#THIS MAYBE THE ONLY READ I WILL EVER GET HER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-spes · 3 days

Note

Hi I was rereading devious lies and I was thinking ab if nat and yn were to meet again and everything, yn would have the biggest trust issued ever. First her best friend took advantage of her and ruined her life, then the ones she considered family turned their backs on her without even letting her explain her side, and ofc how her lover shouted in her face that she's not welcome there anymore and how yn shouldn't even talk with her anymore ever. How the last time the team looked at her it was with anger and dissapointment That and also from the first part where she herself admitted to feeling like a stranger amongst her once friends and family.

Idk what you have in store for us for when you're feeling better and out of the writing block that you're currently experiencing, but I can't wait to read it. Take as long as you need, we're here!

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ₊ ⁺ ✦ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 ₊ . 　 ˚　. ✧ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊ ˚

₊ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ 　˚　 . 　⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　　 . 　 ˚ ˚ 　. ☁ ˚ 　. ˚ 　 ✩ ₊ ˚ . ☾ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✧ 　　˚ ⁺

˚　 . ⤳ DEVIOUS LIES — Bonus part, 'the scars in our hearts' (6.280 words).

⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✧ ⤳ SUMMARY — Anon request — “ It has been years since the events, and when you eventually got the chance to go back with them, you thought everything would be the way it used to be. except it wasn't. three years, almost four, is a lot of time, and the people you used to know and the building you called your home do not feel the same anymore. Maybe you've been gone for too long to hope to find a place in their new life. ”

. ☁ ˚ ⤳ TAGS & WARNINGS — Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Avenger!Reader, Female!Reader, Other Avengers x Reader (brief mention of them). Bittersweet, (kind of) angst with comfort. Self-doubt, mental health issues, mention of bad coping mechanisms, toxic relations.

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊

You’ve been told that you just needed a bit of time to adjust, because you come a long way, but they didn’t say how long ‘a bit of time’ was. So the months passed, they soon became years, and if you’ve still made no progress, you kept hoping. Every day, you repeat yourself that you only need ‘a bit more of time’ and that, soon, with just a little extra effort, everything will eventually be fine.

Except that you’ve never been a patient person.

They made it sound easy. They made you believe that everything would go back to the way it used to be in weeks, and you’ve fallen for their sweet words because you were craving for them to be true. You have dreamed of that moment, and every day you’ve spent far from them was spent thinking about the day they would ask you to come back. It is a little fantasy you’ve been holding on to for the past few years, but the tears, hugs, and excuses you’ve spent hours to imagine never became a reality. No, you only got silent glances.

It has been almost three years since you came back, and it still wasn’t enough. Sometimes, you think about letting go of that dream of yours, the one that makes you believe that things could still get back to normal, even when nothing was —; but how could you do something like that? How could you possibly think about abandoning them again when they’ve been willing to give you a second chance? You weren’t ready yet to accept that the home you’ve been longing to return didn’t feel like it anymore, at least not without first trying your hardest to make things right. Thus you kept pushing yourself a bit more everyday, at the cost of your health — which seemed a very small price to pay in exchange for the feeling of being at home again.

Two years is not a lot of time in a human life but these years still felt like an eternity to you, and you’ve never been so aware of how long they have been as when you came back, realizing the gap that had opened up between you and the others. Your life has fallen apart that day, leaving you with such small pieces of yourself that you weren’t able to rebuild on your own —; but them? It is as if they’ve lost nothing. They’ve spent those two years building a life in which you’ve never existed, one that you are now supposed to find a place in. Every day is just a painful reminder of what you have lost, and will never get back despite your hopes. Your dream slipped away just when you touched it with your fingertips.

You have to accept that you are not a part of the system anymore, you are just the pebble that derails the machine, and that ruins everything —; but you should be used to it, shouldn’t you? To that feeling of shame and sorrow that your heart has been carrying for years, that feeling of failure and permanent disappointment.

Some nights, out of habit, you push the wrong door, and you find yourself in the room you used to share with Natasha. Once full of life, it had now become austere. Yet, there is something comforting about being in that room full of old memories, it is a bittersweet feeling that’s both like a heartbreak and a warm hug. You've never been much of a drinker, or at least you've always been careful enough not to get wasted. But you’ve made an exception tonight, because everything seemed to be too much, and you wouldn’t have survived the party if you hadn’t drowned everything in alcohol.

It is the way they kept laughing that got on your nerves, jealousy rising inside of you every time a new joke was told that you couldn’t understand “because you weren’t here” —; but Wanda wasn’t here either, and yet, she laughed along with them, why? Because she hasn’t lost her place with them, she is still a part of the family. They promised that they would tell their stories and explain their jokes later, because it was too long to do it now, but you were aware that it was just a lie to give you the impression that you weren’t on the sidelines.

It wasn’t very effective.

They spent the whole night telling stories that you couldn’t understand and sharing jokes you couldn’t laugh at, and while they remembered things that you didn’t have a chance to live by their side, giving you an overview of all the things you’ve missed, you were silently sitting on the couch, trying to ignore the knot in your throat. You didn’t even try to take part in the conversation —; what could you possibly have said anyway? You are not sure they would have wanted to hear about how miserable your life was when you were gone, how lonely and desperate you’ve been during these years. It would be an admission that you missed them, needed them.

Instead you kept your attention on the bottles of alcohol, at least they would never let you down —; that’s the advantage when the parties are organized by someone like Tony: you will never run out of booze. You were so uninvolved in what was going on around you, that you missed the worried glances that Natasha and Wanda shared, and they didn’t need to talk to understand each other, to know that they both had the same concerns.

Everyone does, but you’ve made it clear in your first few weeks back that you didn’t want their pity. There was no comfort in the way they looked at you and, quickly, their presence became too much. They were always there, never letting you completely alone despite the appearance and trying to meet your needs before you could even ask, pretending that they knew better than you do —; but they don’t. They have no idea of what you need, because how could they when you’re not even sure yourself?

The loneliness you’ve asked for isn’t more comforting, but at least it comes with familiar feelings, some that you’ve learned how to deal with the past few years. On the contrary, you still hadn’t gotten used to their presence, and you had no idea of how to deal with these contradictory feelings that were starting to grow inside of yourself. While a part of you wanted to lean in their embrace, the other rejected their overwhelming affection. A way of protecting yourself that won out, taking the form of uncontrolled anger and, after days of being yelled at and random objects being thrown at their faces, they’ve eventually got the hint that they should let you alone.

They’ve given up on you —; but that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?

You can’t be sure, but you are trying to convince yourself that it is better that way. You’re not worth the trouble, and they definitely can’t spend all their energy trying to save you when people are actually dying outside. You would be fine, you would get through it —; right? Because that’s what you’ve always done, and there is no reason that this time would be any different —; you are strong, with or without them by your side. You just need a little bit of time for your scars to heal and then, everything will be back the way it used to be.

Except that, despite the appearances, those thoughts never really left your mind. Sometimes, you think about your return and what would have happened if they hadn’t found you that day —; maybe everything would have been easier. For you, sure, but also for them. You are not even sure they would have accepted your return if they had a choice —; you wouldn’t have. At least when you weren't there, there wasn't that constant tension that now reigned over the tower, one that followed you into every room you set foot in.

So you’ve made a decision —; you would rebuild yourself without them. You would make a new name for yourself, a new life, even if it means leaving them behind. There is this growing will deep inside you, the one that feeds off your anger and jealousy, and it’s the one to get your revenge. You want them to suffer as much as you have, to realize what they’ve done, and regret every of their actions. You want them to crawl back at your feet, begging for your forgiveness because you are tired of being the only one to make efforts.

You have waited so long for them to say or do the right thing, but the moment has never come because they can’t possibly understand your situation, let alone knowing what you really need to get better —; how could they when you ignore it too? Nothing feels right anymore. You have tried a lot of things but nothing works. Your life is now like a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces refuse to fit together. There is no way to make things go back the way they were, you could only keep on pretending.

And so you did, locking yourself into a routine. Each day you alternate between training, going on missions or attending meetings, leaving yourself little free time. This hectic schedule has the advantage of allowing you to avoid the presence of others and keeping you from thinking too much while making you more efficient —; it is perfect, isn’t it? It is, most of the time but, some days, the illusion falters, and the facade you’ve built shatters, revealing the truth you are trying to hide.

That’s how you found yourself stumbling into your old bedroom, the one that now smells of dust, desperate for some comfort and familiarity. You didn’t even make it to the bed, falling miserably asleep on the carpet —; you didn’t have the strength to get up when you tripped over your own feet, too drunk to take more than a few clumsy steps.

⊱ ★ ⊰

There is only one person in the team who is willing to give you the space you asked for without agreeing to give up on you yet —; and it is Natasha.

You may not notice it, but the woman has always been here for you since you came back to live with them. It must be said that her gestures are minute, almost imperceptible, but they always manage to draw a slight smile on your lips without you realizing it —; she was perfectly aware that if you knew it was from her, you would start hating on those little things that made your daily life at the tower a little sweeter.

She is the one who always accidentally cooks more food than she needed, making sure there was always a portion waiting for you in the fridge. She is the one who makes sure that your favorite cutlery is always clean. She is the one who buys your favorite flowers to put them in the common room’s vase and never lets them fester. She is the only one who has taken the time to make you feel at home with a bunch of details that are so insignificant that you’ve barely noticed them.

But at least it helped soothe the guilt her heart carried, because these actions are proof that she was fulfilling the promises she had made to you a long time ago, in the secrecy of the night, under a starry sky, whispered words that has been immediately blown away by the wind —; “I’ll always be there for you,” she had said. “Promise?” you’ve asked, your eyes full of hope. “Promise,” she had replied before your lips touched, sealing the contract.

One she broke years ago, when she dragged you out of the tower without letting you a chance to explain yourself. The woman is perfectly aware that flowers and some meals won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness, but she still made it her mission to look after you from afar —; because if she doesn’t, who would? You don’t let anyone get close to you, and the others haven’t looked any further, giving up at the first sign of trouble. She doesn’t blame you for not trusting her, or the other members of the team, she just wishes that you would accept at least one of their helping hands.

But you’ve rejected everyone.

Even Wanda, with whom you seemed, at one time, to be getting on well which had given the redhead hope. Those hopes had been shattered the day you violently pushed the witch away without any clear explanation, and the woman blames herself for that, for not knowing what to do in order to help you —; because she should know, right? That’s her role, the promise she had made years ago.

If she can’t, if no one can, what will you become?

You may be able to fool everyone, including yourself, into thinking that you are fine, but you won’t get her to fall for your little tricks. She knows the truth. She can see it in your fake smiles, she can read it in your tired eyes. She knows you by heart, she hasn’t forgotten those years spent by your side, and she has become a master at spotting your bad habits and the sublet signs that accompany them.

So, tonight, she couldn't have possibly missed how firm your grip has been on the bottles of alcohol, nor how quiet you've been the whole time. But it is only when she saw the door to your old bedroom ajar that she understood the extent of your pain. You were hitting rock bottom, you would have never set foot in this room full of memories otherwise. She knew this because she, too, avoided it like the plague, and hadn’t dared return in it since that day, not even to empty it. For five years, it had remained the same.

The woman is willing to give you the space you asked for as long as you are taking care of yourself, it is the silent promise she made, but it is obvious that you have failed to do so lately as she has seen you slowly falling back into your old habits. The ones she thought you had left behind, the ones she had helped you to overcome years ago. She is ready to accept that you could build a life without her, it is a cost worth paying if it’s the one to your happiness, but you haven’t built anything lately. Nor have you been happy, and she couldn’t bear anymore the sight of you destroying yourself, again.

The redhead is tired of the situation. She is annoyed that everyone is playing your games by pretending that everything is fine because it only encourages you down this dangerous path, one that may cost your life one day. She is angry with anyone who takes the easy way out, because it is obvious that it is easier to act as if all that history belonged to the past rather than acknowledge their mistakes.

At first, she had agreed to play along, but it was only because she thought that it was what you needed and that, when you were ready, you would talk to them. Except that it has been a bit more than two years, almost three, since they brought you back, and you still haven’t told a word about it. The woman didn’t know how long she would be able to put up with your silence on this story and your obvious discomfort.

But it seems that the sight of you asleep on the dusty carpet of the room you once shared was the last straw for the woman who decided to step in. You are probably going to hate her tomorrow, but she doesn’t care —; she is not even sure you could possibly hate her more than you already do. She would rather know that you are safe, even if it means losing you a little more so she decides to call your name multiple times.

It is the sound of her voice who wakes you up. It doesn’t matter how deeply asleep you were because you can’t ignore her when she practically screams out your name, and you are inevitably roused from your slumber. When you opened your eyes, a growl escaping your lips to signal your displeasure, all you could see was a blurred figure with red hair that could only belong to one person. One you could recognize anywhere.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, a mixture of annoyance and concern tinged her voice, but you weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to notice it. Maybe if your hand hadn’t been so heavy on the alcohol, then you would have noticed the tone of her voice.

‘I am sleeping, can’t you see?’ you grumbled, but as soon as the words escaped your mouth, the frustration was replaced by a laugh —; this question was stupid, you realize. Isn’t she supposed to be a trained spy, and one of the best, too? Then why couldn’t she see what was right in front of her? Something that obvious?

Maybe she doesn’t know either because your question is followed by silence. Her only answer has been to sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long night, she already knew it, but wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with that.

‘Come here,’ you said when the woman didn’t react. Your words were accompanied by the gesture of grabbing her arm in order to pull her toward you, the woman losing her balance because of the surprise.

Since she had found you, you had never asked for her presence. On the contrary, you had rejected and hated her. At best, you would tolerate her presence, but only when your job didn’t give you a choice, and so this sudden change in your behavior disconcerted her, especially the laugh that escaped your lips when she fell on top of you —; it is a sound that she has never thought she would hear again. So pure, so sincere.

‘Get up,’ she coldly says, not amused at all by your little games. If circumstances had been different, she probably would have found your attitude endearing and stayed a little longer in your arms. Except there was nothing healthy about this sudden closeness after months of hatred, so the woman immediately got up, inviting — ordering — you to do the same —; the sooner she puts you to bed, the sooner she can get back to hers.

Tonight, she had no patience. The woman was exhausted, and frustrated —; you weren’t the only one to suffer from the situation. She knows that your clinging state is just an illusion, the result of the alcohol you’ve ingested, and that the very next day you’re going to hate her again. If she wanted nothing more than to believe everything would be okay now, and to find comfort in your arms, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when she knew she would lose it all again at sunrise. This scene is only a chimera, a reminder of what she had lost several years earlier as the result of her own actions.

If anything happens tonight, you would both regret it. Nothing can come from the actions of two tipsy and exhausted people. Except that your mind wasn’t clear enough to realize it, and all you could think about in that moment was how you were craving for Natasha’s attention. You wanted her to wrap her arms around you and whisper that everything will be fine now, because she is here. You wanted her to promise to never let you down, again. Even if it is a lie. Even if, one day, she will abandon you again —; because that’s what they all do despite the promises, isn’t it? At that moment, you didn’t care about the lies, you just wanted something to hold onto, just an ounce of comfort.

‘I caaaaaan’t,’ you whined, but you didn’t even try to do so. When you stretch out your arms towards the redhead, she gets the hint that you’re expecting her to help you, which she does. The woman knows how stubborn you can be so she grabs your hands and pulls you on your feet, sighing.

Except that you seem to find the idea of testing the limits of her kindness particularly amusing because you make no effort to pull yourself upright, or to stand on your feet —; or maybe you were just that wasted. You’re barely standing when you fall forward, leaving no choice to the woman who has to catch you before you hit the ground.

‘Got you,’ you whispered, a grin on your face, when you felt her arms around your waist.

The thought of dropping you crossed her mind, but all she did was to playfully roll her eyes. The woman should be annoyed by the situation —; right? But how could she when you are so adorable? It has been a long time since she last saw such a peaceful expression on your face. Your eyes were half closed, you looked as if you were about to fall asleep in her arms, and there was a faint smile on your lips. You seemed so content, nestled in her arms with your cheek pressed against her chest, that she hardly dared to move, fearing to break this well-deserved moment of peace. For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened, and the sorrow on your face had dissipated, giving way to a childlike insouciance —; a sight that made her heart melt.

You are the one who broke the silence first.

‘I’ve missed you..,’ you whispered. A confession so unexpected that the woman is not sure if she had understood your words. When her eyes looked down, searching for yours, you hadn’t moved, your eyes still closed. It was almost as if you hadn’t spoken, and that the words had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

‘Me too,’ she softly replied and, maybe, if you had opened your eyes at that moment, you would have noticed the tears that clouded hers — but you couldn’t do that, because you don’t want her to see the tears that you are trying to hold back, right? The one that would just run down your cheeks the moment you open your eyes.

‘Please, stay with me tonight,’ you asked —; no, you begged. You’ve lifted your head until your eyes finally meet hers, both were shining with the tears that threatened to fall —; you are the first one to give in.

The mere thought of Natasha leaving you was enough to shatter your last ramparts. You have just regained her embrace, you don’t want to be forced to leave her now, not after so many years of hoping to regain the comfort you thought you had lost forever. You have been too stubborn to admit that you needed help, and so you’ve spent years pushing everyone away, thinking that you didn’t deserve their affection. It has been so long that you can’t even remember the last time someone held you this way, with such delicacy and care.

It gave you hope. The one that, maybe, for at least one night, things could be the way they used to be —; just tonight, or even just a few hours. You just want that moment to last a little longer, you don’t want to spend another night alone in your bed, in your cold and austere bedroom with a depressing atmosphere. You want more than that, you want a reason to stay, a reason to try again, and to get up tomorrow —; you want Natasha back. You want your old life back.

Except that the woman won’t give in. It is not that she doesn’t want to, on the contrary, she shares the same wishes that you, but her mind is clear, and she knows that nothing good would come out of it —; you can’t get back to what you used to have. You can’t change the past, nor can you pretend it doesn’t exist.

‘I can’t..,’ she softly replied after a second of silence that marked her hesitation, ‘you know that baby, we both,’ she added, the nickname naturally escaping her lips when she noticed that more tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

She wants to say yes, you can read it in her eyes, hear it in her silences —; then why doesn’t she say it? Why does she keep pushing you away when you are eventually ready for her to be back? Isn’t what she has wanted when she spent all those months begging you to accept her help? It is, but she didn’t want it that way, she didn’t want to take advantage of a moment of weakness on your part. She wanted to earn your forgiveness, to show you that you could trust her again, and if she had to work every day until she dies to achieve that goal, then she would do it.

‘Why not?’ you immediately asked back, ‘you are here, and so am I, and- and our bed is waiting for us,’ you started rambling. You couldn’t speak clearly, the words racing through your head as you tried to convince her, but you knew it was a losing battle. You were so desperate that your hands clung tightly to the fabric of her shirt, as if it could be enough to stop her from leaving. ‘Please,’ you begged once more when she didn’t react. At this point, your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, ‘just for tonight, we could pre~’

‘Pretend that nothing has happened?’ she softly asked, finishing your sentence, and all you could do was nodding. ‘But you know we can’t do that baby,’ she said, hating the way you were looking at her with so much hope, as if you thought that one night in her arms could ease all your problems —; but it can’t. It won’t.

As she talks, one of her hands tucks a lock of your hair behind your ears. The touch is so gentle that you can resist, and lean into her embrace. The feeling of her hand caressing your head leaves too soon for your liking.

‘Sometimes, I wish that we could,’ you replied, ‘that I could either forget everything, or go back in time to make everything right,’ you confided in her, sharing your thoughts with someone for the first time.

The words have barely crossed the barrier of your lips that you crumble, because you realize that this wish will never come true. You can no longer hold back your tears, you can only hide your face in the hollow of her neck, hoping she won’t see those. Only, each of your sobs shakes your body so violently that anyone could understand your state in one glance. The woman doesn’t know what to do so she cautiously wraps her arms around you and cradles your body in an attempt to sooth your sobs —; it’s the least she can do.

‘You’ve done nothing wrong, love, nothing was your fault,’ she whispered, and you can hear that her voice is feverish —; she, too, is holding back tears. She can’t bear to see you like this. ‘I am sorry, so sorry,’ she added while she rocks you slowly. Those words weren’t for tonight, and how she had to refuse your proposal, but they were for everything that has happened since that day. Those excuses were for all the things she has done or said since but, most importantly, for all the things she didn’t have the courage to do and the ones she couldn’t.

⊱ ★ ⊰

The following morning, you’re woken up by Jarvis, his voice echoing through the room, terribly loud and impossible to ignore. A grunt escapes your lips, you were hoping for a few more hours of sleep —; or best, for an eternal slumber. The night before, like the rest of the team, you went to bed late, and the quantities of alcohol ingested are definitely not helping with your condition because you were the victim of a terrible headache. Only, it is impossible for you to ignore Jarvis’ voice. He has been calling your name over and over again for several minutes now, trying to get the attention you are trying to not give him —; but even with your hands covering your ears, his voice would pierces your eardrums.

‘You are not answering me, miss y/n,’ he stated the obvious, ‘do you want me to warn the others that you are sick? My sensors indicate tha~’

‘Please, Jarvis, shut up,’ you mumble, still managing to be polite despite the rising frustration, and you really hope it will be enough for him to leave you alone —; but anyone who knows the AI knows that these hopes are in vain.

Nonetheless, you have to admit that he is right about one thing: you are not feeling so good —; but who would after attending one of Stark’s parties? He always says that if your head is not sore and your throat is not burning the next day, then you haven’t enjoyed yourself enough. Surely you have enjoyed enough to last a lifetime, although you are not naive enough to swear to never touch a bottle again in your life. Yet, you’ve thought of it for an instant, the lingering nausea making you regret your actions because it gave you the unpleasant feeling that you might throw up at any time.

God, you were weak. So weak that everything was feeling too much right now, even the faint sunlight making its way into your room —; it makes you want to bury yourself alive to avoid all these sensations, and to die. Except you can’t because you have a mission that is scheduled for today and, if you don’t show up soon, they will come looking for you, which is the last thing you want. You have spent weeks preparing for that, you definitely can’t let them down now, especially not because you are just too stupid to know your limits.

You have abandoned them once, you won’t make the same mistake a second time. They won’t be so forgiving this time, no one forgives someone who does the same mistake twice —; no one gives a second chance to traitors. It has been several years since you came back, but you still feel like you are on probation and you need to prove to them that they can count on you. You can sense their hesitation to trust you, even though they insist that everything is fine —; pretending that everything is the way it used to be. It is their new favorite game, but you hate it. Y

et, you don’t have much choice but to play by their rules.

‘Are you sure? Becaus~’

‘I said, shut. the. fuck. UP!’ you yelled, not giving him to finish his sentence, already reaching the limits of your patience, ‘what’s so difficult to understand in those two words?’ you growled in frustration, and you can’t help but throw a pillow at the walls. The gesture is useless because it doesn’t even manage to ease the tension you feel, nor does it convince Jarvis that he needs to stop talking because he starts lecturing you about your actions.

Actually, the only way you have found to shut him up was to get up and join the others for breakfast. Fortunately, only Tony and Steve were there. They are the ones you are going on mission with today, and that’s what they were talking about before you entered the room. Even though you would rather stay alone, talking about missions is something you can do with little effort because it is easy. You need your brain, but you can turn off your emotions. You do not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or how to avoid an uncomfortable silence. It is familiar, and comforting. It has been a while since you've been sitting at this table talking about something else —; when you are not talking about work, you stay silent. It seems that you have forgotten how to interact with them during those years.

As they go through the details of the mission one last time, you are playing with your breakfast, not interested in the oat flakes floating in your milk, nor in their voices that forms a dull hum in the background, their words not even reaching your ears —; because you are thinking, your eyebrows furrowed with worry. Except that your state isn’t caused by the reasons they think it is, neither the alcohol nor the mission are in your mind, only a certain spy with whom you shared a moment last night. One you would rather forget because the simple thought of the thing you have said, and done, is enough to fill you with rage and embarrassment.

‘Hi to the moon, here the earth,’ Tony said, snapping his fingers in front of your face to get your attention, ‘were you even listening to us?’ he sighed, but you don’t notice any annoyance in his voice. Only a sickening worry that you can read in his eyes, a feeling that he doesn’t share and doesn’t hide very well. You hate it, when they look at you that way, as if you could break at any moment, as if they needed to be careful —; but you can take it. You can take everything, and you definitely do not need their permanent protection.

‘No, sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,’ you admitted, giving him a smile that I hoped to be convincing enough to reassure him.

‘Do not worry, everything is going to be fine, okay? We will be here to make sure of that,’ Steve intervened, trying to reassure you about what he thought was the cause of your worries, but his tone didn’t feel comforting to you. If anything, it made you grit your teeth and clench your hand harder around your spoon, increasing your irritation. You don’t really know why, but Steve has been the hardest to get along with since you have come back, maybe it is because of his seemingly false sympathy.

‘Thank you,’ you managed to mumble, even though you don’t really mean it —; it was still better than the snide comment that made its way in your mind. You even made the effort to smile, one that anyone could see as fake, but not Steve, because he never really pays attention to the others.

The words burn on the tip of your tongue, and you have to bite it to not shout out to him what you are really thinking. You want nothing more than to tell him that you are as capable as anyone around this table. You have proven yourself over the last few months, succeeding in every mission they have given you, what more do you need to do for them to have faith in your abilities again? Reach for the moon? Because you are ready to do it if that’s the price to pay. You are desperate enough to do anything they would ask.

In reality, you are not worried at all about the upcoming mission because that is not a possibility. You don’t fail, ever, and if you need to give pieces of yourself and mind in order to complete a mission, then you are ready to do it without flinching.

No, your thoughts were occupied by something else —; or someone else. Something that was more difficult to manage because there is no guide to follow. This person is Natasha, and the cause of your worries is the moment you shared last night because you have no explanation for what happened —; you thought she hated you, and that you hated her. Aren’t you both supposed to despise each other for the pain you’ve caused? Then why do some of you still yearn for her presence? Why didn’t she reject you and, instead, decided to take care of your mess? This even wasn’t meant to be. The redhead is the last person that should have witnessed you in such a vulnerable state, and yet she is the one you have sought attention from, the only one you needed last night —; and you hate that. You hate how your feelings are still the same even after so many years.

That is exactly why, the second the woman that is haunting your thoughts stepped in the room, you left it, pretending that you needed to get ready for the mission. There is no way that the way you walked out of the room, leaving your untouched breakfast behind you, didn’t bring questions to their minds but you were long gone before any of them could say something.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.

. ☁ ˚ ⤳ TAG LIST — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @escapereality4music, @fxckmiup, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

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deesixxs · 2 days

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CW; breeding k!nk, slight choking k!nk, very rough and dark!abby. That’s all I can really think of, have fun!

Authors note:

Dni if ageless, under 18 or a man!!

Thank you for reading this, this is my first ever time writing a fic, if I need to do anything to improve please let me know! This is the raw unedited version and I hope you enjoy

Love yall!

You have never been so bored, so horny. Abby was at the gym and you had nothing to do except lay on the bed and wait around. You groan and you grumble when an idea pops into your mind. Sure, it’s dumb and possibly dangerous. You decide to give Abby a call. Calls are only reserved for emergencies but you being this horny should count as one. The phone rings and you are met with no answer. You try again about 4 more times before she answers. “Is it an emergency?!” She sounds panicked. “I’m horny and I need you.” You respond back. She’s furious. “Really? Are you serious? Fuckin’ wait until I’m home” she hangs up the phone and you got the answer you expect, but not the one you wanted. You wanted her to speed home and fuck you the moment she walks in the door. You begin to grow impatient and start to touch yourself, you pick up your phone and take a picture, sending it to Abby. You know it will drive her mad and it will get you in trouble, but maybe that’s the fun of it. You don’t receive a message back, she only leaves you on read. It’s what you would expect from her but still, you wish you could see her face when she received the picture. About 10 minutes later you hear the door slam and a heavy bang of her gym bag on the floor. The sound of footsteps filling your ears along with the fast thump of your heart. You know you’re in deep shit. The door slams open and you feel hands wrap around your ankles and pull you towards the end of the bed. The blonde girl sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and then props you over her knee. You know what’s about to happen. And you know it’s going to hurt and there will be no mercy. “Fucking whore. You couldn’t wait hm? You wanted to get punished didn’t you? So fucking stupid.” She strikes your ass open palmed with a thwack. “Answer me you little shit. You wanted this?” Your mind races, barely able to form coherent thoughts. “Y-yes” you finally mumble out before another blow meets your round, and now red ass. She grabs you by your hair and throws you onto the bed, your ass up in the air, facing her. She places her cold hand against your spine and pushes down, making you arch. Without warning she licks a fat stripe from your clit all the way to your hole. She slurps up all your juices mercilessly. She kneads your ass and smacks it once more before grabbing you by your neck and pulling your back to her chest, you let out a small whimper and a yelp. “You gonna be a good girl and listen to me? Huh, princess?” Her hot breath tickling your ear and your neck. She pushes you with full force back against the bed before she stands back up. You already know what she’s going to grab, you don’t have to see to know what’s going on. You hear her rummage through the closet before pulling out a black box. She pulls out a breeding strap and buckles it to her hips. She sits back on the bed and without warning she slams deep into you, immediately hitting your cervix. You let out a loud yelp and your back arches upward. It hurts, the immediate impact to your insides. She doesn’t care, she keeps going and continues to pound fastly into you. “God, so fucking tight. Look how this pussy just swallows and begs for my cock.” She whispers in between thrusts. You can feel her hips start to falter and her breaths get quicker, you know she is about to cum, and so are you. You’re quick to get to the edge just before she runs her finger over your clit, rubbing tight circles. It makes you cum instantly, you let out a loud moan of pleasure, “good fucking girl, just wait, I need to cum..” she’s overstimulating you, chasing her own release, and just as she cums, you feel a warm fluid filling your insides, you can feel it drip down your thighs, she pulls out in awe, seeing the cum drip out of your wet and puffy pussy. She is quick to take off the strap and grab you water. “Here, drink” she passes you the water and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead. “Was I too rough? Are you ok? I’m sor-“ you cut her off with a kiss to shut her up “it was perfect my girl, I love you”

#abby anderson #fic rec #smut #the last of us #tlou smut #tlou2

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hotgirlssupportlando · 14 hours

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one day x lando norris pt 4

this is a part of my series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and lando's lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. ofc not a smooth ride with some angst and fights along the way. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. read first part here pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of this part: y/n attending lando's first home race in f1, but her expectations weren't really met warnings: kinda sad :( wc: 1,4k a/n: probably a couple of sad parts now in this series but bear with me!! a one day -series can't only be rainbows and butterflies hehe

summer of 2019

Silverstone Circuit, England

y/n was beyond excited getting her invite from lando to attend his first ever home race in f1. she couldn’t believ that the random boy she had met a few years ago now was one of the top twenty drivers in the world. seeing her best friend advancing in the sport truly made her proud, who would’ve thought he’d be going this far? since day one she had always supported her friend both on track and at distance, nowadays most through late night facetime calls as she was still in Edinburgh studying and Lando traveling all around the world.

however, now after being months apart the pair would finally meet again and oh my, was she excited!! she couldn’t help but smile sitting in the taxi on her way to silverstone, headphones in listening to her and landos shared playlist. she fiddled with her mclaren paddock pass that already, proudly, was hanging around her neck, closely reading (for maybe the hundredth time) that all the personal information was correct, it would be just typical lan to spell something wrong and causing her trouble. as soon as the paddock pass had arrived in the mail at her uni dorm she had started planning her outfit, carefully picking out clothes and accessories that would perfectly match the colours on the pass. as the self-conscious being she was, she wanted to be prepared, not wanting to make a fool of herself or lando by turning up as a girl who didn’t look like she belonged there.

now she was sat stroking her new white dress, contemplating whether it was too boring or too much, and what would lando think, would he like it? and why didn’t she take the other dress instead, it would have looked much better! her mind was racing, overthinking every little thing that came to mind and her worries quickly aggravated looking outside the cab window at all the beautifully looking fans that stood waiting outside the paddock hoping to see their favourite drive appear from one of the taxis. oh well, she thought, there’s nothing i can do about it now. she took a deep breath before exiting the car, shyly walking toward the entrance where she blipped her paddock pass and quickly rushed away headed towards the big mclaren sign in the distance. overwhelmed by the situation she just wanted to see lando, knowing that his presence would calm her nerves.

after some walking she finally arrived at the mclaren hospitality, almost immediately spotting jon, lando’s trainer. ”hi we’ve only seen each other through facetime but i’m y/n l/n, landos friend”, she said approaching jon. ”oh hello, i thought i recognized you from somewhere!” he smiled, ”you’re probably looking for lando?”. y/n nodded smilingly. jon looked around a bit worried, telling her that he should be here somewhere but that his schedule had been a bit hectic this race day morning. she was offered to wait in the hospitality while jon was gonna go tell lando that she had arrived. with a good mood she went and grabbed a tea, sitting at a table that overlooked mclaren’s part of the pit lane.

after scrolling a bit on her phone and texting her friend, she saw in her periphery, more specifically in the garage, a familiar looking boy. he was giving some fangirls a tour around the garage, letting one and one test sit in his car. he looked so happy, being in his element. after a short while jon approached lando, and by his lips y/n could read something about her arrival. landos reaction was cute, he seemed excited that she was there but didn’t seem ready to come meet her just yet. y/n was just glad she had seen him at a distance and didn’t mind waiting for some time longer, she had already waited several months so what harm could another hour do?

if it only had been an hour or two or even three.. patiently she sat waiting, looking at the clock seeing it was nearly time for race preparations. nope, she thought, if she wanted to see him she would need to take it into her own hands, and that’s what she did. confidently she walked the same route she had seen jon take to the garage and after getting lost a couple times she found a visitor friendly spot. at the same place other high paying fans were stood looking at the team doing their pre race preparations. lando, as the kind boy he was, of course greeted the fans and let them take pictures with him. shortly after he spotted y/n who stood with a huge smile and open arms to greet him in an usual hug, but she wasn’t met by the same excitement. a rather cold and quick hug was what she got, from a boy that felt unexpectedly unfamiliar. a bit caught of guard by the reception and embarrassed by the amount of people that had seen this awkward encounter she felt like running far away. somehow she managed to still ask lando if their agreed meetup after the race was still on, to which she received a short ”yeah, sure”.

stunned from the whole situation she went back up to the hospitality and watched the race in some kind of haze. wtf was that? she didn’t have to be here, lando was the one that invited her there, didn’t some good old kindness include in that package? presumably not then. her thoughts wandered, shocked that the boy she had known for years abruptly was someone totally else, just because they weren’t alone, the two of them, as they usually was. or was she overreacting? maybe it wasn’t that bad. or maybe this was her fault? she could’ve put a bit more makeup on and change the dress so that she would’ve been prettier, maybe that was the problem, that she wasn’t as pretty as the other girls in the paddock.

in the middle of her overthinking someone patted her on the shoulder making her jump of fear out of her seat. ”sorry sorry sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you” a familiar voice half laughed, half tried to sound serious. she turned around meeting a pair of kind brown eyes, it was carlos sainz she remembered, lando’s teammate. ”are you waiting for someone?” he asked. y/n looked at the clock, it was late, somehow she had been thinking about her own problems so long that she hadn’t noticed that the race was done ages ago and that the other hospitality guests had gone home. ”oh yeah, i was waiting for lando, he’s my friend, but i guess he has forgotten about me.. again” y/n said not covering her disappointment very well. carlos smiled compassionately, like he understood, ”i’m sorry.. i remember when i was new to f1, everything’s so new and exciting that sometimes the one’s that has been with you from the start gets left behind..”. ”well, thats assuring” y/n laughed quietly as she felt her eyes tearing up. ”noo sorry, y/n was it? i didn’t mean to upset you, what i meant to say was that in the beginning you get kind of caught up in the fame and girls running after you, but when you settle in to the sport you sooner or later understand who the real one’s are” he said and gently hugged you afterwards. y/n sniffled after the hug ”well i hope so.. this wasn’t at all what i expected from this day” she sighed walking towards the door out of the hospitality. ”i’m certain he will come around, some new drivers take more time than others to realize that all the new attention is just empty and fake, nothing that can compare to a girl that waited the clock around to hopefully see her friend” he smiled trying to cheer y/n up. a small smile cracked on her face as she thanked him whilst they walked out of hospitality together.

they didn’t have to walk very far before she heard lando’s familiar laugh, y/n turning around to spot lando in the distance, flirting with some very beautiful girls, noticing how he didn’t have a thought in the world about his old friend. she felt her heart sink and eyes tearing up again, was she really that forgettable? if anything, it only confirmed all her self-conscious thoughts. carlos that was walking beside her noticed the same as her and immediately connected his eyes with y/n’s, giving her a compassionate look while hugging her from the side. ”don’t you worry darling, remember my words”

_____

taglist

@amberpanda99 @phantomxoxo @landossainz @chezmardybum @lan4cha16 @tvdtw4ever @starlit-skiessss @dorothea47

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phoenixyfriend · 2 days

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Secret Son of a Disgraced King

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker does in fact have a biological father! Now if only someone could get the man to pick the up the damn comm so they could do a paternity test to confirm!

Initially brainstormed on tumblr here.

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

Shmi is twenty-seven years of age, in transit as chattel, on the day she meets Jango Fett. They do not share any duties, as Shmi has been deemed more useful as a face to sell for maid work or bar service than in the hold, processing spice. Not pretty enough for a brothel, maybe, but enough for service. They still want to get some use out of her, for time she is with them, and so she is set handle the injured until they see fit to sell her.

Jango is what they deem 'strong-willed' and 'poorly-behaved.' Words better suited to an eopie than a sapient being. He is punished more often than the other slaves, and sent back to work twice as soon. Shmi sees him over and again to bandage him with diluted, expired bacta, to stitch up broken skin and press ice to bruised eyes. She is no true nurse, but nobody expects her to be. Not the slaves, and not their masters.

"If you ever get out," Fett tells her, "You could probably get a degree in this. Be a medic. Your hands are steady enough for it."

"There is no getting out," Shmi says, "not for the likes of us."

She will change her tune eventually, but this, now, is a low point in her life. Not the lowest it'll ever be, no, but she is not yet climbing out. It will be years she stops digging.

"It'll be a damn long time before I give up my dreams of vengeance," Fett tells her. He says it with a mad grin that doesn't meet his eyes. "It's what keeps me warm at night."

The sleeping cells are freezing at night, in contrast to the hellish heat of the spice processing room.

"There are other ways to stay warm," Shmi says.

She thinks nothing of it at the time, but when she heads to bed, Fett grabs her wrist and raises a brow.

"Staying warm alright?" he asks.

She considers, then, "I'm looking to get some more sleep, I'll admit."

(Continue on AO3)

#Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Referenced:#Satine Kryze #jangoshmi #obitine #phoenix files #star wars #the clone wars #one shot

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helen-with-an-a · 2 days

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it’s my birthday!! Could we get some amor and alexia hcs?? No worries if not

Happy birthday sweet anon - wishing u all the best. So I have a specific birthday hc coming out for my birthday in November but here’s a mix of ideas

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

They play footsie under the table whenever they can

Ingrid is Amor’s best friend - they played together at Wolfsburg before they came to Barça

Amor doesn’t tan like ever - she tries really hard but either just stays her normal skin shade or burns

Alexia finds it hilarious that Amor can’t tan

They read a book together before bed - Amor reads out loud with Alexia on her chest, playing with her hair and legs tangled together

Alexia once gave Amor a black eye from rolling over in the night and whacking her in the face - Ale was inconsolable when she woke up in the morning and saw what she did

Insta photo dumps are a must - Amor does them monthly (excluding the game day ones and promos etc) and the caption is just the month and year; Ale does them less often (usually ever 3 ish months or if they’ve been on holiday etc) and her caption is a either blank or a load of emojis

Birthday photo dumps every year - Amor’s photos for Ale are usually candid ones Amor has taken, a few photos of the Polaroids from their dates and then a few selfies of her and Ale, the caption is usually something she finds really funny like “everyone say thank you to Eli” or “she’s officially old” ; for Ale’s photos for Amor’s birthdays it’s pretty much the same vibe (maybe a few slightly more unflattering ones) but the captions are always mushy (e.g., so grateful to spend my life with you, mi amor. I love you to the moon and back. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays) - it’s the one time fans see how sappy Ale truly is (it’s nothing compared to the speech she gave Amor about just how much she loves her)

When they eventually do have kids, they break the internet again by just posting a black and white picture of Alexia carrying a baby car seat out of the hospital and a the caption, Baby Putellas (date of birth) [they actually post the photo about 6 months after the baby’s been born] and never mentions it again - they are never spotted with kids or anything at games and everyone is so confused how they are hiding a whole ass child

Amor and Ale go on to have 3 kids - a boy first, a good 6 year age gap then twin girls (no one besides friends and family know their names or genders or anything actually - each birth announcement was 6 months after they were born and was just a black and white photo of Alexia carrying car seats and the date and they never addressed it) - they have never been spotted at games or anything like that (they hire 3 very trusted baby sitters and use them on rotation and make them essentially just random kids in the crowd and they only ever go to important matches in person and there’s no interaction until Eli and/or Alba collect them from the hotel/their house)

Ale just has to be touching Amor in some way if they’re in the same room - either legs touching if they sit next to each other, or they hold hands, if it’s in private (but not alone) it’s either Amor in Ale’s lap or Ale’s arm around Amor’s shoulder and Amor holding that hand, in private (completely alone) Ale is holding Amor (either she’s got her head on Amor’s chest) or her arms are around Amor’s waist if they’re standing up

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stephsageek · 1 day

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A preview of the Five x Lila one-shot I'm working on:

“Seriously?” she demanded.

“’Seriously’ what?” he deadpanned.

“Well, it’s Friday-bloody-night!”

“And?”

“Oi! What do you mean ‘and?’ You know damn well, I only get one night a month! One night where I make up an excuse to hang out, get out of the house, and let down my hair! And here you are, washing bloody dishes! Is that honestly all we’re going to be doing tonight?! I might as well be sitting in front of the telly watching the last of Diego’s brain cells die off while he watches Naked and Afraid!”

“What? You got a hot date with somebody else?” he quipped, tossing the towel he’d been using over his shoulder and opening a cabinet to his right. “Believe it or not, Lila, but I am not here on this planet to entertain you. You're the one who invites herself over just as an excuse to get out of the house--that has nothing to do with how I plan on spending my evening. A night of actual drinking and reading is plenty for me. I’m not the one living in a ‘domestic hellscape.’”

“Why do you have to be such an old man all the time?!” she whined.

“Maybe because I am an old man, crazy lady,” he replied, sounding unbothered, as he began to put dishes back into cabinets. Even with his back turned, Lila could hear the smile in his words. He thought this was funny!

“Believe me, I am more than aware,” she huffed.

“Don’t like it, toots, go darken somebody else’s doorstep for ‘book club,’ or whatever the hell other B.S. you feed that half-wit brother of mine,” Five snarked as he finished his chore.

He finally turned to face her, resting one hip against the counter. Lila noted he must have had a long day that day judging by the stubble along his jaw. And yet, despite his protests to the contrary, he didn't kick her out. If he didn't want her around bothering him, why give her his spare key? She watched him smile, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly in amusement. It was still strange seeing the signs of his advancing age. She’d gotten so used to him being so young that Lila found herself disconcerted to realize he was nearing physically twenty years old soon.

“C’mon, old man! Give a girl a break! I’m trapped in a bad episode of The Brady Brunch and Mr. Brady is a whiney sod!”

Five didn’t react other than to chuckle. He casually went over to another cabinet and retrieved a bottle of wine. He turned back to Lila and tipped the bottle, silently offering. She jutted her lip stubbornly. His smile widened. He turned back, returning with a bottle of scotch. He lifted his eyebrows invitingly.

Lila grinned and nodded.

Five nodded back, retrieved a pair of glasses, and went to get ice from the fridge while Lila continued with her diatribe. “I am trapped in a loveless marriage; I’m surrounded by needy people day in and day out! It’s nothing but an endless stream of carting around children, appeasing grumpy forgetful old people—no offense—”

“—None taken—”

“—trying to tune out gossipy aunties, and stroking an inept man-child’s ego! Five, I want to do something fun for a change! Something exciting! And my best and frankly only mate is a boring ass sexagenarian! Do you have any idea how sad that is?! That you of all people are the only one I look forward to seeing anymore! I love my kids and folks, sure; but it's not the same! You seriously don't have anything planned?”

Five shrugged looking non-plussed. Lila shook her head, dismayed.

“You’d think working as a time-traveling assassin and then as a government agent, you’d have developed a personality besides being annoying and uptight!”

Lila threw herself onto the table, her arms outstretched and her forehead landing on the hard surface with a knock.

She heard Five sit down across from her, patiently waiting. He sat her drink within her reach.

“Alright. I’ll bite; what did you have in mind?”

Lila turned her head slightly, peeking an eye out from between the heavy fringe of her bangs. “You’ll let me pick?”

Five sighed but smiled indulgently. “I suppose if I’m your only friend, than that means you’re my only friend too; I suppose I can be generous to somebody so pathetic as to call me of all people their friend.”

Lila sat up so quickly that Five flinched, drawing back ever so slightly in surprise.

She reached into her pocket and slapped a deck of cards on the table between them.

Five lifted an amused eyebrow. “Cards? And you call me old—”

“Not just cards, my dear man—poker!”

“Poker’s hardly what I’d call—”

“Oh! But I didn’t finish!” Lila wagged her finger, opening the cards and spreading them out on the table.

Five glanced down and reached across the space to pick out one of the jokers Lila had been searching for, removing it from the others and setting it aside.

“Oh? What’ll it be? Five-card draw?” He grinned ironically as Lila swatted at his fingers so she could dig out the other joker and set aside the ‘rules’ card. He continued. “Texas hold ‘em? Omaha?” Five took a long draw of his drink.

“Strip poker!”

Pfff!

Five expelled his drink, coughing into his fist after.

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #lila pitts #we're gonna pretend there was no cleanse #five x lila #fanfic preview #fanfic writing #tua fanfic #five x lila fanfic #this is for an ask

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desecrated-guacamole · 3 days

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I know I’m *checks watch* twelve years late coming to this realization, and two years late to talking about it when it would’ve been at all relevant, but godDAMN

Young Justice wastes NO time being good after season 1. The producers really just said “hey, y’know all the characters and relationships you’ve loved seeing develop for the past 26 episodes? Well actually, fuck that, fuck them, and fuck you! Everything’s different now, everyone’s developed in new ways that you won’t get to see, but not even in a way that makes sense for a FIVE YEAR TIME-JUMP!”

Take Robin for example; in the five years that take place offscreen, Dick becomes Nightwing, Batman recruits Jason Todd as the new Robin, Jason Todd gets killed, and Batman recruits Tim Drake as the new-new Robin (oh and also Barbara Gordon becomes Batgirl). I love the Batfamily, but I can barely call it the Batfamily when we don’t ever actually see them becoming a fucking family! We don’t get to see Dick struggle with his mentor’s legacy, we don’t see Jason struggle to live up to the Robin that came before, or Barbara picking up crime fighting despite what Bruce tells her to do because fuck that guy. We don’t get to see any of them grieve Jason, we don’t get to see Bruce go off the deep-end, only to be brought back by a young Tim Drake, who shows him what makes Batman, well, Batman; helping those in need, saving people.

INSTEAD, we’re introduced to two characters we knew that are now wildly different with ZERO explanation as to why, and one that we’ve never seen before and is (so far in my watch) severely underwritten, but because they’re the characters we love from the comics we’re supposed to love them here. It’s using the iconography of the characters to get us invested without putting in any of the actual work DEVELOPING them as people. It’d be one thing if this was the first time we met any of them, but we’ve already been introduced to Barbara, and we’ve spent an entire season with Dick, but now both of them have undergone massive development we aren’t made privy to.

I read an interview with Greg Weisman talking about the time jump, and he says this;

“We wanted a big time jump between the first two seasons to truly illustrate what our series was about, i.e. GROWING UP. After that, honestly, it’s more about what feels right. There are always things we want to skip, so that they become reveals.”

Man, I wonder if maybe allowing the audience to actually watch the characters grow and change might illustrate that growing up thing better than just skipping ahead so you can make it a reveal??? Imagine a show where we get to see these characters grow up together, maybe even grow apart, some leave, some stay, some are replaced, some come back. Like, imagine getting to see Dick reckon with the fact that Batman REPLACED HIM, only to watch that replacement die! Imagine getting to see Tim Drake come to Dick for advice, instead of just skipping ahead to the point that they’re already an established team. Imagine getting to see M’gann help Gar learn to use his powers for the first time. Imagine the team throwing a goodbye party for Wally and Artemis! Imagine seeing Wally and Artemis continue to develop their relationship instead of just jumping to them being fully moved in and together! WE WERE ROBBED!!

Like I’m still gonna watch it (not in the least because my roommate’s already seen it) but I need everyone to know I’m doing it under duress. I love these characters, and they did not deserve this lazy bullshit. I do not understand how Greg Weisman made Spectacular Spider-Man because HOLY SHIT the writing decisions made on this show are pissing me off, and don’t even get me STARTED ON CONNOR AND M’GANN BECAUSE WHAT THE FU

#young justice #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #dc robin #kaldur'ahm #aqualad #mgann morzz #miss martian #wally west #kid flash #connor kent #superboy #artemis crock #barbara gordon #batgirl #jason todd #tim drake #greg weisman

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rainforestakiie · 2 days

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Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer part 04

The Imp

hi everyone! i am back with the fourth instalment of @inubaki’s request! i think there might be one last part after this? maybe two! it is all leading up to something~ can't wait for everyone to read it!

‘A Priest observing that one of fathers in his charge seems to be heavily distracted by something no one else can see. Father Adam had come to them young, an unwanted fourth child to a Nobel family hoping to gain the church’s favor. Life is hard for Adam whim continues to wait for his family to return for him, growing into despair until one day he suddenly improves. He claims he’s spoken to an angel. And, to his credit, does give information far beyond what any child should know. But the older Adam gets, the more distracted he becomes. More happy, but conflicted. Till one day he disappears.'

The Imp (Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

By the time Adam reached his sixteenth birthday, the nuns of the church began to act... strangely. Their behaviour shifted in subtle but unsettling ways, like shadows moving just out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t the birthday celebration that unnerved him, there was no fanfare, no candles or songs, but the way they seemed to watch him, their eyes filled with something he couldn't quite decipher.

Sister Sera, normally soft-spoken and kind, now looked at him with a gaze that sent a chill creeping down his spine. She lingered too long in doorways, her once-gentle hands trembling ever so slightly as she clasped her rosary beads. Sister Uriel, the one who always offered a warm smile, now barely looked at him, her face pale and gaunt as if she’d seen something dreadful that she refused to speak of.

Their whispers grew louder, too. Hushed conversations behind thick wooden doors would fall to silence the moment Adam drew near, only to start up again in a frantic murmur once he passed. He began to feel as though he was an intruder in the place, he had called home for as long as he could remember.

At night, it was worse. The air in the church grew thick, almost suffocating. His room, usually a sanctuary of peace, felt heavy with an unseen presence. The crucifix above his bed seemed to cast strange, jagged shadows across the walls, distorting and shifting in ways that made his heart pound. Sometimes, just on the edge of sleep, he swore he heard something—a faint scratching from behind the walls, as if something was trying to get in.

He couldn't understand why turning sixteen had such a weight to it. Why did the nuns look at him with a mix of fear and pity, as though he were marked for something unspeakable? Their prayers became louder, more desperate, the candles in the chapel flickering wildly as if a wind was passing through, but the windows were sealed tight.

It was as though they were waiting. Waiting for something that only they knew was coming. Something tied to him—something that grew closer with every passing day.

The harsh whispers of the other orphans slithered through the corridors like poison-laced smoke, curling around Adam’s ears and tightening in his chest. He kept his head low, his eyes fixed on the worn stone floor as he shuffled past the children who watched him with narrowed eyes. Every whisper felt like a dagger, sharp and malicious, stabbing deeper into his already fragile mind. Adam couldn’t understand why his sixteenth birthday seemed to isolate him even more, as if a silent decision had been made that he no longer belonged—if he ever had.

He had always kept to himself, never one for loud conversations or playful scuffles in the courtyard. But now, it felt different. It felt... deliberate. The church, once a place of quiet refuge, had become suffocating. The orphans, who had once merely ignored him, now seemed to actively avoid him, or worse, blame him. For what, Adam didn’t know.

As he turned a corner into one of the dimly lit hallways, the faint sound of sobbing reached his ears. Adam paused, glancing down the corridor to see a young girl, no older than eight, kneeling beside the large glass tank in the corner. Her small shoulders shook with each quiet sob.

Adam hesitated, his brow furrowing as he slowly approached. His gaze shifted from the girl to the tank—and he froze. The water, usually clear and alive with bright, darting fish, was now still. Too still. Every fish floated lifelessly, their bodies eerily suspended in the water, scales reflecting the dim light in dull patterns. All of them were dead.

A sick feeling churned in Adam's stomach. He wanted to comfort the girl, tell her everything would be alright, even though he wasn’t sure it would. He took a tentative step forward, but before he could reach her, Eveline shoved him hard. He stumbled back, his hands bracing against the cold stone wall to keep from falling.

She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. The glare she gave him said more than words could. Her dark eyes burned with accusation, with loathing. Adam swallowed, feeling his face grow hot under her gaze. He could feel the eyes of the other girls now, all of them staring at him with the same hostile look. They didn’t say it out loud, but he could hear it in their silence—they blamed him for the fish, for everything.

His throat tightened. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. Instead, he turned and hurried away, his steps quick and uneven. The whispers behind him grew louder, harsher.

"Omen," they hissed. "Bad luck."

Adam's breath grew shallow as the words circled around him like vultures, picking at his mind.

Everything goes wrong when Adam’s around.

The words echoed louder, bouncing off the high walls of the church in his head. He hadn’t done anything—he didn’t understand why they hated him so much. His legs weakened, and he stumbled down by the towering grandfather clock at the end of the corridor, his hands trembling as he curled into himself. His vision blurred, and his chest ached as he gasped for air, panic rising like a storm inside him.

The whispers continued. He could hear them—he could feel them.

He’s cursed.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him, and Adam jerked his head up, wide-eyed, heart pounding in his throat. But it wasn’t one of the bullies. It was Steve.

Steve knelt down next to him; his face etched with concern.

"Hey, it’s alright," he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. "Don’t listen to them, Adam. They’re just being cruel."

Adam tried to steady his breathing, but the whispers lingered, faint and insidious in the back of his mind. He flinched as Eveline’s mocking voice floated down the hallway, louder than the rest.

"Cursed," she spat. "Bad luck, that’s what you are."

Steve’s expression hardened. "I swear, if she doesn’t stop, I’ll—"

He started to stand, but Adam grabbed his hand, shaking his head desperately, his wide eyes begging him not to go.

Steve sighed, his anger melting into a soft understanding.

"Okay, okay, I won’t go," he said, giving Adam’s hand a gentle squeeze. "But if I hear her say one more thing, I’m not biting my tongue."

Adam managed a small nod, still sniffling as he tried to calm himself down. The trembling in his hands slowly lessened, and Steve offered him a warm smile, his eyes twinkling as he said, “How about we head back to our room? I’ll tell you one of my terrible jokes on the way.”

Despite everything, Adam couldn’t help but smile. Steve always knew how to make things feel less... heavy.

With Steve’s help, Adam stood, and together they made their way towards their shared room. Steve kept his promise, launching into a stream of ridiculous dad jokes, each one worse than the last, until Adam found himself laughing softly despite the lingering dread that clung to him.

But as they reached the top of the staircase, approaching the landing where their room was, both stopped. A shadow, faint but unmistakable, slithered across the wall and disappeared into their room.

Steve's arm shot out protectively, stopping Adam from stepping forward. His face darkened with suspicion as he glared at the door. "If this is another one of their stupid pranks..."

His voice trailed off into a low growl, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I swear, if they’ve messed with your stuff again, I’m telling Sister Sera this time."

Adam's stomach knotted as Steve marched toward the door, his voice rising. "Alright, we know you’re in there! Come out now, or—"

Steve’s voice faltered as he reached the doorway. His face twisted in disbelief; eyes wide.

Adam’s heart raced, curiosity mingling with fear. He hesitated, then, with trembling steps, he peeked around Steve, expecting to find their room ransacked, their belongings scattered in the usual cruel mess.

Inside the room, Adam expected chaos. The memory of last month's prank—the younger kids ransacking his things, throwing his belongings around like a cruel game—lingered in his mind. But this time, there was no mess. No scattered books, no overturned chair. The room was, at first glance, eerily neat... mostly clean. But it didn’t take long for Adam and Steve to notice something strange.

Black rose petals. Crispy, brittle, and dry as if scorched by some unseen fire. They were scattered across the floor in a deliberate path, leading from the doorway straight to Adam's bed. Adam’s pulse quickened. The dark petals felt out of place, sinister. His gaze followed the trail, and his heart skipped when he saw it—on his bed, nestled like a gift wrapped in death, was a large, beautiful bouquet of black roses. They were impossibly dark, each petal a velvety black, absorbing the dim light from the window.

Coiled around the base of the bouquet, a stark white snake lay perfectly still, its smooth body draped like a ribbon. Its eyes were half-lidded, tongue flickering lazily in and out. For a moment, Adam stood frozen, his mouth dry. His instincts screamed to back away, to run. The image of the snake contrasted sharply with the stillness of the room, like a silent predator waiting to strike.

But something strange urged him closer.

Steve stood behind him, staring in confusion. “Who the hell leaves a snake as a birthday present?” he muttered. “That’s... weird.”

Adam swallowed hard; his throat tight as he edged toward the bed. The snake remained still, almost docile. With shaky hands, he reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed the snake’s cool, smooth scales. To his surprise, the serpent didn’t react violently. Instead, it slithered lazily across his lap, its body coiling and uncoiling with soft, slow movements. The snake’s hissing was gentle, barely audible, as though it was whispering something only Adam could hear.

Adam blinked, finding himself strangely... calm. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand running over the bouquet of black roses. The scent that rose from them was intoxicating—a rich, sweet fragrance that flooded his senses. For a moment, all the tension drained from his body. He sighed, holding the roses close to his chest, as if the flowers offered him some unspoken comfort.

But Adam has no idea. He had no family…

Steve raised an eyebrow, scratching his head. “Yeah, well, it’s... odd. I mean, black roses? A snake?”

His gaze drifted down to the petals on the floor. His eyes narrowed, and he knelt down, running his hand over the path of blackened petals.

“Am I tripping, or do these look like they’re arranged in a pentagram?”

Adam glanced at the floor; his curiosity piqued. But when he looked, the pattern didn’t immediately make sense to him. It was just petals, scattered in strange directions. He shrugged; the weight of the flowers still pressed close to his chest.

Steve stood up, shaking his head. "Maybe it's nothing."

With a huff, Steve turned his attention to his own bed, muttering about pranks and younger kids. He pulled the quilt back, fully expecting to collapse into the familiar comfort of his bedding. But instead, what he found turned his face pale, his mouth twisting into a grimace of disgust.

From beneath the quilt spilled writhing maggots, pale and slimy, squirming over thick patches of moist, black dirt. Worms writhed between the sheets, tangling together in a grotesque, pulsating mass. The stench hit them next—a damp, earthy smell, pungent with rot.

Steve’s horrified gasp echoed through the room, loud and guttural. He staggered back, his voice shaking with fury.

"What the—! Adam, what the hell is this?!" His voice cracked as he cursed, his face twisted with rage and disgust. "I’m gonna kill those brats! This isn’t funny! This is sick!"

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, cold fear washing over him as he stared at the infested bed. His breath came in short gasps, his fingers clenching tighter around the roses. Steve stormed toward the door, throwing it open with a fury Adam had never seen in him before.

“I swear to God, if I find out who did this, I’m telling Sister Sera right now!” Steve’s voice echoed down the hallway as he disappeared, his footsteps heavy with anger.

Adam sat frozen on the edge of his bed; his wide green eyes glued to the squirming mess that had been Steve’s bedding. His grip on the bouquet tightened, his thoughts racing. He didn’t understand why this was happening. Why were they targeting him again? What had he done?

The room felt suffocating, thick with an unnatural tension. The white snake, still draped lazily across his lap, slithered over his shoulder, it’s cool body pressing against his neck. Adam’s breath hitched, but then he felt something strange—something unsettling.

The snake’s head gently nuzzled his cheek, almost affectionately. It moved slowly, deliberately. And then—was that a laugh?

Adam blinked, his heart skipping a beat. He could’ve sworn the snake had... laughed. A low, soft sound, almost like a faint chuckle. But that couldn’t be right. Snakes don’t laugh. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away, but the eerie sensation lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a thick fog.

The petals on the floor shifted slightly, as if moved by an unseen breeze.

And deep inside him, something shifted, like a slow crack forming in the walls of his carefully contained world. Adam’s green eyes drifted back to the bouquet of black roses cradled in his lap, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. A soft, almost timid curve of his lips. The black petals, once ominous, now seemed beautiful in his hands—delicate, fragile, like something precious.

It was the first time anyone had given him flowers.

The thought sent warmth spreading through his chest, melting away the icy tendrils of fear that had been gripping him moments before. Adam’s fingers brushed over the velvet-like petals, his touch gentle, reverent. He had never received a gift like this—never been given anything with such a strange, intimate care. His mind wandered, his heartbeat slowing as a familiar name crept into his thoughts.

“Are… are…” he began softly, his voice barely a whisper as he glanced at the small white snake coiled around his neck. It’s cool, smooth body pressed against his skin like a comforting weight. Adam licked his dry lips and, for the first time in what felt like years, he allowed a soft, genuine smile to form.

“Are these a gift from… Luci?”

The name fell from his lips like a secret, hidden away for too long. Luci. The Imp. His Imp. The thought of Luci made Adam's heart swell, the melancholy that had wrapped around him for so long lifting, even if only for a moment. He hadn’t seen the little creature in over a year—not since the last time he’d been utterly alone, buried beneath the crushing weight of the orphanage’s cold, indifferent walls. Luci had always appeared when he was most vulnerable, when the sadness became too much to bear.

And now, with the bouquet of black roses in his arms, Adam couldn't shake the feeling that Luci had returned in some way. Even though the Imp wasn’t here physically, Adam could sense the connection, like an invisible thread pulling him back to those moments where Luci had made everything better.

The snake, with its calm, slithering movements, rubbed its small head against his cheek, as if in answer. The soft, cool pressure felt... affectionate. Reassuring.

Adam’s smile widened, his heart soaring with a childlike joy.

So, the roses were from Luci!

He pulled the bouquet closer to his chest, hugging the flowers tightly. The sweet, intoxicating scent filled his lungs, calming him. The strange weight of the day—the stares, the accusations, the dead fish, the maggots in Steve’s bed—seemed to fade into the background. None of it mattered anymore. Not when Luci was thinking of him. Not when the Imp had remembered him after all this time.

As he cuddled the flowers, his thoughts drifted back to the first time he’d seen Luci. He had been younger then, maybe ten or eleven, and utterly broken by the cruelty of the other children. It had been after a particularly awful prank that left him bruised and bleeding, and that night, in the dark corner of the chapel, Luci had appeared—a small, shadowy figure with mischievous eyes and a grin too wide for its face. Luci had never spoken a word, but Adam had understood. The Imp had made the pain go away, if only for a little while.

And now, Adam was sure Luci had returned, in some subtle, invisible way. The white snake nuzzling him, the black roses with their mysterious scent... they were all signs. Signs that Luci hadn’t forgotten him.

Still clutching the bouquet, Adam stood up slowly, his heart fluttering with excitement. The weight of the snake, now lazily draped across his shoulders, felt like a protective cloak, keeping him safe from the cruelty of the outside world.

Steve was still gone, likely yelling at Sister Sera about the mess in his bed, but Adam didn’t care. All he could think about was Luci, the strange, comforting presence that had once filled his life with a quiet, mischievous magic.

He glanced at the petals on the floor again. Steve had said something about them being arranged in a pentagram, but Adam didn’t see it that way. To him, they were part of Luci’s gift—an offering of beauty and mystery, just like the Imp had always been.

Adam’s fingers absentmindedly stroked the snake’s smooth, white body as he stood by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. His mind drifted, lost in the memory of Luci’s wide grin, the way the Imp had made him feel seen in a world that had otherwise forgotten him.

A soft, gentle hiss escaped the snake’s mouth, and Adam couldn’t help but smile again. Maybe the snake wasn’t Luci, but it was a reminder—a reminder that, even in the darkness, there were small moments of magic meant only for him.

As the last of the sunlight faded, casting long, eerie shadows across the room, Adam stood there, clutching the roses to his chest, feeling an odd sense of peace. Whatever had changed inside him, whatever connection had been rekindled with Luci, it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

But beneath the calm, something darker lingered—a whisper in the back of his mind, soft and persistent. A feeling that this gift, beautiful as it was, had a purpose. That perhaps Luci wasn’t done with him yet.

“I think I will call you Basil.”

~#~

The days blended into one another as Adam and Steve became inseparable. Adam, mute and withdrawn, found solace in Steve’s presence, his constant companionship a balm to the loneliness that gnawed at him. Steve seemed to understand him without words, offering his quiet jokes and warm touches instead of prying questions. It was a sweet, gentle connection that Adam had never known before.

Adam couldn't go outside in the sun—his pale skin reacted violently to it—so Steve opted to stay inside with him, spending long hours in the dim corridors of the church, in the dusty, forgotten corners where the sunlight barely touched. When Adam sat in the library, his sanctuary, Steve would sit next to him, their knees brushing together and shoulders touching. There was a warmth to Steve’s presence, one that made Adam’s heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Always, Adam had Basil, his little white snake, curled around his wrist or resting on his shoulder. The snake had become his constant companion, a creature that seemed to understand his silence better than anyone. But Basil didn’t take kindly to Steve. Whenever Steve would get too close, the snake would hiss, its tongue flicking out aggressively, eyes narrowing in warning.

Steve, of course, made light of it, smiling that crooked grin that always made Adam's stomach flutter.

“Basil’s our love child, you know,” Steve would say with a wink, reaching out to ruffle Adam’s hair. “He’s just mad ‘cause he doesn’t accept me as Papa yet.”

Basil would hiss in response, and Adam would blush deeply, his face turning scarlet. He’d bury his head in the bouquet of black roses still resting on his nightstand, hiding his burning cheeks. The joke lodged in his mind, making him wonder—if Steve was the “Papa,” did that make him the “mother”? The thought embarrassed him further, his thoughts tangled and confused.

But then, like a dark whisper creeping into his mind, Adam would remember Luci. His Imp, his protector. He thought of the delicate China-doll family he’d once created with Luci, an imaginary world where they belonged together. It felt real, so real, even though the Imp had been gone for a long time now. While Steve was here, by his side day in and day out, Luci’s absence hung over him like a shadow. Adam adored Luci, more than anything, but the Imp was hardly ever around. He wondered, conflicted, if he was betraying Luci somehow by growing so close to Steve.

Adam often found himself watching Steve when he thought the older boy wouldn’t notice—admiring his bright red hair, the way his freckles dotted his sun-kissed skin, like stars in a night sky. Adam wanted to reach out, to trace those freckles with his fingers, to count each one like a secret only he could uncover.

One afternoon, as they sat side by side in the library, Adam caught himself staring again, lost in thought, admiring how beautiful Steve looked in the soft light filtering through the tall windows. His eyes traced the sharp angles of Steve’s face, the way his lips curled up in that ever-present smirk.

Steve, sensing the attention, turned his head and caught Adam’s gaze. His grin widened, teasing.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a wink.

Adam’s face flushed crimson, his heart leaping into his throat. He quickly turned away, embarrassed and flustered, but Steve laughed—soft and joyful, a sound that made Adam’s heart skip a beat.

Steve leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s ear. “I kind of like it when you look, you know,” he whispered, his voice low and playful.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, his pulse quickening. He turned back to Steve, his green eyes wide with confusion and hope, but before he could process the moment, a deafening bang shattered the quiet of the library.

Both boys jumped to their feet, startled. Adam’s heart raced, panic rising in his chest. The sound had come from somewhere deep within the library, and it was followed by the creaking groan of wood—heavy, ancient bookshelves shifting unnaturally.

Steve grabbed Adam’s hand, yanking him out of the narrow corridor between the shelves just in time to see the entire row of bookshelves begin to topple over, one by one. Like dominos, they fell, crashing down with a force that made the room shudder. Dust and old, forgotten books filled the air, the ground trembling beneath their feet as each towering shelf slammed into the next.

Adam’s eyes grew wide with terror. His heart pounded against his ribs as he stared at the destruction unfolding in front of him. It was as if the library itself was collapsing in on them, the walls closing in, the air growing heavy with dust and dread.

Just as the last shelf hit the ground with a resounding crash, the door to the library burst open, revealing Sister Sera and Uriel, their long black habits flowing behind them as they rushed in. The two nuns stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide in shock as they took in the devastation around them.

“What in Heaven’s name happened here?” Sister Sera demanded, her voice sharp with disbelief.

Adam, as always, could not answer. His throat tightened; his tongue heavy in his mouth. He stood frozen, his hand still clasped tightly in Steve’s, his mind racing.

Steve squeezed his hand, stepping in front of Adam protectively, but even he seemed lost for words, his face pale with shock.

As Sister Sera and Uriel surveyed the wreckage, Adam’s eyes drifted toward the far corner of the library. Amidst the swirling dust and shadows, something flickered—just for a moment. A shape, small and dark, standing in the corner where the light didn’t reach. It was barely visible, but Adam’s heart skipped a beat as his gaze locked onto it.

A shadow. A familiar shadow. One that looked eerily like Luci.

Adam blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Was it really him? Could Luci have caused this?

No… Luci wouldn’t hurt him. Would he?

The figure in the corner flickered again, then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Adam’s heart raced; his mind spiralling. He couldn’t be sure if it had been real or just his imagination playing tricks on him. But something deep inside him stirred—a gnawing unease, a whisper of doubt.

Steve’s grip on his hand tightened. He glanced down at Adam, his brow furrowed with concern. “You, okay?”

Adam nodded, but inside, his thoughts churned. What had caused the shelves to fall? Was it just an accident? Or had something—someone—else been at work? And if it was Luci… what did that mean?

For the first time, Adam felt a chill of fear creeping up his spine. The warmth of Steve’s hand in his own did little to chase it away.

~#~

Adam’s eighteenth birthday marked the start of a new change, though he couldn’t quite understand why. Something simmered beneath the surface, like an itch just out of reach. His heart fluttered in his chest, that familiar warmth creeping up his neck and colouring his cheeks. He sat shyly at the foot of his bed, hands nervously clutching the edge of the mattress, his emerald eyes gleaming as they fell upon the brightly coloured box before him.

The box was adorned with adorable apple-like patterns, almost childlike in their simplicity, framed with soft pastel shades that seemed out of place in the dimly lit room. Adam couldn’t help but sigh sweetly at the sight of it. It was too perfect, too innocent for the atmosphere that hung heavy around him, but something about it tugged at his heart. Maybe it was the care Steve had put into it, or perhaps the fleeting joy it brought into the otherwise oppressive stillness of the church.

“Happy birthday, Addie!”

Steve’s voice broke the silence, cheerful and far too loud for the tiny room. The ridiculous party hat perched on his head, with the same apple patterns decorating it, only added to the absurdity of the moment. He grinned wildly, eyes crinkling in amusement, and with a flourish, he pulled the string of a party-popper above Adam’s head. Streams of brightly coloured ribbons rained down over Adam, catching in his hair and across his shoulders, mixing with the soft, white scales of Basil, who had lazily coiled himself around Adam’s neck.

“Whoop! Whoop!” Steve cheered, fist-pumping the air gleefully.

“Another year older! Another step closer to the end!” His laughter echoed through the small space, carefree and full of life. “Soon, the afterlife of a Sinner will be for you~”

Adam blinked in surprise at Steve’s strange choice of words, but a small smile tugged at his lips, despite himself. He looked up through the shower of ribbons, his heart swelling at Steve’s exuberance, at the way he tried so hard to make this day special. The church was always cold, dark, and looming—its ancient walls held secrets, whispers, and shadows—but Steve managed to bring light into Adam’s world, even if only for a moment.

Basil, however, was less impressed. The white snake shifted, its long body coiling tighter around Adam’s neck, lifting its head to fix Steve with an unblinking, reptilian stare. A soft, warning hiss escaped Basil’s throat, his forked tongue flickering in and out, as if expressing its distaste for the loudness and fuss.

Steve, always unfazed, chuckled and ruffled his fiery red hair, adjusting the ridiculous hat on his head.

“Come on, Basil. You’ve got to accept me eventually. I’m part of the family too, know.” He winked at Adam. “He’s just jealous cause he’s not the centre of attention today.”

The snake hissed again, and Adam’s cheeks flushed deeper as he hid his face, stifling a giggle. He couldn’t help but think how true Steve’s words were, in a way. Basil did seem possessive, always there, watching, observing every interaction Adam had with Steve. But Basil was more than just a pet. The snake had been with Adam through so much—through every cruel word, every cold glance from the other orphans, every inexplicable event that marked Adam’s life with an eerie, unshakable tension.

His focus homed in on Steve. Steve, who had always been there. Steve, who had never missed a birthday. Steve, who was the one constant in his life filled with silence and shadows.

The way Steve was grinning at him now sent a rush of warmth through Adam’s veins, disarming the tension that had wrapped itself around his heart. Adam could feel his cheeks flush, his gaze caught in Steve’s, unable to look away. Something about Steve’s presence always managed to soothe the darkness, make the ever-lurking fear dissipate, even just for a moment.

Steve noticed him staring again, the same teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, closing the space between them, ignoring the soft warning hiss that slipped from Basil’s mouth. Steve’s fingers brushed against Adam’s cheek, a feather-light touch that made Adam’s breath hitch in his throat.

Adam gasped, his wide eyes locking with Steve’s as his body jolted in surprise. The touch, so gentle, so deliberate, sent a ripple of unfamiliar sensations through him. His heart stuttered, caught between terror and longing.

Steve’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper, his tone intimate and tender.

"I’ve got another birthday present for you, Addie," he murmured, his words barely audible above the soft hiss of the snake. "If you want it."

Adam’s throat went dry, and all he could do was nod, the motion slow and unsure, but the pull towards Steve undeniable. He felt himself leaning closer, drawn in by the warmth of Steve’s presence, the safety he exuded. And then, softly, hesitantly, their lips met.

The kiss was gentle, sweet, a soft press of lips that sent Adam spiralling. His heart raced, but it wasn’t fear that fuelled it this time—it was something deeper, something that made his entire body hum with a nervous, fluttering energy. His hands clenched the edges of the bed, knuckles white, as he melted into the moment, into Steve’s warmth. His face flushed hot, the room around them blurring as every sense seemed to home in on the way Steve’s lips felt against his.

When they finally parted, Adam’s breath caught, and his eyes flickered up to meet Steve’s. His cheeks were burning, his mind spinning in a thousand different directions. Steve was watching him with that same teasing grin, though this time there was something more—something softer in his eyes.

"Was I really that good of a kisser?" Steve teased, his voice a low chuckle, but Adam could see the hint of vulnerability behind it, as if he truly wanted to know.

Adam’s face burned hotter, and he shyly shrugged, unable to find the words to answer. He couldn’t speak, of course—he never could—but even if he had the ability, he wasn’t sure what he’d say. His emotions were tangled, his mind buzzing with thoughts he didn’t quite understand yet. But the warmth in his chest was unmistakable.

Steve laughed, the sound filling the room and cutting through the lingering tension like a ray of sunlight piercing a storm. He reached for the brightly wrapped gift on the bed, the apple-patterned box that had caught Adam’s attention earlier and shook it playfully.

"You still need to open this before we get to the cake," Steve charmingly said.

Adam smiled, a soft, almost bashful smile, and reached out to take the gift. His hands trembled slightly as he began to unwrap it, the delicate paper crinkling under his fingers. He felt a surge of warmth as he unwrapped the gift, but the darkness that had hung over him for so long lingered in the corners of the room, in the shadows that seemed to move when no one was looking.

Basil hissed again, his small body coiling tighter around Adam’s neck, his beady eyes watching Steve warily. The snake had always been protective of Adam, sensing something that Adam himself couldn’t quite understand. And as much as Adam adored Steve, something in the air felt different now thicker, charged, as if the kiss had shifted something deeper within him.

Steve had taken his first kiss.

Adam hoped Steve would take his firsts.

Basil hissed again, his breath seething through clenched teeth, the sound sharp and venomous like the warning of a cornered serpent. The room had shifted, its shadows thickening, pressing in from the edges with a suffocating weight. It was as though the very walls recoiled from what had just unfolded, casting the space into a murky twilight that swallowed the light. Disappointment hung in the air like a cold, damp fog, seeping into every corner of the box-shaped room. Basil’s dark eyes, gleaming with barely concealed contempt, flickered over the two figures, his gaze a smouldering accusation.

A shudder crawled down Steve’s spine, an icy finger trailing across his skin as if something unseen had brushed against him. He instinctively pressed a trembling hand to the back of his neck, his pulse quickening beneath his fingertips. The air in the room was thick, heavy with something unspoken, something dangerous. His eyes darted, scanning the dim space, searching for any sign of what might be lurking just out of sight.

But nothing. Only silence, and the relentless, oppressive darkness creeping closer.

Steve forced a tight smile, his lips twitching as he glanced toward Adam, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. There was a flicker of unease there, a crack in his composure that betrayed the mounting tension crawling beneath his skin. Adam smiled back, but there was something off about it. Something cold. Something wrong.

In the shadowed corners of the room, the darkness seemed to pulse, alive with a quiet, watching malice.

~#~

Adam woke early, an unsettling sense of wrongness gnawing at him before his eyes had even fully opened. The stillness of the morning felt heavy, thick, like the air before a storm. He sat up slowly, his gaze sweeping across the dim room with wary caution. The wardrobe stood against the far wall, its dark wooden surface looming ominously in the low light, just as it always had, but something about it seemed different. The knots in the wood looked like eyes, watching, waiting. That old fear from his childhood resurfaced, making his throat tighten. For years, he had tied the skipping rope around the handles, a makeshift lock against whatever terror his young mind had believed lived inside. The rope was still there, frayed from countless knots and untangling.

Adam swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting with a sick sense of dread, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. He shifted his gaze toward Steve’s bed, expecting to see his best friend’s familiar figure tangled in the sheets. But the bed was empty, the covers rumpled and tossed aside. A chill settled in Adam’s bones.

Steve was never a morning person... Where could he be?

Adam pushed the quilts off his legs, his muscles tense as if sensing something terrible was on the horizon. His feet touched the cold floor, but before he could stand, his eyes drifted to the pillow beside him, where Basil—his little white snake—always curled up to sleep.

But Basil was gone.

A surge of panic shot through Adam, a sick wave of worry washing over him. His heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm erratic, as if something was beating inside him, trying to get out. He forced himself up, though his legs trembled beneath him, weak and unsteady. The room suddenly felt too quiet, too empty, like a hollow shell of what it had been only the night before. Something was wrong. Something was deeply, horribly wrong.

Adam stepped into the corridor, the cold air biting at his skin. The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence. Each step felt like a whisper of warning, as if the house itself was trying to tell him to turn back. But he couldn’t. He had to find Steve. He had to find Basil.

He was halfway to the staircase when a deafening crash reverberated through the house, followed by a scream that tore through the quiet like a knife. The sound hit Adam like a physical blow, and his ears buzzed with a strange, oppressive white noise. His body moved on instinct, stumbling forward, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. When he reached the top of the stairs, he froze, peering over the rail.

Below him, the corridor was alive with chaos. Nuns rushed toward the staircase, their black habits swirling like storm clouds. Children gathered in frightened clusters, their faces pale with shock. And there, at the bottom of the stairs, lay Steve.

Adam’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. Steve’s body was twisted, one leg bent at an unnatural angle, his face contorted in pain. Sister Sera was crouched beside him, her hands fluttering over his broken form as she called for help. Adam's blood turned to ice as he crouched at the top of the stairs, gripping the wooden beams so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Steve had been pushed.

He had to have been.

There was no other explanation. But when Adam looked around, there was no one near him. No one except... himself.

His thoughts spiralled into panic.

No, no, no... I didn’t push him. I couldn’t have.

He loved Steve, more than anything in this world. The very idea of hurting him made Adam’s stomach churn with nausea. But if it wasn’t him, then who?

A soft hiss broke the suffocating silence, sending a jolt of terror through Adam. His head snapped toward the sound, and his blood ran cold. Slithering across the floor, near the base of the stairs, was Basil. The little white snake was moving away from the chaos, toward the shadowed wall. Adam’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, paralyzed, as Basil approached the dark corner.

Then, from the wall, something shifted—something not quite human. A shadow emerged, its form impossibly black, save for the glowing red eyes that burned like embers in the darkness. The shadow was tall, towering, with a grotesque, distorted shape. Long, spindly fingers—each ending in sharp, razor-like claws—extended from the wall, reaching out with slow, deliberate intent.

Basil slithered up the shadow’s outstretched hand and melted into it, disappearing into the darkness as though he’d never existed.

Adam’s entire body went rigid with fear, his pulse pounding so hard he could hear it thundering in his ears. He clung to the wooden beams, his fingers digging into the splintered wood as his breath came in short, panicked bursts. The shadow seemed to breathe, the air around it is growing colder, more suffocating.

The thing’s red eyes locked onto Adam, burning with a hunger that sent a violent tremor through his body.

“…Luci?”

~#~

Adam sat on the edge of his bed, the room cold and suffocating with the weight of silence. His once bright emerald eyes, now dull and lifeless, stared blankly across the room at Steve’s empty bed, his gaze lingering on the rumpled sheets that had remained untouched since the accident. Steve had been gone all day, whisked away to the infirmary, and the gnawing void his absence left behind felt like a stone lodged in Adam’s chest, pressing down with a cruel weight. His heart pounded so heavily, it felt as though the rhythm was hammering against his skull, each beat sending sharp pulses of pain through his temples.

No one had spoken to him. Not since the fall. Not even Sister Sera, who always had a kind word or a calming hand to offer. Now, they all avoided him like a plague. Their whispers had grown louder, more pointed. Their eyes slid away from him whenever he entered a room, and the few that dared to meet his gaze only held fear and suspicion.

They blame me, Adam thought bitterly, his hands twisting anxiously in his lap. He could feel their judgment pressing against him, even when they weren't looking. They thought he was cursed. Maybe they were right.

The shadows lengthened as night fell, the church slowly sinking into a haunting stillness. The distant echo of footsteps faded, leaving Adam alone with nothing but his thoughts—and the horrible guilt gnawing at his insides. He couldn’t sit still any longer. Something was wrong. Steve... Steve needed him.

His legs shook as he rose to his feet, a trembling breath escaping his lips. He stood there for a moment, trying to gather his courage. The air felt heavy, thick with the same oppressive tension that had haunted him since Steve’s accident. His fingers fidgeted nervously, twisting together as he tiptoed toward the door. The corridor stretched out in front of him like a dark and endless tunnel, but Adam knew where he had to go.

Moving as quietly as he could, he slipped out of the room, his bare feet padding softly along the cold, creaking wood. Every step felt like a risk, as if the house itself was watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. The nuns wouldn’t approve of him being out of bed at this hour, especially not after everything that had happened. But none of that mattered now.

As he neared the dumbwaiter, the familiar small shaft embedded in the wall, he felt a flicker of hesitation. The tiny door slid open with a soft creak, just as it had so many times before. Adam paused, his breath catching in his throat. Was he really doing this? He’d climbed into that dumbwaiter so many times as a child, but it felt different now. Everything felt different. Darker. More dangerous. The whispered rumors of his curse tugged at the corners of his mind.

Emily lost her sight because of you. Steve fell because of you. This is all your fault.

He couldn’t shake the thought, no matter how much he wanted to. The fear clawed at him, twisting in his gut. But he had to know. He had to see.

With a sharp inhale, Adam climbed into the dumbwaiter. The space was tighter now, more claustrophobic, his shoulders brushing the sides as he squeezed himself in. The door slid shut with a loud thud, sealing him inside the darkness. His heart raced as the dumbwaiter suddenly lurched, the cables groaning as it began its rapid descent through the building. Faster and faster it went, the air rushing past him, the sound of rattling metal filling the tiny compartment.

And then, with a final jarring thud, it stopped.

The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit basement beyond. Adam’s stomach turned as he peered into the room, the smell of damp stone and cold metal filling his nostrils. It was just as he remembered, yet something about it felt... wrong.

The room stretched before him, long tables lined both sides, and unlit bulbs dangled from the ceiling like forgotten eyes. Most of them still worked, casting faint, yellow light, but one bulb had blown, leaving a portion of the room drenched in deep shadow. The darkness seemed to pulse there, thick and unsettling, the broken bulb giving the entire space an eerie, abandoned feel.

Adam’s footsteps were cautious as he stepped out of the dumbwaiter, his heart pounding with every movement. The floor beneath him felt colder here, the chill creeping up through his feet as he approached the turn at the far end of the room. His breaths came shallow, quick, the silence pressing in around him like a living thing.

“Luci?” he called, curling his hands in front of himself. “Luci, I want to talk to you.”

“Luci?”

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #au #guitarduck #fanficiton #the imp

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moodymelanist · 2 days

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Nothing But Treble

happy day 3 of @nessianweek! I didn’t quite finish this in time but I thought it would be a fun little drabble anyway. if anyone wants me to complete this… you know where to find me!

Summary: Cassian manages to piss off the prettiest flute player he’s ever seen.

Word Count: ~400 words

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Cassian

“Do you not know what pianissimo means?”

Cassian looked up from his sheet music to see the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen staring daggers at him from the row in front of him. She’d turned halfway around in her seat to talk to him, her silver flute resting at textbook attention on one of her perfect thighs, and if he didn’t believe in love at first sight, then holy shit did he now.

“Huh?” Cassian managed to get out. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, especially now that they were narrowed at him.

“Everybody’s sheet music,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a child, “says pianissimo. As in quiet.”

“Okay,” he said back just as slowly. She was so beautiful that he’d probably agree to anything she had to say to him, and if she looked this gorgeous under the shitty lighting in the orchestra rehearsal room, he could only imagine how lovely she’d look with the sun shining in her hair to bring out more of the gold amongst the brown strands.

“So if you understand that,” she replied, staring down her nose at him before motioning to his trumpet, “why in God’s name do you keep blasting that thing right into my ear?”

“Maybe I wanted you to turn around and yell at me,” he responded with an easy grin.

She scowled at him. “If you wanted my attention, there are far less irritating ways to get it.”

“Like what?”

“Like using my name, for starters.”

“I would do that if I knew it.”

“Nesta,” Nesta told him with a roll of her eyes. Cassian just grinned back at her, unable to help himself now that he knew her name. “Now stop blasting that thing like you don’t know what dynamics mean.”

“Cassian,” Cassian introduced himself back. He raised his trumpet before adding, “And no promises.”

Nesta heaved a heavy sigh before whipping around in her chair, momentarily dazing him as the scent of her perfume — or maybe her hair products? — blessed his nostrils. Between her pointed glare, the perfect way she was holding her flute, and the way she hadn’t hesitated in turning around to tell him off, Cassian could tell he was in for something special.

What it was, he wasn’t quite sure of yet. All he knew was that it was going to be a beautiful semester.

#nessianweek2024 #Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acofas #pro nesta archeron #pro nessian #pro cassian #pro cassian acotar #Cassian acotar #moodymelanistwrites

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fiveredlights · 3 days

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was listening to moon song earlier and thought about moon song verse and read all the snippets once again. man, i almost forgot the acute emotional damage i got first reading them and they are all freshly back!! it is sooo soo sooo good! the scene where daniel knocked on max's window and finally having the much needed conversation after ALL these years a divorce and a daughter, has hit me BAD and still is hitting me like a puncture at the rightest place!!

noticed the last post on moon song verse was almost five months ago and i missed them so badly!!! i must not be the only one!! will always be so excited to hear more about it!!

oh moon song. my beloved. i look at her with such reverence and hope that we can move past whatever weird production hell we've got going on together. we're like two puzzle pieces that can't quite fit together yet but i will push forward.

max and daniel really are just that special type of insane for them to go through a divorce, a child and then finally talk instead of being normal and good and talk before the wedding and before the child….

i predict that will be a while till moon song will ever get posted, so here's my favourite scene. should i save this? yeah. will i? no. for all my moon song enjoyers:

Max is washing the dishes in the bathroom sink when hands from behind him wrap around his stomach, and Daniel slots his head over his shoulders. Max turns his head to the right and gives him a kiss on the side of his head.

“Morning,” Daniel whispers into his shoulder. Max hums back in greeting, washing the soap off his arms. “This is nice.”

“It would be nicer if you fixed the kitchen sink, Daniel.”

Max turns around and feeds his fingers through Daniel’s, holding them between their chests. And there’s this feeling, this tingling that he feels through the tips of his fingers, almost like pins and needles—when you fall asleep in an awkward way and you wake up and you can’t feel your arms—but it’s not painful, and he doesn’t know how to explain in a way—

Oh.

Love, he had said. Love, you can feel it in your fingertips. You feel it in everything you touch, he had told Max when they were younger.

Love.

“Daniel?” He looks up from their hands, and Max has a worried expression. He has his head tilted slightly, and Daniel can feel Max squeezing their fingers together and god, he knows it now—this thing that’s been slowly growing in him, spreading from his chest and blooming down to his fingers—love.

And he thinks about all the times Max has slipped his fingers through his, how easy Daniel had let him. How calm he had felt when Max was holding him. Max has always been the brave one between them, always pushing his way through a world that maybe wasn’t ready for him. For them.

#moon song verse #maxiel #five writes #five answers #this ask is so lovely thank you!#will try and fit moon song on my 2025 release schedule...

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colourful-void · 1 day

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New umineko blog chain

just got a VIVID sense of dejavu in this riddle, paticularly in relation to me trying to solve it. i doubt its solvable but i wanna record it here for me to note anyway...

Sweetfish river: i wanna say that sweetfish might be some sort of language pun? something about readings of kanji or such? alternative, ms housekeeper mentions mackeral being sour in that pannacotta thing, but it was still a dessert so maybe in relation to that, or another 'sweet fish'?

hometown i also wanna say is a misdirect, clearly its on the island, clearly where ever kinzo is from isn't relevant, the village also i doubt severely to be literal, and i dont think the key is gonna be a literal key either, but it might be.

regarding the 10 twilights, i expect these are things that'll happen to our cast over the story. the 6 sacrifices could be anyone, no real predictions there. two who are close torn apart, a relationship falls apwart due to some knowlege? 3rd twilight seems self explanatory, all the gouging and killing seems self explanatory, though if we assume the gouging and sacrfices to be seperate, then either we get some servants in the mix or the whole family dies there doing the math. which i suppose aligns with the witch shall revive and none will be left alive. also, what is the purpose of this, reviving her only to put her back to sleep a few steps later. somehow we're both praising the witch and want her to betow upon us, but we must fear her or smthing to have her being put to sleep a reward. the ressurection of souls i guess being everyone murdered in the eariler steps comes back, and the love could be that step two thing or a different love?

so yeah, dont think there's much i can Solve yet, but i will be keeping the riddle in MIND whenever anything comes up.

#void plays umineko #umineko

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tiyoin · 2 days

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Tiyoin, I'm starting to yapping again. So I've been thinking about expanding more on the contest in the twst singer au. Like the outfits, posable songs, duets(?), posable challenge in the contest(?), the magic ✨,etc. Side note posable doesn't seem like a real word

For the outfits Vil would have mostly have control over them. Like he'll ask reader about fabrics she likes or give them a few designs to pick from but that's about it. 🌀 would probably wear simple just elegant outfits. Looking good enough to belong there w/o sticking out.

The fits definitely have a purple/blue base/ she has wears accessories that shows others that 🌀 kinds belongs to Vil/ Rook cuz rook is always here and never ever leaves(I think I have a problem). I like to picture the purple getting darker as reader progresses though out the contest as a way to show development in reader/overall.

Next, part of the outfits are the magic masks. With the masks you would only see the contestants' mouth, chin/jaw area. And the magic just makes it hard for people to figure out who is singing. Obviously with different themes/vibes the outfits and masks change with them.

Now onto the duets. In the voice they have the contestants do duets with each other right? So I was thinking there would be smth similar. Maybe with the judges, someone they picked w/o the mask(Rook) or, with a different judge(Neige?) so there's not like any cheating/favoritism ya know?

Like Rook &🌀 singing everything has changed. There's a line that says green eyes and freckles. Idk if rook canonically has freckles but it's a cute though and maybe they're hard to see 🙈 so he's like "🌀 has been staring at me*kicking feet while giggling*"

I'm going to start yapping about what I've been most excited for. The ✨magic✨. I was thinking that they could be fairies like Tinkerbell orrrr they're just little balls of light that fit in your hand. Like they all have little personalities, emotions, families everything.

Overall just mini friends for 🌀. They have different teams for all the contestants but, none of them ever treat them well or acted like they're just tools and, bcuz of that they never do more than the minimum for the contestants.

I think reader is the type to be nice/polite to everyone till there's a reason not to. A treat people how you want to be treated way and, bcuz of that they really help 🌀 in and out if the contest.

I personally like they being little balls more. It seems sweeter/more comforting/ genuine for them and reader that way. Picture them playing in the woods with reader just having fun 💞💞

But If you like them more Tinkerbell like it can be like a seasonal job for them. Imagine how cute it would be if 🌀 sings a love song and 2 of them start dancing together💘(too young by Sabrina Carpenter?)

For the challenges I was thing maybe a writing on. Like theyre given a word/place/object and have to make a song around it and Vil can only help reader a little bit. Maybe that have a acoustic round were the fairies can't help at all. Or they sing a different language.

Honestly I think the hardest part of this is finding the songs. I can so see 🌀 writing most of their songs based off their dreams/stories they read. Tbh I've been listening to So long London the whole time typing this and, can see 🌀 winning a challenge with it. Cuz the other would write/do really poppy songs and reader comes out with the opposite vibe.

Vil & Rook would be there when reader writes it/perform it for the first time and, they're blown away. Like yea they knew wrote her own songs but they never thought it would be that good.

I'm sorry I know I said songs and it turned out only being one. I just don't know what happy songs to give to reader. 😕 Reader just give "I hate feeling this way but i find comfort in the way I feeling" ya know?

ANYWAYS I hope you get a good night's sleep and I love today's chapter. I honestly thought u were writing about me for a moment that's how badly I was relating to 🌀. Sorry if there any mistake it's another 3-4am ask.

MELLLLLL MELLLLLLLLLLLL

VIL AND ROOK WOULD ABSOLUTELY SUBTLY STAKE A CLAIM ON READER VIA CLOTHES. the clothes they wear are 100% pomefiore inspired threads that they designed and crafted themselves. maybe crewel catches wind of this and it becomes a WHOLE fashion operation that mc does NOT want to be apart of (maybe she does, but doesn't feel like she's worthy enough for any of these nice things/ to be pampered over like this)

if the octotrio somehow finds out about this, I can imagine azul or one of the twins making a comment (if mc wears a lilac color that day) that mc looks 'beautiful in octanvinelle's colors and that it suits her more than those saturated colors she's normally wrapped in..' only for vil to take lilac completely out of her wardrobe OR keep it to a minimal 😭

imagining that the masks that get sent to the participants are normally blank, white mascarade masks, but because they're magic they alter with the theme. and so when new one comes out the mask changes to that theme and the participants can make their outfits around the masks.

WITH THE DUETS I CAN IMAGINE NEIGE SIGNING UP FOR THE CONTEST AND THEM GETTING PAIRED UP, ONLY FOR VIL TO RECOGNIZE HIM AND GET PISSED TF OFF😭

"I heard that aggitating, grading voice-"

'maybe I shouldn't of signed up to be a judge....' well thinks with anger as he watches the two of you practice via mirror. im imaging the duets are something like the duets in 'the voice' where you both sing against each other but also with each other.

but also, for some fun, and for a harder round, maybe you have to pick someone in your life (maybe that fits a theme or category?) to sing with you?

and im so glad savannaclaw rook's card came out because our weird king has freckles!! wohoo!!

rook picking a song that kind of describes mc through the lyrics and every time he gets to a line like that he makes -prolonged eye contact- with mc and it kinda messes them up because WHY ARE YOU STARING AT HER LIKE THAT- SIR- SIR???

MEL YOURE A FUCKING GENIUS

I NEBVER EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT FAIRIES

THEY COULD BE THE WORKERS WHO ARE TASKED BY THE COMPETITION TO HELP THE CONTESTANTS STAY WITHIN THE RULES AND TO MAKE SURE EVERYTHING GOES SMOOTHLY

I was thinking the exact same thing tbh, the fairies are treated horribly by the fame hungry contestants who only see them as 'measly employees' or even 'personal servants' to them via the show. but mc would be a little frightened by their gruff attitude but over time, as mc starts treating the fairies with upmost respect and kindness... they start telling their friends and the other fairies. and yeah, they start to favor mc and subtly and I mean SUBTLY sabotage the other contestants

ofc if beige was a contestant he'd treat hem nice too, but the fairies are kinda annoyed by him being TOO kind. because fairies are sassy, VERY sassy .

maybe to everyone else they're balls of light but to the contestants they're fairies? or maybe they only let you see their true form if they like you or trust you enough!

mc singing a love song and a bunch of 'fire flies' start dancing and twirling around them, only for it to be later released that it was the fairies. MAYBE A FAIRY WAS SCOUTING FOR NEW PARTICIPANTS AND THEY COME ACROSS MC AHHHH (at the end of the song when one is on mc's hand it bites her 😭 later that's her assigned fairy)

maybe after losing horribly one round mc is sad and singing a sad song, but the fairies come around and start playing and singing along until it becomes a happy song and they're all dancing. maybe... the fairy that at fist didn't like mc accidentally leaves the camera rolling and the whole of twisted wonderland actually SEES the fairies dancing and singing and playing with mc.

and there's a secret vote that no one in the history of the show has ever gotten. its called 'the fairies favor,' and its only bestowed to those who got eliminated but the fairies disagree with it and veto the vote. but the viewers have to agree with it?

the challenged are gonna be so weird ngl. like one is a theater challenge and another is writing your own song too. the show likes to make it hard- I mean entertaining so the viewers dont get bored. so you TRULY have to be a jack of all trades for this.

I haven't listened to that but I'll def give it a whirl 😼 I like to think that reader is really expressive through song and can come out with bangers. like I think that she def wins a challenge with 'wildflower, by billie eillish' after something bad happens. or maybe 'Andromeda, by weyes blood'

but the songs that mc uses to express her experiences and emotions make rook and vil develop a soft spot for her, and because they're really the only ones who know about all this, she slowly becomes a member (unofficially) of pomefiore (yes! evil scheming DOES work >:) )

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#mel <3 #twisted anxiety 🌀

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