#It's just so awful and it's so normalized here

[anto-pops]

Envy's Grip - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: There was no field guide on how to handle your best friend coming back to life. But in hindsight, maybe keeping it from your crime lord boyfriend wasn’t the best course of action. 

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, miscommunication (kind of), a sprinkle of jealous Sylus (or as jealous as he can be, he knows he's fine)

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3

Sylus was perceptive. 

It wasn’t a new trait, by any means. He had always been annoyingly aware of everything. Sometimes it seemed like he knew your own thoughts before you voiced them– though he insisted you were just easy to read and that it had nothing to do with him using his Evol to his advantage. Now was one of those times where you could tell he was scrutinizing you from afar, having picked up on the influx of emotions that overwhelmed your mind and left your body tense. 

Caleb was alive. 

The revelation had left you breathless– utterly at a loss for words as you had stared at him standing before you whole and well. Well, almost whole. The mechanical arm had thrown you for a loop, but it was his eyes that had broken down the wall of doubt between the two of you. Those bright, violet irises silently conveyed a lifetime of emotion that told you then and there that somehow, someway, your childhood friend was back from the dead. 

How the hell were you supposed to go about your day after discovering something like that? 

When Sylus had asked you the day after what had you looking so dreary, you had waved off his concern with a lie. “There’s a mandatory work meeting next weekend. All my plans with Tara are ruined.” 

He had furrowed his brow at that statement, evidently confused as to why he hadn’t heard anything about your weekend plans up until that moment. You were terrible at lying, and it felt awful to do it– especially with Sylus. You had just prayed that he would overlook your nervous behavior and let you get away with it. 

That same day, Sylus’ eyes had narrowed during lunch while you’d chewed your own nails off in favor of the roast he had cooked for the two of you, but you had done your best to play off the anxious habit as something else work related. Then you had jumped– actually jumped– when he’d walked into the living room while you’d zoned out staring at a wall, his sudden presence jerking you back to the present with your heart hammering and your eyes wide. 

“You need to wear a bell,” was all you had said when he’d asked why you were so jumpy. His lips had pursed while he’d worked a muscle in his jaw, opting to keep his innermost thoughts to himself. 

Then there was right now; your form was sloppy, and your shoulder was aching from the lack of control you threw your punches with. The boxing bag hanging from the ceiling of Sylus’ home gym swayed towards you listlessly, the lack of power in your attacks barely causing the chain to rattle the way it normally would. Using your gloved hand, you halted the bag’s momentum, your chest heaving as you drew in deep, steadying breaths to ground yourself. The sweat that dripped down your temples chilled your otherwise heated skin, and you hastily wiped the moisture away using the back of your forearm before swallowing thickly. 

You were a mess.

As you turned to make your way to the edge of the ring for your water bottle, Sylus tracked your movements with predatory-like precision. He didn’t blink, didn’t shift from his spot against the wall. It hardly looked like he was even breathing. The floor to ceiling mirrors that lined the entirety of the gym clued you in on the dark expression that crossed his face the second you turned your back to him, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the air vent overhead snaked its way down your spine. 

“How do I put this nicely…” Sylus’ deep, throaty timbre reverberated off the walls, and you did your best to ignore him as you brought your bottle to your lips. “The way you’re performing now, you’re on par to fight a toddler.” 

Prick. Water dribbled down your chin as you tightened the water cap and set the container down. “That’s what the practice ring is for. Practice. I’m not trying to show out.” 

“No, clearly you’re not. You’re trying to distract yourself.” 

Ever the discerning crime lord. “I’m working out, Sylus. Since when does that require perfect form?” Placing your hands on your hips, you glared at his reflection in the mirror. “More importantly, why are you just standing there watching? It’s weird.” 

He feigned disinterest by looking at his nails, a move that infuriated you as much as it intrigued you. Sylus always looked so effortlessly handsome. The sight of him posted up against the wall with his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest almost distracted you from the rampant thoughts about Caleb that had plagued your brain for the last two days. Almost. “You might be ‘practicing’, but you’re doing yourself a disservice by not utilizing your full potential. That stance is pathetic, and your punches couldn’t hurt a fly. To add insult to injury, you already know all of this.”

“And I really don’t care. Go find Kieran or Luke if you want to criticize someone, I’m not in the mood.”

Sylus went quiet behind you as you began unstrapping your gloves, and a few beats of silence passed before you lifted your gaze back to the mirror. He was staring at you intently, ruby red eyes flickering darkly and narrowing. It wasn’t exactly the expression he wore when he was angry– not when it still hid a sliver of possessive longing within his dark pupils. But even so, it was enough. You felt arousal curling hot in your gut at the sight, and Sylus’ eyes flicked up to your damp hair clinging to your forehead as a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“Then what are you in the mood for?” Sylus purred the question, pushing off the wall to stalk over to the boxing platform. He shrugged off his jacket as he walked, tossing it haphazardly over the rope barrier before effortlessly hoisting himself up and stepping into the ring. “Want me to leave you alone? Completely? Back off and let you think about your long lost friend in peace?” 

Oh, shit. 

Your mouth fell open at the realization that he knew. How? When had he found out? Your mind whirred with the possibilities and your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your skin and imbuing you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. It had never been like that with Caleb, but did Sylus know that? Did he think the worst? How much of the impromptu reunion was he aware of? 

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” He goaded you further, prowling towards you without an ounce of hesitation. You held up your palms towards him as though to stop him, but he captured your smaller hands in his larger ones and threaded your fingers together, pulling you against his chest with a throaty chuckle devoid of any humor. “Did you really think I didn’t know why you’ve been so out of it lately?” 

“Sylus, I–” you stopped yourself, indignant anger taking root as you realized he had somehow invaded your privacy. “Did you follow me? You ass! How do you even know about that?”

He ignored your pointed line of questioning and pressed on with his brows furrowed. “Were you ever planning on telling me? Or would you have kept quiet and silently debated on whether or not rushing back to his side is a good plan?”

“What? Don’t you dare turn this back on me, you spied on me!” 

“I was in the city on business. Nothing special, but I wanted to stop by to see you once I was done. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the park with him on the way to my meeting.” 

You tsk’d in annoyance, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “Business. It’s always business with you. Why does it matter that I didn’t immediately run to you to fess up about my friend not being dead?” 

“Because you lied to me.” The way he growled the blatant fact made your retort die in your throat. The anger that had burned hot in your veins cooled instantly, and you blanched as Sylus continued icily. “Taking your time to process it? That I can understand. But you looked me right in my eyes and came up with some half-assed excuse about work. You didn’t trust me with this, even though we agreed we would always be honest with one another.” 

You stammered, “Sylus, wait– I wasn’t–” 

He let go of one of your hands to capture your chin in his firm grip, forcing your eyes to meet his as he stared down at you. His hold wasn’t painful, but it was unrelenting, and the angle left you wholly at his mercy as he slipped his other hand around your back to hold you flush to him. “You weren’t what? Keeping secrets? Giving me unwarranted attitude?”

“None of this is your business!” You jerked your head out of his hold and wedged your hands between the two of you, shoving him away so abruptly that the tiniest grunt escaped his lips. Your eyes were frantic as you exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have left– I just– dammit! Just give me a minute here!”

He gave you ten seconds of uninterrupted silence. The tense kind that set your teeth on edge and made your skin crawl. Then you looked back at him, shocked to discover an icy cool expression painted across his sharp features. The unyielding wall that had existed between you both when you’d first met had been reconstructed in record time, the lack of warmth in his eyes speaking volumes of how he really felt. 

“Take all the time you need, Miss Hunter.” 

When he turned his back to you and started towards the ropes, your heart nearly gave out as your stomach plummeted into your feet. He couldn’t walk away from this– not after he had implied the worst without letting you explain. You had no clue how he even knew about Caleb, but clearly Sylus assumed your relationship with him was something more, and it scared you to think that your lover doubted you. Worse, that he doubted himself. 

Your body acted of its own accord, carrying you forward fast enough that you were able to coil your fingers around Sylus’ thick wrist. He stopped dead in his tracks, but he didn’t turn to look at you. On instinct, you darted around him so you were standing before him, then rose up onto the tips of your toes so you could crush your lips to his. 

Sylus’ reaction was slow; he inhaled sharply before his hands slowly came to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as an animalistic growl resonated from deep within his chest. He stepped closer to you, blindly leading you towards the edge of the ring until you felt your back press against the ropes, and Sylus used the newfound barrier to his advantage and rolled his hips against yours while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth. It was equal parts suffocating and exhilarating. Your every sense was overtaken by him– his heady scent, the muscular feeling of him, the guttural sounds he made as he devoured you. 

Sylus’ lips trailed away from yours to mouth wetly at your jaw, and your head fell back as a raspy moan escaped you when he ground his hips into you. The hard length of him was tangible through his dress pants, and the thin pair of leggings you wore did little to deter the feeling. Your hands drifted down his toned biceps and along his taut stomach before your fingers curled tellingly over his belt buckle. The tug you gave the leather material was ardent, your desires taking over your better judgement. Rational thinking had suggested you talk things out with Sylus like adults. To speak to him about loyalty and remind him that he had nothing to worry about as far as Caleb was concerned. 

But bringing up Caleb right now was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Fucking like adults might also do the trick. 

An airy whimper sounded from you as Sylus roughly brushed your hands away from his belt, taking control of the situation and yanking your sweat-soaked t-shirt over your head. Your sports-bra went next, and the peaks of your breasts pebbled in response to the cold air surrounding you. When you blinked up at the man through hazy eyes, his own orbs were dark and hooded, and the way he licked his lips made you want to kiss him again badly. You weren’t far gone enough to think you deserved it yet, though– not even when Sylus leaned forward to start mouthing down your throat, his tongue trailing against your sweat-slick skin as he descended lower and lower. 

Just when you thought Sylus would end up on his knees in front of you, he was back to his full height. He wasted little time taking you by the hips and assertively guiding you down to the floor of the boxing ring. Dazed, you blinked up at the white haired man, staring at him long enough to catch sight of the strained expression he hid behind his calm facade. It almost looked like he was pained. It confused you, but questioning it wasn’t possible once Sylus shuffled down to settle between your legs. 

You felt his blunt nails scrape against your hip bones as he tugged your panties and leggings away, tossing both of them aside before laying flat between your bent knees. He wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t talking with you the way he normally would when the two of you were intimate. In fact, there wasn’t anything that was intimate about this aside from you being fully exposed to him. There he was, fully clothed between your legs and inches away from your womanhood, and yet not a lick of warmth emanated from him. 

Suddenly, your morose thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Sylus licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, your breath catching as the man took care to add a sinful amount of pressure to your bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck,” you managed to wheeze, your hands flying to Sylus’ soft locs as he wrapped his lips around your clit, then sucked hard enough that your back arched off the floor. Another rough moan escaped you as Sylus splayed his fingers against the underside of your thigh and dug his nails into the tender flesh there. He did the same with your other leg, and the bruising strength he held your legs apart with was something that enticed you as much as it confused you. 

Make no mistake: rough sex with Sylus was always phenomenal, and it was most definitely something you enjoyed partaking in. But there was a missing puzzle piece here– something irregular that had your heart weighing heavy in your chest as you gazed breathlessly to the ceiling. 

You wished Sylus would say something. He hadn’t since you had grabbed for him just minutes prior, nor had he let you undress him like you’d wanted to. The disappointing memory of him crudely swatting your hands away from his belt returned to you then and imbued you with a lingering sense of remorse. Shit, you would settle for him just looking at you by this point. Anything other than the cold, rigid version of your lover before you now. 

Unbeknownst to your internal turmoil, Sylus sat back on his haunches and slid his hands to your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach and allowing for him to manhandle your legs apart. Part of you wanted to protest against the position, but then you felt your lover begin to mouth hotly down your spine and press chaste kisses to your warm skin, and your inhibitions started to melt. It was the first real show of Sylus’ softer side. The gentle press of his index finger against your entrance further derailed your train of thought, and as Sylus slowly breached your fluttering walls with the digit, you couldn’t help but breathe out a soft moan.  

The tenderness left you shaking– trembling–  for more. 

As Sylus started to pump his finger slowly, he took care to remain incredibly attentive to the way you wriggled and keened for more, your face half-buried in the crook of your arm. His free hand came to rub soothing circles against your hip as he gingerly added a second finger to join the first, and the tantalizing stretch had you gasping and squeezing your eyes shut. “F-Fuck, Sylus,” you mumbled, the words muffled slightly by your own arm pressed against your lips. 

You felt Sylus lean forward, his warm breath fanning across your ear as he asked, “Does it feel good?” 

You rocked your hips back onto the fingers easing you open, nodding and gasping breathlessly as the crime lord pressed against your inner walls incessantly in search of that one spot he knew would reduce you to a babbling mess. It didn’t take long for him to find it. Before long, Sylus slid his fingers deeper and curled them up, and the sudden jolt of pleasure that ran through you caused you to mewl your lover's name loudly. 

Taking your reactions as his cue, Sylus proceeded to work you with his fingers faster, brushing the pads of his digits over that magical spot within you every time without fail. The overwhelming sensations left your body quaking as fiery hot arousal coursed through your veins, the beginnings of your climax festering in your gut. As blissful as it was, you had no desire to end things like this; on your knees and with your back to Sylus while he used his damn hands to undo you. 

Blearily, you pushed yourself up with your arms, craning your head around to stare at the man through your lashes. “C-Come on, Sylus,” you implored him weakly. “Please?” 

Sylus met your gaze for the briefest of moments, his eyes dancing away before you could get a good look at him. He mercifully withdrew his fingers, trailing the appendages against your inner thighs and inducing a wave of goosebumps along your skin, then sat back to begin removing his clothing. It was methodical– swift, even. All you could do was watch in the reflection of the mirror as Sylus stripped himself bare without your aid, tossing his clothes off to the side of the boxing ring before returning to his kneeled position behind you. 

Sighing, you ran your hand through your hair dejectedly, accepting that Sylus’ colder nature was your own fault. How could you blame him? Beyond keeping the truth about Caleb from him, you had pushed him away when he’d tried to get close to you. It didn’t look good for you, and you found yourself lowering yourself back to the ground with your face buried in the crook of your arm. Whether you were hiding from Sylus or your own embarrassment, you didn’t know. 

As Sylus lined himself up with your wet entrance, the tiniest sigh escaped him when the blunt head of his cock rubbed softly against you. His firm, warm hands settled on your hips as he asked, “Ready?” 

You could sass him, or rush him along, or just generally be an ass to him in response to him being so closed off, but you didn’t. The air between the two of you was different than it was before, even though Sylus was keeping all his sweetness to himself. You told yourself that you didn’t deserve it anyways and nodded shakily. 

At your confirmation, Sylus sighed and squeezed your hips, then began to sink his thick, perfect cock deep inside of you with slow, gentle thrusts. You gasped and hid your face in your arms, rocking back onto the larger man as you muffled needy little noises against your skin. When Sylus bottomed out, he moaned and ran his hands up your sides, over your ribs, so gentle and so fucking nice that you kind of wished he would just rail you through the floor of the ring. How amazingly soft he was being while distancing himself was making your chest ache. 

It didn’t last long, thankfully. When Sylus gave an experimental roll of his hips and found you more than a little eager for his cock, he groaned and pulled back farther before ramming his dick into you, and the way you cried out for it covered the throaty moan that had escaped his lips. The crime lord set the pace just like that; hard and fast, impaling you and wringing gasping cries out of you easily. The arch of your back let Sylus’ cock slide along your sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the feeling had your eyes fucking crossing. 

It was too good. Your thoughts were crashing, noisy moans sounding from you freely. You were entirely sure you were drooling all over the padding of the ring’s floor, but you didn’t really care when Sylus was fucking you so thoroughly. The fingers digging into your hips pulled you back hard even as Sylus pounded his cock into your wet, tight heat, leaving you completely and utterly helpless for it. 

You didn’t know if Sylus had a cruel streak or a merciful one, because eventually he peeled one hand off of your hip and wound it immediately into your hair, and then you knew you were fucked. So very fucked. And not just by the cock driving you crazy. 

Sylus yanked your hair– just a little on the side of painful– and you couldn’t help the way you fucking wailed Sylus’ name, your thighs shaking and your hips slamming back into his fast thrusts. When he pulled again, you obediently scrambled up onto your weak hands, your shoulders trembling and your stomach churning with wanton pleasure. Sylus leaned down and moaned in your ear, his grip on your hair unrelenting as he urged, “Say my name, say my name for me, come on…” 

You didn’t even have to think about it. You leaned your head back against Sylus’ shoulder and gasped his name over and over, your voice pitched high and desperate from the way his cock owned you so perfectly. Sylus’ soft sounds were driving you mad for him, eager to hear his voice again, to hear the white haired man tell you how good you were. The hand pulling at your hair made it impossible to form words, though, save for the increasingly needy cries of Sylus’ name and shaky iterations of please, please, please. 

The floor of the boxing ring creaked as Sylus pressed the two of you back down against its surface to speed up, his hips slapping against your ass so aggressively that you couldn’t help but scream for him, the pleas coming in shaking sobs. 

Even though Sylus was so thoroughly possessing you and fucking his cock straight into your cervix, something was still keeping you from getting close. It felt so good, absolutely amazing, but you couldn’t finish like this. Not when Sylus was biting his lip against his own noisy moans. Not when Sylus hadn’t said your name once this entire time. Not when Sylus had yet to look you in the eyes. 

Whining, you turned your head forward so you could look at him in the reflection of the mirror straight ahead. The muscles of his back rippled with effort as he continued pumping his hips, and his own forehead was pressed into your shoulder so he didn’t have to look at you. The change in your breathy sounds caught his attention, however, and Sylus slowed his hips to a rough grind to give the two of you a damn break. He finally lifted his dark, fucked-out gaze to yours, and proceeded to finally made eye contact with you in the mirror. Even hazy with lust, you could still pick out the hurt in Sylus’ eyes. 

You had put that there. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimpered and spread your fingers out against the padded floor, an unspoken invitation. After a long moment of consideration, Sylus mouthed at your sweat-slick shoulder and carefully unwound his fingers from your tangled hair to twine them together with yours. You gripped his hand tight and shivered for him, rocking back into now-gentle thrusts with a soft moan of his name. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you breathed, looking back at Sylus from over your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sylus.” 

He stilled then, his free hand moving to tenderly brush your sweaty bangs out of your eyes. He didn’t respond yet, though, instead pulling out entirely to ease you over onto your back. 

Winding your violently trembling legs loosely around his waist, you wiggled as Sylus leaned back over you and aligned himself with your throbbing center once again. When he slid home, it was slow and easy, leaving the two of you gasping. To make things even better, Sylus reached over to grab both of your hands before lacing your fingers together again, balancing easily on his elbows so his chest was nearly flush to yours. It was so close, so damn intimate, and so much better than you deserved that you couldn’t even begin to hope for anything more. 

Sylus was so kind, though. He was thoughtful and courteous and so damn sweet, and he nudged your nose with his own before he finally kissed you again, thank god. You whimpered pitifully, squeezing his hands while he slid his tongue easily between your lips, deepening the kiss and drawing a keening moan from your sore throat. 

This time, Sylus’ thrusts were steady and slow, following an even tempo that left you sputtering against his lips. 

It was a world apart from earlier. Before, Sylus had been fucking you, marking you like you were his territory, holding back even as he let loose some wild, animalistic part of himself brought on by you pushing him away. 

Now, by some grace from god or by virtue of Sylus’ incredible capacity for dealing with your shit, it was like he was making love to you, his cock continuing to fill you up so good but just slow enough that you had time to understand how amazing he made you feel. Sort of. As much as you could understand when you were whispering Sylus’ name against his lips, your voice still rough from screaming and hitching audibly when he thrusted into you. 

You swallowed thickly to coat your dry throat, then opened your eyes to stare up at him again. 

Sylus had pulled back enough that he could see the faces you were making perfectly, how flushed your cheeks were, and how watery your eyes were. Being watched so intimately caused you to flush darker, and you closed your eyes again and arched your back with a broken groan when Sylus’ cock slid over your sweet spot once again. 

“Sylus,” you moaned, sliding your thighs further up his sides and spreading them wider. “Sylus, you’re so good…”

You felt as Sylus bumped your noses together again, squeezing your hands with a contented sigh. You were more than okay with the pace things were moving at, especially once your lover brushed his lips against your cheeks so incredibly tenderly and thrust deeper into you. Spine rounding again, you let loose a shuddering gasp before your mouth fell open with an airy whisper of Sylus’ name. 

“You look so good like this,” Sylus purred, the sound of his voice sending you reeling once again. It was beyond unfair how Sylus had you wrapped around his finger. You instinctively tightened around his cock, and the lecherous moan the action pulled from him made your stomach flip. He chuckled softly shortly thereafter and squeezed your hands again, “So pretty, you know that, kitten? And you take me so well, with the prettiest little noises. God, the noises you make…” 

You were losing your fucking mind. You rolled your head to the side with a bitten-back whimper, your body rocking perfectly into Sylus’ thrusts. There was no way you could have known that the way Sylus whispered to you would set you so on edge, but you had missed it so badly in the seemingly endless period of time you’d had to go without it. Sylus’ praises made you so hot, so damn brainless that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, and the bastard knew it. When Sylus sped up, you were still helpless– still unable to do anything other than gasp your lover’s name into the humid air between you both. 

Even as he smiled down at you and chuckled at the way you fell apart, Sylus’ own voice was growing breathier, his moans louder. Apparently you weren’t the only one so deeply affected. 

“I can feel you getting close, kitten,” Sylus moaned against you, his hips moving in deep, quick thrusts that filled you up easily. You licked your lips and cracked open your bleary eyes to watch as Sylus’ brows pinched together in response to your walls clamping down on his cock harder. With a stammered moan of your name, Sylus’ head drooped between his shoulders as he murmured, “You feel incredible. You’re so good for me.” 

That was what you needed more than anything. Sylus moaning your name while his thrusts picked up with more force, his teeth worrying his lip as he fought against his bone-deep urge to finish. Your name spoken by Sylus would forever be your favorite sound, and hearing it now was driving you straight to the edge and building your orgasm up quickly in your gut. Your moans spiked into breathy cries, your muscles tensing and twitching in earnest. Unable to stop yourself, you started to beg, “S-Sylus, Sylus, I’m almost– I’m– please, Sylus–”

Sylus obliged your senseless word babble. He untangled your fingers from his so he could sit up on his heels, looping his arms under your back to bring you with him. With you balanced easily in his lap, Sylus kept one arm around your midsection while the other came to grip your hip before he started thrusting again, his cock angling up and hitting you so deep and so perfect that you were certain you were seeing stars. Your hands flew frantically to Sylus’ toned shoulders, your nails digging in for purchase as that telltale sensation in the pit of your stomach grew stronger and more potent. 

Once Sylus breathed your name again, his voice trailing off into a raspy, rumbling moan, it was more than enough to carry you over the edge. 

Your breasts pressed into Sylus’ chest as your spine arched, your climax crashing over you violently and rendering your brain useless. Sylus groaned long and loud as you clenched impossibly further around his cock, and as you clung desperately to him and buried your face into the crook of his neck, he managed to thrust once, then twice, before he came with a shuddering groan. 

Sylus curled around you possessively and ground against you mindlessly, his large hands gripping you so tightly that you were certain they would leave bruises in their wake. He continued to mumble your name breathlessly into your ear as the two of you came down together, and eventually you were able to think through the pleasured fog that still tinged your vision. 

You continued to breathe heavily, your limbs shaking and twitching as you clenched your eyes shut and continued to hide your looming shame in the crook of Sylus’ neck. The only thing that pulled you out of your makeshift cocoon was the feeling of the larger man’s lips pressing against the top of your head, and you jolted almost violently at the attention. 

“Damn, sweetie,” Sylus said roughly, his hand trailing up your bare back to hold the nape of your neck. “You’re still shaking an awful lot. Are you alright?” 

You were silent for a long time, trying and failing to get your breathing under control again while Sylus simply cradled you. There was nothing you wanted more than to keep holding him, to keep him from leaving you and walking away, but as the dust settled around the two of you, you remembered how bad you had actually fucked up. So you waited for Sylus to release you, to stop mumbling sweet nothings into the top of your head, to banish you from his home entirely and send you back to Linkon City. 

But he didn’t do any of those things. He surprised you by lowering his own head so it was right beside yours, using his chin to gently nudge you out of your hiding spot in his shoulder so he could look at you. “I’m going to need an answer, sweetie, because I’m becoming increasingly worried that I hurt you.” 

“I’m sorry, Sylus,” you mumbled, avoiding meeting his gaze in favor of directing your words to his chest. Your voice was meek and pitiful, and your lower lip trembled as you tried and failed to fight the influx of tears that welled in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

At first, Sylus was quiet. You felt his arms slide away from your back, and for a split second you were convinced that he was going to shove you away and end things with you then and there. But then his hands reappeared between the two of you, tentatively cupping your jaw to angle your face up at him. He looked at you curiously, sweeping his thumb under your eyes to catch the stray tears that slipped down your cheeks. His voice was calm and gentle when he finally asked, “What exactly are you apologizing for?” 

“For lying to you. For saying those hurtful things. I know I was overwhelmed by Caleb just… showing up the way he did, but that was no excuse for being so cruel to you.” You swallowed, your brow furrowing as you stared up at the literal love of your life and became overtaken by a fresh dose of remorse. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want Caleb. I don’t want you to think that you’ve been some replacement for him this entire time because I never had feelings like that for him. I should have been honest from the jump instead of getting so defensive. I’m really, really sorry, Sylus.” 

Sylus seemed to mull your confession over– always so careful about picking his words. It was a trait that you could certainly stand to learn from, if only you could manage to stop talking out of your ass for five seconds. 

“I didn’t exactly broach the subject with you delicately,” he admonished with a grimace. “I didn’t stop to consider that your childhood friend was back from the dead. I just assumed the worst and jumped head first into the conversation with that thought driving me. So for that, I’m sorry.” 

A watery smile stretched across your face, and you wrapped your arms around Sylus’ waist with your ear pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing your previously frayed nerves. “So does this mean you forgive me?” 

To your mild surprise, Sylus laughed. Softly, and far from the mean-spirited kind. He returned your embrace eagerly, tracing small circles against your back with his fingers as he shook his head to himself. “There’s hardly that much to forgive. You’ve said worse things to me in the past, remember?” 

“Don’t make me beg. Just answer the question.” 

“Yes, kitten. I forgive you.” 

Sighing contentedly, you felt Sylus press a quick kiss to your forehead before holding you tighter to him, then he rose swiftly and easily, not at all slowed down by hoisting you up along with him. You yelped a little in alarm and wrapped your legs around his waist, entirely at his mercy as he somehow managed to duck under the ropes of the boxing ring with you coiled around him like a baby monkey. “Where are we going?” 

“To shower. I have every intention of making the most of your apologetic mood. And I think I might like to see you beg a little.” 

You sat upright in his firm hold, placing your hand on his chest to put a modicum of space between the two of you. “But you said you forgave me! What about Luke and Kieran?! Your room is on the other side of the house– Sylus, we’re naked!” 

Undeterred, Sylus flashed you his trademark smirk– the one that never failed to lower your inhibitions. “Oh, I forgive you. But since I have heard worse things from you before, the way I see it is you can go ahead and earn some more forgiveness while you’re at it.” 

Anxious beyond belief at the prospect of the twins seeing you in the nude, you shoved at Sylus more and scrambled to get out of his hold. He was having none of it, however, and swiftly readjusted his grip so he could toss you over his shoulder, your rear on full display in the event anyone crossed paths with the two of you. When you frantically started kicking your legs and hitting his back, he returned the motion with a playful slap to your ass that pulled a loud yelp from your lips. 

You loved the man with all your heart. You truly couldn’t fathom yourself ever leaving him, nor could you imagine your life without him. He brought a certain excitement to your otherwise dull day-to-day that you treasured and valued endlessly. 

But be that as it may, you were so, so going to kill him for this. 

[sad-wet-cat-hannibal]

(Essay incoming so I'm adding a read more)

I think you've said some good stuff here, and I too get annoyed or even angered by people using the term in a way that I interpret as flippant; but I'd like to add that as someone who frequently described distressing books and films as "traumatising", it turned out that that word was rather apt - because my intense response was caused by my trauma being triggered by those very same things, too often in ways that felt like reliving it.

Here's the kicker. I didn't know I *had* any trauma. All I knew was that engaging with these works made me feel distressed and disturbed as if I were personally traumatised by these things. Like they were real. Like they damaged me. Just from reading them or seeing them. They'd haunt me for weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Sometimes they gave me weird symptoms I couldn't explain. So, naturally, I was hyper-avoidant as fuck.

That intense sensitivity and hyper-avoidance, combined with my ignorance to the fact that my psyche was not experiencing these things from an untraumatised position, meant I thought that "intensely distressing/traumatising" was just the normal effect these things had - except lots of other people seemed oblivious, and even delighted in the exact same works. Sometimes none more so than the kind of motherfuckers who actually like traumatising people.

So I figured, as incomprehensible as it seemed, everyone else had to be either too numbed out/oblivious/naïve to realise how awful this shit was, or were actually big fans of bad things happening in real life.

Because if to me it felt too real, capable of destroying my peace of mind for weeks, then surely to some extent that must be the same for everyone else, right? (Obviously not, but I was younger and working with what limited knowledge I had.) From that logic it's really easy to buy into censorship, into propaganda that claims that the symptoms of a society with a dysfunctional approach to life are often born of the media that echoes them, rather than the other way round. It's real to you. It's your only explanation. (You don't want to feel like this. You don't want anyone to feel like this. It's inhumane.)

What I'm trying to say is that not everyone knows they're traumatised. I think as many as those who do, do not. Perhaps far more. And for those people, the only time they are able to touch on the truth of their half-veiled iceberg is when they tell you that The Bridge to Terabithia "traumatised" them.

(I know it "did" me.)

Telling them they're exaggerating, and misusing language that doesn't apply to them runs the very real risk of making it harder for them to treat their feelings with the consideration and weight they deserve, and enabling them to begin the process of unraveling their denial and tending their wounds. It runs the risk of reinforcing the (potentially forgotten or minimised) messaging they may have already received, during and after the trauma, that it doesn't matter. They're exaggerating. They're making things up. Other people have trauma, other people have it so much worse, other people suffer - but not you. Your account of your experience is unbelievable. Silly. You will not be seen or heard or understood, not by anyone else, and not by yourself...

Yet. Hopefully one day. But I think it often takes other people being willing to shine a light on the pain, and say, "Yeah, it's real. It's caused by things. You aren't alone and you aren't exaggerating."

I think the flippant watering down of the word is potentially very unhelpful too, but there's a section of society who want to push the narrative that the vast majority of people speaking seriously and from a place of relevant psycho-education about their trauma are just special snowflakes jumping on a trend. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel wary of adding fuel to their fire by trying to gatekeep trauma. I don't know what the solution to these two conflicting uses of the word is, or if it's even possible to create a solution that doesn't simultaneously police the traumatised out of expressing their pain the only way they currently know how. Which would set back the whole thing of trying to help people... We get enough trauma olympics ingrained into everyone as it is.

Oh yeah!! Just remembered, Gabor Mate said in either his book from 2024 or an interview about it that he considers everyone to be traumatised, the question is simply one of degree (if I'm remembering correctly). So from that it may in fact be possible to argue that books and films can traumatise people, although perhaps not necessarily to the extent we might associate with PTSD or CPTSD.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[natalchartnurtures]

•Pick-A-Meme• How Do Your Friends View You?

1-2-3 >>

Cue the intro to F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Pile 1:

Spirit message to open your reading – "a bundle of joy." Aw, haha, I get a really warm, expansive energy radiating from you. It's quite beautiful as I sit in it right now. It’s as if I’m basking in soft sunshine on a Sunday morning—so light, so golden. This is exactly how your friends view you. You’re a ray of soft sunshine, pile 1. Believe it or not, you are the embodiment of joy and kindness to the people around you. Your presence is deeply felt and appreciated, especially in the world we live in rn.

Your friends may think you’re incredibly lucky? Maybe you’re the lucky charm of your friend group? Or maybe it’s just that you bring a lot of fun wherever you go. You give me fairy vibes tbh. You remind me of Tinker Bell sprinkling her pixie dust wherever she goes (you don’t have to be a ‘she’ to take that message, btw) and lifting people’s frequency without even trying to. This could happen on subconscious levels as well, so your friends might not know how to put a finger on how you make them feel. They might just describe you as a lovely person to be around.

Ooh, I’m getting that even though you might like to keep your circle small, you may have a lot of people around you generally. It might just be that you make a lot of people feel like they want to get into your close circle but can’t. You probably don’t even realize it, lol. To you, you’re just living a normal life and being your fairy-ass self—cute, kind, generous, wonderful, authentic, divine, and casually powerful (lol). Let me tell you, IT HAS A PROFOUND IMPACT on everybody you know and interact with, not just your friends. You impact strangers, acquaintances, potential romantic suitors (which you have a TON of, I hear—not sure if you know this).

Your presence is felt, pile 1. I don’t care if you’re a wallflower or a theater kid. You. Are. The IT GIRL/BOY/PERSON of the room, and that’s it. You may be blissfully unaware of it (and that’s a sign that your aura is heavily protected, which is a good thing, so dw).

MOVING ON—your friends view you as a go-getter. They see you as incredibly creative and capable of achieving whatever you set your mind to. You give BALANCE, in every sense of the word. You are equally feminine, loving, nurturing, and caring as you are protective, fierce, and masculine. This quality of yours is so bloody admired. You are the textbook example of integrity, pile 1. Wow. I’m in awe of your energy. Keep it up, sweets—you must’ve done some really intense inner healing to get to such a beautiful internal place.

Now, things take a very interesting turn. I see that a lot of the people you know but aren’t especially close with may be interested in you romantically but don’t come forth with their intentions. They prefer to simply stay in the "friend" zone (maybe ‘cause they feel unworthy of stepping towards you? Idk). These people seem to be in their distorted masculine energy, and you seem to trigger the ever-loving crap outta them, lmao. It’s just your beautiful light that automatically does it for you, yk.

People you know (but aren’t close with) could secretly be jealous of you. In their eyes, you’re living the dream life—whatever that means for them. But just know that you’re heavily protected at this time, yea? Any kind of energy that could potentially harm you will be dealt with by Spirit. Spirit wants only the best for you, and your energy demands nothing but the very best. So if you feel rejected, lonely, or like not a lot is happening in your life, it’s because of this. Take rejection as a positive sign that you’re divinely protected :)

So, that’s how your friends view you! Hope you enjoyed this read—I can’t wait to see you on my next one :] Have a nice rest of your day, sweet pea! And stay your divine, amazing-ass self, tehe ✨️

If you'd like to know more about how your friends view you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 2:

Opening energies for the pile – I heard the song "Reincarnated" by Kendrick Lamar as I tapped into how your friends view you. Pile 2, I must say... your friends view you as a badass person. Hardcore, intense, low tolerance for BS, and possibly having old-soul energy is how your friends see you. They love your sarcasm, your witty humor and the light energy you bring to everything you do.

Also... I’m ngl, your friends think you’re a bit like Kendrick Lamar himself, haha. They might think you’re really talented at something and potentially have star quality, too. Do you have any major Leo energy in your chart, maybe? ‘Cause you sure come off that way to your friends, and they LOVE this leaning vibe about you. You seem so open, generous, and childlike with your friends but intense to people who aren’t, haha lmao. You may have an RBF that scares some people away 😂 (but enjoy that, maybe?). You’re hilarious.

Side note: If you’ve ever considered doing stand-up comedy, I see you being super successful at it 😁👀

Do you like Kendrick Lamar, pile 2? ‘Cause that song I channeled is playing in my ears LOUD and clear as I’m reading for you, haha.

Your friends might view you as somebody with a complex but deeply satisfying and rich inner world. You may love being by yourself as much as you love goofing off with your friends. They find this very interesting about you, tbh. They see you as somebody that’s “detached but VERY cool.”

You come across as the cool boy/girl/person in the room. You have an energy that stands out, and the best part is you don’t even care, haha. You’re just living in your own mind and checked out from the world unless there’s something worthwhile that catches your attention irl. Haha, that’s so iconic.

Ooh... your friends may view you as very attractive, too, ‘cause I just saw Christina Aguilera from her Dirrty MV, and boy, does she EAT in that ICONIC VIDEO. That MV is how I can summarize your energy and how it’s viewed by your friends, pile 2. It’s quite powerful (in a nonchalant typa way), too, I’m ngl. Like, idc about you but HAVE LOADS OF MONEY simply ‘cause you didn’t give a fuck, lmao.

You might be deeply spiritual, and to your friends, it comes as a very mysterious part of you. They don’t fully understand it, but on some level, they acknowledge that it’s a BIG part of who you are and respect it for what it is.

They view you as highly individualistic. As someone who’s gonna do what they wanna do and still land on their feet every time. They view you as “this person will be fine no matter what happens,” ‘cause I feel this raw strength emanating from you, which your friends easily pick up on. It’s something they love about you, too, yk.

Your friends view you as somebody who finds it hard to let their guard down. They see you as someone who’s come from a difficult life/upbringing, and they understand that you need your space from time to time. You seem to have very mature and protective friends, pile 2! Good for you, haha.

They view you as somebody who is content and fulfilled in their life despite any past challenges. They admire everything you’ve accomplished despite these challenges. And if you’ve been through a transformation recently, they really see this shift inside you, and they’re really happy about it 😊👀

They might feel as if you still struggle with some things related to your past, though, but on some level, they expect to see a breakthrough in your energy soon. They know for a fact you’ll get over anything ‘cause, according to them, you eat challenges for breakfast 😂 Haha, love that.

So, that’s how your friends view you! Hope you enjoyed this read—I can’t wait to see you on my next one :] Have a nice rest of your day, sweet pea! And stay your divine, badass self, tehe ✨

If you'd like to know more about how your friends view you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

Pile 3:

Spirit messages to open your reading – "inspiring and very healing to be." You give papa bear energy, pile 3 (regardless of your gender). You have this sweet and tender vibe towards your friends, and that’s how they see you. Somebody with a precious heart and an even more precious mind—always buzzing and alive with thoughts.

Your friends might reeeeally love chatting with you. You give me therapist vibes, tbh. Talking to you is sooooo soothing. But I think what your friends don’t understand is that while you give great advice and are fun to talk to, you might not always be in a good place mentally. I feel like your friends assume that you’re fine on the inside when you’re not? Maybe they have a false impression of you? Hm. Interesting. This might be ‘cause you simply keep your mental health struggles to yourself.

You don’t want your friends to bear what you think is your burden to bear. You don’t wanna bleed on everybody else, so to speak, and this has your friends viewing you as a light ✨. You give me strong Chiron vibes, tbh—the wounded healer in every sense of the word. You have quiet compassion towards people in general, and that’s really appreciated, but not necessarily always seen. If that’s the case with you, I’m so sorry, pile 3. You deserve to be CELEBRATED for your heart and deserve friends that truly appreciate you!

Your friends view you as a bit of a mom figure in their lives. Maybe you take on a lot of responsibility, so they see you that way. You are viewed as a safe space where anybody can be themselves without feeling judged. This is that therapist energy I was picking up from your vibe earlier. You might have some very emotionally disconnected (and potentially immature) friends in your life, pile 3. Hm.

Interestingly, your friends also see you as somebody who's not a pushover, though. You know how to burn a bridge when it's time, and this is something about you that's respected. They could describe you as someone who's a nice person but not a doormat. You know how to move on and get that REVENGE if you're pushed to your limits—and you'd do it with such ease that the people you've left behind might be baffled by it.

I'm also getting that you might've gone through a heartbreak recently? If so, I'm sending you loads of love, sweet pea. Hope you heal well from this. I see that beyond this heartbreak is a fresh new start for you, leading you straight into a joyous outcome. Like, say you broke up with your significant other—I see you meeting new people by the end of your healing period, potentially even your next suitor! (Apply this to whatever situation you're in, though.)

But yeah, to sum it up, your friends view you as a wonderful friend, confidant, and just... a healing presence.

So that's how your friends view you, pile 3. Hope you got something helpful out of this read—I can't wait to see you on my next one :]

Have a nice rest of your day, sweet pea! And stay your divine Chiron-ass self, tehe ✨

If you'd like to know more about how your friends view you, you can book a reading with me! You can find the details here :]

[nickeverdeen]

Fireworks | Vi x fem!reader

Pairings: Vi x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff, Small Comfort

Warnings: Light Flashbacks

Summary: Going on a date with you is something was very much looking forward to and while taking you to a promised location there’s a change of plans when a certain public event pops up.

——————————

Vi stood in front of the mirror, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. It wasn’t like her to fuss over her appearance, but tonight wasn’t just any night—it was a date night with you.

Normally, she wouldn’t bother much, but you deserved better than the usual. So, for the first time in a long while, Vi had made an effort. She’d washed her hair until it gleamed, the faint scent of a spicy, woodsy perfume clinging to her skin. Her usual torn-up jacket was replaced by a fitted button-up shirt and clean pants. The look wasn’t overly fancy, but it was polished enough that she hoped it’d impress you.

She took a deep breath, trying to ignore how much her hands were shaking. It’s just her. She already likes you, idiot.

The knock at her door snapped her out of her thoughts. She opened it to find you standing there, looking stunning as always.

“Wow,” you said, giving her a once-over with a warm smile. “You clean up nice, Vi.”

She smirked, though the tips of her ears turned pink. “Only for you.”

The streets of Piltover were bustling tonight, and you led Vi through the winding pathways, chatting easily about your plans. Vi listened, but her attention was split between your voice and the way your hand brushed against hers as you walked.

When the crowd thickened near the plaza, Vi’s instincts kicked in. Without a second thought, she reached out and took your hand in hers, lacing her fingers through yours.

You glanced back at her with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

“Just… didn’t want to lose you in this mess,” she muttered, squeezing your hand lightly.

You didn’t let go, which made her heart skip a beat.

As you reached the heart of the crowd, Vi suddenly stopped. You noticed her hesitation and turned back, stepping to her side.

“Vi?” you asked, following her gaze.

She was staring up at the sky, her eyes wide and glittering with wonder. You looked up, realizing what had caught her attention—fireworks. Brilliant bursts of color exploded across the dark sky, painting the city in vibrant shades of red, gold, and blue.

“Ah, that’s what all the commotion’s about,” you said, understanding why the streets were so packed. “Fireworks happen a lot here during the season.”

Vi didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed locked on the sky, her expression filled with awe. But as each firework burst, the loud pops and crackles made her flinch, her shoulders tensing involuntarily.

You stepped closer, gently wrapping your arms around her from behind. She stiffened for a moment at your touch but quickly relaxed, leaning into your embrace.

“You okay?” you asked softly, resting your chin on her shoulder.

She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just… remembered something.”

You held her a little tighter, understanding without needing her to say more. You kissed her shoulder gently, offering comfort in silence.

“I’ve never seen them this close before,” Vi admitted after a moment, her voice quiet. “We used to see them sometimes in Zaun, but they were so far away. Like little sparks, not… this.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. “Well, now you’re up close. They’re kind of magical, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft, almost reverent. Her gaze flickered down to you, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks for bringing me here. Even if it’s… loud.”

“Anytime,” you said, squeezing her hand.

For the rest of the show, you stayed close to her, watching as the fireworks reflected in her eyes, making them sparkle brighter than you’d ever seen. And despite the tension in her frame with every crack and boom, Vi looked happier than she’d been in a long time.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 9

AN: How have we come this far omg- Anyway, I recently hit 100 followers!!! SO I wanted to thank you all so much for your support on this journey! It's been such an amazing ride and I've loved every second. Being a part of this fandom is so fun, even if it's a jail sometimes (Looking at you Tiktok) and I just- I hope to repay the joy you guys have all given me.

This is a request! BUT I combined two requests because I had a really good idea for it! Twisted! Reader makes an appearance again!

Now, I know y'all love Teagan, and I do too! But their mains pmo so for the sake of the story they're the villain for now. Unless you main them, you're cool. This is just based on my experience and since I can't draw them pregnant this is what I need to do.

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight

Warning: Teagan gets a bad rep here, some physical violence (People get slapped), and Sl*t shaming (Reader doesn't let that shit slide though).

☁ You were ecstatic. That much was plain to see. You were practically jumping off the walls as you ran from toon to toon, each asking them the same, excited question. "Aren't you excited?!"

☁ The other three could only watch in exasperated awe as you cheered and bounced from foot to foot, trinkets bouncing off your hip. You were like a kid on Christmas, waiting at the elevator for the others willing to do a run to show up.

☁ You had finally, finally, gotten the all clear to return to distracting, even if the other three lowkey dreaded it, and were practically vibrating to return to your work.

☁ You had agreed to start at a normal run, no hunt for Dandy's twisted, and with all three of them with no pleading, which eased them just a bit. They'd be there should worst comes to worst and monitor how you were doing. If at any point you were unwell, they'd pull you from the run and work back up to what you normally were used to doing.

☁ You took what you could get in all honesty, just excited to be back, catching Pebble when he excitedly yipped up at you, his little tail wagging wildly. He was coming along as a back up. Just in case.

☁ Admittedly, the other three dragged their feet when it came to entering the elevator, even as you ran circles around them, yanking and pulling at them, urging them to hurry up.

☁ Pushing against Sprout, you groaned as he let his weight fall back, giving some grand show as to how "Gravity was increasing!", making you screech at him.

☁ You did surprise him when instead of crumbling under his weight, you stayed upright, pushing him up straight with a call for him to "Stop dragging your clown feet!"

☁ It was the four of you, Pebble, Teagan, Shelly and Glisten. Shelly too was excited as this would be her own first run as well, her own tail wagging happily behind her as you and her cheered in excitement. It was an adorable sight, really, there was a fond eye roll as the lever was pulled and the elevator brought you all to the first floor.

☁ While Sprout was trying to find common ground with Teagan about the tape situation, which she was being rather flippant about, Cosmo had cornered you with Astro's help, ticking off a number of things the keep in mind with your return to the field. You nodded along, even if they were sure you weren't listening as much as you tried to portray.

☁ "Additionally," Astro spoke up after Cosmo stopped to take a breath, the sudden glum loon on his face making you perk your attention up as you turned to him. "Your twisted is bound to be more active. We've noticed that more recently someone was turned, the more likely their twisted is to show up. If you need to, take a floor, let Pebble do it."

☁ His eyes shined with a domineering spirit you very rarely saw in the celestial, making you swallow tightly as you nodded. "I will."

☁ His eyes scanned your own before a star shard was ruffling your fur, making you yelp as you swatted at it. It made Astro chuckle as Cosmo tried not to laugh, making you squeal out a number of curses at the cake roll and celestial. The elevator opens just as the star shard retreats and Astro's gentle hand cups your cheek, pressing a hand to your lips. "Stay safe, starlight."

☁ "I will." You nod, standing and smoothing yourself out. Cosmo doesn't let you go far, wrapping his arms around you and smacking a hearty kiss onto your lips. "Just remember who's bed you sleep in, Pudding! Don't get hurt!"

☁ The unsaid threat makes a shiver spin down your spine as you turn, even if the happy fuzzies from the affections make your entire body buzz. You glance around for the final individual, making your way over to where Sprout looks ready to tear his leaves out.

☁ Teagen carried on anyway, passing you even as Glisten warned her to give you a minute. You let her go though, knowing that if they could last as long as they did without you, they'd last a few more minutes. You focused on Sprout, who took a long, deep breath before giving you a soft, tired smile. "Go get 'em, bud." He hums, setting his hands on your hips as you hold his cheeks to press a kiss to his lips. You nod happily before taking off at last, ears pricked for the twisteds.

☁ You find them quick enough, with Pebble staying nearby just in case. He's chasing his tail, you note, finishing another circle around the large boxes near broken. It seems to be a easy enough first floor, tranquil and calm with a number of fallbacks. It makes things fall into place that much easier as the machines are completed one by one.

☁ From there, floor by floor is completed each one a more welcomed reprieve than the last. There are some tensions, you note, as Sprout grows increasingly frustrated with Teagan, bringing up his concerns several times- more of you piping in as you went. Alas, she remained flippant, scoffing at each of you as if exhausted by your mere presence.

☁ You weren't sure if something had happened during your time as a twisted and subsequent recovery, but you knew Teagan always had some sort of...attitude. You tried to remain as accommodating as possible, but sometimes you just couldn't please everyone.

☁ When the elevator door opened and footsteps echoed in the hall, you tilted your head at the sound, not recognizing them right away. Looking behind you, you frowned at the faces you were faced with. Oh.

☁ "Pebble," You say, breaking the tense silence. "Stay close, buddy. I doubt this twisted is gonna like us very much." Not that any of them did, but still.

☁ You waved at your boys, who evidently didn't look thrilled at the prospect but let you go, nodding slowly as you began to take off. Your Twisted spotted you almost immediately and you felt your blood run cold at the sight.

☁ Their side oozed ichor, eyes beady and red and locked right onto you. It made you swallow as you picked up the pace, looking back at the sound of their hands hitting the floor. The development made your eyes widen as they took off much faster, claws outreached and ready to strike.

☁ You nearly tripped over your own feet, Pebble looking ready to jump in as he whines only for you to quickly recover, taking off to where you knew a good distracting spot was. You picked up a twisted Coal as well, which Pebble took so you could focus on the other twisted, even if he stayed nearby- which you appreciated.

☁ A part of you knew that he would though, as you have grown rather close with the pet rock, who slept in your bed with Blu more often than not these days. (Thats right y'all. Blu and Pebble friendship. Pebble sleeps in your bed. Coal sleeps on the floor.)

☁ So you continue, making sure you were distracting around a metal shelf, that managed to hold strong against your twisted's charging. It clanged everytime it rocked against the shelf, but you continued your little song and dance with the twisted. It was like distracting Goob or Scraps.

☁ Still, seeing your own face look like that makes your gut churn bitterly at the thought of being that at any point in time. You regret turning greatly, but if that was the only way to save Vee, you'd do it again in a heartbeat.

☁ You almost debate zoning out like you used to do, but that hope is quickly dashed at the sound of an air horn. It makes you skid to a stop as the Twisted you immediately turns tail to the other direction.

☁ You try yelling and using your ability to get them back, but they've already focused on someone else and you can't get them back until you get between them and the toon they're locked onto. Which, with your twisted, is a challenge.

☁ Anger boils in your gut as you take off once more, Pebble debating leaving the other twisted or following you. You call out a command for him to stay, which he does with a whine.

☁ You can't even help the growl of anger that slips out as you spot Teagan running, the version of you hot on her trail. You take off after her, even if your joints make their distaste known. This would be the final floor for you, you decided a while ago, promising to power through this one in the very least.

☁ You're not sure where Teagan is going, but you can't catch up. You're low on Stamina and without Astro nearby, you unfortunately just have to hope that Teagan has a trick up her sleeve.

☁ Speaking of Astro, you're practically gutted as you follow Teagan around a corner, the teacup making a beeline for the machine he was working on. You yell out for him to be aware, but have no real worry as even you've missed him a few times. He looks up, noting the situation with a nod, only to immediately gape as Teagan throws down a smoke bomb and the Twisted version of you locks onto him instead.

☁ He's trapped in a corner even as you take off once more, the version of you pouncing. It's claws dig into Astro's shoulders, making him cry out as you reactivate your ability. The twisted version of you immediately turns to you, screeching, but you pay it no mind, running in the opposite direction. Anger positively boils in your stomach as you curse and snap, acting more like a beacon than any airhorn could.

☁ You call for Pebble, making the rock run over, barking to call your Twisted's attention to him as you turned back to Astro. He was standing now, if a little woozy as you ran up to him.

☁ "Oh my GOD- I am so, so sorry. I tried catching up, but I couldn't and I didn't know you were here-" You began to babble, reaching into your inventory bag to grab...anything that could help really. You come up empty, but not for long as you see Sprout jogging down the nearby hall. You call to him and he whips his head over, eyes widening as he sees the ichor on your hands, dashing over.

☁ "We told you to be careful-" He's mid-scold when you stop him, shaking your head. "It wasn't me! Astro was hit!"

☁ Sprout pauses, face immediately taking a new tone. "Astro?" He turns and sees the claw marks on his shoulders, staining his blanket as the celestial groans. "Oh shit- Okay, yeah, let's get you to elevator, honey bun." Sprout bends down to scoop up the other main, making him groan. He goes to tell you to follow, not having the mental capacity to track both you and an injured partner, but you're following anyway.

☁ "I don't have any meds." You mutter forlorn, immediately looking defeated. Sprout frowns at that, giving a sigh. "I don't have enough tapes. I told Teagan there would be enough for both of us, but does she listen? No."

☁ "I'm sor-" Astro begins to groan, but you cut him off with a barked "Don't." Sprout raises a brow at your sudden temper, never knowing you to be one to act so...aggresively? You've always been a happy go-lucky angel of a being, never failing to light up the room with a smile.

☁ But to see you? Snarling with anger and sharp teeth on display, leftover from your time as a newly turned twisted? It makes his skin bristle. "What happened?"

☁ "That airhorn?" You practically spit. "Teagan blew it. Took the twisted from me and led them right to Astro! Then smoke bombed and let him take the hit!" You're seething and Sprout blinks in surprise at this, looking down at Astro. The Celestial's eyes are wide, looking between you and Sprout himself, as if uncertain how to go from there.

☁ Sprout wasn't sure either, simply taking you both to the elevator. Glisten and Cosmo are already there, hiding behind a box. Just as Sprout's about to call to Glisten the directions to the last machine, it goes off and the Elevator opens.

☁ Sprout quickly ducks inside, calling Cosmo over. The cake roll immediately gets to work, digging into his inventory for a first aid kit, getting to work on Astro's wounds. The celestial pouts, but sits, having seen first hand what Cosmo's glare is like when you dared disobeying.

☁ Admittedly, Sprout's still watching you. You're standing at the brink of the elevator, positively livid, but waiting. Like a predator would wait for its prey. You're poised, muscles tight and ready to strike the first chance you loosen your iron clad will just the tiniest bit.

☁ If nothing else, he's excited. To see you? The peachy keen, bushy-tailed, absolutely beaming beacon of hope and sunshines and rainbows and everything nice in the world absolutely let lose? Oh he's buzzing. Even if it's quelled a bit as Astro squeezes his hand, cursing at the sudden infectant on his wound.

☁ Glisten himself steps inside, with Shelly jogging in soon after. Pebble makes his appearance with a yip, immediately running to Astro's side with a wag in his tail, even if he whines at the main.

☁ Then, you're prey arrives. She's panting as she turns the corner, the elevator slamming down behind her as she bends down to lay her hands on her knees.

☁ Everyone is watching you, and your boys are sure you know it. Sprout swears on his life that your eyes flash red as you stalk over to her, growling as you do with a sneer on your lips.

☁ "Where were you so-called-distractors?!" Teagan snaps, turning to you with an indignant scowl on her face. "I nearly got hit!"

☁ "Oh. did you?" The snarl on your face falls for a second, replaced with a grin so sweet even Cosmo avoids looking over too long, cleaning the last of Astro's wound before pressing a bandage to it and a parting kiss. It makes Astro grin before he's gently pressing his own peck to Cosmo's head, immediately turning his attention back to you.

☁ Astro debates stopping you, but figures she's more than earned it with the attitude she's been giving Sprout all day.

☁ "That's funny." You continue, stepping close enough that every step forward makes Teagan take one back before she's pressed against a wall. Faster than any of them can react, your hand snaps out, claws digging into the metal of the wall, and this time Sprout's sure there's a flicker of red. "Because you know who did get hurt? Huh? After someone blew an airhorn? Then led the twisted right to him? Then smokebombed to ensure they saw him? Because I do."

☁ Teagan tries looking for an escape, but you're domineering in every aspect of the word. You're not even focused on them and Sprout wants to bow his head in shame.

☁ It's in your stance, the tone of your voice and your general aura around you. You're enraged and everyone in the elevator knows it.

☁ Everyone, but apparently Teagan. After realizing she doesn't have one, she rolls her shoulder and stands straight, getting in your face despite the snarl on your features. "If he would've moved, it wouldn't have happened! He's as much to blame. In fact, if anyone is to blame, it's you!"

☁ Pebble barks at this angrily, running up to your side, but he's momentarily ignored as whatever patience you had snapped. "MY FAULT?! You blew an airhorn for no reason. We had it under control. You've been a selfish, greedy bitch this entire time with no regards for anyone but yourself! You refuse to share tapes with Sprout, constantly get in mine and Pebble's way and damn near took a medkit from Cosmo! You're snotty at the best of times and too righteous for what I know you've done at the worst. I get your family system has a metric fuck-ton of drama going on, most of it self-inflicted by the way, but that does not give you the excuse to take that out on us, especially not my family."

☁ Teagan gapes as the elevator moves to return to the Lobby, Glisten standing by the lever with a grimace on his face as he stared at Teagan. Shelly is avoiding looking at either you or Teagan, making sure Astro is okay while Cosmo finishes up. Pebble is dashing between you and Sprout, whimpering up a storm.

☁ Sprout himself is watching carefully, torn between stepping between you two and letting you handle yourself. You're on a thin fuse and it's been snipped from her accusations. But Teagan has been a pain for awhile, the drama between her and Rodger reaching several boiling points which she takes out on the rest of the toons. It makes Sprout snarl to himself at the thought, keeping to his spot beside the other two. Astro, at least, looks thoroughly entertained and Cosmo seems neutral about the whole ordeal.

☁ There's a crack in the elevator and Sprout's immediately looking over. Your head is snapped to the left, cheek already looking swollen as Teagen's raised hand quivers. There are tears in her eyes, but she's just as angry as you're slowly looking.

☁ Sprout steps forward to intervene, but Astro's tail swipes against his knees, pulling his attention to the celestial, who shakes his head. So Sprout stills an watches as you move your jaw.

☁ "You have no idea what I've been through! You have no right to mention that! It's not my fault you- you sell yourself out! You're cheap and a dime-a-dozen toon! You should stay in your lane before I force you back into it!" Teagan snaps, clenching her hands.

☁ You look back at her, almost stunned but you quickly recover. "Let me make this one thing explicitly clear to you." You begin, tone chilling the air in the elevator. "Everyone knows what happened between you and Rodger. How? We've heard your screaming matches for weeks. Either break-up or don't. Just figure it the fuck out, if nothing else but Toodle's sake. Second," You hold up a second finger, eyes narrowing. "If you think for one ounce of a second that your relationship is anything comparable to mine, I have some bad news for you. There is nothing even remotely similar between our relationships. Ours is healthy, but you wouldn't know anything about that now would you. And third," You pause.

☁ Then there's another crack and Teagan is backed against the wall. "If you ever lay your hands on me again, I'll feed you to a twisted." You glower just as the elevator opens. You look at it then at your boys, grinning like normal.

☁ "C'mon, lets get Astro to bed. He's injured so he loses rights to complain about getting babied."

☁ "I do not!"

☁ Sprout's already laughing as he carries Astro to your room, Cosmo coming up behind you with an arm around your waist. He waits until you're out of earshot of the others before nudging you. "That was pretty hot, you know, pudding."

☁ You flush before laughing, pushing him away by his face. "Yeah, yeah, keep it to yourself. Don't you have a celestial to heal?"

☁ Cosmo snickers, pressing a kiss to your lips under the guise of healing you just as Pebble runs up to join you guys, beating you to your own room where he sits with Blueberry cake against Astro.

☁ Pebble isn't sure what really went on, but watching you laugh again makes it all seem alright.

☁ Even if it was at the expense of Teagan.

☁ She seemed like a cat lady anyway.

[banditcoyote]

He accepted the petting fot a moment before starting. "Well," he pushed himself up and wrapped and arm around Sasuga as he started recalling their evening. "I helped him with the horses from the carriage, then we snuck around the side of the house so I could sneak into Echo's office and lay the panties out for him to find. We went for a little run together around the property, but we couldn't find much privacy because a lot of wolves were patrolling. We went back to the stable, made out for a bit, and I went down on him....familiar territory." He said with a little smile. "So then we headed back to his apartment, and we had another drink. We went to bed....and you know, things were getting there. Sasuga...I know you don't want a level of detail or anything, but he was being....he was great, and I'm not even talking on just a talent level,but he was really going slow, and letting us take our time, and I was comfortable with him, but I started getting a bit nervous because I was worried about you. I was really worried that maybe you'd see me differently, and that it would be a wedge between us, and instead of you know saying it like that, or explaining my fear in a normal way...I said...." He closed his eyes and sighed "You're not worth losing Sasuga over" He let this hang in the air for a moment and then shook his head. "It was like I slapped him. And of course I meant...you know...I didn't want to damage what we have because I wanted a bit of fun, but saying 'You're not worth it'? When he was being so great all night, and so perfect with me, to someone I like... It would have been better if I had slapped him I think. As soon as I said it. I realized my mistake I tried to explain, and of course he listened, but I could tell it cut him, and obviously ruined the mood, I asked him for more, I nearly begged because I felt so terrible, I didn't know how to make it up to him. But of course he wouldn't and instead got me settled down, made me a tea, cuddled with me even though that just made me more miserable, but shut down any advances beyond kissing. In the morning he was still there being the big spoon, he kissed my cheek, jacked me off, made me an amazing breakfast and walked me back here to wait with me until you sent that video...he must have taken off when I left." He said truly blinded by Sasuga when he came back into the room. "I feel awful."

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[ploppythespaceship]

So to absolutely no one's surprise, the new Section 31 movie is quite bad. Critics are tearing it to pieces, and rightfully so. As IGN said, "Section 31 will infuriate Star Trek fans and bore everyone else." And... yeah, that's about right. I don't know if it's the worst Trek movie ever made, but it's certainly in one of the bottom slots.

This post has no major spoilers, but I am putting it under a cut because it turned into a long rant.

The core problem here is the cast. It's an ensemble piece consisting of characters ranging from mildly boring to actively irritating. There's no depth or interesting dynamics at play here. Just a bunch of characters trying to be zany and edgy.

Which brings me to the next issue -- the tone. Basically, this movie wants to be James Gunn's Suicide Squad, but it doesn't understand the careful balance needed to pull that off. It wants to be the edgy, gritty Star Trek movie where people get to murder and be bad, while also having wacky side characters that get to joke around. The result is that half the cast feels like it's in a gritty drama, and the other half feels like it's in a bad comedy.

To emphasize how bad this issue is -- the very last line of the movie is a yo mama joke. No, I am not kidding.

The pacing is pretty bad. You can tell that this was conceived as a miniseries before being cut down to a 90 minute film. The whole thing feels choppy and uneven. They spend too long in some sections and then not long enough in others. At one point halfway through, I literally said out loud, "Oh that's where episode one would have ended," because you could practically feel the entire film switch gears.

We also don't see enough of Georgiou and San's relationship, which the climax sort of hinges on. All we get are flashbacks of them pressing foreheads together in a backlit room, saying that they're one.

This either needed to be stretched back out to a full miniseries -- which probably still would have been pretty bad -- or it needed to be drastically reworked to better suit its runtime.

The style is also absolutely all over the place. It's trying to emulate something like Suicide Squad or Guardians of the Galaxy, but with a laughable incompetence. The first scene left me gaping in awe of how terrible the editing was. There are so many badly placed cross-fades, extended establishing shots, weird almost-music-sequences that aren't willing to commit... then other scenes will just be filmed normally. If they wanted this film to have its own distinct style, they needed to fully commit to it, and make that part of the story's core identity. This just feels like they tacked things on without fully understanding how to actually utilize them.

And the QUICK ZOOMS. This might be a weird thing to fixate on, but I genuinely felt like I was losing my mind. This movie would not stop doing quick zooms, on everything, for every scene. You'll be watching two characters exchange quiet, calm dialogue, and the camera just keeps cranking in closer to their faces. It's just another stylistic choice that they're doing without any real understanding of why.

Perhaps most irritatingly, this movie fundamentally misunderstands the concept of Section 31. First, they just don't get the most basic premise of the organization they based their entire movie on. A Starfleet officer is an official part of their team, expressly there to serve as their Federation oversight. Excuse me?? Did you watch a SINGLE previous Section 31 episode?? The entire point of this group is that they exist beyond official oversight.

But even worse, I'm not sure these writers understand that Section 31 are the bad guys. One of Georgiou's lines is, "Section 31 is just the place for officers who bend the rules, never quite break them, until they do." The final scene has Garrett fondly calling Georgiou a "bad bitch." And the team doesn't really do anything all that morally questionable -- they all just crack terrible edgy jokes the whole time. In this movie, Section 31 genuinely is just Starfleet but edgy, and it pisses me the hell off.

Genuinely, the utter misunderstanding of Section 31 is one of my least favorite things about modern Trek. I really hope this movie's reception will convince them to just shelve the group entirely for a while.

I do think a decent version of this movie could have existed. Cut the entire side cast to have a tighter focus on a trio of Georgiou, Alok, and Garrett. Georgiou and Alok have a similar enough backstory that they could develop a really interesting dynamic with more screentime. And Garrett can be there as the Starfleet officer who stumbled into the situation against her will, and tries to maintain her moral compass while also recognizing that drastic action is needed to defend the Federation.

Then you could actually explore the meaningful differences in morality between these characters. Touch on the core themes of what Section 31 was originally meant to be. Do the ends justify the means? At what point have you gone too far? And with Georgiou specifically -- is it even possible for someone like to her to seek redemption? Can she truly earn it?

Instead, we get a bland movie that isn't interested in exploring any deeper meanings. It just wants to be an edgy Star Trek version of Suicide Squad. And that's a damn shame.

[wizardlover124]

dirk the character

dirk's core motivations come from being inadequate. on one hand it's because he's not enough his friends-- he's too neurotic, he's too emotional, but he loves them to death (as he literally says about roxy) and would give anything for them to enjoy talking to him. on the other hand—and this is what this meta will mostly focus on—he's inadequate compared to his older bro (alpha dave). to dirk, alpha dave cannot be a real person-- he's more akin to a fictional character, a completed NARRATIVE. alpha dave made a space for himself in the world-- he was massively successful, had fans, and orchestrated massive plots to fight the condesce all while carving his own creative niche in the world. most importantly, he was the only source of guidance as to "what to be" dirk had.

by definition dirk cannot access any flaws a!dave might have had, because he didn't-- in a well-written story, any flaw is only part of the "character," and it's not like dirk ever really knew a!dave anyway. i think he adopted this mindset for himself and too began viewing his entire life as a story, in which he's a character and not a person. partially because it literally is— alpha dave prepared this apartment for dirk because dirk was destined for something greater, e.g. sburb, and dirk spent sixteen years waiting for his own story to begin. but there's one critical problem here. dirk cannot be enough compared to alpha dave. alpha dave is an IDEAL dirk constantly measures himself up to and at every turn fails-- suddenly, when he's trying to place himself in the hero role he thinks a!dave had, nothing he does is adequate. even normal human flaws become akin to sin. his interactions with his friends just remind him of that-- he can't live up to roxy's desire, he can't seem to get jake to love him, and this complicates things with jane too. he doesn't think he'll be enough—not for his friends, and not for the story that lays ahead of him.

his solution is to turn to the machine. he creates the autoresponder, thinking that is the most "ideal" version of himself—the character that he's been waiting for—and has it talk to his friends instead. but this doesn't work either. if hal is the perfect version of himself, then what use does dirk have in the world? plus, he's completely fucking insufferable-- does that mean dirk is, even at his best, awful? if hal ISN'T the perfect version of himself, that means that dirk's best solution-- the one he's been trying at since he realized this flaw--the machine fails.

dirk spends the rest of sburb, at least i like to think, unlearning some of these ideas. he meets dave in person. he has long conversations with his friends (also in person!) who he . he spends time deconstructing himself as a character and as a person instead.

which brings the real point of this essay: ultimate dirk.

postcanon dirk, who did ALL THAT, learns that actually he was CORRECT— there's been an audience watching him and all his failures this entire time—he IS a character, and so far he's been almost utterly meaningless. he doesn't fight the condesce. he gets decapitated thrice. he fails to save the game over timeline. the one thing he tangibly does, unite synchronization, is barely done by him (arguably hal). this realization undoes every piece of character growth that may or may not have happened. and now his timeline is thrust into irrelevance, precisely because this audience no longer cares about postcanon. so he takes up the role he thinks he was always meant to—he becomes a character. and because he's failed his entire life in becoming the hero, he opts to become a villain—the way he knows that beta dirk, his "previous" version, was to dave—and puts dave in the hero position alpha dave was in before.

dirk is the worst version of himself when he, instead of actually TALKING to the people he's around, holes up into himself and interprets everything through his own narrative. this habit which he had to unlearn is both literally and meta-textually the fucking epilogues. which is also a creative work that he's trying to carve his own space in the world through. the epilogues are dirk's sbahj. dave's story is about leaving beta dirk's shadow, and dirk's story is about imitating alpha dave—still his only point of reference—still dirk's most coveted narrative. this is where his obsession with narrative and relevancy comes from and this is what fundamentally makes ult dirk compelling as a character to me!! anyway how are we doing

[pillowspace]

Back to MDP-posting, hold on.

Sticking to my interpretation of Mal du Pays being very protective of Siffrin but in all the wrong ways, I was trying to think of how MDP could occasionally actually do healthy things. In its eyes, its always doing what it thinks is for the best, but sometimes it does actually hit the mark.

Siffrin's too depressed to get out of bed. Similarly to what I described with the nightmare, MDP just crawls into his bed and lies there with him. UNTIL Siffrin starts getting very hungry and/or thirsty, and MDP, as an extension of Siffrin's feelings, senses this. So it leaves to go find food or water. And thus the party only needs to see MDP wandering about in search of something to know that Siffrin needs something.

This can mean the party going to help Siffrin get out of bed so he can eat and drink, OR, MDP suddenly returning to the room with a plate of food and water and Siffrin squinting at it from his pillow like "how did you get that??????"

Normal answer: the party handed MDP food to bring back to Siffrin because it was clearly getting frustrated.

Funny answer: MDP walked into town, found a stranger's meal unattended outside of a restaurant, just thought "oh! Food!", picked it up, and walked back. Now no one knows where MDP got that.

This is not to imply that MDP is Siffrin's self care exactly. The following is an explanation of how I view this dynamic:

1. Siffrin: I'm hungry... // MDP: we need food then.

2. Siffrin: I want to be alone right now... // MDP: you're a burden to your party.

3. Siffrin: I feel guilty for just lying here all day... // MDP: that's because you're awful.

4. Siffrin: but I don't want to get up either... // MDP: *climbs in bed with them* then don't bother.

And then boom. Cuddling cats. Normal and ethical dynamic.

Hi. Good morning. I just woke up. Thinking very intensely about Mal du Pays being """comforting""" towards Siffrin. Aa one does directly after waking up

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic. (Part Seventeen)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Seventeen: Y/N tries to convince herself of her thinking patterns invalidity - reminding herself it's just anxiety - but she still has fears. A soft Saturday out with Cillian helps to both cement her anxiety and soothe some, perpetuating the paradox. But she's happy, and he's responsible for that. [Domestic life/Teasing Cillian a lot]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @strangeions @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @watermeezer

Páidi - kind of pronounced like "Paw-dee" as the A with a fada (á) gives an "aw" sound.

Naas - in Kildare; you say it like "Nay-s" but NOT like "says", keep the S short, so it sounds like "place"

If there's any more you're not sure on just ask.

Not proofread - sorry

......

When you open your eyes to a gently lit room as day peeks through the sides of the curtains, you lie perfectly still and stare up above you. Beside you, Cillian's soft breaths are huffed into the pillow and you can feel the warmth of his body close to yours. The urge to turn into him and hold him is great, but you don't want to disturb him. You reach out for your phone and check the time, surprised that it's actually just gone nine am. Awake, though, you don't want to risk waking Cillian, knowing he's exhausted, and you slip carefully from the bed. You find your slippers, and a cosy hoodie, and take them and your phone with you out of the bedroom. You awkwardly pull the door closed behind you and creep across the landing, so as not to disturb the others, and make your way down the stairs. Once at the bottom, you shrug your way into your hoodie and thrust your feet into the warm fleece slippers. You push your phone into your pocket as you approach the kettle. Satisfied with the amount of water left in it, you flick it on to boil and reach for a mug and then coffee. You can hear no movement above you and surmise that everyone is still sleeping - you consider you too could be sleeping at this time on a Saturday when you've no solid plans, but here again your heart is a-flutter, and it isn't for the lust of Cillian in his boxer shorts.

You make an instant coffee solely for the speed, and situate yourself on the couch. You draw your legs up for the cosiest position you can get yourself into, and use the controls to switch on the TV. You settle down with a Real Housewives marathon and sip your coffee. But your dream is bothering you, and you don't even know why. You'd been waiting for Cillian to come home, you'd parted on good terms before he left… where is the anguish and anxiety from? You know your choices and decisions, and you are fine with them. So why is your subconscious telling you that you aren't?

Unable to concentrate on the TV, you find Spotify in the apps and simply select it to play through Cillian's liked songs list: you know this is a mixed bag and will present you various moods. You bring your empty coffee mug into the kitchen as a slow-going jazz track begins, and place it into the sink. You empty last night's dishes from the dishwasher and stack them away where they belong, and find yourself wandering around the kitchen with the look of a busy woman without any real task. You sigh as you push into the laundry room at the back and throw a load of Cillian's clothes into the machine, careful which softener you use as you know there's one that irritates his skin at times, and set it onto a quick wash to get through the nearly month's worth of items. You don't know why he brings it home, and doesn't use the available laundry services, but you also like the knowledge that you've done your ‘housewife duties’ for him, too. He's gone so long, you miss having the chance to do silly, normal things like this. As the machine fires up, you slip back out of the room and pull the door across to shut out the noise of the machine, and jump out of your skin as you're met with Síle and Griff, still in their pyjamas too, walking towards the island.

“Christ!” You gasp, then laugh a little with your hand on your chest. “Sorry! Made me jump.”

Sîle gives a cheeky smile, “Sorry, Y/N.”

“It's fine,” you keep smiling. “Did you guys sleep okay?” You ask her, and walk towards the kettle. You bring it with you to the sink to fill it as they both begin answering you at once. You're overwhelmed by the depth of their accents and smile back as they seem to get faster as they talk both to each other and you.

“Yeah, grand. Sure that's a lovely wee room there. It's Malachy's room, is it?” Griff says.

“Ah is it not Aran's? I thought it was Aran's with the wee thing on the wall.” Síle says with a laugh.

Griff shrugs. “Did Cillian not say there last night it was Malachy's room? Jays, I thought he did. Sure maybe he didn't! But come here, Y/N, that bed’s fierce comfy now.”

“Ah it is!” Síle agrees immediately.

You place the kettle back onto the base and click it on to boil. “Tea?” You offer, “Or coffee?”

“Ah tea’d be grand,” Griff nods immediately.

Síle nods her head, “Yeah, tea. Thanks Y/N.” she takes a seat at the island and Griff follows suit. “Is himself still snoring away?” She asks with a smile.

You smile back as you nod your head, “He is.” You shrug your shoulders. “Loves his sleep.”

“You said he'd been busy; sure he's probably needing to catch up after running all over England in the flat cap.” Griff teases brightly. “We got watching the Small Things film there, too. Was good, that.” He says. “Deadly stuff.”

“Yeah, it's such a wonderful thing they've done.” You smile, pride filling your insides with warmth. “He's proud of it too, but he's so humble he won't say a whole lot.”

Síle smiles as she nods her head slowly, “Uncomfortable with praise in any capacity yet does what he does, so public.” She laughs, “He's a contradiction of himself.” She says with raised eyebrows.

You turn as the kettle boils, and you're relieved it does. You're not sure how to respond to her observation. You quietly make their tea as they chat together, commenting on the photograph magnets on the fridge - some of you both in Rome, some Cillian and his friends and colleagues in England, and many of the boys through the years - and that their own wedding invitation is still on there too, which sends them into a recount of the day. You turn back with their tea and smile as you hand the mugs over.

“Youse did out the kitchen, did you not?” Griff asks, glancing around.

You nod your head, nursing your own coffee and silently cursing yourself from having got a fresh mug. “Yeah, the guys that did it were here for weeks. But we got what we wanted.” You smile, “Cill was insistent on that,” you jerk over to the cooker which is in the style of a classic aga without the power to control the heating for the whole house. “Doesn't match the generally modern look, but he thinks it's the best thing ever.” You laugh lightly.

“Does he even cook?” Síle laughs.

“Sometimes, yeah,” you defend him good heartedly. “He recreated these bagels recently, that we'd had in Monaghan in the summer…” you laugh as you do a chef's kiss and they both laugh a little. “And don't tell him I said so, but he makes this vegan, sort of lasagna thing. It's actually really good.”

“He's the weight on him more right now, for Peaky, and he's looking well. Is that back on the meat and all?” Griff asks.

You twist your lips a little, “High protein,” you say, “Sometimes it's a meat option. But he prefers the veggie options, you know what he's like.” You smile. “As long as he's not thrusting that vegan cheese under my nose, he can do what he likes.”

“Oh we got a smell of a few of those at that farmer’s market in Douglas, there's a few that are rotten!" Síle validates your aversion with a grimace.

“Tell me about it - and it's ten times worse when he has it warm, like cheese on toast or something. It stinks!” You fake a gag. “So what time are you two off to do your thing today?” You ask when a quietness falls.

“Around half twelve,” Síle says, checking the clock above the cooker. “You don't mind if we get a use of the shower, do you?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, not at all. I'm sure when Cill emerges he'll be cooking breakfast - he likes to when the boys are here so I'm sure you'll get the same treatment. But if you want to go on ahead and shower while he's still in bed, go for it. He won't hear it running with the doors shut. There's a rack in the bathroom, I'm sure you saw it, with the towels and all on. Help yourselves.”

Quiet falls over the house again, and the playlist on Spotify kicks out Dreaming Again and you instantly feel a loving warmth, coupled with a marching of goosebumps over your body. This song will never lose its meaning, or its appeal, and you smile softly as it plays through. It's as it is ending that you catch the sound of the stairs, and turn your head to see Cillian step off the last step. “Morning,” you smile. “Was it too loud?” You ask, and nod towards the TV. He walks up beside you, standing at your left as you lean on the island, and he gently places his hand on your back.

“No,” he shakes his head. He's croaky and sleepy, and his hair is a mess, and if his sister wasn't here you'd want him on the sofa. “It was herself cackling that did it.” He nods at his sister, then laughs as she looks back at him with a playful scowl. “Ah no, sure I was only half asleep there after you got up.” He says, and he moves his hand gently up and down against your back. “Are youse all sitting here waiting on me making breakfast?” he asks, and removes his hand from your back.

“Well you're running the hotel, you'd better be including breakfast, so.” Síle chuckles. He smirks, turning to boil the kettle.

“I'll do it, no bother.” He says, moving about behind you at the counter by the kettle. “What do youse want?”

“No cheese,” Síle laughs, and you giggle along with her.

You jump as you feel Cillian's hand slap down against your sides and his fingers begin tickling against your ribs. “You been bad mouthing my cheese?” He accuses, joking, and you squirm under his childishly playful assault. He stills his fingers and runs his hands gently up and down your hips before he turns away again. “Will I make a fry?” He asks, busy again as the kettle boils.

“You're the chef, boy, you do what you want.” Griff nods in approval, though, at the suggestion. “We were saying to Y/N, there, we're away after twelve. Do you have a spare key or something for later, we can come back and just hang about if you're busy, if that's alright?”

“Ah, yeah, work away. There's a spare one on a hook in the cupboard out there in the hallway,” Cillian nods.

“I had a thought,” you say, turning around. You rest your back on the island and stare at him with a wide eyed expression, “We could go and have lunch somewhere. You and me, or if you wanted to see if the boys want to come. We could go out into Dunshaughlin if you wanted, or drive out into Naas even to that pub, so we're out of the city, or stay cityside and head up to Dundrum shopping centre?” You suggest, watching him as he rests back on the counter and sips from his cup. “Or not.” You say, when he doesn't offer any response.

“Mal’s working,” he says, shaking his head, after swallowing his drink slowly. “But we could do whatever, where do you want to go?” he smiles gently, lovingly, and you wonder if you're blushing under his gaze.

“Naas?” You raise your eyebrows. You hadn't been near the shopping centre in some time and while you'd have liked to run up, you assumed a Saturday up there with Cillian would be a little overt. “That little pub does those sweet potato fries with the dip we had that time. We could go to the garden and home place that's over the flyover opposite, then go back across for lunch.” You smile gently. “That garden place has the wood and turf bags, too, which you wanted for the fire.” You remind him, and you laugh to yourself as his expression changes.

“We’ll go out to Naas then,” he nods his head slowly. “Breakfast first,” he says, putting down his cup. “Youse all want a fry, yeah?” He asks.

“Go for it,” Síle nods, “But I'm going to get a shower while you're cooking, and you can jump in after,” she puts her hand on Griff's back as she gets down from the stool at the island. “I won't be long.” She says, heading to the stairs. “And don't be giving me vegan sausages, Cillian!” She calls out over the banister and you laugh loudly, watching him raise a single eyebrow and shoot up a V despite her being out of sight.

You put down your glass of gin and tonic, and smile across the small two-top table in the pub restaurant. You'd ordered a few minutes ago and you were looking forward to your fajita wrap and chips. Cillian sets down his phone and leans forwards slightly and rests his elbows on the table. He folds his left hand down before him and settles his chin into the palm of his right hand. His Guinness is before him, and he's looking at you like the first time you met up deliberately; there's a sheepish smile and a softness over his eyes. You frown a little, amused and curious, and mirror his positioning. “What?” You say, raising your brows slightly as you smile again.

He rolls his eyes slightly and his smile widens, showing his teeth. “Nothing,” he says quietly. “Just nice to be tipping about with you, you know? Missed you these last weeks.”

“Yeah, I've missed you too.” You whisper. “Tuesday can fuck off,” you scoff. “Don't go back.” You joke.

“Ah, it's the home stretch.” He says, “Then it'll be us at home for Christmas.” he drops his arm, crossing it over the other one on the table. He takes a deep breath. “How're you feeling?” He asks you, and his face looks concerned. “After last night.”

You consider the question. How are you feeling? Still anxious, tormented by the dream, embarrassed… “I'm okay.” You push a soft smile up your cheeks. “I am,” you insist when he raises a single eyebrow. “I don't know if I should go back to the therapist, or maybe see a doctor and get some medication.”

“You think it'll help if you did?” He asks, “Medication, I mean. You said after…after the abortion that it was good for the short term, but not something you'd like long term. If you think it'll help you, like, then consider it. But maybe the therapist, or talking to me about what goes around your head, is a better option first?”

“Like you talk to me?” You say, like your filter is down, and as you hear the word leave your lips you watch his face for his response.

He sighs deeply, and his tongue swipes quickly over his lips. “Touché.”

“I didn't say it to be a bitch.” You say gently.

He shakes his head, “It's alright. Sure, I said it first.” he smiles softly. “Look, you'll do what you want to and what's good for you, so just do that. But talk to me, will ya? You make things big in your head and we can sort it out if you just talk.” He reaches out over the table and touches his hand on your arm resting on the table.

He draws back his hand after a moment and you fall into a slightly strange silence. It's not awkward, but you genuinely have nothing to say in relation to his comment. For a moment you consider telling him that you don't think you're okay not having children, now that you'd reached that point - but you like you'd then be the one going back on what you'd said, after telling him so insistently that you were okay with his choices. You know he wants a baby, but you know that what trumps that want is the anxieties that he had himself over the future - the boys reactions, the strain it could put on yourself and him, and you suspect he has fears that repeating his steps in life from before will equate to the same outcome. That being, kids with Yvonne eventually caused issues, and it would do with you, too. Not that he'd ever said that, he didn't say much about his feelings at times (at other times he could be hard to shut up discussing his feelings). But you feel bothered, if only a little, by his audacity - he can't tell you one thing by demanding you talk and do another himself by what he did in not talking to you, but you don't want to fight. This long weekend isn't about therapizing one another, or arguments over things that feel small or one sided; he's here to love, to sleep next to, and to fuck into the matter before he disappears again for weeks.

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows as a thought comes to you, and chuckle a little. “I think they were asleep last night.” You say, and you watch him go from frowning to smiling with a dash of embarrassment.

“Small mercies,” he smirks, “Don't think I could have lived with knowing my sister was listening to us having sex.”

You draw down the corners of your mouth and laugh a little bit louder, “There's always tonight.”

He closes his eyes and purses his lips, then scoffs a laugh as he shakes his head. “I'm all for the sex,” he raises one eyebrow and laughs lightly again. “I am not for deliberate porn noises to get them holding a glass to the wall!” Drawing on his minor discomfort, you make a stereotypically orgasmic expression and softly moan. You can see he's mortified, but he's laughing too. Repeating it, daring to make it a little louder, you taper off into a laugh when he kicks your shoe under the table. “Ah, Y/N!” He hisses, “Give up, will ya!” He's laughing, though, and you're so tempted to do it again until you catch sight of a waitress heading towards you with plates in her hand.

“Preview!” You raise your eyebrows and whisper just as she reaches your table.

It is almost ten thirty pm and you're beginning to feel tired, despite a slow and gentle day. You sit curled against Cillian on the sofa. He has his arm wrapped around your back and you feel safe and happy pressed so close to him, laughing into his chest, as Síle and Griff delight you both with the story of their day. Their event had been less than what they were expecting - their featured friend hadn't shown - and they'd spent their time giggling before abandoning the whole thing and instead tipping around the wax museum, laughing like children.

“Hand to God,” Griff laughs, “It was a shit show.” he shakes his head.

“And there was nothing there?” Cillian asks, smirking as he shakes his head.

“A few six-by-four photos pinned to a washing line,” Griff laughs loudly, and Cillian throws back his head in amusement. “Yer wan at the desk when you go in the door, she was looking at us like we just didn't get the visions but sure there was no vision to be getting!”

“That's gas,” Cillian chuckles, settling slowly.

“I was on the phone with Páidi, he had the same reaction.” Síle laughs lightly.

“He's alright, yeah? Páidi?” Cillian asks. It's been some time since you've seen his brother, but you always like his sense of humour when you're together.

“Ah, yeah, getting on the best.” Síle nods.

“Did youse get back here early?” Cillian asks as the room goes quiet, and brings his beer bottle to his lips.

“About three,” Síle says, “We powered through your fridge there for sandwiches.” She said, “When you text there that you were on your way back is when Griff said he should do the dinner.”

“Well, we're grateful you did.” You smile. “Cillian doesn't make me country food.” You grin and squirm a little as he tickles his fingers against your hip where his hand rests. “But sometimes you want mashed potatoes and gravy!”

“Too right, girl!” Griff agrees cheerfully. “Come here, I'm going to be a bit antisocial here and head up to the bed.” He says as he gets to his feet. He walks to the kitchen with his empty beer bottle and drops it into the bin beside the fridge. “Youse don't mind?”

“No, work away. We'll see you tomorrow.” Cillian insists.

“I'll come with you,” Síle says, uncurling her legs from the sofa. She hands Griff her empty wine glass to place in the kitchen and gets up off the sofa. She stretches as she stands and fixes her shirt as she relaxed her body again. “And youse will keep it down tonight, yeah?” She says, fixing Cillian with a falsely serious stare. “Hearing my brother orgasm isn't on my bucket list.”

Your mouth drops open and, in a flutter of embarrassment, you turn your face into Cillian's chest and groan against his sternum. He laughs, though, and it vibrates your entire body. “Fuck off,” he says, still laughing, and tightens his arm around you as you pretend to cry.

Síle is chuckling as she walks away and you look up again, shaking your head, and watch the two of them disappear up the stairs before looking up at Cillian. “I am so embarrassed.” You shake your head.

He laughs again and pats his hand against you, a silent ask for you to move, and he gets up as you draw away from his body. “Ah stop, she's only messing.” He says. He scuffs his socked feet across the floor as he takes his beer bottle and your empty wine glass into the kitchen. “And judging by the display earlier, I'd say it was you she heard, not me.” He teases, coming back around the wall, and runs his hand through his hair as he yawns. “Wanna go to bed or are we putting that movie on?” He asks.

“Bed,” you say and stand up. “The boys wanted picking up before ten tomorrow. Well, Aran. I still got nothing from Malachy.”

“He's working the whole weekend,” Cillian says, “He wants to drop in on Monday before Síle heads home.”

“Did Aran speak to you again?” You ask. You flit about the room, turning off lamps and sockets before you both head up to bed.

“Yeah,” he says, as he heads to the front door. He checks that it's locked - it always is - and sets the alarm. “He was grand,” he says, “So whatever he was in bad humour over before didn't seem to be on him then.”

You smile, “I told you. He's a young man, let him be arsey occasionally.” You smile.

He nods slowly - he knows you're right, you know. He sighs deeply and jerks his head towards the stairs, “C’mon,” he says with a smirk. “Well put up the volume for Síle.”

[pooplyface1423]

DUSK TILL DAWN PT 3

Shadow x reader (platonic)

Warnings ⚠️:none

Taglist

@bluefang1 @fawnsies @sabakarp @z3zabytez @ellaprime7 @buddee @star-maker-rain-dancer @generousdiamond @whoisgami

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sometimes During your sleep you'd have what you'd write as “nighttime terrors”.Everyone in a while you'd wake up in the middle of the night panting and sweating your breath heavy tears streaming down you face.It was to much to handle you felt like a burden to everyone even to the one you'd call your closest friend shadow…

The nighttime terrors would consist of you in the day before the accident trying any possible way to save your parents but ultimately failing each time, always feel the guilt eating you alive…

Shadow has helped through everything, snapping you out of it. And helping you fall back asleep.Though it made you feel better, it still made you think you were a bother to his life.

It started to get to you…

And shadow took notice

He felt like he had to do something or tell you something

But he didn't really know how to express it.

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮

One night he decided he had to do something about it

It was happening again. You were trying to convince your parents not to go. And then shadow noticed and walked up to your bed in a quick motion and softly shook you awake

Opening your eyes you saw his worried face and started to quietly sob. He pulled you into a hug and you hugged him back crying into his chest fur he gave you small pats on the back saying stuff like “shhh it's okay I'm here y/n” “ everything will be okay” “ your safe with us”

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮

Even though you could only feel the vibrations of his chest, you felt safe.As your breath going back to normal shadow layed you back down and was thinking of going back to his bed when you held his wrist making him look back

*pats bed*

You were asking him to stay with you for a while and he didn't deny your request. Getting next to you he laid down and you quickly brought him into a hug which he aswell didnt deny.

You quickly fall asleep ur head on top of shadow chest.Shadow forgot how nice caring for someone felt.

Ever since he woke up again, he didn't expect to care for anyone as much as he did for her..

As he was dozeing off to sleep, he kept patting your back, making sure your breathing was steady.making sure you felt safe

*Dozes off*

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮

Early in the morning Maddie decided to wake everyone up for what she called an “adventure”

After waking sonic Tails and knuckles she asked sonic to wake shadow and you up.

He did slowly tho Since the hedgehog just woke up he wasnt In the mood to run so early.

As he opend the door the dight of you and shadow cuddling made him go in awe .

*snapps a picture*

Puts his phone down next to your nightstand and cuddles next to you guys.

Making you twich but not wake up thankfully

As you shadow and sonic were in deep sleep once again maddie wondered what was taking so long.

*they should be at the dining table already*

She thought being occupied with washing some cups from the day before. She sent Tails to check up on them.

*opens the door*

Sees the the three of you guys sleeping so soundly and comfortable and omg he couldn't resist the temptation of going back to sleep next to you guys and cuddled on top of you his weight not being much to disturb your sleep.

Once again Maddie was a bit distraught on why they were taking long so she sent knuckles.

(I think we can see where this is going)

As he opend the door he saw you sonic shadow and tails all cramped up on the bed and decided to hop in too.

“What the heck are they doing over there?”

“Whats wrong?” Asked tom as he walked In after a quick shower

“Well..”she explains the whole thing

“Oh well lets go check up on them”

“Yea i think we should” she says as they walk up to shadow And your bedroom

*Tom opens the door*

The sight was so *adorable* in his words

Seeing all the kids sleeping soundly brought joy to both his and Maddie heart

Snapping a quick picture who am i kidding!? They took hundreds

Slowly you woke up feeling a small weight on top of you was wierd.Until you saw it was the fluffly little fox tails.

Quickly Shadow woke Up in a state of pure shock as the people he lived with saw him in such a vulnerable state

Everyone else woke up in the same shock

Seeing this you cracked a small chuckle followed by everyone laughing.

Even tho you couldn't hear it you knew it was a happy moment.

Turning to shadow you saw a small smile peer through his face.He looked up to you seeing you smile back.

He quickly returned to his neutral face as everyone got of your bed.

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞ ∞༺✦✮✦༻✧✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮✦༻∞✧༺✦✮

TYSM FOR READING!!

Finally finished, wow. I'm so happy for all the support this mini series has gotten so far.

[marshmellin]

Galadriel is a kick-ass, legendary warrior in Arondír's eyes. I suspect other rank-and-file elven soldiers view her similarly.

Every time (every. time.) Arondír is on screen with Galadriel, we get to see how much true awe he looks at her with. Arondír gives us the unique perspective of how Galadriel is perceived as a warrior among other elven soldiers. Gil-galad and Elrond (as well as Círdan and Celebrimbor) are all very familiar with Galadriel and her bullshit. They know her great deeds on the battlefield. In some cases, their in-show vibe has been like: Yeah, the darkness, the shadows, the evil. Valar, we know, you are older than the sun itself. YES, we will text you if the darkness returns, grandma, just staaaaaaahp fighting so much.

Arondír looks at her in a completely different way. He looks at her with the eyes of one who knows of her great deeds, and can not believe he is now in the same room as her. The look on his face, IMO, says she's damn near a mythical warrior at this point for him. (To get poetic and therefore less accurate with it; Galadriel's status to this rank-and-file elven soldier is: Athena. The Morrígan. Freyja. Ishtar. Durga.)

Arondír's face when Galadriel:

"So, Theo, m'boy, that is Lady Galadriel, commander of the Northern Armies, and she's here to save every Valar-damned one of us. I can not believe she's here, are you kidding me? She is a LEGEND. Put some respect on her name and heal her already, Elrond, why are you standing there like an idiot if you have a magic ring? Are all High Elves this insane?"

Arondír's face when not Galadriel:

I think there’s a deep beauty in seeing just how much Galadriel has inspired other elven soldiers, and how long she has been fighting. For Arondír to say her name like that, with such relief and awe in his voice, truly says something to how he — a normal elven dude who used to be a grower before he was hauled into mandatory watchguard duty or whatever the hell — views her.

I don't get the sense that he and Galadriel are work besties, so to speak. So that makes me think Arondír knows of Galadriel and her skill from what he has heard of her — her renown, her reputation. Potentially her magical hair color.

And this warrior respect she has won is highlighted again. Arondír knows her enough to trust her and listen about when to attack Adar outside Eregion. The man wants blood even if it's his own, and she talks him down. Galadriel is the reason he is alive rn, candidly. Her on-the-field advice to both him and Theo — to pause, to show restraint, to plan for tomorrow — is indicative of the type of leader she is.

This, to me, also makes the nearly-kinda-sorta mutiny when we first see Galadriel hit so much harder. If she is this near-mythic warrior and general known by all, and soldiers like Arondír know of her greatness from stories of what she has done — if she's THAT GIRL from a warrior and leader perspective and yes JRR did in fact make her that girl — then yes, that mini-mutiny at Gil-galad's order stings so much more. Not only that Gil took command of these five troops and said "follow her until you reach X and pull back regardless of her command." That sucks a lot. But I see additional pain there, IMO, because she could interpret that move as Gil-galad saying "her judgment as a warrior and leader can't be trusted. She no longer is the mythical warrior we need." A hit to her reputation in front of other soldiers, not just a censure of the actions she took. Yikes bikes on your timing there, Ereinion.

Bonus Trek Thought:

Truly, the first time Arondír said “Galadriel” with wonder to Theo, he instantly made me think of BOIMLER in the SNW/LWD crossover ep! He is bashful and giddy about meeting Number One on the original Enterprise. GIDDY. Every time he sees her, he is in awe. And it's because she was a legend to him. Her story inspired him to join Starfleet; set him on his life's path, literally. She was the coolest officer and fighter and scientist he had ever heard of.

his hero. and now he's meeting her.

An additional note: We can read the look on Arondír's face as romantic, too, don’t get me wrong -- ship and let ship. Would it be the Arondriel girlies (gn)?. But jokes aside, I don’t want to relegate Arondir’s closeness and warrior bond with her to romantic only. Miv has unstoppable chemistry and so does Ismael. Hot people are hot, more breaking news at 11.

[madqueenalanna]

i've been relistening to "would've, could've, should've" by taylor swift and "29" by demi levato and sadly i can relate to both of them but the worst part is reading the comments and seeing how many girls share that experience "i was 16, he was 28" "i was 17, he was 28" "i was 19, he was 30" and me personally, i was 17/18 and he was 32. it's just horrific how many of us have this in common. almost every girl in the us has the experience of being preyed upon/catcalled/harassed/"dating" a fully adult man when we were under age. and a 17 yr old girl and 20 yr old guy doesn't mean much but so many of us have a SIGNIFICANT age gap and it's just so sad and awful. i hate it. if my daughter ever experienced this, scorched earth. just so sad

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[momentomori24]

[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]