#I do one thing right and three things go wrong

[maskedbyghost]

after the divorce, you thought you’d finally drawn a line in the sand, clear and bold, separating yourself from simon riley and everything that came with him. but simon? he wasn’t ready to step back. not fully. at first, it was silence—an absence so heavy, but then, slowly, the messages started.

they weren’t the cryptic, blunt texts you were used to during your relationship. no more “you around?” or “we need to talk.” instead, they carried a rawness that made you hesitate before opening them. one night, your phone lit up: “i’ve been sitting here, going over everything. i keep thinking about how i pushed you away, how i let my own demons ruin what we had. you didn’t deserve that. none of it.”

you read it three times before setting the phone down, heart heavy and conflicted. simon never said things like this when you were together. and yet, here he was, baring himself in a way that felt almost foreign.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things that carried weight. one afternoon, a neatly wrapped package appeared at your door. chamomile tea—the good kind, the kind you’d mentioned in passing during one of those rare soft moments between you. you’d joked that his taste in tea was pretentious, and he’d grumbled something about chamomile being “too bloody mild.” now, seeing it in front of you, carefully packed with a handwritten note that simply said “thought you might like this”, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

the late-night call was unexpected. his voice was rough, the way it always got when he’d had a drink, but there was a tremor in it you didn’t recognize. “i’ve started therapy,” he admitted, the words slurred but clear enough. “trying to figure out... what’s wrong in my head. i don’t want to hurt anyone else. especially not you. not ever again.”

your chest tightened at the honesty. simon had always been guarded, his emotions buried so deep even you had trouble finding them. hearing him like this—open, vulnerable—was disarming.

when you finally told him he needed to stop calling you love, his answer was immediate. “can’t do that,” he said, his voice low but steady. “it’s what you are to me. maybe i didn’t show it right before, but it doesn’t change the fact. you’ll always be my love, even if it’s just in my head.”

he wasn’t asking for anything outright, and maybe that’s what made it harder. he wasn’t begging or demanding. he was just there—offering pieces of himself you’d spent years wishing he’d share, now arriving when you weren’t sure you wanted them anymore.

simon had always been a storm, intense and unrelenting. but this? this felt different. he wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. he was trying to meet you where you stood, hoping you’d see the man he was trying to become. and maybe—just maybe—give him another chance.

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

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[covenofagatha]

Saw you're taking requests and decided to toss one your way!

Agatha x reader, reader has had a really tough day and Agatha helps put her into subspace to relax. Some soft!dom Agatha with a splash of praise, degradation, mommy and maybe some size kink? And of course some fluffy aftercare after reader has been thoroughly fucked out of her mind❤

Hope you enjoy! (Disclaimer: I've never written subspace before so hopefully I did it justice, along with everything else you wanted)

Bad day

When Agatha comes home to find that you had a bad day, she takes it upon herself to make you feel better

Word count: 2600

Warnings: praise kink, degradation kink, subspace, size kink, mommy kink, oral, strap-on, aftercare, smut, and fluff (I may have missed one)

You’re on your last nerve when you get to your afternoon class on Wednesday. 

Your car didn’t start in the morning so your girlfriend, Agatha, had to drop you off at work, which you’d never complain about, except she had still been asleep when this happened so you were almost late because she had to get ready. 

And then work was awful. You had a shift at the popular retail store in town and it seemed like every customer who came in was on a mission to personally ruin your day. 

From dissatisfaction with the prices to vomit all over the restroom floor, it seemed like nothing could go right. 

Agatha had been at work herself so you had to call one of your college friends to give you a ride after. 

And now you had to sit in a class on Personality Theory for the next three hours and listen to your professor drone off on tangents. You would be getting your tests back from last week though, and you were hoping you had done well. 

“Alright, before we get started, I’ll go ahead and pass out your exams. Once I call your name, you can come up and look at it,” your professor says and you anxiously tap your fingers on the desk while you wait for your turn. 

Finally, he says your name. Butterflies in your stomach, you walk to the front to look and it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut. 

There must be something wrong, you don’t understand how you missed this many. 

Red ink stains the page and you have to clench your jaw together to keep your composure. Tears prick at your eyes as you hand the exam back to your professor and head back to your seat, burning with shame. 

It seems like it’s just one thing after another. 

You barely pay attention for the rest of class, head spinning with thoughts of how bad you did, how everything sucks, how you just want to go home. 

Agatha texts you a few times during the three hour time span, just checking in on you, but you don’t even respond. She always says that you get too wrapped up in your own brain and you know she’s right. You do let her know that you won’t need a ride home, not sure you could take the older woman’s softness right now. 

You just want to take a shower and lie in bed. 

Class finally ends and you order an Uber instead of asking a friend to take you home. When you get in these moods, you don’t want to talk to anyone. 

You grunt in response to the driver’s question of asking how you are and then the rest of the ride is spent in silence. It’s not often you get in such a foul mood, but when it does, it’s tough. 

When you make it through the front door of Agatha’s home, you immediately collapse on the couch and breathe in the blanket that still has her scent. She’ll be home soon and now you just want her to give you a big hug and tell you that everything will be alright. 

You hear keys jingle in the front door maybe ten minutes later and you sit up on the couch expectantly, heartbeat picking up. You’ve been with Agatha for six months now and she still managed to have the same effect on you that she had at the beginning. 

“Hey, baby,” she calls out, seeing the lights on, and she makes her way to the living room to find you swaddled in her favorite blanket on the couch. She frowns, instantly able to tell something is wrong. Usually you get up to give her a kiss. “You okay?” 

And then it’s like a dam breaks. You start sobbing and telling her all the things that have gone wrong that day and she instantly sits down next to you, engulfing you into a hug and whispering that everything will be okay. 

She lets you cry for a bit, hand stroking your hair, making soothing sounds. Eventually, you calm down enough to take slow, shaky breaths. 

“I’m sorry, doll. Sounds like you had a rough day,” she says, pressing a kiss to your head and wiping the tears off your cheeks. You nod in agreement. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You shrug while you think about it. And then you lean in and chastely kiss her lips. 

When you pull back, she’s smirking. 

“You want mommy to help you?” She coos and instantly, a fire awakens in your belly at the use of your favorite name for her. Your head bobs up and down eagerly but she tuts and grabs your jaw to hold it still. “Words, baby.” 

“Yes please, mommy,” you whisper. No one can make you feel as good as Agatha can. 

“Good girl,” Agatha hums and the fire gets worse. “What do you want?” 

You squirm on the couch, just looking at her, begging with wide eyes. 

“Why don’t you show me what you want?” You whine and grab her hand and bring it down to your shorts. “Oh, do you want me to touch you?” 

“Please,” you force out again. “Touch me, mommy.” 

Her grin is wicked as she lays you back down on the couch, positioning herself so she’s holding her weight above you. Your noses are almost close enough to touch. 

“Does my little baby want me to reward her like the perfect little angel that she is?” Agatha purrs and you gasp, feeling your head start to get fuzzy. She plays with the waistband of your shorts and your hips buck up involuntarily. You make a sort of strangled noise from your throat – all you can do, really – and she shushes you. “Just relax, doll. Let mommy take care of you.” You whimper as she kisses your nose and moves down your body to undress you. 

You feel like you’re on a different planet when Agatha pats your waist so you can lift yourself up for her to take your shorts and underwear off. 

“There we go, so good for me,” she says, leaving kisses against your thighs. You moan, senses heightened. You babble something incoherently and you can hear her chuckling at you. “Baby, you’re absolutely dripping for me.” 

Her fingers move up and down your slit, collecting wetness, and sounds are pulled out of your mouth by her administration. 

“Does that feel good, hon?” 

Your head lulls back on the couch and you try to say something to affirm her question. 

“Aw, is my little baby in subspace right now?” Something in the back of your mind tells you that you must be, but you’re too blissed out to answer. 

And then her tongue is on your pussy and you couldn’t say a word even if you tried. If you didn’t already feel like you were floating then, you sure do now. Your back arches off the couch as she sucks on your clit but her hands come up to hold you down. 

“Be a good girl for me and let mommy do all the work.” 

Your moans get louder as she keeps eating you out and you’ve never felt this good before. It’s like all your worries and stress and frustration that built up over the day are melting away to leave you in a puddle of pleasure. 

“Mommy, so close,” you slur, hands digging into the couch beneath you. Her teeth scrape against your clit and she moans into you and it sends you into an explosive orgasm. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever cum that hard. 

She licks you through it and you have to pull her away after a while because you become sensitive. 

Agatha comes up to kiss you, long and hard, and you can taste yourself on her tongue. 

“Do you want to try something new tonight, baby?” She asks once she pulls away and you nod eagerly before even asking what it is. You trust her more than anyone. “I’ll be right back.” She gives you one last parting kiss and quickly runs upstairs. 

She’s up there for a few minutes while you lay on the couch, still in a trance-like haze. 

And then she comes back down and your mouth falls open. 

Attached to her hips is the biggest strap-on you’ve ever seen. She must have just bought it. You had gotten to where you could take the toys you had pretty easily, but you are certain that this will stretch you out so much more than them. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, eyes widening as she comes back over to the couch. You can see that she’s holding lube in one hand. 

“Mommy wants to see if your tiny, little pussy can fit her big cock,” she says and a thrill runs through you despite yourself. “Might have to work you up to it.” 

Your legs part without thinking and she laughs. 

“So desperate for me, aren’t you? My perfect, little slut.” You gasp at the words, feeling yourself get even more wet. 

While you loved the praise from her, degradation almost turned you on more. 

“You have to relax, baby,” she reminds you, moving to kneel on the couch between your legs and pushing them even more open. She rubs your clit and slides two fingers in easily. You grind up on her fingers, trying to pull them in more. “Look at how well you take my fingers. So good for mommy. You can’t get enough of them, can you?” 

You shake your head and groan when she curls them just right. 

“Such a good whore for mommy,” she sighs. “Can you take another?” 

“Please,” you gasp out, walls clenching around the two already inside you. She pulls them and you feel empty, but that feeling is quickly gone when she pushes three in you. The stretch feels so good and your hips meet her every thrust, the pleasure in you already growing. 

And then it’s gone. Your head flies up to look at her wrapping the hand wet with you around her strap and coating it. And then she opens the bottle of lube and pours a hefty amount in her other hand to also stroke the toy with. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

“Go slow, mommy,” you tell her, even though you know that she will. “You’re so big.” 

“You’re going to look so pretty, sweetheart, stretched around my big cock,” she says and positions the tip at your entrance. “Like a little, perfect slut. 

The first push steals all the air from your lungs. 

“Fuck,” you groan. You’ve never been so full in your life and you barely have any of it inside you. Agatha doesn’t move, just rubs small circles on your thighs and waits for you to tell her you’re okay. 

It takes a few moments for you to adjust. It’s definitely easier in the headspace that you’re in right now. 

“Okay,” you say and Agatha obeys, slowly moving forward inside you. She stops when your breathing gets strangled and doesn’t move again until you’re back to normal. 

“God, your little pussy looks so good taking my big cock so well,” she grunts once she finally bottoms out. If your mind was clearer, you’d tease her about the size kink she so clearly has. “How are you doing, baby? Can I move?” 

“Please, mommy,” you beg, still feeling euphoric. Every drag of her cock against your walls now feels like heaven. She smirks and starts to move.

She starts slow at first, just short, slow strokes to make sure that you’re still comfortable, and then she starts to really fuck you. 

The pace Agatha sets is rough and bruising and you can hear the wet, squelching sounds that the toy makes as it pushes back inside you every thrust, a mix of your wetness and lube. 

“Mommy,” is all you can pant as she fucks into you over and over again, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on her. 

“So fucking good, sweetheart, you’re taking my cock so well, such a perfect slut for mommy,” Agatha mutters, never slowing down once. If you were already in subspace before, you’re not sure you have a word for what state you’re in right now. There are not even semblances of thoughts in your head, there is only Agatha and the pleasure she is giving you. You can’t even remember what you were in such a bad mood about earlier. 

She reaches down to rub your clit again and you hear someone moan obscenely loudly. 

You think it might have been you. 

All you know is that you’re getting so close again you can taste it. She seems like she can tell because she somehow speeds up, which you didn’t think was possible. Little gasps are forced out of your mouth with every push and your walls are tightening so much around her that it makes it hard for her to thrust. 

“So good, baby, you’re taking me so well,” Agatha chants, a hand reaching up to play with your nipple under your shirt. “So perfect, such a perfect slut, my perfect good girl. Cum for mommy, cum all over mommy’s big cock.” 

She angles her hips just right and rubs your clit hard and you spasm, back bowing off the couch. You’ve never felt pleasure this extreme; it feels like you’re having an out-of-body experience. All the tension in your body is gone and you pant heavily as Agatha pulls out of you. 

“You okay, baby?” She asks and you wheeze a laugh. 

“M’okay,” you say happily, a slow smile spreading onto your face. You can feel your head clearing with the loss of her touch. 

“Let me get a washcloth, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.” She gives you a kiss on your head and she’s back in what seems like seconds with a warm towel. You wince at the feeling of it between her legs but it helps. “Do you want to move to bed?” 

You nod, but you’re not actually sure if you can stand up based on the jelly feeling in your legs. Agatha seems to understand this without you saying anything and she scoops you off the couch bridal style and carries you up the stairs. 

You giggle and burrow your head into the crook of her neck, breathing her in and feeling her against you. 

“You did so good, baby,” she whispers. 

“Thank you, Agatha. I really needed that.” 

She pauses for a second in the hallway to peck your lips. “I know you did. I’m happy to help, sweetheart. Whatever you need.” 

Once in the bedroom, Agatha helps you into some comfy pajamas and makes you take sips of water from the bottle on her nightstand. You lay down and she pulls the covers over you both, pulling you close to her so she can wrap an arm around you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby, you know that?” She murmurs. “I love you so much.” She kisses you softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. 

“I love you too,” you mumble in-between kisses. No one has ever made you feel more loved than Agatha. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she continues and you blush. “I know you had a hard day today, but tomorrow will be better. You’re so strong. You’re my perfect girl. I love you.” 

And she keeps whispering the sweetest things into your ear, and you drift off to sleep in her arms, feeling like nothing was ever wrong. 

[cheyisagirlkisser]

i really really need pitfighter vi being mean to reader during sex🙏

Too real she needs to blow off some steam and reader has a thing for getting degraded. They match each other's freak soooo well.

Content: 877 words, strap-on sex (r! receiving), multiple + forced orgasms, overstimulation, choking, degradation kink, dacryphilia, use of degrading names, spanking, hair pulling

Vi is deep inside your guts, her cock slamming into you over and over again without even a second of mercy.

She has pulled three orgasms out of you already, and she has no intentions of stopping yet.

Your face is buried in the sheets, the only pillow being used underneath your stomach so you can feel the way Vi is pounding into you so hard you swear her silicone shaft is gonna be imprinted into your pussy.

You try begging for mercy. Vi slams harder into you and delivers a harsh blow to your ass cheek.

"You want me to stop now? Is that what you want?"

You're too cock-drunk to answer, only gurgling out a broken little whine.

"Listen here, baby," she gathers your hair into a ponytail and yanks it back, forcing you to look back at her, "you deserve to get fucked hard for what you pulled earlier."

You whine, knowing it was true. She thrusts into you even harder after being reminded of how you looked all smug with some random creep offering to pay for your drink. She releases her grip on your hair only to dig her black nails into your hips.

"You wanna go flirt with other people to get my attention, huh baby?" She pulls out, making you think she is finally through with you, before she slams her thick cock right back into your tender pussy. Then, one of her hands leaves your hip and strikes another harsh smack to your ass, her handprint branded into the fat. making you cry out and grasp the sheets. "Well, mission accomplished."

You know you look a mess, tears running down your face and your mascara staining up the sheets. Your hair is all tangled from Vi grabbing onto it so much so she can force your head up or to just treat you like a bitch. You let out breathy little cries every single time her harness meets your ass, only to feel the raw heat of overstimulation when she grinds up against your g-spot.

You can feel your fourth orgasm of the night bubble up within your pussy. You think one this may actually give you a heart attack, but it feels so fucking addictive.

You don't even know what's wrong with you; you always do this to Vi. Go slut around to the guys at the Zaun bars so she will get jealous and wreck your pussy. It's not like it is cheating, you two are only fucking and she likes the game just as much as you do, but she sure fucks you like she hates you. Even if you don't know it yet, she owns you completely. Even if you're not her girlfriend yet, your pussy? It belongs only to her. Nobody else gets you.

She eases the shaft out of your dripping pussy and flips you over onto your back before you can even protest. She pulls you by your legs further back so the pillow underneath you is perfectly situated for her advantage, and then you realize why she flipped you over when she hand grasps at your throat.

Her other hand guides the cock back into your pussy, earning a broken moan from you that sounds almost wounded, but the greed in your eyes tells her you're not tapped out yet. Her fingers wrap around your neck, squeezing tightly as she pumps her cock deep inside you once more. Her hand reaches between your bodies, harshly rubbing at your clit and flicking at it with her calloused fingers.

You start to cry when your orgasm finally crashes over you. It is somehow even more intense than the others. Maybe it's the view of Vi's pretty face, her pigmented black makeup trailing down her cheeks or the hunger in her eyes. It is most likely the hand around your neck knocking the air out of your lungs.

Wave after wave after wave. Vi isn't lenient, even as you sob. It feels so euphoric to get fucked so roughly, and she at least knows you well enough to see the look of raw pleasure making your eyes roll back into your head. She knows just how to treat your needy pussy, how to make it satisfied until your walls are tender and your clit is swollen and abused in the best way possible. You cum so hard it truly hurts. It hurts so good.

She talks you through it all, coaxes your juices out of you in the worst way possible.

"Bet the dickhead from the bar couldn't fuck you like this?"

"Yeah, baby...cum all over my dick. You like my fake one better than his real one, huh?"

"You don't fucking deserve to cum."

When you come down, she does stop. She can see that you're finally satisfied, and so she pulls out. She doesn't even pull the strap-on off of her hips, only falls limps back onto the bed.

After a few minutes, she hears you speak up. "Vi..?"

"Yeah?" Jeez, you sound as wrecked as I do, Vi is what you're thinking.

"Can you do it one last time? Please..?"

Vi snorts and sits up. "Your stamina is so fucked," but she is already back between your legs once more.

[meazalykov]

watch my heart break

danielle van de donk x exarsenal!reader

summary: all good things must come to an end

warnings: angst

the fluorescent lights in the locker room flicker softly, casting a pale glow over the space that begins to feel more like a confinement than a sanctuary. 

you sit on the edge of a wooden bench, the cold surface pressing against you. the familiar scent of sweat and worn leather fills the air, mixed with the faint aroma of the laundry detergent used for your jerseys. 

yet, those odors that once brought you comfort now feel oppressive and heavy, much like the anguish building inside.

you stare at a small bottle of water resting in front of you, unable to bring yourself to drink from it. your heart feels like it’s encased in ice, a chasm of emotions swirling around your thoughts. your mind keeps flashing back to the whirlwind of emotions you shared with danielle—the laughter that echoed through the corridors of arsenal, the late-night conversations that stretched into dawn, the passion both on the field and behind closed doors. 

danielle was supposed to be your forever.

the news that ingrid gave you earlier in training sent you into a panic. at first, you thought you covered it up well. however, as you were doing drills, everything from the past hit you. you told the team that you had to use the restroom inside, but you just sat down and thought about everything.

the memories hits you with piercing clarity—the moment everything changed. you can see it as if it were happening again, the night in your shared apartment filled with the laughter and warmth that usually suffused your lives but now felt hauntingly distant.

“y/n, we need to talk,” danielle had said, her voice unusually serious, the shadows dancing across her face as the sunlight faded outside.

you immediately felt dread coil in your stomach. 

“what’s wrong…?” 

danielle doesn’t speak right away. 

“you’re scaring me,” you say, your heart racing as you brace for bad news.

“i got an offer from lyon,” danielle began, her words trembling in the air. 

“and… they want me to join.i’m going to take it.”

“thats amazing dani!!” 

“yeah but you’re going to wolfsburg, i’m not sure if this is going to work..” 

your heart sank. “what do you mean? what about us? we can make it work, danielle. wolfsburg and lyon is not that far; it’s just a three-hour flight.”

“y/n, it’s not just about the distance,” she explained. 

“long distance is hard emotionally. i don’t think i can do it. i’m sorry, but… i think we should break up.”

the words felt like a knife twisting into your heart. 

“what? you can’t just throw everything away because of a three hour distance! you’re the love of my life, danielle.”

“sometimes love isn’t enough,” she said softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. 

“i can’t do this if we’re not at the same club. i don’t want to hurt either of us more.”

you stared at her, bewildered, trying to comprehend the sudden finality in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze as if afraid of what lay within. 

some of your national teammates can handle long distance relationships in different continents!! what does danielle mean she can't handle the distance between lyon and wolfsburg!

“i thought we were going to build a life together. dani i-i-i thought you were the one!”

“i thought so too,” she said, her eyes glistening. 

“but i have to think of my career. i can’t do long distance. i need to focus.”

“focus?” you echoed, disbelief washing over you. 

“how is it easier to date someone else at a different club than to fight for us?”

the room felt heavy with unsaid words as you both fell silent, each wrapped in your own swirling storm of thoughts. you wanted to scream, to shake some sense into her, to plead for clarity, for truth but all you could do was nod numbly, accepting what felt like a devastating betrayal while desperately holding on to the last threads of your love.

“if this is what you really want…” you finally whispered, tears blurring your vision, 

“i guess there’s nothing i can do… it hurts, danielle. it really hurts.”

“i’m sorry,” she said.

for a moment, you believed her—believed that the decision was about you, about them, and not the seeds of something new already taking root in her heart.

with that, you walked out of the door of your shared apartment for one last time, the echoes of your laughter still trapped between the walls, your heart crushed under the weight of goodbye.

now, the memory lingers in the air, sharp and painful. your heart twists as you recollect how danielle had never once expressed doubt about your love during that conversation—how could she? 

you blink away tears as you sit in the locker room, trying to gather yourself amidst the chaos of your emotions. 

footsteps echo down the hall, breaking the silence. 

lena enters, her vibrant presence immediately lighting up the somber atmosphere, but as she takes a step closer, her bright smile falters upon seeing your tear-streaked face.

“y/n! everyone is—--oh– uh, everything okay?”

you turn away, a lump forming in your throat. 

“i’m fine.”

lena knows better than to take that at face value. she can see the outline of your face, shimmering with unshed tears.

“you don’t look fine,” she says gently, stepping further into the room.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“not really,” you mutter, attempting to sound dismissive but failing miserably.

lena shifts awkwardly, but before she can respond, she glances toward the door, spotting ewa, ingrid, and pernille walking in. 

“guys! come here!” she calls, urgency lacing her tone. 

as they naturally gather around, you can feel their concern radiating off them, even though you wish to shield yourself from it. 

“what’s wrong?” ingrid asks, her accent unmistakably sweet and soothing.

you shake your head, unable to control the tears that form again. 

“nothing.”

“you’re crying, y/n,” ewa replies, a gentle probing beneath her tough demeanor. 

“talk to us.”

“you can’t fix this, trust me,” you say, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“who says we can’t?” pernille steps closer, an aura of strength emanating from her. 

“we’re here for you, remember?”

you let out a laugh, but it’s hollow. 

“what happened?” lena presses, her brow furrowing.

you take a deep breath, and with it comes a surge of emotions.

“it was danielle… she left for lyon. she didn’t want to do long distance, and i thought we could make it work. but then, just a few weeks later…” your voice trails off as the bite of fresh pain blooms in your chest.

“oh.” ingrid mumbles, remembering what she told you.

“what? what happened?” ewa asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern as she looks between you and ingrid.

“she started dating someone else. ellie, ellie carpenter from australia” you whisper, the name spilling from your lips like venom. 

“just a few months after our breakup. we were together for years!! was that why she was so adamant about ending things?”

silence fills the air, a heavy blanket that suffocates your spirit. you can see the realization flicker in your friends' eyes.

“what a coward,” ingrid murmurs, fury substituting soft sympathy. 

“she should have just talked to you.” pernille says. 

you feel that fury stir within you, heart pounding with a mix of anger and sorrow. 

“right? like it wouldn’t have been that hard to face me and tell me that! how could she not care enough to be honest?”

“some people are afraid of confrontation,” lena replies softly. 

“that doesn’t mean they care any less, though.”

you meet lena’s gaze, your eyes brimming once more. 

“but she didn’t fight for us, did she? if you love someone, you fight for them. i would’ve done everything in my power to make it work. we had plans… i thought she was the one.”

“this was all her loss,” pernille states firmly, a reassuring hand on your back. 

“you’re amazing, y/n! the way you play, the way you care about others—she doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts! you need to let go of this weight.”

you can’t shake it off, no matter how much you try. the memories flood your mind, filling the gaps left by danielle’s absence. the laughter echoing through your apartment, the late-night matches played out on your console with hastily made snacks scattered around, the moments when danielle would lean in a little closer, making your heart race. 

“i don’t know how to do that,” you admit, your voice breaking.

“then we’ll help you,” ewa states firmly, a reassuring hand on your back. 

“we’re here, and we won’t let you carry this alone.”

“danielle made her choice,” ingrid adds, crossing her arms. 

“it was her loss. you’re incredible, y/n. don’t let her actions define your worth. you’re more than just someone who loved her. you’re a fantastic player, and you have a whole future ahead of you.”

in the comforting arms of your teammates, you whisper, 

“thank you, guys. i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“just remember, we are here for you y/n,” ewa promises, brushing a tear away from your cheek.

taking a deep breath, your heart begins to settle at last. maybe this is the turning point you need. 

“you think we should get back to training before coach asks what happened?” lena asks, pulling back slowly, gauging your reaction.

“yeah,” you say, the glimmer of determination beginning to replace the emptiness in your chest. 

“i promise i won’t let a relationship get in the way of my football again.”

“that’s the spirit!” ingrid cheers, throwing her arm around your shoulder.

masterlist

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 20

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst

A/N: im scheduling 3 of these to post back to bsck lol hopefully it works 😇🤣

The three of you were sprawled across the living room floor, wine glasses in hand, surrounded by face masks, nail polish bottles, and the kind of snacks you’d regret in the morning. Wanda had taken it upon herself to paint your toes, and you giggled as she playfully swatted at your ankle to keep you still.

“Stop squirming,” she said, trying to keep a steady hand. “You’re gonna mess it up.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking another sip of wine. “But it tickles.”

Natasha sat cross-legged beside you, a clay mask drying on her face, her wine glass already nearly empty. She was watching you both with an amused smile, though her eyes flickered with a faint shadow of something heavier.

The conversation had been light—work drama, a funny story from Wanda’s day, a ridiculous TikTok—but the wine was starting to loosen your tongues. Feeling the moment, you took a deep breath and decided to jump in headfirst.

“So,” you said casually, but your voice carried enough weight to grab their attention. “What are we going to do about Steve?”

Natasha froze, her wine glass halfway to her lips. Wanda’s brush paused mid-stroke on your pinky toe, and both women turned to look at you.

Natasha recovered first, setting her glass down and crossing her arms. “What do you mean?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You raised an eyebrow, not letting her off the hook. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Natasha hesitated, glancing at Wanda, whose wide-eyed expression made it clear she was just as curious. When Nat didn’t say anything, you leaned back on your hands and sighed. “I don’t know how I missed it, honestly. It was written all over you last night.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, and with a muttered “Oh, for God’s sake,” she grabbed the wine bottle and poured herself another glass, chugging half of it before setting it down with a dramatic clink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said flatly, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Wanda let out a soft laugh, finishing your toes and sitting back. “Oh, Nat. We love you, but that’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

Natasha shot her a glare, but you didn’t back down. “Come on, Nat,” you pressed gently. “It’s us. Just be honest. What do you want to do about Steve?”

Natasha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair and smudging a bit of her drying mask. “What can I do?” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “He’s still hung up on you. Always has been. I don’t want to be anybody’s second choice.”

Wanda immediately shook her head, her expression fierce. “That is impossible. Once Steve realizes how much of an idiot he’s being, he’ll see what’s right in front of him.”

You nodded in agreement, leaning closer. “Wanda’s right. I couldn’t agree more. But what do you want, Nat? What do you really want?”

For a moment, Natasha didn’t answer. She stared into her wine glass, her face unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but raw. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been on the outside looking in for so long that I guess I’m just… used to it. It’s easier to stay there than to hope for something that might not happen.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken pain. You reached out, resting a hand on hers. “Nat, you deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who loves you, who’s crazy about you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, well… I don’t want Steve to be the one that got away. Like you are to him.”

Your heart clenched at her words. “It’s not like that,” you said softly.

Natasha’s eyes met yours, her expression firm but kind. “Of course it is,” she said. “And it’s not your fault. It’s just the way things are. But he has to get over you before anything can happen between us.”

Wanda’s hand found Natasha’s, squeezing gently. “You’re not wrong,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless.”

You nodded, your chest tight with emotion. “Steve just needs time. And when he finally lets himself see you for who you really are to him… Nat, I know it’ll be worth it.”

Natasha’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though her eyes were still clouded with doubt. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of the conversation settling over all three of you. But then Wanda, ever the ray of sunshine, clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough doom and gloom. Gimme your feet Nat, your next!”

The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Natasha rolled her eyes but nodded, holding out her wine glass. “Fine. But only if you promise not to paint my toes like a five-year-old.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and teasing, but Natasha’s words lingered in your mind. You couldn’t shake the hope that, somehow, everything would fall into place for her—and for Steve.

The apartment was alive with laughter, the clinking of beer bottles, and the occasional groan as someone lost a hand of poker. Sam sat sprawled on the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table, while Bucky leaned back in his chair, shuffling the deck with practiced ease. Steve was seated across from them, quieter than usual, nursing a drink and staring at his phone a little too intently.

“Alright, boys,” Bucky said, smirking as he dealt the cards. “Prepare to lose whatever dignity you have left.”

Sam snorted, reaching for his beer. “Big talk for someone who still owes me twenty bucks from last time.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ll take it out of my poker chips tonight.”

The banter was light, the atmosphere easy—at least on the surface. But the undercurrent of tension was impossible to ignore, especially with Steve’s unusually subdued demeanor. He hadn’t laughed at Sam’s jokes, hadn’t chimed in on Bucky’s playful jabs, and his replies were clipped, almost robotic.

As the game progressed, Sam turned the conversation to safer, more personal waters. “So, Buck,” he began, his tone casual but his grin mischievous, “how’s the love life? Things going okay with your girl?”

Bucky’s face softened immediately, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Okay?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Sam, she’s everything. She’s smart, kind, funny… she keeps me on my toes. I mean, I don’t know how I got so lucky. It’s like—” He paused, his blue eyes lighting up as he searched for the right words. “It’s like every time I look at her, I realize she’s my home, you know? She’s it for me, I hate how long it took for me to get my shit together.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back with a wide smile. “Damn, Barnes. That’s the good stuff. I’m so happy for you, man.”

Bucky chuckled, clearly flustered but grateful for the encouragement. “Thanks, man. It’s about time, right?”

But while Sam’s smile remained genuine, Steve’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. His cards remained untouched in front of him as he stared at the table, his drink abandoned.

“Yup,” Steve said abruptly, his tone short and flat. “That’s great.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly. “You good, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, glancing at his phone again. “Just… got some stuff on my mind.”

Before Bucky could press further, Steve stood up abruptly, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. “I gotta go somewhere.”

Sam straightened in his seat, his eyebrows furrowing. “Go where? It’s poker night.”

“Just something I gotta take care of,” Steve replied, his tone distant as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “Don’t wait up.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Bucky and Sam staring after him, bewildered.

“What the hell was that about?” Bucky muttered, sitting back in his chair, his brows knitting together in concern.

Sam let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Man, I don’t know.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, watching Sam closely. “Alright, spill. What’s got you looking like you’re about to jump out of your skin? Is it why Steve left?”

Sam hesitated, clearly torn. “It’s not about Steve.”

“Then what is it?” Bucky pressed, his tone softening. “I know it’s not just because I’m kicking your ass at poker.”

Sam sighed heavily, setting his cards down and rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I was gonna wait, but… I got an offer. A big one. Job-wise.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s great, man. What’s the problem?”

Sam leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his expression conflicted. “It’s out of town. Way out of town. Like, completely out of state. It’s a great opportunity, Buck. Better pay, more responsibility, and I’d get to work with a nonprofit I’ve been following for years. But… it means leaving all of this. Leaving you guys.”

Bucky’s expression softened as he processed Sam’s words. “Shit, Sam. That’s… big.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, laughing bitterly. “Tell me about it. I’ve been sitting on it for a week, trying to figure out if it’s the right move.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And? What’s your gut telling you?”

Sam shrugged, his shoulders heavy with uncertainty. “My gut’s telling me to go for it. But my heart? My heart’s telling me it’s gonna suck, leaving everyone behind.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes steady on Sam. “Look, man. I can’t tell you what to do, but… you gotta do what’s right for you. We’ll still be here, no matter where you are.”

Sam looked up, his eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper, something almost fragile. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” Bucky said firmly. “You’ve been here for us through everything. It’s our turn to be here for you.”

Sam let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Thanks, Buck. That… that means a lot.”

Bucky grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “Now, don’t think I’m gonna let you leave without kicking your ass at poker at least one more time.”

Sam laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Bring it on, Barnes. Bring it on.”

But even as the mood lightened, both of them couldn’t help but glance at the door Steve had walked through, wondering what storm might be brewing behind his quiet exit.

The farmers market was its usual lively self—vendors calling out deals, the scent of fresh bread and flowers wafting through the air, and the hum of chatter everywhere. You walked arm-in-arm with Bucky, the soft brush of his hand against yours grounding you.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, glancing around the booths for the familiar blond head.

Sam, walking ahead, glanced back over his shoulder. “Said he couldn’t make it today.”

You frowned slightly, your chest tightening at the thought. “Okay,” you murmured. “Next time.”

Natasha shrugged from beside you, but her quick glance toward Wanda betrayed her curiosity. If she had any deeper thoughts, she didn’t share them, instead wandering off toward a display of ceramics. The sight made you smile.

The group naturally splintered into pairs, each gravitating toward their favorite stalls. You and Bucky hung back, trailing through the market at a leisurely pace, his hand brushing yours every so often, an intimate yet casual connection. The weight of the locket resting against your collarbone felt comforting, grounding you to the present.

Nearby, Natasha let out a delighted squeal, holding up a small ceramic cow. “Oh my God, look at this!” she exclaimed, waving it in your direction. “It’ll go perfectly with the rooster and duck I already got Steve.”

You and Bucky exchanged amused glances, both of you laughing softly. “Nat,” you teased, walking over to her, “are you building him a farm?”

“Practically,” Sam muttered, shaking his head as he joined the conversation. “Goddamn, Nat. You’re going to have the whole barnyard at my house next.”

Natasha just grinned, holding the cow close. “Or something,” she said cryptically, turning back to the vendor to pay. Sam rolled his eyes, muttering something about barn animals under his breath as he dragged Bucky off toward the crepe stand.

Wanda busied herself at the flower stall nearby, selecting a bright bouquet of daisies and sunflowers. Meanwhile, you wandered toward the jewelry stall where the locket had been, unable to resist curiosity. You’d gotten the locket back, thanks to Steve, but you wanted to piece together the rest of the story.

“Excuse me,” you said to the vendor, offering her a polite smile. “A while ago, there was a locket here—this one.” You touched the small gold heart resting against your chest. “Do you remember it?”

The vendor’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Oh, I remember that locket very well. My granddaughter found it at a party. She thought it was worth something and brought it to me.”

“Your granddaughter?” you echoed, your heart skipping a beat. “Who is she?”

“Her name’s Kate,” the woman said, her tone warm and fond.

You froze for a moment, blinking in surprise. “Kate?” The name felt heavy on your tongue. “Wow… small world.” you muttered

The woman nodded, her gaze flicking to the locket on your neck. “And then that sweet young man bought it. He was so determined to get it for you.”

Your heart clenched at the thought of Steve, the memory of him giving it back to you still fresh. “He did,” you said softly. “He brought it back to me. I’d lost it at a party, and… it meant a lot to me.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “He talked about you the whole time he was here. The way he spoke, you’d think the sun rose and set on you. I always wondered about the two of you, did you end up together yet?”

You didn’t know what to say, your throat tightening at the words. "No, we, I -- " Before you could fully respond, warm arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back into the present.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky murmured against your ear, his voice low and affectionate. “What’re you up to over here?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, his closeness making you smile automatically. “Just… reminiscing.”

The vendor’s eyes softened as she watched the two of you, a twinkle of understanding in her gaze. “Ah,” she said simply, her voice rich with amusement. “Now, that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Bucky asked, his brows knitting together as he looked between you and the woman.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” she replied with a wink. “Enjoy your day.”

Bucky’s hand rested protectively on your lower back as he guided you away, his expression puzzled. “What was that about?”

“Just a little backstory about the locket,” you said, touching it lightly. “She was telling me how her granddaughter found it at a party. Apparently, Kate brought it here.”

His brow furrowed. “Kate? Seriously? Small world.”

“Very,” you murmured, the warmth of his touch and the reassurance of his presence grounding you.

“Anyway,” he said, nudging you gently. “Sam’s probably inhaled three crepes already. We should catch up.”

You laughed, letting him lead you toward the crepe stand where Sam and Natasha were already bickering about toppings. But as you glanced back one last time at the jewelry booth, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of how everything, somehow, had come full circle.

The apartment felt emptier than usual. The clock ticked past ten, and Bucky still wasn’t home. You sat on the couch, your laptop balanced on your knees, pretending to focus on some edits for work. But your eyes kept flicking to the door, your thoughts spinning.

You knew Bucky’s schedule like the back of your hand. You worked for the same company, after all. There wasn’t a meeting or late deadline you hadn’t already accounted for. So where was he?

Your phone sat untouched on the coffee table. No texts. No calls. A creeping sense of unease settled in your chest, mingling with irritation. He always let you know if he was running late—always. Until tonight.

By the time you heard his keys jangling in the lock, it was almost ten. The door opened, and there he was, his hair slightly disheveled, his shirt untucked. He looked exhausted but smiled the moment he saw you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, kicking off his boots and heading toward you.

You closed your laptop with a sharp snap, your jaw tight. “Hey?” you repeated, your voice tinged with annoyance.

Bucky’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You stood, setting the laptop on the coffee table. “You’re two hours late, Bucky. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I’ve been sitting here worried sick.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in your tone. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I got caught up with uh Sam after work. We went for a drink—”

“A drink?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “You know your schedule, and you know I know it too. You could’ve told me. It’s not that hard to send a text.”

Bucky frowned, stepping closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’d be such a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “We’ve barely started this relationship, and you’re already pulling this?”

“Pulling what?” His voice edged with frustration now. “I’m not ‘pulling’ anything. I went for a drink with my best friend, and I’m sorry I didn’t text. But this—this feels like an overreaction.”

You recoiled slightly, his words stinging. “Overreaction?” You laughed bitterly. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about tonight, Bucky. It’s about us. About whether you actually take this seriously.”

“Seriously?” he repeated, his voice rising. “You think I’m not serious about you?”

“Well, you’re not exactly proving it right now!”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with hurt. “Doll, you’re reading too much into this. It was one night. I didn’t think I needed to check in like I was some damn teenager.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you fired back, your voice cracking. “Because that’s what people in relationships do, Bucky. They care enough to let the other person know what’s going on! I got scared, what if something happened to you? What if i lost you before i even had you! Or what if you dont actually want this or care about me or, or--”

The words hung heavy between you, the silence sharp and suffocating.

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care about you?” he asked quietly, his voice softer now, but no less pained. “That’s what you think?”

You hesitated, your anger warring with the guilt creeping in. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I’ve been scared, Bucky. That if something goes wrong, we’ll fall apart. That this won’t last.”

Bucky stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached for your hand. “Doll,” he murmured, his tone gentle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I messed up tonight. I should’ve texted. You’re right. I would have been upset if you didn’t tell me either, I’m sorry”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you said, your voice breaking. "I cant lose you”

“You won’t,” he promised, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear. I’ll do better. I want this—us. More than anything.”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the tension slowly melting under the weight of his sincerity. Then, before you could overthink it, you surged forward, your lips crashing into his.

Bucky responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against him. The kiss was desperate and heated, years of pent-up longing pouring out all at once. His hands roamed your back, his fingers digging into your skin as if grounding himself in you.

You pulled back slightly, breathless, your hands cupping his face. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that again,” you whispered.

“Never,” he vowed, his voice husky. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The two of you stumbled toward the couch, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I just can’t keep my hands off you,” he murmured, his lips brushing your jawline.

You laughed softly, tilting your head to give him better access. “Remember,” you teased, “you’re the one who wanted to take things slow.”

Bucky pulled back slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

You grinned, tugging him back down for another kiss. But before things could go any further, your phone buzzed loudly on the coffee table, breaking the moment.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “Of course.”

Bucky chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s for the best,” he said, though his darkened eyes betrayed just how badly he wanted to ignore it.

You looked up at him, arching a brow. “How long are you going to make me wait, Barnes?”

His lips twitched into a smile as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Soon, doll,” he promised. “No one wants this more than me. But I want to do it right.”

You sighed, nodding. “Okay. But don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Never,” he said, standing and pulling you up with him. “Now get that pretty ass up. I brought dinner.”

You laughed, swatting his arm as he grabbed his phone. “Also,” he added with a smirk, “next time I’m late, just spam me like Wanda spams the group chat.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest told you everything would be just fine.

You sit across from Sam, your lunch tray untouched as he stirs his soup absentmindedly. You notice he’s quieter than usual, a far cry from his typical animated self.

“So,” you start, trying to break the silence, “are you going to tell me what’s got you looking like you lost your best friend, or am I supposed to guess?”

Sam chuckles softly, but the sound lacks its usual warmth. He sets his spoon down and leans back in his chair, meeting your curious gaze. “I wanted to tell you first. I mean, out of the whole group.”

Your stomach tightens at his serious tone. “Tell me what?”

He hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I got a promotion.”

The words take a moment to sink in, and when they do, your face lights up. “Sam, that’s amazing! Why do you look like someone kicked your dog? This is huge!”

“It is,” he agrees, his smile faltering. “But there’s a catch. The position is… halfway across the country. I’d have to move.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh.” The excitement in your voice fades, replaced by a bittersweet pang in your chest. “When?”

“In a couple of weeks, maybe less,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s why I’ve been so MIA this week. I’ve been at the VA, getting all the logistics sorted out.”

You nod slowly, the news settling heavily over you. “Wow. That’s… a lot to process. But Sam,” you say, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand, “this is incredible. I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

He smiles, his eyes softening. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you.”

A thought flickers in your mind, something not quite adding up. “Wait,” you say cautiously. “You’ve been at the VA all week?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, pretty much. I haven’t seen anyone. You’re the first person I’ve had time to sit down with.”

Confusion twists in your stomach. “You didn’t see Bucky?” you ask slowly.

He frowns. “No. Why?”

You pause, debating whether to bring it up. “He told me he went out for a drink with you the other night,” you say carefully.

Sam’s eyebrows lift in surprise before he shakes his head. “Nope, not me. I mean, maybe he went with someone else, but it wasn’t me.”

You try to push down the unease creeping into your chest. Bucky lying to you? It doesn’t make sense. But you decide to tuck the thought away for now.

“So, who else knows about your promotion?” you ask, steering the conversation back.

“Bucky,” Sam admits with a small grin. “He found out on guys’ night. But don’t be mad at him. I made him promise not to say anything until I was ready.”

“Of course I’m not mad,” you say quickly. “I get it. It’s your news to share, not his.”

Sam looks relieved and leans forward, his expression soft. “I’m gonna miss this, you know. Just hanging out with you, laughing about dumb stuff. You’ve been one of my closest friends for years.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” you tease, though your throat tightens with emotion. “We’re not getting rid of you that easily. You’ll visit, right?”

“Of course,” he says firmly. “And you better come visit me, too. I expect postcards, care packages, the whole deal.”

You laugh, but the weight of the news still lingers in the air. As you finish your lunch, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. But for now, you focus on Sam, determined to make the most of the time you have left with him.

[ezziedoodles]

Why Season 2 Of Arcane Felt A Little Off

Let me preface this by saying I adore this show, and I loved this season. I laughed, I cried, and I had a good time watching it. The art direction and animation is a masterpiece. This is probably my favorite show, but I think it's good to critique the things you love and this entire season I felt like I was waiting for something.

For a show titled Arcane, season one had remarkably little to do with the arcane. Yes, there was Hextech and magic, but the show was centered on this class divide between Piltover and Zaun and all the conflicts that stem from this. The very first scene of the show is enforcers killing citizens on the bridge, with Powder and Vi finding their dead parents' bodies. Zilco's reasoning for doing anything he did was because he believed he was helping Zaun, including raising Jinx the way he did. Vi was so passionate about her city and the injustice facing it. Caitlyn witnessing this injustice is what causes her to question the systems she is a part of. Viktor and Jayce (but especially Viktor) created technology with the intention of wanting to improve life for the undercity. Ekko is a revolutionary doing so much to give his people a community and a chance to live their lives. My point is literally every single character is connected by this conflict between the cities.

Now let's take a look at the second season. Where is this part of the story that was so essential to the first season? There's a brief revolutionary beat with Jinx and her followers but once they escape from prison, the show moves on from this and never touches it again. We see Caitlyn's descent into corrupt madness, becoming everything she and Vi wanted to stop. Eventually she realizes how wrong she was but do we see her make any reparations to Zaun specifically for the damage she caused? She gassed the city, poisoning the air even further (with gas that has been confirmed to make people sick in the long run), harming hundreds of innocent people. And Vi, a character so vehemently against enforcers in the first season, goes along with this for how long? Days? Weeks? And only stops when she can visually see the impact of Caitlyn's madness as she almost kills a child in front of her. These characters are flawed and I love that, but we see them get their happy ending without ever truly addressing or helping with what they did to Zaun.

Ekko sees an alternate universe of everything his city could be, everything they all wanted so badly in the first season. Equality, safety, education, food security, and more. He says he is thankful for the reminder and I fully believe he will go forth with this vision in mind, but do we ever see it? And that right there is the problem. We don't know what happens to Zaun in the end, we don't know if things get better. All we see is Sevika on the council but we don't know if that will fix anything since people have stood up for the undercity in council before and it did nothing.

I want to see Ekko rally his people and repair the damage caused by the war. I want to see Vi open up the last drop and make it what it was always meant to be, a place of community. I want to see schools open in the undercity in honor of Viktor and Jayce. I want to see the two cities heal from the damage done to each other. Fuck it, I just want literally any closure on this plotline! Just tack on a 2 minute montage of what happened to this city after the war and I'd feel a little better. But instead this part of the story was completely sidelined throughout the season and ignored entirely in the finale. I'm not someone that thinks every story needs to have a moral, but this show was trying to tell us something! The first season was screaming from the rooftops to beware of privilege, beware systemic oppression, to fight inequality, and I find it really sad that there was no conclusion for that.

I do wish there had been three seasons to give it a smoother transition form politics to magic but it is what it is. Nothing is perfect. This season gave me so much including the best depiction of soulmates I've ever seen in my life so you win some you lose some ig.

[sickfictropes]

As much as I adore the "whumpee hides their suffering" trope, one of my FAVORITE things to see is a fictional character admitting to being sick or injured.

I read the line "I don't feel well" in dialogue and I go nuts

said with shame. said with confusion. said with surprise. said with a strained smile. literally any delivery I just love it. I eat that stuff UP

and again, I love the hidden-injury / hidden-sickness trope. I love seeing a whumpee struggling to hide their plight and eventually getting caught when they're at the end of their ropes. but I also love it when a whumpee trusts the characters around them enough that they let them know immediately. the minute they feel something wrong, they say so.

a wounded character flinching after a strenuous activity and going "uhh guys I think I broke the stitches"

a character pausing mid-sentence when they suddenly feel the effects of something and bracing themself on the nearest surface. "Give me a second. I just got dizzy."

an analytical character listing their symptoms and getting all puzzled about why they're sick (trying to diagnose themself). turning to the semi-reformed villain and saying "you didn't poison me did you" "not this time. would've been funny though"

the team medic being pragmatic about their injury. "it's okay. the shock will keep me awake"

Or alternatively, they do try to hide it but they're so outlandishly bad at it that everyone finds out in like three minutes. "I'm fine" "no you're not" "Okay I'm not"

characters who are told they have a fever and instead of immediately going "no I don't" they're like "do I?"

I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS ABOUT IT IT JUST GIVES ME WHUMPERFLIES. WE NEED TO SHOW MORE LOVE TO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS WHO ADMIT THEY AREN'T DOING WELL

this is also one of my favorites because my all time fav trope is when a whumpee is trying to be responsible for their body but something is keeping them from rest, whether that's a situation where they have to run/fight or just not being believed.

my personal favorite is "i don't feel right" omg. i read that and forget how to act!!

[sototallynormaliswear]

I really don't care for the "true alpha" thing, and there are plenty of other people's posts about why, but I can't stop thinking about what it does to Scott and his character.

like, seasons one and two he's constantly fighting for NO ONE to be murdered, because he believes that you can't justify it and it's wrong. fair enough. this insistence places him at odds with people he might otherwise get along with, solidifying him as an underdog. even his alliance with Derek is tenuous, as Derek sees murder as necessary to keep people safe and Scott doesn't. but BECAUSE he's an underdog he has to work with the people around him and convince them why they shouldn't kill, he isn't powerful enough to stand on his own.

but in the later seasons.... he doesn't have that??

as the true alpha, his power hinges on him not killing people. while it would be unreasonable to say that his former stance is completely GONE, pessimistic fans (like me, hello hi how's your day) can make the case that he doesn't kill because he would be less powerful if he did, at least in part. it COMPLETELY cuts the teeth off his moral argument, which sucks because the show still has at least twelve more moral arguments left.

hes also completely LOST the underdog angle. he and Derek are finally chill, thankfully, but he's suddenly the most powerful cool guy in the area, the first of his kind in years, with super special powers just for him. about a season before he lost a fight with a guy who had been a werewolf for all of two seconds. and you know how before he had to convince other people to join his side and work with his plan? yeah no now he can just yell at them and they'll do whatever he says, magic rules.

No matter how you feel about season one and two Scott, it's undeniable that he is fighting an uphill battle that just kind of plateaus as of Season Three. and I love season three, but I feel like, if it did happen, it should have been closer to the end of the show

(And for all the talk about the McCall pack being weird and unconventional, they still fall in that same power structure that EVERY PACK EVER falls into. I think it would be more interesting if they didn't and their pack is even MORE of a mess to werewolves. take, for instance, the underlying subplot of seasons 1-3 that Beacon Hills doesn't have an alpha (at least a good one sorry Derek) and is there for ripe for the taking. a big reason that Derek wanted Scott in his pack was that he didn't want to be seen as weak or targeted by hunters, even other werewolves. they don't get along but they HAVE TO or else they straight up DIE. But then in 3A they suddenly have an alpha (at least a good one sorry AGAIN Derek) and that plotline is dropped. they're still being hunted, but that anxiety about being a good enough pack is gone. which is weird, right? wouldn't you want to increase that tension?

imagine if they didn't actually HAVE an alpha. They still consider each other pack, but that's not good enough for anyone but them. especially at the start of season four? no alpha, their former alpha has gone MISSING, they haven't told anyone, they have to go get him but every second any of them is away the more their town is in danger, and oh FUCK our former alpha is a TEENAGER NOW?? AND NOW HES BASICALLY NOT WVEN A WEREWOLF??? not only having to deal with the mercenaries and Kate but also other werewolves trying to nudge into their territory?)

[madonnamadeofasphalt]

EA & Bioware honestly did an incredible job at killing any enthusiasm I had for a new Dragon Age. Fucking hell, man, I've played the first two games so much I could probably go through them with closed eyes and still pick all the right dialogue options to get My Exact Personally Canonized Plot. And the only reason I didn't do the same thing with DA:I is because it was made after EA completely gave up on optimizing their shit so the fucking thing takes up like a billion terabytes of disc space and takes 10 hours to download and install. I honestly think it's the best-written cRPG franchise to ever have a budget that doesn't involve a list of Kickstarter backers or getting an eccentric Estonian billionaire fixated on the project. And the gameplay is also there, I don't really care about that part.

Then they proceeded to fire all the talent that made me love those first three games, and scratch and restart the production twice, and be suspiciously cagey with any details or gameplay footage for a fucking decade, so my hype consistently went down and down. And yet I still managed to hold out some hope that somehow, by some miracle, it wouldn't fucking suck.

I kept that hope until the trailer dropped. You know the one. The one where we see a bearded Varric. This, I think, was the exact moment when I lost any desire to play fucking Veilguard.

Like, first of all, Varric being there at all is already an issue. Leave the man alone. His presence was already kinda forced in DA:I. And after DA:I and Tresspasser, his story couldn't be more finished if he got killed, eaten, shitted out, condemned to hell, redeemed by divine sacrifice, bathed for eternity in the everlasting light. There is no point to Varric anymore. Whatever arc they've given him in Veilguard, and I don't even give a shit enough to read the spoilers before writing this post, it has no business existing. Fuck you. The only reason he's there is because he's a recognizable IP, and when you're a certain kind of soulless corporate moron, you think there's nothing more important than putting a recognizable IP in whatever new bullshit you're trying to peddle. Maybe if you didn't fire every decent writer in your trash fucking company, you'd have someone to tell you about the importance of Ending The Fucking Story When The Story Fucking Ends.

But that's not even the core of the problem. Beard? they gave Varric a Beard? Varric I fucking hate everything that's even tangentially connected to dwarven culture with a passion which is why I've made a point to shave my beard all my life to spite anyone who gives a fuck about it Tethras? beard? you gave him a beard? He changed so much offscreen in the goddamn timeskip between these two games that he got a motherfucking berd? fucshhfdbeard? feadsgfsvarricafgfdh BEARD? yyousftoiuslyhhabevarricasgsfucningbeardandthivkimgosabedineditit?beard????

PS. (edit after finding out spoilers) I've gone to TV Tropes to read up on Varric's role in DATV after writing this (just in case I'm wrong and dumb, and there's actually a deeply compelling narrative reason for his presence), and, well, this shit is cheaper than I thought. And more importantly, just as I thought, there appears to be no justification for the beard beyond "adding a beard is a cliche way to show that a bunch of time has passed, and we didn't care enough to think this shit through". I'm fucking tired, man.

PPS. (edit after reading the rest of big spoilers) This is so much worse than I could even begin to suspect. This is worse than the final season of Game of Thrones. This is the final season of Game of Thrones if they straight-up fired GRRM, burned his notes and hired a showrunner who's only read a one-page summary of the first six seasons. This is fucking depressing, man. I'm genuinely fucking sad. So many subplots that were started over the course of these three games, that were clearly going somewhere, scrapped in favour of a simplistic good vs. evil story that would get rejected by fucking CD-Projekt in 2007 for being too basic. All because the artists who poured their hearts and souls into this bullshit franchise got thrown out like trash by its "owners". Morrigan's kid, the Well of Sorrows, all the implied complexities of Tevinter politics, the Crows, the Old Gods, Andraste. All went to shit. Death to capitalism.

[beef-brisket]

Michael sat on his house and glared at the castle. He was going to muss his former home, but he didn't plan on coming back anytime soon.

He'll get revenge or die trying.

Michael: Hya!

Michael flicked the reins and took off towards his camp, just on the border of his old kingdom.

Lucifer woke to the sun shining through his window. He smiled when he saw that Adam was still asleep and curled into his side.

He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Settling back down, Lucifer sighed. He has a lot of work to do, mainly helping plan his coronation. He needed to find a way to include Adam and in the safest way possible. Thousands come from around the land to celebrate new royalty. He needs everything to go perfectly.

Adam: Thinking this early?

Lucifer jumps and looks at Adam, who looked like he had just woken up.

Adam: You're brains loud. What's wrong?

Lucifer smiles and rolls over to face him.

Lucifer: My coronation is coming up. I have to plan it.

Adam: That's... a human thing, right?

Lucifer nods: It's basically like a crowning. Which is what we did when we got married, but this is my peoples version.

Adam: Sounds complicated.

Lucifer: It's not fun. But we'll get there.

Adam nodded: Would you like a hand?

Lucifer thought about it for a second.

Lucifer: I would, actually. I'm inviting some of the dragon royalty as well, including your mother, if you don't mind.

Adam tensed at the mention of her. But it made sense that she would be invited.

Adam: That's fine... one night, right?

Lucifer: One night.

Adam smiled: I put up her for twenty plus years, I'm sure I could handle one night. And... y-you'll be there.

Adam blushed, when Lucifer cupped his cheek.

Lucifer: I'll be there.

Michael rode for three nights and three days. But finally, he arrived at his camp. He smiled as his real brothers and sisters cheered and clapped as he trotted into camp.

Michael: Where is he? Where is my love?

His men pointed to a large tent. His tent. Michael smiled and hopped off his horse.

He ran to the tent and pulled open the curtain. He sighed, finally feeling safe as his eyes land on his partner.

Michael: Alastor.

Alastor perked up, and his back was facing the entrance to the tent. He turned and smiled.

He stood and walked towards Michael. Michael walked inside, letting the flap to the tent fall behind him. They finally embraced

Alastor: There you are. I was getting worried.

Michael pecked him on the lips, knowing his love doesn't like too much physical contact.

Michael: I know, the ride is long. Too long. But I'm home, love. I'm here.

Alastor: With me~.

Michael smiled as he felt Alastor's arm wrap around his waist, pulling him close. He lent in, lips almost touching.

Alastor cupped his face and kissed him deeply.

Michael: With you~.

What about a dragon prince au?

Adam is part of a family that can turn into dragons, their feared by the humans. So they send Lucifer up as an ambassador to work out a peace agreement.

Sera, the matriarch would like a better relationship with humans, and so would her daughter. But her son, on the other hand is a different story.

He hates humans and thinks their entitled. He's the main reason theres such hostility between them and humans, as he thinks they should worship him and his family.

Adam: I really don't know why he need this fucker here.

Sera rolled her eyes: We need to fix relations between us. I refuse to let there be anymore violence between us. Especially from you, Adam.

Adam: Pft. So I burned down a few villages- who cares!? They were full of uggos anyway.

Lucifer instantly hates Adam, especially when he realizes he's the golden dragon that's been causing the most casualties.

But Sera is determined to change her sons view of humans, so she forces him to show Lucifer around their estate. She's made the threat of cutting his wings off if he doesn't behave and show Lucifer respect.

Of course, Adam manages to slip in some rude comments and jokes at Lucifer's expense. Lucifer is definitely pissed off. He didn't want to be here to start with, and he really doesn't want to deal with this guy.

He really hates how hot Adam is, and he's definitely not checking him out as he shows him around.

I love everything about this!

-

Adam might have a human form but that didn't mean he liked humans and this one in particular was rather annoying. But his mother told him to play nice and show him around, so that's what he's doing.

The only thing that gave away that Adam was a dragon was his eyes, they were bright gold and his pupils weren't perfectly round.

Lucifer walked with his arms crossed as he followed him, the palace was lovely but Adam was an asshole.

A pretty asshole but still.

Adam sighed: And that is the path to the village.

Lucifer: Village?

Adam: Is there an echo in here? Yes, village where everyone lives. Don't get any ideas.

Lucifer: What? What ideas?

Adam kept walking and they passed a garden that he didn't comment on.

Lucifer: What about the garden?

Adam frowned: You're not allowed in there.

Lucifer: Why?

Adam rolled his eyes; You're just not, now come on.

[kotemf]

Gift wrap banner by: @the-little-moment.

My gift for @lonewolflupe for the @galactic-gift-gathering event is nothing else than a short fic about Commander Fox and his biggest love: caff. Your gift is belowthe cut, I hope you like it!

Fox has always had a thing for caff.

He was a little older than eight standard years old when him and his batchmates decided to sneak out of their sleeping pods after the curfew and wandered to the mess hall. They were there for snacks but the moment Fox laid his gaze on a forgotten cup of the brown liquid on one of the tables, he couldn't look away. There was something about that brown liquid, something that made him take a sip.

There was no way to describe the taste, or the rush of contentment and energy that flooded Fox the moment he swallowed. And he knew in that moment that he wanted more.

His liking for caff hasn't changed. By the end of the war, he was drinking enough caff to show on a drug test.

And then the war ended, Fox was forced to quit his job of a commander until he recovered from the damage Palpatine did to him - not that he actually needed the time off but try explaining that to his overprotective batchmates - and along with his job, he list the option of stealing caff from the coffee machines in the senators' offices.

So he went and tried a coffee shop after coffee shop. And who knew caff could be even more delicious? Don't take him wrong, the plain black liquid he used to drink was good but it was nothing compared to pumpkin spice latte or strawberry creme frappuccino.

He didn't get why his batchmates laughed at his choice of drinks but then, his batchmates has always been weirdos. Fox didn't take it personally and brought them each a vanilla bean frappe with two pumps of raspberry syrup to their meeting in Wolffe's apartment.

"What's that?" Wolffe gave the plastic cup Fox just handed him a weird look. What was his problem? It was aesthetic!

"Looks kinda poisonous. Are you trying to kill us Fox'ika?" Cody joked. Asshole. Next time, Fox was getting him decaf.

"It's vanilla bean frappe with two pumps of raspberry syrup you moron."

"You know, maybe you could open a coffee shop," Rex snickered.

"You know what? I will."

"No, Fox, that was a joke! You can't just open a coffee shop!"

"Watch me."

Fox was nervous. He had exactly ten minutes and forty five- forty four- forty three- forty two- Alright, that's enough, he needed to calm down. He had approximately ten minutes before he opened his very first coffee shop. His worry was unnecessary. He was just opening his first ever coffee shop. What could go wrong?

Fox nervously sipped his iced matcha espresso as he watched the numbers on his watch change steadily. The drink was good. Surely his customers were going to agree. It was so good Fox ran out of the drink before he was supposed to open. He needed something to drink, something strong.

He was in the middle of the process of making a unicorn frappuccino when the door opened. Fox forced himself not to run away as he turned to his first ever customer. He was surprised to see senator Chuchi.

"Hi!" she greeted him cheerfully. She looked perfect as always, her blue skin glowy, robes carefully ironed without a hint of wrinkling, not a hair out of place... What was she doing in Fox's coffee shop. Not that it was Fox's business he was just curious. That... that didn't make it his business, right?

"Senator. What can I get you?"

"Surprise me."

Alright. Fox could do this. Caff was his job. No. No, caff was more. It was his life. He could make a good drink for a pretty senator.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Fox started mixing ingredients in a cup. He started with some melted chocolate, added ice, almond milk, blueberry juice and mixed it well before pouring some well brewed coffee into it and topping it off with whipped cream and some heart shaped chocolate sprinkles. He looked at his creation. That wasn't any of the drinks on the menu. He did it all on instinct, without thinking. It didn't look bad, though. He handed it to the senator.

"Looks great. I don't remember seeing this one on the menu?"

"It's a... it's a special. Just for you," Fox stuttered.

He watched the senator take a sip. He hoped he mixed it well. An angry senator was the last thing he needed, especially when it was the one senator who treated the clones with respect. What was he even thinking, he should've just fixed her a regular latte with some extra cream and- "Wow. This is... I don't have words for this, this is the best drink I've ever had."

"Really?"

"Uh huh." The senator took another sip. Fox guessed he was lucky. "How much is it?"

A good question. "It's on the house," he blurted out.

"Thanks, Fox." The senator smiled at him. "I'll be back tomorrow!"

Fox watched the senator toss a generous amount of credits into the tip jar as she walked out of the shop. He was still busy wondering if she really just said his name. How did she recognize him? Kriff, how did she even know he had a name? He always went by CC-1010 when in the senate.

He was still pondering over that when he heard his batchmates snicker from the door. So they really came. Sweet.

"Are you going to be standing there or do you actually want to purchase something?" Fox asked impatiently. He was a barista, not a comedian. His job was to get people so hooked on caff he could live out of their orders, not making them laugh.

"Just basic blacks caff," Cody ordered.

"I will let you know that I offer a variety of different-"

"Black caff, vod," Cody asked again, the others following his example. His batchmates were the worst! Why couldn't they just all admit what drinks they really loved? Fox had no problem with admitting that his favorite drink was strawberry cream frappuccino.

"Of course." Fox rolled his eyes as he prepared each of his beloved batchmates a plain, boring coffee. "Two credits each."

"You're kidding, right?" Bly asked.

"No."

"You mean a senator gets a drink on the house and your batchmates don't?" Wolffe looked offended.

"The senator didn't get the most boring drink I offer, did she?"

"We are your batchmates!" Rex argued. It was ironic that it was him of all people, he wasn't even from the same batch, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got kidnapped and later adopted by Cody. Not that Fox cared, no one was getting free drinks if they didn't at least order something interesting.

Fox's coffee shop turned out pretty well. Soon he had more customers than he could handle. Senator Chuchi kept coming every morning and sometimes in the evening as well. The command batch stopped by daily to order their plain coffee and then the di'kute returned alone later to order the drink they were embarrassed to admit they liked. The entire Coruscant Guard frequented the place as well as many other clones. Then there were Jedi and of course the regular citizens of Coruscant. To sum it up, the place was popular.

Fox was proud when he learned how well known his humble coffee shop was. Sure, his vode knew his shop. But nat-borns did too and that was a surprise. And it wasn't just some regulars who lived nearby, no. His coffee shop was a well known place! People would say they will meet at Fox's and their friends knew exactly where. Teenagers would buy caff just so they could spend an hour taking selfies with the cups and let the drink get cold. Fox couldn't be more happy. He loved caff and he loved making it for the citizens of Coruscant.

He heard the door open.

"Hey, Fox," Rex greeted him. He was the first one to return for his alone drink that day.

"Rex." Fox nodded at him. "The usual?"

"The usual."

Fox started making Rex's favorite espresso with milk, dragon fruit syrup, pink whipped cream, white chocolate topping and marshmallows. "Here you go." He handed Rex the cup and watched his vod'ika leave. He shook his head fondly. If only him and Fox's batchmates could admit they weren't all that much into boring, black caff, their lives would be much easier. It wasn't like they could laugh at each other. Rex loved milky espresso with dragon fruit, pink cream, white chocolate and marshmallows. Bly loved pumpkin spice latte. Cody loved affogato with cookie cream and two pumps of extra caramel. Wolffe's favorite was iced matcha tea latte with almond milk, raspberry syrup, seven extra pumps of dark chocolate, purple whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. Fox didn't judge. His batchmates did but they didn't have the right too.

Fox was distracted by the door opening again. He looked up to see his favorite customer. He smiled. "Hi, Riyo. What can I get you today?"

She smiled back. "Surprise me." She always said that. It was more of a game at this point, she could've ordered any of the drinks Fox has served her in the past. But she seemed to enjoy the surprise and Fox liked the challenge of creating new and new delicious and aesthetic combinations.

"Of course."

[jelzorz]

197.

It feels like treason to think it. Opeli would feel guilty for it on a normal day, she thinks, but the situation is dire and she wonders if anything will ever feel normal again. The Banther Lodge is a far cry from the castle, and it is crowded enough without the kingslaying elephant in the room.

She watches Soren fight Rayla over it.

She watches Ezran hide his tears.

She watches the Kingslayer walk free.

Well, she thinks. There are certainly worse things than thinking it. There are worse things than talking to her friends, her family, who also happen to be part of the council. Worse things have been done than calling a meeting behind Ezran's back, who is the King, yes, but a child first, and he has enough on his hands without this too.

"I don't think Prince Callum can continue being a part of this council."

Soren grimaces. Corvus shifts uneasily on the spot. Barius makes a face and fiddles with his hands.

Opeli stares them down. "Do you disagree?"

A pause. A sigh. Soren huffs and glances through the cellar kitchen window to make sure Callum is still preoccupied with defending Rayla and her murderous father from anyone who dares to look at them the wrong way. "No," he mutters after a moment. "You're right. You usually are, but this... Is Ezran's decision, not ours."

Opeli scowls, some misplaced maternal instinct raising her hackles. "He's dealing with enough," she says shortly. "He's eleven years old, his home has been destroyed, and his own brother returns with the elf that killed—"

"We get it," interrupts Corvus tiredly. "And we're not disagreeing with you. You're right. But what are you asking us to do, exactly? Kick Callum off the council? Is more internal conflict really what we need right now?"

"With respect, High Cleric," says Barius, "are we even supposed to be having this meeting? Isn't it breaking some sort of law to be talking about this before talking to King Ezran?"

Opeli wrinkles her nose at that, the wrongness of this heavy in her gut. "It's not illegal to bring up a concern with members of the council in confidence," she grumbles. It's a weak argument, but it's been played in court before, and she's not above playing the same dirty tactics to keep her king safe. "We are Ezran's council," she asserts. "Our duty is to him and to Katolis and I don't believe Callum's priorities are quite the same. He—" She grimaces too and locks eyes with Soren. "He's starting to remind me of your father."

Soren snorts at that. "Don't I know it," he mutters, and Opeli sees the truth of it in his eyes. Soren would know better than anyone what magic can do to people, the kind of power it gives them, the cleverness they think wielding it grants. "But Opeli, seriously, what are we going to do? We can't just arrest him. All this aside, he's still the prince. He's Ez's brother."

"One might argue that King Harrow was his stepfather, and you can see how much he cares about that."

Another pause. The room flinches because they all know that it's true, what an insult it is to Harrow's memory that his murderer would be allowed to dine at his son's table.

"Have you asked Ezran what he wants to do?" asks Corvus at last.

Opeli winces. "I didn't want to burden him with it," she mumbles. "I don't know that he knows what to do and frankly... I don't either."

"A first," says Barius, not unkindly. "It's all right to be concerned, High Cleric. It's all right not have all the answers."

"Yes, well." Opeli clears her throat and bows her head, hiding her weakness in the way her hood falls over her eyes. "I'm not particularly good at not having answers. I've come to you three hoping you might have them instead."

"I don't think we can help anymore than you," says Corvus wryly. "But our duty is to Ezran, the same as you. Soren and I won't let anything happen to him. The same way Barius won't. The same way you won't. Okay?"

"Call it a secret council pact," adds Soren with a grin. "If Callum does anything else stupid, we step in, no matter what. Deal?"

Hardly, thinks Opeli, even as she nods. She takes what little solace she can get.

[themadzarka]

CG and Flowey mini-fic. I think it's the first time I write them actually interacting.

-

"You want one?" She presents me a packaged snack. I recall the familiar colors. Used to eat these when I was a kid... Caramel-filled donut, typically glazed with strawberry-flavored cream. There would be other variants, but I would always pick the strawberry one.

Inevitably, it lost the flavor. More like, I lost my sense of taste. It was boring and uninteresting like every other snack, and it's not like I haven't tried. I'd avoid my favorites as much as I can to forget what it felt like to eat them, and eventually, I'd try again. Three bites, then I'd throw it away if it wasn't of great healing value.

And this weirdo. She keeps offering me food.

"Why do you keep feeding me? I don't want this," I decline. I DON'T want it, it's true. What hunger would it satisfy? I only function because this world apparently forces me to. But she insists.

"Just eat."

What the hell is wrong with her? Wasting so much money on feeding a plant... It's not just an offer every now and then, it's all of the time. She buys snacks for me, she saves a third of her dinner for me... Even Frisk is beginning to copy her, it's annoying.

"Why don't you give this to someone who actually NEEDS to eat? I'm a flower, you know?"

"I know."

"Uh-huh?"

"So? You have a mouth, and teeth, and a tongue. They're there for something, right?" She drops the little bag next to me. What a stupid thing to say. She orders her food online unless forced to leave her room to go outside like a normal healthy person, doesn't mean her legs are useless.

Nonetheless... Arguing with her would be a waste of time.

"Maybe they're here to eat people." I comment, picking up the snack.

"I wouldn't doubt it." She leans on the table, as if waiting for me to take the first bite and see my reaction.

It's disturbing to be observed by a faceless creature so often. A human, they call her. She's as real as the gray phantoms of Hotland... I wouldn't remember it to care, but if the world ever repeats itself, she wouldn't be here. And she knows it.

I wonder what it would've been like. If she didn't exist in this happy reality. Nothing would change, I presume. The extra room in Toriel's house would be empty, but, that's about it. She said she would leave after summer passes, to her home, very far away from here. Nobody would really remember her.

"Hmm!" I surprise myself as if I never ate this donut five thousand times before. "Wow. It's not that bad."

"I can tell. Your little face lit up."

Sometimes, I feel as if she was meant to be here, scrutinizing my being to no end, making me pay for my sins by feeding me all sorts of things just to see what I say, react, feel about them. I put up with it. When summer ends, she'll be gone as if nothing happened.

[divatakesontruth]

Why do people teach this?

First of all I’m not a teacher or anything like that, I’m simply someone who wishes to share her experience

Now there was something Sri sarvapriyananda said

It’s a story so I’ll say it.

There was a town behind a wall, the town was drowning in poverty, there was no color in the world , everyone was so sad and were all round just suffering , and that was all they ever knew ; they didn’t know anything like joy existed.

One day three men decided to look over the wall, and they found a beautiful paradise, green, healthy , happy. It was basically heaven on earth . They were so happy to have found it

The three of them made one choice each

One decided to climb over the wall and live in that paradise.

One decided to go tell others of this beautiful paradise so that they too may find joy

While the last one decided to keep living in the old town but from a completely different point of view. The world he thought he knew was not so limited anymore and he found peace in that and that was enough for him.

All of us are just like those three men trying to look over the wall and see (the true nature of our being )

This seeming plot line doesn’t cease when you awaken , no it’s still very much here

Many awakened people can decide to live knowing they’re not a person but however still continue to live in this seemingly wicked world

Some may decide to spread the news (like Ruper spira, Sri sarvapriyananda, Ramana Maharshi, being is it, @ko-existing @i-amyou @clochettesworld etc and all the people we seemingly learn from)

While some can decide to live in paradise

It doesn’t matter as long as Self has been revealed then , Nothing can be wrong

Why? Cause what determines wrong and right? Self is all that is and whatever seemingly appears is an energetic expression of this radiance.

Rupert spira has mentioned a few times that once you take these pointers and focus on the light of awareness, when Self shines through, you can go back to experiencing the world but now the way you seemingly experience it will change.

First of all you would regard everything as an appearance and the intensity with which life held you, will no longer be there .

A particular anon has been spamming my inbox insulting me and saying I copy being is it and koda . Haha I learnt from both of them so if there are similarities they are not intentional. You were curious about a lot of things and I hoped to have answer them here , also if you really are so intelligent (as you said one time) why bother sending things like that hm? If you know it’s all not real why do you send such hate for seeming people that are all one with you ? Don’t you regard your seeming intellectual dominance as another farce created by the mind?

Anyways if you keep sending asks, i could keep reading them if that will please you so but I won’t acknowledge you anymore

For everyone else , Notice

[tokiogoull]

More Adult!Byler headcanons bc I'm on break and I got a lot more interaction on my last post than expected. But this time it's Parents!Byler bc I'm a sucker for it.

(Sorry it's a long one...w/ a lot of typos...oops.)

Parents!Byler:

- They have three kids, all adopted, and about 5 years apart each. They adopted in their 30's.

- Will is the parent who disciplines the kids more, but in a gentle-parenting way bc of his upbringing. He actually sits them down, and talks about why their actions weren't good, how it made him and/or others feel, and what the best course of action should be.

-Mike will discipline the kids at times too, but sometimes he catches himself acting like his parents. Either half-assing it like his father, or yelling like his mother. He asks Will to keep him in check over this. More often than not, he will talk things out with their kids in a similar fashion to Will's style.

- When they first heard one of their children swear, they disciplined them properly, but they had to go hide in their room to laugh their asses off afterwards.

- They both encourage their kids to explore the arts, they take family trips to art museums.

- They decided to explore therapy before adopting. Both fearing of becoming their parents. Will was especially scared of turning into Lonnie.

- When the kids want money or to do something without being told "no" right off the bat, they go to Mike.

- Mike accidentally said "shit" way too many times around their first child, that their first word was "shit". It was funny at first, but it convinced Mike learned to curse less.

- Since it was the early 2000s when their kids were babies, the baby bottles were made of glass. One of their kids accidentally whacked Will with the bottom of a bottle and he still has a faint, small scar on his forehead from it.

- Since he has middle child syndrome, Mike likes to make sure Will and him spend time with their middle child. They try to treat all of their kids equally.

- When they adopted their first child, they were text book anxious parents. Scared to do wrong, and read every book and parenting they could get their hands on. They learned with their second and third child to loosen up.

- Their kids will send them tiktoks, and they watch them in confusion. They're used to them now though, thanks to their kids' Vine phase. That was a strange ride for them.

- They love to embarrass their kids, especially in public. If there's a song they recognize playing in the store, they will sing terribly with it. Their kids will walk off and act like they don't know who their parents were.

- When it was Mike's turn to do grocery shopping and if he took the kids with him—whenever there was a clear aisle in the store, he would have the kids hold onto the cart, and he would run and then jump onto the cart as well, so they'd zoom down the aisles faster. (They stopped once they were older, but they sometimes still do it for the nostalgia.)

- Will is the good driver of the two, but he likes to drive fast at times and Mike isn't a big fan of it. So when Will is driving with the kids in the car, minus Mike, he will take back roads where the small hills are. He purposely drives faster over the hills as the kids find it fun (responsibley ofc).

- They both got a mild case of empty nest syndrome when the kids went off to college. So they adopted two Maine coon cats.

Some Grandparents!Joyce, Hopper, Karen, and Ted as a bonus:

- The kids love both of their grandmothers, but they prefer Karen during Christmas and birthdays for the gifts. They love Joyce more in general, though.

- When it comes to grandfathers, they love Ted bc they get away with a lot more shit. (They're secretly low-key scared of Hopper even tho there's nothing to be scared off.)

- Hopper takes the kids camping in the summer. The kids loved it as small children, but not so much as the teenage angst began. As older teens and young adults, they started loving the camping trips again.

-Joyce carries a tin in her purse full of Skittles. When she takes the kids on errands with her, she gives them some as a treat. She sometimes swaps the skittles out for those grandma strawberry candies.

-Karen kept a lot of Mike's old toys and will have the Byler kids play with them when they stay over. She converted the foyer into the grandkids' playroom for both the Byler and Jancy kids.

-Ted acts similarly to the Byler kids like he did with his own, but he's much nicer. It gives Mike mixed feelings, some bitterness, but he's ultimately grateful that his father is accepting of his kids.

[cupidsblonde]

so do i look like him?

after katsuki’s death, the only thing your parents can see in you is him

when you used to imagine giving a speech about your younger brother, you have imagined it everywhere but here.

maybe a wedding

at an award show  

anywhere but here.

“i remember when katsuki first got his quirk, we all knew he was destined for greatness… but he was ripped away from us to soon.” you say lip quivering.

“he will never be able to live out his dream. or live out the life that had so many great things ahead of him. ripped from the arms of his loved ones, from his greatness, from his determination.” voice breaking, tears falling down your face.

“tomura shigaraki, i promise that if i ever find you, you will be ripped from the hearts of the people motivated by you, just as you did my brother” you say staring straight into the broadcasting camera, which was showing your brothers funeral all across the world.

since he was a nation wide hero. but he never got to be the hero he wanted to be, rich, famous, doing what he loved. 

for he was famous. this just wasn’t how anyone imaged it.

 was this all he was going to be to the world? a dead kid, who had a dream of being a hero and died on his way there in a war he had no place fighting in? 

is that kid the only thing your parents will ever be able to see in you?

being the eldest was great, until katsuki was gone. 

incident one

 you where all sitting around the dinning table. katsuki’s spot next to your empty. nothing but his lingering smell of caramel, which was fading, and quickly. it was quite. you just wanted to eat, and go to sleep. 

you pick up your fork and go to put the food into your mouth, clamping your mouth around the fork and unbeknownst to you, the scratching food. 

you groan, grimace and catch your parents eyes. they’re both staring at you. like you did something wrong. you can see the tears welling in their eyes. your mom slams her fork down and gets up from the table 

“excuse me” she says in a hushed tone. you didn’t know what happened. you looked to your dad for an answer. 

“you just looked a lot like him right then” you dad almost whispers to you.

incident two

you missed katsuki a lot.

his grunts

his anger

his determination 

his want 

his excellency.

you and everyone in your house avoided his room like the plague. scared that if it was changed even a little bit, something would happen. 

but you just couldn’t take not even smelling his scent around the house anymore. you went into his room one day. 

16 years of coming into his room, annoying him, crying to him, watching movies with him. had come to end. you sat on the floor, sat in his bed, sat at his desk and you made your way to his closet. that’s where it smelt the most of him. aside from his bed, but even that was fading.

all you wanted to do was cry. there was no way he was coming back, you know that. right? 

you continue to go into his spaces. just hoping your going to find your younger brother there. watch him study maybe, even hope you would be able to hear him yell at you to “get the f out of my room”. 

but you would never get to have that’s again. 

this time it was your dad. 

you had said something that you picked up from katsuki and your dad froze where he stood. 

you could tell he had been cracking his shell he made when katsuki died. push everything down to hold the family together. so he needed to get away. he stopped what he was doing and went to he and your mothers room. 

“you just looked a lot like him, with that look on your face, saying that.” your mother quivered out to you. sobbing and choking at the end of her sentence.

incident three

you had been falling back into a place that katsuki an you both worked so hard to get you out of mentally. 

you where drinking again

back on drugs

it started slow. just how it always did. 

you had been clean for nearly 2 years. you obviously didn’t need your younger brother to keep you a normal ass person, who wasn’t drinking all the time, sleeping all the time, back on drugs.

bakugo katsuki, your younger brother, your best friend. was one of the only things that kept you on the earth. 

but now, it was your parents. not because you where happy all the time with them as you where with katsuki. 

but having to bury both of their children? you couldn’t do that to them. 

so you began getting sober again. the drugs stopped and the drinking stopped, you had been reminded that katsuki helped you out of that dark, dark place and if he saw you just fall right back into it as soon as he’s gone, he would be disappointed.

it was hard, because it wand ike he was gone on a trip. he was gone, for good.

this time, it was both of them. both of your parents. 

you grabbed any random hoodie one day, not even realizing it was your brothers. you came down the stairs and your parents where right in the view of the stairs, and stopped when you came down. 

you then realized. 

you wouldnt ever be your own person now. atleast not to your parents. 

you understood, their child was gone. and you reminded them of him. and that’s … hard.

not only for them but also for yourself.

this is the first time you started to catch on 

“do i look like him?” 

both of your parents nodded quickly, tears filling their eyes and they both walked away very quickly. 

of course you went to go change.

but that’s when you realized, 

his scent wasn’t on the hoodie anymore 

the more that you thought about it. his scent wasn’t anywhere around the house anymore, aside for his room, which was fading. 

incident four

you where going through an old photo album, you all missed katsuki in with all of your hearts. 

there where a bunch of pictures of katsuki but it started getting easier to look at them. easier to, accept.

but there was this one problem, this one picture. that had your mother sobbing, your dad with tears streaming down your face and you, your face plastered with an a thousand yard stare. your mouth fell open, you wanted to say something. 

anything, but you couldn’t. it felt like your vocal cords had been ripped out, your throat was burning. your eyes where being filled with tears. you closed the picture book slowly. 

you don’t remember much after that.

 all you feel right now is the pain in the balls of your feet from the heels your wearing, continusally having to pull your to short and to tight dress down and the feeling of your back side grinding up against a man that you meet at the bar merely a half hour ago.

“wanna get out of here ma?” the man who you didn’t even know who’s name.

next morning

you woke up next to this man, who you still didn’t know the name of. 

these type of nights continued on for weeks. 

you didn’t see your parents much, you where staying with your friends more and more and they are worried about you. they are always supportive, they understand what your going through. but they are worried.

and they had every reason to. especially tonight. 

when you didn’t come home, after you sobbed in mina’s arms are the first time. saying you wished it was you who was gone and not your brother. she was first your brothers friend, but she ended up being yours as well. 

you missed him, so so much. and you didn’t know how to handle it.

you had taken care of him for his whole life. being the eldest was hard. it was always hard. it was so much harder when the one thing keeping you going was now gone. 

you could see it in your parents eyes. the only thing in their eyes was sadness. so the only you could ask yourself now was 

“do i look like him?”