also know that some of you weren’t too happy with our relationship. but regardless of that, we loved each other and that love will forever be in our hearts. for 2 and a half years, we’ve both grown and matured a lot which is why we know we can maintain this wonderful friendship. thank you to the fans for the support and most importantly, thank you to our friends and family for loving us and supporting us, no matter what. we love you all so much ❤  tagged: nicohischier

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nicohischier much love to you, always ❤  | yourinstagram forever 💕

user13 so sad my favorite couple has split but really happy you guys are still friends 😊  | nicohischier well i did promise her forever 😀  | yourinstagram and always, of course ❤

jackhughes ❤

_quinnhughes love you guys ❤

user04 am i the only one who still thought she was dating quinn this entire time? 😳  | yourinstagram no certainly not 😂  | _quinnhughes everyone on my team thought we were and even my mom thought so for a while 😊

lhughes_06 so sad 😔  | trevorzegras really?

trevorzegras sad this ended but glad you’re mature enough to be friends 😊

elblue6 you two went on a wonderful and lovely journey. so glad that love will live on 😂

user08 this is a joke, right? please tell me my otp didn’t actually split up 😱😭

user17 so if you’re single, you should definitely hmu 😉  | yourinstagram 👍🏻

Liked by jackhughes, njdevils, bboeser and 12,817 others

yourinstagram | let’s go, baby! 🥳  tagged: jackhughes

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jackhughes 🍀🥳

lhughes_06 feeling betrayed 👀

_quinnhughes your new favorite player?  | yourinstagram of course not. just my best friend 🤞🏻  | _quinnhughes thought that was me, but okay 😔

bboeser he’s been playing really well lately so it’s no surprise you’re cheering for him 👍🏻

njdevils let’s go, baby!

user02 since when did you only cheer for jack?  | yourinstagram been cheering for him a lot more lately because he’s the best roommate anyone could ever ask for 😊  | jackhughes ❤

trevorzegras cheering for the wrong hughes, y/n 👀  | yourinstagram thought of cheering for you but now i won’t 💅🏻  | trevorzegras no wait. you can cheer for me 😲

jamie.drysdale is this why he’s been scoring in every game? 😂  | yourinstagram 🤷🏻‍♀️  | jackhughes yes

user11 he’s so cute

user07 he could run me over and i'd still thank him 👀  | yourinstagram intense but i get it 😏

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