#and am still sad my friends don’t see the whole art of it

[fennecgin]

Anyone else still in awe about Nope (2022)? The hype never died down in my soul

[kdogreads]

Imagine moving in with Carmy

You didn’t really mean for it to happen.

Carmy lived closer to work and most of your friends’ places, so you started staying there if you worked a late night or got too drunk on a Saturday night and didn’t want to Uber all the way home.

You’d call him after the bar closed and nearly give Carm a heart attack:

Baby? Are you alright? What happened, where are you?

Carmyyy, can you pretty pleaaaase come pick me up?

Don’t want to ride all the way home?

No, Carm, it’s so farrrrrrr

S’okay, baby. I’ll be there in 5

You start leaving clothes and shoes there

Just in case you had an early meeting. Or needed something to wear when you two went hiking after work. It could snow in May in Chicago — what if you needed your boots and coat to shovel out your car? All valid points Carmy made to persuade you to leave some stuff at his place.

Of course, Carmy got you your own toothbrush not too long after you started staying over. He made you mean dinners, but neither of you wanted to hang out all night long with onion or garlic breath.

He slowly starts accruing a stash of everything you may need: tampons, ibuprofen, makeup wipes, socks (the no-shows you like), even that sugar-free dairy-free coffee creamer Carmy thought you paid way too much for.

You change your delivery address to his

On everything from Amazon to your monthly makeup subscription, it just makes more sense for it to go to Carm’s. Otherwise it’ll just sit at your apartment’s office for days.

Your mail starts coming there, too, since you put his address down whenever you sign up for anything new.

It doesn’t come up until your lease is almost up

Carm’ll hit you with those sad, puppy dog eyes, sweetly questioning you why you bother to pay for a whole apartment you’re hardly at.

Why don’t you, uh, just stay, stay here?

Are you asking me to move in with you, Bear?

Yeah, yeah I guess I am. Move in with me.

Moving day is pretty simple

Seeing as most of the stuff you need is already at Carmen’s place. Your place.

Marcus, Ebra and Richie all come to help, insisting you didn’t need to hire movers with all that man-power around.

You decide to just sell all your big furniture on Facebook marketplace, aside from a funky chair you couldn’t part with and all of your eclectic art collection.

Carmy gives you free reign to redecorate however you want. He doesn’t have much on the walls to begin with, so you meticulously place every piece of art in its perfect place. Carm doesn’t understand all of it, but he loves it. It makes his empty apartment come to life. It feels like a home for the first time in a long time.

Carmy starts calling it “our place” right away

You still stumble here and there:

I left my jacket at Carmy’s, er, at home this morning.

But Carmy would shout it from the rooftops if he could. He’s so proud to be building a home, a life, with you.

Cousin! Can you stop by our place tonight and help us carry that god-awful futon out to the curb?

The two of you are more comfortable than you’ve ever been before

And you can’t wait to spend every night and every morning with Carmen in your home, the one you’re creating together.

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

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

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

read this fic on ao3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like when you go to the store?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your voice catches in your throat.

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

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

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

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

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

“Because… I lied?”

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

“No I didn’t— what?”

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

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

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

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

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

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

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

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

“Huh? But I do.”

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

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

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

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

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

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

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

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

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

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

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

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

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

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She blinks. “Really?”

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

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

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

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She contemplates this.

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

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

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

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kkukverse]

his dandelion

pair: Taehyung x athlete!reader (fem.reader)

genre: high school au, childhood friends au

warnings & ratings: mentions of injuries | fluff, angst

word count: 4k

author's note: happy birthday, winter bear.

You were both thirteen when Taehyung wanted to be your friend.

He sat next to you in art class, only with his dark charcoal pencil as his utensil. He drew peculiar lines and shapes and sometimes portraits. Your teacher loves them but you cannot understand it. 

Your teacher once said that he would’ve made an astounding art prodigy if his arts were to be seen by the world. She said his talent is hidden in this crappy little island. But Taehyung doesn’t really mind it, he once whispered to you, “I like it here, I don’t think my art is that big of a deal anyway. It’s not like I’m Van Gogh or something”

You laughed along because at thirteen years old, you never knew nor cared about a guy named Van Gogh. Taehyung used to tell you about that guy. Not wanting to look ignorant, you used all of your extra pocket money to get into Mr. Lee’s cyber cafe. Using the internet to find out more about the man Taehyung always talks about. 

You were confused, for someone who painted in vibrant color, Van Gogh is actually a sad guy. 

Unlike him. Taehyung was a vibrant kid and you noticed he only used dark colors in his paintings. You always paint everything in red and yellow. Those are your favorite, probably because of your field and track jersey. Since you keep seeing those colors, you tend to use them the most.

One day, on your practice day, Taehyung sat spreading his legs on the bench. Quite close to you but you still squint your eyes. Unsure if it’s actually him or just some other boy who wore the exact baggy beige pants that you always see on him, why is he here? Maybe he’s waiting for a friend. 

You just finished a total of five set a hundred meter runs before you realized that he is actually looking at you. From almost a yard away from him, you waved your hand “Taehyung?”

“Yea,” one arm on his knee, the other one waving back at you.

“Waiting for someone?” you yelled, hoping that he can hear you.

“No one, just watching you,” Taehyung answered.

You jog closer to him, because you think you misheard that he was here watching you, not waiting for someone. Wait? 

“What?” You pant while wiping sweat on your forehead. 

“I said, I was watching you running,” he beamed, looking up at you. He was holding back a laugh seeing your face twitch in confusion.

“There isn’t any particular reason. I was just nearby when I saw your team having a practice.” 

“And somehow you decided to stay?” You asked.

“I am curious. I really wanted to see you in the field. I saw you in your jersey all the time after our class. I never gets to see you in action, so yea, I decided to stay and watch you,”

“Well, that’s…”

“Too weird?” Taehyung scooted to provide you some space on the bench. His big hand lightly taps on the free spot, luring you to sit next to him.

“No, not really. We just don’t really talk in class and I was just..shocked?” You’re making sure there’s a gap in between your thighs and his because you’re conscious of your sweaty smelly self. 

He chuckled and you stared at his boxy smiles. There it is, the infamous smile that swooned everyone in this little island.

“Silly, I thought we’re already friends? At least I considered us friends the moment you let me borrow your yellow paint.” He turns his whole upper body, fully facing you now. 

The yellow paint was a cheap one. It was not even that bright. In fact, all colours in the paint set are dull and pale. It was affordable and your mom did her best to buy it. Bless her heart. Taehyung uses your yellow paint for the dandelion he drew. What you didn’t know was, he may purposely draw the dandelions so he can talk to you. 

“Oh yeah.” You agreed along.

Crap. I’m so sweaty like a pig right now, you thought. 

“Let’s make it more clear, can we be friends?” Taehyung smiles at you.

“Sure,” was your only answer. 

Dammit you can feel the sweat running down the valley of your prepubescent beasts and you wanted this to end before Taehyung can see it through your thin jersey. 

Since that day, Taehyung never missed a day of your practice. Just sitting all by himself on the bench until it’s over, and after that you walked home together. 

At seventeen, he wiped the tears and kissed the pain away.

If Taehyung was told to rate three of his hardest moments in his life, number three would be sending you off on the ferry to town. 

You have become a successful athlete, number one track runner in your hometown representing your school. You were always away for running events.

Once a month, you’re cruising on the ferry, off to the big city. It pains Taehyung to watch you go out of the island where he is still stuck there. But he insisted on sending you and picking you up. Because that way he can soothe his heart by sending you safely and knowing you will always come back home.

Just like any other month. Taehyung is waiting by the station on his bike. Ready to pick you up.

He is imagining your silly face with a gold medal on your neck. “Taetae I won! Again!” Like any other month. Taehyung can’t help it. He has grown to care about you a lot. He has become your number one supporter, always there at the finished line.

Taehyung knows by heart the schedule of the ferry. The ferry leaves at seven every morning and the last trip from the town is always at before five in the evening. He knows the schedule like the back of his hand. It’s a small island. Nothing really goes wrong. Except if there is a storm or if the sea is unpleasant. Which was rare. 

He knows that the journey took two hours. It’s always two hours back and forth to the big city. Somehow right now his watch is pointing at seven. Later than usual. He kept himself calm by picturing you running to him. 

His eyes lit up the moment he saw the ferry. He patiently waits until every single one of the passengers is out of that ferry. Just like any other month, he predicted your loud scream can be heard by now.

 Except, this time it was silent.

The ferry was here but he couldn’t hear your giggles, his heart was beating fast. Something is not right.

Standing up straight, he runs to the ferry. Calling for you. 

His frantic eyes caught a few people still coming out but he couldn’t find you. What happened? Times like this makes him more anxious because he couldn’t call you. At seventeen, having a phone in this little island is a luxury. Promising himself to get a phone soon with the money he collected from part time jobs.

One hand on his hip and the other is rubbing his face, he broke into a cold sweat. His mind is moving too fast with questions. Were you left behind? Did something happen to you? Are you alone?

Just before he almost turned around and grabbed his bike to look for your coach or your mom, he saw a solemn figure at the back side of the ferry. 

His second hard moments in his life is watching you injured.

His heart beats like a drum when he sees you in crutches, one leg is wrapped and head down looking at the floor. He walks with a heavy heart to you, whispering your name as if calling you out loud would break your already fragile state.

“Hey, look at me,” Taehyung says softly as he holds your chin. Prompting you to look up to him. He gasped after his eyes set on your face. Your lower lip is busted and red with dried blood, your eyes are swollen, which he assumes from crying. He hates that he was right.

His greatest fear, your tears.

“Taetae,” the break in your voice is stabbing Taehyung all over the place.

“Shh, It’s okay, you’re okay.” He cupped your face with his hands. As gentle as he can. Eyes frowning seeing you in pain. Taehyung wishes there are things such as transferring pain because right now he wants to take yours.

“I lost,” you sob, letting tears and snot rolling down your face. The sting on your lip is the least pain you can feel.

“Oh dear, it’s just one lost. I’m sure you did your best.” Taehyung cooed as he wiped your tears and snot.

“No, it’s not gonna be one lost from now on. I tripped and fell so hard. It’s gonna take months to heal,” you hiccups and Taehyung swears this is the sound that breaks his heart the most and he vows to keep you away from it.

“I’m gonna miss the nationals, Tae what am I gonna do?” you wail. Breathing becomes hard. With hiccups and sobbing and a blurry view because of the tears, you’re breaking down in his arms.  

“Shh shh, take a deep breath for me. Come on baby, don’t scare me. Please, please breathe.” he puts his forehead on yours. Hoping to ground you back to him. Thumbs rubbing softly on your cheeks.

The term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you. Baby.

“Taetae,”. You were still sobbing as you leaned on him.

Taehyung is terrified, he never saw you cry this hard. He doesn’t know how to calm you and it kills him to not be able to do anything to lessen your pain. So he kissed you, softly. On your forehead, on your cheeks, on your eyelids, on your nose. 

The traces of his kisses feel like a feathery touch. And your sense is following his trails. Closing your eyes you’re no longer sobbing. Only soft whimpers fill the space.

“There we go. No more tears, baby.” Taehyung is relieved now that he can feel you breathing at a steady pace again. “Let’s go home,” he hesitated when his eyes landed on your lips. Swollen red from the biting. 

You noticed the lingering stare and with a beat of the heart you crashed your lips on his. Seeking comfort and warmth, Taehyung is soaring high. The kiss was like a warm wave. Languid and soft. Taehyung is so gentle. He peppers soft kisses around your busted lips. 

“Don't wanna hurt you,” he breathed. Pulling himself from the kiss, he rubs a soft circle on your cheek. “Let’s go home,” he added. 

He piggybacks you home first and comes back again later to pick up his bike and your crutches. From that day onward, you both knew that you aren’t just friends anymore.

You have been itching to get your feet back on track and once the cast is off, you swear you’re gonna spend every evening running. It wasn’t ideal since the injury was bad and you were advised to stay put until it completely healed. 

But you were so determined to get back on track because your only goal is getting into nationals. You have planned it out. Since you don’t perform well academically, running is your only golden ticket out of the island. You got to join the national teams. You must.

The evening after you took off your cast accompanied by Taehyung, you asked him to drop you off at the track field.

“What are we gonna do in the field? You’re not planning on running aren’t you?” Taehyung speaks with scrunched eyebrows. 

“Taetae, please. I really missed the track.” You pouted and he’s a goner.

“No running!” He pointed his finger at you. You smirk before pretending to bite it. 

“I’m serious. No running,” he gently flicked your forehead. “We’re just gonna take a walk, okay?” he hums, turning around to make sure you’re securely safe on the back of his bike.

“I promise.” You squeezed his waist, an answer yes I’m alright back here Taetae.

You have no idea how much you missed the track until Taehyung helped you down from the bike. The sudden gush of air fills your lungs like you’ve come up from drowning. Taehyung can sense that you’re become quite overwhelmed. His hand enveloping yours as he kissed your temple.

“Come on,” he whispered.

Rahhhh!! Rahhh!!! 

The chant of the crowd broke a smile on your face. You missed it, you missed smelling the old burgundy track, feeling the burn from the sun, the sweat and the satisfying burn in your lungs when you reached the finish line. 

You missed a certain someone waiting there. With his ridiculous boxy grin, and his booming cheers, muting other sounds and you can hear nothing but his voice. 

It is so hard to be the one sitting in the audience instead of being on the track.

Taehyung left you for a minute to buy some lemonade and you desperately need him to ground you. Otherwise you’d be a crying mess. Yearning to be on the track but your almost healing leg is holding you back.

It is an annual event, something like sports day for the people in your island. It wasn’t even a big event, unlike the ones you used to compete in. But your heart hummed in a painful tone. You’re jealous of those who can run freely on the track you held dear to your heart.

A soft tap on your shoulder broke you from wallowing in self-pity. Taehyung sat next to you, hands holding two cups of lemonade. He knows coming here is not a good idea but you woke up so early and dressed up to be here. He doesn’t have the heart to say no.

Seeing your frowning face, Taehyung started to think maybe he should’ve said no or maybe brought you somewhere else but here.

“Hey, did I tell you that Miss Choi is helping me submit my art to the National Art School?” Taehyung winced at his futile attempt to distract you. No, Taehyung, this isn’t about you. He bit the inner cheek. Handing you a cup of lemonade before he could think of anything to turn back the time.

“No way,” you gasped. He knows you’d be excited for him. But he didn’t expect how your face would just glow in excitement like this. He was glad. 

“Taetae! Why did you just tell me now? How could you!” you punched his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt a bit. Taehyung is still lost in your happy smile. 

“Ah, I'm so happy. Finally, Let the city people look at your art. They're gonna praise you Taetae!” You smile adoringly and Taehyung hated that he had one thought you wouldn’t be happy for him.

“Yea, but I’m not sure yet what piece I should submit. I’m not that good and nope before you can scream at me let me finish,” he raised his finger on your lips. Just managed to stop you from gasping out loud. 

What an outrageous statement! Kim Taehyung’s arts are the most magnificent arts. Though you have no clue how to appreciate art, you would break hell if people couldn’t appreciate his art.

“It’s a tough competition, even if my piece were received and reviewed, the chances of me getting in there are slim. There are so many talented artists out there, baby. Let’s not have high hopes. Not to mention I haven’t had a decent piece to submit yet.” he sighed. Shoulders slumped and he emptied the lemonade in one go.

He is nervous.

Looking at him, you squished his cheeks with your hands. “Look at me,” you demanded.

“Your art is the most breathtaking art I have ever seen, Kim Taehyung. And it’s a lot coming from me, who is practically blind when it comes to looking at paintings. I have zero knowledge about art but I know for sure, yours are gonna blow some minds. There’s people out there who studied arts, they will look at yours and be amazed by them.” You said.

“And you will always have good arts, they’re not just decent. You always said when the inspiration comes, it comes. Don’t pressure yourself,” you whispered as if it’s the only secret between you and him. And you’re selfish, not wanting to share the moment with the rest of the crowds.

Taehyung didn’t know how a heart could break until that night he received a call from your mother.

“Taehyung, she fell. Again.” 

The static noise filled his ears as he ran to the jetty. It was midnight and there’s no ferry to take him to you.

Stupid, stupid girl!

He cried while banging his chest. He could’ve prevented you from going. You told him you wanted to participate in a tournament. It was not even a month after you recovered. Teahyung did think you were so stubborn to go because apparently it was for a scholarship. You were hellbent on going because you knew, the moment Taehyung got accepted to art school, you will be left alone. 

You wanted to be in the city with him. You were so sure Taehyung would get accepted and the only way to be with him is to get the sports scholarship and join him in the city.

Taehyung was unsure at first. You just got better. He was scared that one slip could jeopardize your whole dream. Again, he hated that he was right.

Your mom was sobbing when she called him. “She can never run again Tae, her muscle was torn and there’s no way we can afford a surgery. She hasn’t woken up yet, she was under a high dose painkiller. I don’t know what to tell her Tae.”

Taehyung wished he could calm your mom but he couldn’t. Not when he was crying too.

You always tell him the same dream of yours. Joining the national team, go to the Olympics. Becoming the fastest runner of the country. Run until you can never feel your legs anymore. With him always telling you he’d be on the finish line. Cheering you on and on. And now the dreams will stay as dreams.

He couldn’t control his anger and thinking about your pain, he collapses on the ground. Letting the tears touch the ground. It wasn’t until he was collected enough to ride the earliest ferry to town. To come to you.

Taehyung stays by your side nights and days. Helping your mom as you don't have any male figure in your life. His parents understand it and he is thankful for that. They know how much you meant to him and they were so proud to see their son has been such a reliable shoulder especially in this trivial time for your family.

He was the one who meets up with the doctor with your mom. Discussing the recovery plan, and just being there to be your pillar. You were so quiet on the first day he arrived. The dark circles under your eyes and the hollow stare is tearing his heart apart. 

Not saying much he helped feed you, and carried you to the bathroom. You were still quiet, though Taehyung tried to engage you in small talks. He makes silly jokes, the repeated jokes you always laughed at only to be received an empty response from you now. 

“Tae, I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren't here. Thank you so much, son.” Your mom cries to him. Taehyung was so heartbroken to see your mom keep crying as he himself couldn’t do much to ease the pain. 

“She’ll get better, she is strong.” He said. It has become a mantra every time Taehyung sat alone, thinking about you.

One day, when the doctor allowed you to go home, you reached for him. Mumbling, “Taetae, will I be okay?” your voice was strained, rough and broken. Eyes still staring into the void but your hands held onto him so tight. Like you’re so afraid if he lets go.

“Yes, you will. You’re a strong girl, you’re my strong girl,” Taehyung replied without hesitation, kissing your forehead in hopes of banishing the negative thoughts from swallowing your mind. 

“But I can’t run anymore. What’s the point? I am no longer a runner.” 

“Maybe there’s another opportunity for you. Maybe we can try other things, I’ll help you,”

You scoffed, he sounded silly and unrealistic. “I am nothing without running. It’s my only purpose, Kim Taehyung.” 

He winced at his full name used by you. “I get it but you shouldn’t lose all hope. There are other possibilities for you out there, we just have to push harder to look for them. I believe in you.” Taehyung pleads.

“You don’t get it. All my life, one thing I am sure about is the track. I beat the time every time I’m on the track and now I am defeated with a broken leg and a stupid brain. Forget academics, you and I, we both know how terrible I am at learning. I’m not you! You’re a prodigy in everything. You have people who want to buy your art. I only have the track to stay valid so no, no one gets it. Not even you!” you were seething through your teeth. 

All of the pent up anger and frustration were let out to the one person you cared about. It’s too late to regret, now that his face shows nothing but hurt.

Taehyung feels like being punched in his gut with your words. How could you, when he himself couldn’t sleep a wink from the day he heard about your injury. When worried about you every time you were at a tournament. When he can barely sit still watching you running on the track.

He couldn’t say anything after that. He knows whatever comes out from his mouth will only make it worse. You were devastated, he got to understand that. You need time and space, and you will be okay again. 

Ever since you arrived home, you refused to meet anyone. Not even Taehyung. You were angry and most of all you were just sad. You wanted to be mad at something, something to blame but you couldn’t find it. 

Maybe it was yourself, maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, maybe if you waited a little longer. 

Taehyung did not give up. You were pushing him away and he didn’t move a flinch. He realizes he is being a pushover but you need someone. You were stubborn, through and through. You don’t have to come out of your room to talk to him nor him entering your room like he always does, but you know he’s around, he is home. 

He even followed you and your mom to your routine physiotherapy. But you ignore him. A part of you feels selfish and guilty for treating him this way. Another part is, you think you’re dragging him down on this stupid island. You tried to distance yourself from him, but Taehyung didn’t care. He stays stuck next to you. 

Even though you went to school all by yourself, Taehyung always follows behind you quietly. You didn’t talk to anyone and yet he still comes to your locker to help you carry your book. 

You forgot about his art submission, until one day he came up to your room. Knocking softly. He didn’t speak but who else would be in your house other than your mom. You opened up to see him holding a big white canvas under his arm.

He turns it to you, showing you a painting of a girl in her yellow and red jersey. The girl is running in a field of dandelions.   

“I want to submit this but I need you to see it first. You are my muse, you are my girl. It kills me to see you in this state and I want nothing but the very best of you. I used to cheer for you on the finish line but this time let me run by your side. Let me help you. If I get accepted, I will make a lot of money and I will make the best life for you, so you can stop worrying so much. We’ll learn together, just let me in.”

[burningcheese-merchant]

Honestly I don’t understand the hate behind “toxic” ships in fiction, I personally couldn’t care less what people ship as long as it’s entirely fictional and they aren’t condoning the actions of the characters. Sure I’ll still block someone if their ships make me uncomfortable, but I have a “ship and let ship” type of view on these things.

Exactly. I'm just SO tired and so done with this shit. The Cookie Run fandom has always been shit to some degree, since CROB first came out, but CRK brought in whole legions of people who haven't seen grass in years and it's just sad at this point lol. So long as they're both adults (ZERO tolerance for adult/minor ships at all times, fuck that shit), why does it matter? It's fiction. No one is being harmed. Explore whatever concept or dynamic you wish. Wholesome, toxic, everything in between. Just remember to maintain a healthy level of detachment from it all; don't get mad if people don't ship the same ships you do, don't get wrapped up in discourse or arguing or anything. Doesn't do anyone any good, including you and me.

There are plenty of ships I don't like (in general, even outside of Cookie Run). I am anti-FireWind and always will be. ShadowSpice makes less than zero sense to me, like wtf are you people on about lol. Hollytaya gives me rabies and I hate remembering it exists (God I hate Hollytaya so fucking much it is absolutely unreal lmao). Guess what? I block the ship tags and go about my business. I don't go out of my way to look for ship art or fics, nor do I bother people who ship any of those (or any other ships I don't like). I have friends and acquaintances that ship these three that I've listed, and I don't think any less of them for it. It's all good in the neighborhood. All shipping is at the end of the day is playing dollhouse. Getting mad at people for playing with the dolls in the "wrong" way is dumb and pathetic lol. Live and let live. Hate the ship, not the shipper.

Just don't call me names. Don't accuse me of terrible things because I like hero/villain ships, the enemies to lovers trope, and/or exploring darker topics or relationships in writing. It's FICTION. No fucking shit that stuff is wrong and I don't condone it irl, the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of person do you take me (or anyone else like me) for? I get so goddamn irritated with the shit I see getting hurled at Beast x Ancient shippers regularly, especially on Twitter. People get harassed, people get outright doxed and threatened. All that over fictional talking cookies? You're the ones who need help, not us lol. You don't have to like BurningCheese, you don't have to like Beasts x Ancients, you don't have to like Heroes x Villains at all. That is perfectly understandable, that trope is not for everyone. But don't do that shit. Don't call us misogynists, or abusers, or anything else like that. Those are serious and damning accusations. You've got a lot of nerve saying that to people you don't even fucking know, especially from behind the comfort and safety of a computer screen. Frankly, you cheapen what those horrible things really mean by hurling them at random strangers so carelessly. You think words in a document or lines on a screen compares to real-world violence against innocent people? You think because I toy with the concept of some little buff spicy cookie dude having an evil crush on a little winged cookie lady, I want real people to be harmed? Fuck you for that. I am VERY familiar with the horrors of violent crime, BELIEVE ME WHEN I FUCKING SAY THAT. I hate bad people as much as the next guy, probably more so, because again, I AND MANY I KNOW PERSONALLY HAVE SEEN SHIT IRL, SO DON'T FUCKING COME AND TELL ME I ENDORSE REAL CRIMES WHEN I AM THE LAST PERSON ON EARTH WHO WOULD. Fiction allows us to bask in the light or be engulfed by shadows as much as we wish, while being able to safely disengage and return to real life without any pain or discomfort being inflicted on ourselves or others afterwards. All of this morality and media-enjoyment policing is just the newest incarnation of the fundies that tried to paint Pokemon as satanic, or those pearl-clutching dipshits on the news and in government that insisted that people would become carjacking homicidal maniacs because they play Grand Theft Auto. It's fucking stupid and a waste of time.

I'll say it one more time: YOU. DO. NOT. HAVE. TO. SHIP. BURNINGCHEESE. OR. ANY. OTHER. BEAST X ANCIENT PAIRS. You are entitled to your thoughts and feelings and ships. Block the tags and move along. Block users if you have to. Better yet, turn off your computer and go spend time with real people. There's more to life than Twitter or Tumblr or these wack ass games about cookies, I promise. None of this matters, man. I have a Bill Cipher plushie as my avatar. I post silly dumb memes half the time, and then just ramble nonsensically about Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady the other half. This shit is stupid. We're all stupid for liking these games in the first place. They suck. We all suck. Write what you want, draw what you want, mind your own damn business and I'll mind mine

[revserrayyu]

2.5 Xianzhou continuance thoughts [part 4]

**SPOILER warning** for the end of the mission, covering the conversations between the Yaoqing trio, the Generals and everything else. If you haven’t cleared the story yet then go do so. Or go farm some relics. Do a ten pull. Go frolic outside. Do whatever you wish except ruin your own story experience with spoilers by reading ahead.

The way my heart sank thinking that Jiaoqiu truly didn’t survive his injuries..

..only for us to see Trailblazer and Bailu messing around, weeping at a hastily put together grave for March because she disappeared out for their sight for two minutes. Hoyo must take great pride in successfully giving me a heart attack.

Pfftt, I’ll enjoy the lighthearted conversation while I can though I guess. We truly didn’t do much during this mission with all the POV switch ups that happened, though I still love that they’re allowing us to speak more. All the Trailblazer voice actors are great and I hope we continue to hear them more often in the future.

Annndd that the panic settles back in. Jiaoqiu’s injuries were no doubt the worst, while Feixiao probably faced some drawbacks from all the fighting and madness she endured, but Moze too? I guess he did get attacked by Hoolay and his followers once the warhead realized he was spying on them, but then Moze was seen later on the Skysplitter when Feixiao at the bloody heart and he did eventually find Jiaoqiu somewhere with the help of the Trailblazer, so surely he couldn’t have been that hurt if he was running around everywhere, yeah? Perhaps exhaustion caught up with him after all the chaos, or he knows how to deal with pain rather well. Possibly both.

Why am I not surprised to hear that Feixiao is the kind of person who can’t be confined to a hospital bed. Even if she left in plain sight, I’m sure she would’ve quick enough that no one could even catch her to bring her back.

Seems the whole Yaoqing trio shares this mindset too. Moze could easily sneak out in the shadows whereas Jiaoqiu probably just walked himself out with an excuse like “I’m a healer, trust me when I say I’m fine” or something.

Oohhh buddy.. I love it when characters have different roles in status or have to act a certain way around each other but one of them tells the other to forget the formalities and just be truthful because their relationship is worth so much more than that, like yes she’s his general and he’s her healer, but I have no doubt they’ve become such close friends over the years too. Also, the way the scene doesn’t show his entire face.. god, what nice foreshadowing.

Aww sweetie nooo! Please don’t blame yourself! If anything, blame the plot. It’s like the four stars had a rough time in Penacony and now it’s the five star’s turn on the Xianzhou. And I’m sure I mentioned it before but the trio’s voice actors are all so talented and completely nailed these two story patches. The emotions are perfect.

WHAT IF I CRIED HUH?? Is that what Hoyo wants? For me to become a sobbing mess after thinking Jiaoqiu healed perfectly fine?? AAAaahh.. I’m not entirely sure if the blindness is a result of Hoolay’s attack or a side effect of the poison Jiaoqiu drank, but either way I’m so incredibly sad. Our handsome foxian has already been through hell from being Hoolay’s hostage, did we really need to take away his eyesight too?? Man.. if anything, I will say it was clever of Hoyo to make the one character who always has his eyes closed end up blind because then they wouldn’t have to change up his model at all. It might seem off-putting whenever people use his ultimate and see his eyes now though. Aah, his pretty golden eyes.. I’ll admit that they did seem a bit dull during that one scene of him all slashed up and bloody on the floor, but I didn’t think it was anything serious. More like it was an art style choice and he was so worn out from the attack and knocking at death’s door.

Tell me why I don’t believe his smile and that’s he’s only saying such a thing so Feixiao doesn’t bury herself under all the guilt she feels. Looking back now though, I can appreciate the subtle hints about his condition before Feixiao revealed it. I remember Jiaoqiu mentioning how he recognized the sound of Feixiao’s footsteps when she approached him, so pair that with how the game framed his face before in the previous shots where his eyes weren’t visible and yeah.. smart moves. Sigh.. he once left his role as a military healer to prevent himself from watching more people rush towards their death and now he’s not gonna see much of anything.

Bruh.. he faced the foxian’s worst enemy, got taken hostage by them, watched people die in front of him, got seriously attacked and purposefully drank poison at some point, yet despite all that trauma, he solely cares about how Feixiao is feeling? GOD HELP ME he’s too precious and sweet! I adore him so much and his devotion to her has me so giddy and weak. In a shipping context or not I fucking I love the bond these two have y’all.

I mean.. I guess? In exchange for losing his sight, Hoolay was definitely defeated, which grants all the foxians a big sigh of relief to finally be rid of the monster that haunted them and treated them as slaves for centuries.

More importantly than that (to me at least) is knowing that Feixiao’s moon rage was actually taken care of. Part of his ‘About Feixiao’ voice line is “I cannot leave this world before she's cured” and our man really kept his promise. I wish he didn’t have to go through such extremes to achieve one of his biggest goals in life but hey, if Jiaoqiu says he’s fine, I’ll choose to believe him. Just a little bit.

The way Moze was here the entire time and he didn’t even know… aaahh. Considering Moze was here way before Feixiao first showed up, he probably moves too quietly for Jiaoqiu to even hear him. I wanna bet that Moze left the Alchemy Commission after Jiaoqiu did just to make sure the guy didn’t get himself lost or walk into any danger.

I fucking hope they can find someone to help him! Also, I absolutely LOVE that it’s her now making a promise to find a way to heal him! All those years of Jiaoqiu stressing about finding a cure for her moon rage and Feixiao gets the chance to pay back all his efforts. Kinda surprised that Bailu couldn’t do anything about Jiaoqiu’s sight, but perhaps she doesn’t know how to or isn’t strong enough for such a thing yet? Not even Lingsha could’ve helped I guess. Who knows.

Ma’am.. I love each and every little thing about you, but can you relax? Please?? You just snuck out of the Alchemy Commission, which means you probably aren’t even full healed yet, and we’re already chatting about rushing into more battles? How about we take a break for a little bit and go enjoy the real Wardance. Sound good?

Me and Jiaoqiu sharing exactly one brain cell.

Just hearing her say “wildfire” made me miss our favorite Underworlders even more. At least we’ll get to see a whole bunch of Luka during the Wardance event.

Ah, even more name drops to taunt my hopes with. I’m still bitter we were teased with Jingliu’s return. Speaking of a certain blonde man though, can we ask him to cure Jiaoqiu’s eyes? We don’t exactly how skilled Luocha is with healing since everything about him is a giant mystery, but I think it would be a nice reason to bring him back, if only for a moment. I know he’s still locked up but whomever does eventually heal Jiaoqiu will be put on my good side.

Well, at least we finally get an idea of what our “traveling merchant” has been carrying in that coffin of his.

Having the Swarm be mentioned right before Ruan Mei.. oh dear. What kind of chaos are we in for next time there’s a mission on these ships.

Now then, I know our mad scientist was mentioned at the very beginning of the quest by Himeko regarding some fossils, then again once more towards the middle by Feixiao when she was chatting with Yukong about how the Verdant Knights found the wreckage of Whistling Flames ship, so that of course got my hopes up that we might finally learn more about Tingyun.. but I wasn’t expecting to hear her speak!! Thank heavens she’s actually alive! Whether by chance or because Ruan Mei has already.. you know, used her as a test subject, who knows. I’m leaning towards the latter option personally but regardless! I’m so thrilled for her! I’m not even that big of a Tingyun fan but my mouth was literally hung open in a huge grin when I heard her voice again. I can’t imagine how her voice actors must’ve felt being called back after so long in to give just a single line for this character again after what happened during the main story.

Speaking of powerful one liners, Feixiao receives a second one about Jiaoqiu after you complete the entire mission. Ain’t that grand.

Behold! I’m finally done with all this rambling and I can finally start the Wardance event! I’ve already seen some characters and cutscenes that I’m excited to learn more about. I do enjoy Luka but hopefully I can just breeze through it and not take an abundant amount of screenshots this time.

[etherealhoneybee777]

Okay, the mp100 fandom (and other fandom spaces as well) makes me really hopeful✨

The internet is mostly a cruel and terrible place. It largely exists as an instrument of global capitalism. Governments use social media to push propaganda that either reinforces their fascist, conservative ideals or instills leftists that want to fight back with a sense of hopelessness that paralyzes and scares them. And we’re also getting to a point where much of the content we see online is not only made by AI, but interacted with by AI as well. We’re seeing “art” and ragebait stories that aren’t even made by real humans, but are spread online as if they’re true. Transactions are everywhere, but because everything is a subscription service, we own nothing. Corporations are putting advertisements on even the most sacred corner of the web & encouraging people to constantly consume, to BE consumed with the desire to consume more things, and to fill up the little time we have left with constant, buzzing productivity—because the internet is an instrument of capitalism, and capitalism is about constant expansion, expansion that won’t stop until everything in our lives is quantifiable and our whole being is stretched thin in service of a pointless, unstoppable economic growth.

In the face of that, I think your mp100 art is amazing. I think your fic is amazing. I am glad you decided to share it with us. I am glad you took the time to analyze Mob or Serizawa or Tome. To post screen grabs of Dimple or gifs or animatics or anything else. I’m glad you reblogged my post and added some silly or thoughtful little hashtags. I’m glad you DM’d me or posted a long ramble about Ritsu or Teru or reigen.

People don’t have to do these things. They don’t have to sketch characters or share headcanons or write fic or make watch parties on cute little discord servers. But they do. They do it because it’s a fun thing to do & because they’re talented and passionate. And it makes me happy that on the internet—which is increasingly being used to alienate and control us—still hosts real communities and real people making real art and writing their real thoughts without any kind of profit motive or manipulative agenda. People are literally just posting because they want to share their work and connect with others. It reminds me that no matter what capitalism does, we live in a fundamentally social world & we’re constantly trying to connect with each other about the things we like. MP100 is the thing I like and the people here make me hopeful. I see people post their art/writing/headcanons and I get super happy. I get inspired. I look at people’s bios and all the different countries they’re from and get really happy that the internet can be used as a tool to connect people across the world with the same interest together.

Choosing to create and make friends and be nice and spread positivity over the internet is a uniquely powerful thing. It may not seem like much, (and being on the internet is often framed as “wasting time”) but the Internet is important and the things you do here are actually tangible and real. Making and sharing art—making friends—sharing writing and blurbs and headcanons is a legitimate pushback against the terrible capitalistic machine that the internet has become. I’ve heard a lot of creators say that their art doesn’t get noticed/doesn’t matter because it doesn’t get a lot of attention. But it DOES matter. Because, for every second that someone spends seeing your art, that’s one second that they don’t spend on government propaganda or brain-numbing advertisements or ragebait or AI generated “content”. And even if no one sees your art, YOU spent time making it. You loved it and cared for it and valued it in a way that capitalism can never profit from or understand.

I hope you know that I see your art & love it. I look at it when I’m sad. My gf and I look at mp100 art while we sit outside and feel the world leave our bones. Maybe this is too much, but I’m feeling earnest and joyful tonight & am trying to lean into those feelings.

I’m just thankful. You create and share just because you wanted to create and share. You’re making the world a better place.

[lady-potato-ninja]

Prowling the inbox like a half tame thing, just confessing that I saw your art tutorials and was like "Neat!" and then saw the potato in the name and that clinched it for me <3 /origin story sharing for free!

Anyway! I'm asking you to this dance of an ask game, because I enjoy the stories in the tags you write and then I was like, there is a function built in for being more candid~ Please tell me more lady-potato-ninja lore, as they say. ^^ Referring to this post here: >> https://www.tumblr.com/shreedle/762344461629112320?source=share <<

🧠🌂👀🌹 Okay bye! See you on the dashboard!

Ah 🙈🙈🙈 I'm so glad you liked my tutorials! I am actually in the mist of making a new one on how to better your artistic workflow! I'm not done yet- still trying to make it make sense but I hope it might help you in some way once it's out😉!

🧠- What fictional character do you relate to the most?

I’m gonna be extra because you said you liked my rambling and go for more than one character. I’ve mostly been into podcast fandoms thus far and it feels like those characters were really easy to relate to.

Mollymauk Tealeaf from Critical Role: I learned so much about myself throught this character. He’s the embodiment of change and self-love and just living life the way you want it. I was very envious of the joyful way he lived his life and it stayed with me long after I stopped watching Critical Role and I feel like now I got to this point where I love myself and the multitude ways in which I change everyday.

Martin Blackwood from the Magnus Archive: I think we’re awfully similar; in a made from the same cloth kind of way. He’s a very attentive character who tries his best to provide help, care and support to the people around him and it’s something I pride myself to do as well, one of my friends said I was an approachable person and I wear this quality as a badge of honor. I strive to be a kind-hearted person.

At a time, I was also really relating to his loneliness which I sometimes still am. Hearing about how he felt made me realise that I felt the same about me. And it actually made me take care of myself more because I couldn’t let such a deep sadness continue on in me! But don’t fret, now I’m a much happier person and I feel like it’s in part because of him, weirdly enough.  

Jang Hee-Soo from the kdrama Moving: This kdrama is so good and it really struck a chord with me for multiple reasons but mostly because I had never seen a media better portray the relationship between a parent and their child.

With her dad, Jang Hee-Soo sees what he does for her and his sacrifices and she understands him, she takes the time to know her dad as a person more than just a parental figure and she tries to give back and sacrifice what she can to help him. I feel like it’s the same way I love and cherish my parents. I see myself in the careful way she takes care of him while supporting his dreams and cheering him on. (It honestly made me cry and that’s why I haven’t finished this series yet I KEEP CRYING!)

She also has this whole motif about rage that really speaks to me. A part of me is like a fire that is inextinguishable and she’s the same.

Special mention to Hong Cha-young from Vincenzo because my gf said I was like her > The style, the goofiness and the evil not evilness🙈

🌂- You have to choose three fiction characters to help you survive in the apocalypse, who are you picking?

Senshi from delicious in dungeon: I need someone who knows enough about fauna and flora to know which plants/animal parts are good to eat in the wild and which ones are poisonous! I know how to cook and bake well enough but not enough to utilize everything in the best way and how to keep food well stocked. I feel like we would get along well plus he would remind me to actually eat and drink which is fairly important.

Aragorn from LOTR: Having a ranger in the team is essential because I lack most of what he has to offer and while Senshi might cover a similar ground, I feel like Aragorn would be helpful in many other ways such as, finding/creating shelter and keeping us from getting lost. He would be longing for his wife; I would be longing for my wife; we would be partners in long lost love stories.

Doctor Mccoy from Star Trek: I know how to give first aid + CPR, take care of burn wounds and other small wounds but in this situation, I feel like a real doctor should be a part of the team. Plus, Bones is used to critical situations with the amount of bathshit crazy things happening on the enterprise and he quickly adapts to changes. He also has great bedside manners so if I end up dying well at least my last moments will be nice lol. I almost forgot his massive balls of steel – this man is unshakable!

I think we would make the dream team: I know how to fish, mend/make (bad) clothes, bake and cook, ect. And three out of four of us know how to fight: I am a green belt in karate + I can throw handheld axes; Senshi has his axe + his shield/cauldron and Aragorn got his sword skills. I mean we’re pretty much covered in terms of leadership, nutrition, health, living quarters, troc strategies and defense… We could survive this!

👀 -Most tame ship you enjoy

Daisuga? Maybe? It’s very soft, they’re basically already married at this point lol. It’s a sweet, no conflict ship!

🌹 - What's a small fanbase you're a part of?

Gekkan Shojo Nozai kun: I watch this every summer and I can’t wait to see more if there’ll ever be more…. It’s just such a charming and chaotic show! The characters all have hilarious gimmicks that make them so endearing and you just want to see them succeed. It’s honestly really worth the watch if you haven’t seen it already!

Professor Layton: I think about replaying the games every other week < I could ‘cause I still have my DS and multiple games but I want to be able to cast it on the TV so I can play with my gf or watch her play!

[httpsyoungho]

when i first heard ‘what makes you beautiful’ for the first time all the way back in 2012, my 9-10 year old self was hooked. from that day on i was like a super fan of one direction. i remember getting ‘up all night’ for my birthday that same year, binge watching the video diaries they made during their x-factor days, watching anything and everything pertaining to those boys. i saved up allowance money to buy ‘take me home’, bought the unofficial books from book fairs at school, posters, shirts, drinking cups, etc. anything that had them on it, i was begging my mom to buy it. i remember getting our moment for christmas and it was the first real perfume that i’ve ever gotten. over the years, more and more memorabilia entered my little collection some of which i still own and hold near and dear to my heart today like those perfume bottles and my tickets to the ‘this is us’ movie. my bedroom had handmade art of liam and zayn’s tattoos, quotes they’ve said, lyrics, photos of the boys that i would use up all my mom’s printer ink to print, etc. i ran three separate fan accounts; one on instagram, one on tumblr and one on twitter. it was a full time job posting about them. i was a big niall and louis girl, my profile pics were always flower crown edits of them, my bios were either lyric quotes or just something they’ve said in interviews, etc.

i was never the girl that got to see them perform live but it was something that even as a little girl i wished for, every tour they announced, i wished that i’d win a radio contest, sweepstakes or just get tickets by some stroke of luck.

to say that the members of one direction meant and still mean so much to me is an understatement. i grew up with them, they sort of raised me. i remember crying when zayn left in 2015. i was unfortunately apart of that large bit of directioners that had twitter beef with naughty boy. i remember being there when it was announced louis was going to be a dad and the whole “conchobar” name incident. i remember exactly where i was when i read the hiatus news that eventually became a disbandment. the tears of shed for these 5 lads was insane.

so when i found out that liam had passed away i was and still am distraught. i never knew him personally, never met him, never had any interaction with the guy except when he replied to a question of mine on a tiktok live i believe it was. i have cried on and off for the past two days. it’s difficult to listen or even look at anything pertaining to one direction without feeling such an overwhelming amount of sadness. i’ve had old mutuals that have reactivated their fan accounts reach out and we’ve just cried about this together. i understand that the man he became wasn’t ideal and that he greatly needed help but he still meant so much to me and other people. he was bombarded with hate in the last moments of his life and i just wished he knew that he was loved and people will always have love for him.

i always thought this was something that i would have to think about until i was in my 60s. i never in my early twenties thought i’d ever hear about a member of one direction passing away.

i honestly hope that his family, friends and his son, bear, are doing okay during this time. loss is something that we don’t really expect or know how to process especially when it’s so sudden like this. everyone closest to him are definitely in my thoughts and prayers right now.

fly high, liam 🕊️

[uhohwhathaveidone]

Can I request a Sebastian sallow x reader fic that would be about the reader using avada kedavra on Solomon instead of Sebastian to protect Sebastian but the reader is in disbelief that she killed him so the reader runs off snd Sebastian just shocked so he follows the reader and after they are out of the ruins Sebastian comforts the reader by hugging her and comforting her and showering her with kisses to calm her down that she needed to use the spell to protect both of them.

Gotta protect the bf even if it ruins your mental stability am I right?

For Us (S.S)

I didn't sleep the whole night and when I went downstairs to greet my parents, who had just woken up, my dad asked me what I was doing up so early and my mom just looked at me and went "You haven't even gone to bed yet, have you?" And I was just walking around the kitchen at 6am drinking mountain dew and playing with the cats. It's my favourite activity. Also, ik my writing is kind of weird bc i use colour and favourite but not realise instead of realize but it's ok, I promise. Anyway, heavy spoilers for Sebastian's quest obviously, also a lot of angst, a man is dead, your honour. Trauma, am I right? Enjoy <3

      You stood next to Sebastian as he shouted at his uncle, wands pointed at each other. You could hardly keep up with what they said as you felt your heart pound in your chest, unsure what would happen next as you looked at Sebastian. His eyes were glazed over as he continued to shout, you were sure there were tears threatening to spill. Solomon glared at the two of you, his jaw tight as he shouted his piece, wand pointed at Sebastian; ready to use at any second. Sebastian kept you close as Solomon began to yell more, keeping you slightly behind him just in case.

      “I will not stand for this, Sebastian! What you are doing is wrong, I have to turn you and your friend in!” Solomon shouted; his face held no remorse as he threatened you, no tears of regret or a sad glance sent over to you, just pure anger. Sebastian pushed you behind him as he shouted back. “I won’t have that! What we are doing is right, you won’t stand in our way!” You watched with wide eyes as they began throwing spells at each other, unable to move in fear of being hit. Sebastian kept himself in front of you to protect you; he didn’t want you to be part of the fight since it was a family matter, and if anything happened, he didn’t want you to be blamed. You were stuck, watching as red and blue and green shot back and forth, your head spinning as you watched Sebastian barely cast Protego in time as a red light whizzed toward him.  

      Once again you found yourself stuck in a stand-still, both men breathing heavily as they tried to catch their breath. “I won’t let you turn us in, I just won’t.” Sebastian breathed; wand still raised. Solomon shook his head, eyes burning with what you could only describe as rage. “Then stop this madness! You can’t run around with the Dark Arts! Just come with me, I’ll help you.” You inched closer to Sebastian, hand in your pocket as your fingers grasped your wand. Sebastian shook, his own eyes switching from sadness and betrayal to anger, his knuckles turning white as his grip on his wand grew tighter. “Do you really think I’d fall for that?” He spat, his gaze darkening. “You won’t let us walk out of here. You’ll turn us in no matter what! You’d rather see my humanity stripped away in a cell than help me save Anne; just like you always wanted!” Solomon shook his head as he sighed, glancing at you. “Do you really think she wants to be part of this?” He gestured to you, earning a glare from you. Sebastian scoffed, “Why would you care? She’s been with me every step of the way!”

      Solomon looked at you as you continued to glare at him. “You don’t have to do this, y/n.” You frowned as you watched him fake a concerned look, pulling your wand out. “You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do. I chose this path with Sebastian to help his sister, something you couldn’t do.” You said, feeling your words drip with malice; Solomon giving you a final frown before reverting to his previous look, staring you down. “What you have chosen is darkness, I hope you know. There is no helping Anne, you have to know that.” He said, gesturing around him. “What you are doing here is futile! It’s pointless! You will be stopped.” Sebastian shook his head, his chest rising and falling at a quick pace as he felt his blood boil. “You know nothing! Nothing will stop us from finishing what we’ve already started!” Solomon sighed one last time, straightening his posture as he stared at Sebastian, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Then I’ll have to deal with you myself, once and for all.”

      Your eyes widened as time seemed to slow; Solomon readying his wand as he began to shout. You gripped your wand as you felt yourself run forward, pushing Sebastian back as you pointed your wand at Solomon, eyes glazed as you shouted your own spell. “Avada Kedavra!” Solomon’s eyes widened as he watched you cast first, only able a split second to realize what you had done. You stared, anger replacing the shocked glaze in your eyes as the green light flew into his chest, a flash of regret filling his face as he dropped to the ground. You felt time speed up once again as you stood there, shaking as you released the breath you had been holding. You felt your eye twitch as you quickly tried to fill your lungs with air again, your brain catching up to where you now stood. Sebastian stood behind you, eyes wide as the shock hit him, unable to move as he tried to process everything.

      You shrieked as you looked at Solomon, unmoving as his glazed eyes looked over to you, your hands shaking as you dropped your wand. You looked at your hands in horror, the invisible blood that no doubt stained your shaking palms letting you know what you had done. You had killed someone, even if you feared he would have killed you and Sebastian, you still killed him. Your legs felt weak as you grew cold, dropping to the ground as tears slid down your cheeks, your whole body shaking. You glanced back at Solomon, growing colder as his dead eyes stared into your own, his lifeless body limp against the hard ground. You tried to breathe as you grabbed for your wand, muttering incoherently to yourself as you tried to rationalize what you had done. Sebastian’s ears rang as he felt himself return to the present, slowly looking around before his eyes landed on his uncle. He furrowed his brows, almost in confusion, as he looked between you and Solomon, his hands shaking for reasons he was unable to understand.

      You gasped for air as your chest tightened, desperately trying to stand as more tears ran down your face. You held your wand to your chest as you watched Sebastian, who could only look at you, watching as you backed away from Solomon, shuddering as you looked between them. Sebastian took a step toward you, his gaze softening as his brain registered your frightened face, causing you to back away from him as well, eyes wide like a doe caught by a predator. You continued to back away, looking around you for the exit; quickly turning to it and sprinting out. Sebastian watched you go, confused, as he slowly turned back to Solomon.

      Sebastian stood over him, his mind still processing what he was seeing. He remembered the conversation, if it was even that, between him and his uncle, but the rest of it was hazy. Everything had transpired in under a minute, leaving much for Sebastian to catch up on. He knelt and checked for Solomon’s pulse, eyes widening when he felt none. Hands shaking, he looked around, eyes somehow finding Solomon’s. “You…tried to kill me?” He whispered, recalling how Solomon had begun to shout; he could have sworn he heard the beginnings of the killing curse before you shouted it yourself. Tears pricked at his eyes as the realization hit him in full force, quickly crawling away from Solomon’s body as the breath was stolen from his chest. You had killed Solomon, before he could kill the two of you. Sebastian’s eyes widened as he quickly stood up, looking around frantically for where you might have run off to.

      “Y/n!” Sebastian shouted as he ran out of the ruins, looking around. He found you farther away, your sobs leading him to you. You had fallen to your knees again, wand tossed away where you couldn’t reach it. Sebastian ran to you, dropping down to take a look at your face. You gripped the clothes at your chest, eyes wide as you struggled to breathe, muttering to yourself once again. “Y/n.” He said softy, his gaze softening as he watched as tears stained your cheeks and soaked your shirt. Slowly, he moved closer, shakily wrapping his arms around you as he brought your face into his chest, rubbing your back as you sobbed harder. He held you tighter as he softly rocked with you, feeling his own tears fall from his eyes. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I promise.” He said softly; unsure if he was trying to reassure you or himself that everything was fine, He wasn’t the one that cast the spell, but the guilt of the matter squeezed his heart as you shuddered, slightly whining as you tried to talk.

      “I…Killed him.” You muttered between sobs; your whole body shook as you continued to fill your lungs with air. Sebastian hushed you, running a hand through your hair as he peppered small kisses to the top of your head. “Don’t think about that, just focus. You’ll faint if you don’t fix your breathing.” He said quietly, feeling you nod softly into his chest as. He tried to guide you into a normal breathing pattern, taking deep breaths and slowly exhaling as you followed suit. “I heard him. He was going to kill you.” You gasped, feeling your heart speed up again as you thought back to what had happened. Sebastian shook his head as he held on to you, nuzzling into your hair as he tried to distract you, focusing on your breathing once again. “You had to, it’s okay. I promise, you’re okay.” The two of you sat there for a few moments, Sebastian continuing to guide you out of your panicked state.

      You sniffled as you pulled your face away from Sebastian, eyes red as you looked up at his face. Sebastian felt his heart break as he took in your teary face, slowly bringing his still shaking hands up to your cheeks as he rested his forehead against your own. “You’re okay. We’re okay. You did what you had to do.” He whispered, feeling you nod slightly as you shook. “I still can’t believe it…It shouldn’t have happened this way.” You breathed; your voice still shaky as you tried to dry your tears. Sebastian took your hands in his own as he placed a kiss to your forehead. He helped you dry your tears as you sniffled once again. “You did what you had to. You did it for us, you had to.” He said softly, kissing your hands. You began to breathe normally again, closing your eyes as you repeated his words in your head. Sebastian placed a soft kiss to your lips, resting his head against yours once again, whispering. “I’m here with you. You have me by your side. I won’t let anything like this happen again.”

[jeannahas]

MIDNIGHT MUSINGS

Well… we made it another year I guess. If I had to sum up the entire year in one word, I would say “Loss”. In nearly all senses (not fully all)

- lost my job as they couldn’t afford my salary. This dropped me from a salaried position to 12.35$ an hour. With 2.5 kids.

- lost connections to friends and students. (see above)

- business I managed and taught for collapsed, and officially went bankrupt this month, meaning everything I worked to build in Las Vegas over the course of three years is officially gone. Dust. Again, for me. No legacy for me it seems. (See above)

- had a major falling out with a sibling I respected greatly, and we still haven’t talked to each other since. I was in the middle of two gifts for him, and both sit on my desk unfinished. I want to finish them; and send them, it hurts to look at them.

- purpose? What purpose?

- motivation? What motivation?

- I have only been able to put food on the table this year thanks to the fact that my family owns a small house in the middle of nowhere where, and we’ve only had to pay utilities. So self image? Sense of self sufficiency? Gone.

- Hope or faith in humanity? Not really after this November.

- student loans kicked in- not like I have any money anyway. Just sitting there. And of course, in my notice it said any excess payments will go to interest- and why not allow me to pay on the principle????

- Die to a misfiling, my wife and I don’t actually have medical insurance and we’ve been fighting to get on a new program for oh… four months. Unsuccessfully, obviously.

That said, Some good things did happen this year- my son was born, I got to finally meet my youngest niece, and the two of them seem to be fast friends- both born only a couple weeks apart. I saw my younger brother for the first time since his wedding, and almost the whole family was together for Christmas this year, playing games, catching up, being family. I had a really good boss this uear, and he made sure I had time to be with my family whenever I needed it, or whenever they needed me, which meant the world to me this year.

It took almost seven months after having to resign from my job teaching martial arts, but my mental health is finally intact enough to try to get a teaching degree for this next year. Will it work? Maybe! Will president idiot and his oligarch puppeteer kill the education system and put me out of a job again? maybe! But I’m at least trying to crawl my way up from this particular nothing.

I finished the first draft of my book, met some really interesting people that have made life more entertaining, started the second draft of my book, and helped my mom publish her first kids book. My son took his first assisted steps, my daughters are growing independent and feisty (as they should) and my wife and I have never been closer.

I’ve been able to spend more time with my parents this year than… ever, since I moved out, and honestly, it’s been great just watching my kids play with their grandparents.

For once though……… I’m in no way sad to see a year slip by. Goodbye 2024- you were a rough year.

Forgotten gods in the heavens, I am so tired.

May 2025 be better than I am expecting.

[huntingthelioness]

Before Our Flag Means Death I only saw queer media in two genres: the fantasy of happy children and the reality of sad adults.

But then OFMD. A fantasy-reality of queer people of all ages (and races and body types) just being queer and people. Not a coming of age story but a coming of self story. A story that asked, “what if there wasn’t a place for you, and you tried to make a place for yourself, but then you weren’t sure if THAT was for you either, but then someone saw the place you made and thought it was rad as hell and so were you for making it.” A story that said, “If you’re still haunted by your childhood trauma, that’s totally understandable. Who wouldn’t be?” A show that said, “You can make mistakes, but you can come back from them, and YOU are not a mistake.” That said, “No matter what you’ve done, you can be loved.”

When I watched season 1 I was a they/she. They by choice, she by ‘people won’t care enough to get it right and if I pretend to be okay with it then I can make it not hurt.’ And then I heard three pirates call their friend “they” with no preamble, no discussion, no stumbling, no handwringing, no fanfare, no cookies for getting it right. Simply “Seeing as though they’re from here,” “They JUST started talking,” “If they stabbed me I’d be like eh, probably deserved it.” And if fictional 1700s PIRATES can get their friend’s pronouns right, then real modern people can too. I don’t think it was even a month later that I was a they/them.

Our Flag Means Death changed me utterly. It brought the core of me to life again in ways I didn’t know it had died. After s1 I started engaging with fan works again for the first time in over a decade. I made new friends. I got a tattoo. After s2 I started *writing* fan works again after almost *two* decades. (Yes they’re in a Google doc and may never see the light of day but there are currently 13 whole finished stories sitting there like who even am I???) And a hundred other things from tiny thought pattern changes to huge identity shifts. I am not the same person I was two years ago and it’s because of OFMD.

As I grieve the loss of this beautiful show, I think about a phrase I’ve been half jokingly/half bitterly saying to my husband every time I talk about my decision to pursue top surgery—“Whatever else happens [with the abysmal state of USA politics], at least they won’t be able put my boobs back on.” Whatever else happens with OFMD, my life can’t be UNchanged. It happened. Nine hours of television exist that made me queerer, bolder, happier, freer. So too exist the 18+ months of community and love and art and excitement. Studio execs can’t take even a second of that away.

[gracieart]

You’re seriously going to take drawing requests from A Court of Thought?!? Someone who routinely lies, gaslights, bullies, and blocks Elriels? You were truly one of my fave people on this platform but watching you pander to Eluciens…whew, the respect I’ve lost.

Hello anon. I seem to have upset another one of you.

First and foremost, I am going to draw whatever I want and I'm not going to apologize to you. Let me just get that out in the air.

And for now, we are just going to ignore how you seem entitled to me, my art, my free time, and what I decide to do so we can quickly address your concern here.

I want to preface this by saying I sat on this ask for hours because I was genuinely so confused where this came from. I literally had no idea what you were referring to. I thought ‘A Court of Thought’ was you trying to criticize me for taking art prompts for A Court of Thorns and Roses and that you were saying I do all those things you mention. Which, as you can imagine, made me very sad.

But it finally dawned on me (after one of my friends pointed it out to me) that you were referring to the comment I replied to from the blog ACourtofThought.

After that realization, your comment started to make sense… for the most part.

Now, I have never once spoken to or even heard of this person before they commented on one of my posts. I know absolutely nothing about them. I’ve never even seen one of their posts. But if what you say is true, then you should know there is no possible way I could have even heard of them before, as I have a long list of anti tags blocked and have a strict no negativity policy on all my blogs. If you knew me at all, or if I was one of your favorite people on this platform, as you claim, then you should know that about me at the very least. I make it very very clear I do not deal with that kind of negativity.

And you know, not everyone in this fandom chooses to surround themselves with negativity. I hope you free yourself from this, truly.

I am not upset that you talked down to me, hurt my feelings, and insulted me. No, I’m mostly upset about the fact that you immediately jumped to the worst conclusions about me. The fact is I simply replied to a nice comment I saw on a post I made. That’s it. You saw that and thought “Wow, this woman is siding with this person I really dislike. And she obviously knows exactly who this person is and why I dislike them so much. So how dare she!”

…That is what you thought, am I wrong?

This is unwarranted and out of context. I am not “pandering” to Eluciens. I was simply asking my very kind mutuals, who happen to like that ship, if they had any prompts they wanted me to draw. And I tagged Elucien in that post so it reached other people. I have so many nice and genuine friends on here who ship all kinds of things, and I want to create something that makes them happy too. Is that a crime?

What if I told you I’m the exact same person I’ve always been? What if I told you that all the while I’ve been one of your “favorite people on this platform,” I’ve been doodling Elucien for some of my longest friends. Would you still have had any respect for me left to lose if you knew that all along?

I won’t talk about the ships here. If you want to know about that, go see my response to the other ask I answered yesterday.

When I first saw this ask, I’ll admit it upset me very much. So much so that I couldn’t get anything done for most of the day because I was so sad that someone would say something like this to me. But I’ve had a whole day to think about this, and I’ve come to one conclusion: I really don’t think you had much respect for me to begin with if you are so quick to turn around and talk down to me and insult me after I seemingly did something to offend you.

And if I did offend you, you could have easily just unfollowed me and moved on. But… you chose to go out of your way to insult me. Why?

I am sorry you are stuck in a place where you feel like you have to assume the worst of people. I’m sorry you have found yourself surrounded with so much negativity in this fandom. Fandom is a place for people to come together because they enjoy something, and I am truly sorry you’ve fallen into the part of the fandom that doesn’t comprehend that.

I’ll never begin to understand why people can’t see that kindness is so much easier. But at least I have a lovely circle of friends on here I can fall back on. Friends who have different opinions, who ship different things, or like other stuff. Friends who are in a completely different circle, but are the kindest, most compassionate people I’ve ever met.

Anon, I truly wish for you to find that for yourself. Try surrounding yourself with kind people who like different things. You will be so much happier. Trust me. There are so many nice people out there once you step outside your own circle.

[celestie0]

Girl I was balls deep in my attempt to make fanart for u a couple months ago

Like I had the reference pictures collated and I sat my ass down and picked up an pencil with the intention of actually drawing something after ages

cause basically I became a lil sad cause I felt like I forgot to draw bc last year in school I took an external art subject and it didn’t occur to me that doing a hands on subject through distance study wasn’t the brightest idea

anyway that fucked me over and led to me dropping and taking up fucking legal studies 😭

Even though I’m a bit more STEM based I can still fw the wordy subjects but not this someone pls save me why am I being assessed on the bi cameral structure of parliament

saur yh I’m super lazy as is with anything so that situation just put me off drawing and art completely

congrats to me setting every world record for yip yapping and going off track

ummm yh for context it was like my 10th read through of the kickoff chapter 6 scene that compelled me to collate a bunch of reference pics that ranged from twitter smut comics to bathroom sinks and eventually I gave up because anatomy is a bitch

I changed into a dress with the same type of neckline I think reader was wearing bc of the way it tucks under her boobies and I was this close to just shamelessly positioning myself in front of the mirror to make my own references

then ofc I got distracted by a half baked portrait of Rose from titanic that I drew when I was like 15 and ended up drawing a two hour long remake of the same picture

only for my friend to tell me it looks like Mary Shelly’s ghost

Should I know who that is

To be fair it looked nothing like her but I mean it was an improvement from thinking all my ability just went poof and I drew better when I was 15

never the less I was somewhat disappointed with the product and I haven’t drawn since

wait I wanna show u actually lemme try

https://share.icloud.com/photos/0edTRG9Tb54pRh9Qe5unszRrg

the Mary Shelly in question

do these links work I’m scared I’m gonna accidentally leak personal details or my whole camera roll lol

also IM NOT AN ARTIST don’t judge me peeps I’m just a girl idek how to drive yet

I feel bad every time I send an ask I feel like I’m force feeding u Ellie babes u have the patience and commitment of a saint

also OMG IF YOU MADE ART FOR ANY OF MY FICS I’D SOB!!!!

I want to 😞🫶 but alas prospect of fanart from me will most likely never see the light of day

that crack scene in ihm was tempting tho everything u write is just so visual

♥️ mwah my gorgeous gorgeous writer wifey

hellooo my dear PLS the ramble of this ask is legendary and i found it very entertaining xD

ouuu the dress that reader wears in ch6 of kickoff is actually based on a dress that i own, here's some pictures of it!! i'm curious if the dress you have is similar!! but yea this is the official outfit reference hahah

looking at it now it's kind of a mild sweetheart neckline lol n yea def tucks under the boobs very nicely xd i was actually gonna sell it on depop a couple months ago when i did a closet cleanout but i was like nahhh i gotta keep it bc it inspired that scene

taking your OWN reference pictures sounds so badass. and its ok babe it's the thought that counts haha <3 i feel u about the losing passion/talent in art thooo aaa i used to draw too but ehh hobbies fizzle

ahh i can't see the cloud photos :(( but anywho thanks for the yap my dear!! i ate it up. also side note but i'm so glad my writing comes off visual to you!! i always worry there's not enough description in my scenes so that's reassuring to hear. much love!

[haechanhues]

KPOP FIC RECS

So I recently (like a couple of months ago) read Bowie’s Books by John O’Connell which is a series of essays exploring David Bowie’s list of 100 Books that transformed his life and I thought it was a way to make my own. These are all fics (in some way or another) that have been memorable in many different ways and I hope to share them with you all.

This is also a full on sap train so I thought you should be ready. I’m also weirdly nervous since this feels kind of vulnerable and makes me shy. but haiii

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

1. @hyuckiebabie - Bad Intentions | NCT (discontinued) 

Of course, I have to start with this. I have to. I’ve also just learnt that author-nim has since left tumblr. But the writing was beautiful and the connection that Haechan and the MC had with each other was absolutely alluring. God I felt things I have never felt before. This was quite awhile ago and I’m kind of sad I can’t reread it to boost my memory a bit more but I was super excited for every update. But aww I wish you could all read it even though it was discontinued, it still remains very memorable for me. 

2.  @beom1e​ - Love Is Not Easy | TXT (completed)

The fic that made me obsess over TXT fics for a very large portion of the year. I read it again and it’s so chaotic and erratic in the best way. I love these boys with all my heart and it was so fun to be able to read it and connect to it. There were different endings that were all really fun. The very first time I was a very big Yeonjun supporter but nowadays I feel a more Beomgyu lean. Hmm, I don’t know. So many options. Can’t forget about Soobin either. The best kind of crossroad ever. 

3. @dovechim - That’s Okay That’s Love | BTS (ongoing)

No because I’m frustrated my original comments about this didn’t save. I remember reading this and it was the first time I had read something involving mental health so blatantly and it just felt oddly satisfying. What I liked the most about this fic however was the way that every character was interwoven within the story without the sole purpose of their existence to be a ‘friend’ to the main character and give advice and put some sense into them nor to invoke drama. I liked that they each have their own story and plot and it’s so majestically done that I always have to applaud this story for it.

4. @jayflrt - The A List | ENHYPEN (one-shot) 

Ahhh yes, I finally get to talk about this. This was one of the first ENHYPEN fics I read and it definitely helped me stan them to the level I did. I love the ....friendship between the MC and Jay. I love the taste of the whole fic in general - the rich people shit and the drama and the need to just not be made into a total loser by an anonymous source. I’m not even being dramatic but this fic has a taste and it’s absolutely fucking wonderful I’m salivating. 

5. @fantasybangtan​ - Queen Cobra | BTS (ongoing) 

One of my utmost favourite writers on Tumblr and in general. I love this story with all my heart and it made me a total * girl. This fic always manages to have a hook on me in more ways than one and I was so excited to see that a chapter has been updated since I last read it. I hope to god you never stop writing. Ever. Such a talented person and a very special one at that. I sound a bit like teachers comments in student reports and I’m sorry. But I hope you feel how sincere I am in my recommendations to read this fic. You have to. Absolute art. 

6.  @caramellohigh - Not Such A Good Boy | THE BOYZ (ongoing) 

This is my favourite depiction of Juyeon, like ever. I remember seeing three times before I actually read it. First it popped up in my dash just randomly, then it was recommended (not specifically to me) but I had been wanting to read a few fics. I thank whatever higher power exists for this fic. I can’t explain myself but like it’s so good. I love the whole golden sweet nice sunshine boy being this person who isn’t actually all that sunny and saintly trope. I don’t know the proper name for it but I loved this. I can’t wait for more chapters such an exciting fic, I couldn’t put this fic down for the life of me. I had a lot to do today but I didn’t do it because I was reading this hahaha best decision ever. 

7. @theluckyyyoneee​ - Antipode | EXO (completed) 

OH MY GOD I JUST SAW THERE’S AN UPDATED CHAPTER, I’M GOING TO READ IT NOW. Okay okay I’m going back to writing normally so I don’t look like an idiot, but I love this fic with all my heart. So so warm. I love that Chanyeol is just a literal puppy throughout the fic. God I hope to see this couple again. In any way. I’ll take it. I remember I first read this when Chanyeol went to the military and reading the final chapter when he’s back literally feels like all is right with the world. I adore this couple. And with the risk of sounding cheesy as hell, this story smells of pine and appears like Christmas lights in the night and I think that’s the cutest fucking thing. 

8. @jungblue - Future Hearts | BTS (ongoing) 

I’ll be honest, before I came to Tumblr I always ignored recommendations for fan fics - simply because I had different tastes to the person giving the recs (they were a bit too much for me) and I just liked that fan fics were just my terrain to freely explore the fics available without in some form being attached to someone else (i was going through some shit obviously). Then this fic showed up and I took a chance on it. Best thing I’ve ever done for myself. I fell in love with writing all over again. I thought of colours differently. Everything. was just so different. I was super invested in the story. I would say it became so definitive of the person I was at eighteen, when life started changing. So thank you author-nim. From your forever fan <3 I hope all is well with you, you deserve the whole world y’know. 

9. @sankyeom - Break Your Rules | THE BOYZ (completed)  

Okay okay so, I love Sunwoo with my whole heart and one of my favourite tropes is brother’s best friend (disclaimer : it reflects to my life in no shape, way or form but we love a good ol’ forbidden love without the death involved) I first read this on my other account and it’s always one I seek out if I want a little thrill and a happy ending. Also the side characters are so fucking funny, I loved reading them. This fic is the treat your aunty tells you she shouldn’t be giving you but does anyway and you love her with your whole heart. So wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. 

10. @chittapornswife​ - DYNL Club | NCT (ongoing) 

A fic I’m forever fond of, I think. I always used to read this whenever I would go to class and it would keep me from having panic attacks. It would always leave me feeling fluffy and energised enough to get through an hour (or longer) class (and it wasn’t like the class was terrible, it just made me anxious.) I always link this fic to good things, or at least like it’s a bridge from being less than okay to recovery which is kind of ironic considering the content. It also has Haechan in it, which I’m thankful for. This story helped build my love for him in a way, I think. I’m truly grateful. 

11. @desayunho​ - Time Of Love | ATEEZ (completed) 

Oh my god it was a struggle deciding what fic to use but I decided on this one. It’s so beautiful. Oh my god I loved it. I read ‘Lovefool’ before this one and just knew that I had to hop on this train too. Lovefool blew me away and I knew it would happen with this one too. Absolutely after my own heart. I’m not one for poly fics (not against them either, I just don’t normally read them) but AHHH I’m screaming. The dynamic. The everything. This fic is everything. Thank you and good night. I love San and Wooyoung and ATEEZ AND author-nim, a special place in my heart is reserved for you and your artistry. 

12. @ballelino - Wedding Season | STRAY KIDS (completed) 

With the risk of sounding absolutely delusional, this fic helped me well and truly realise that I am never ever going to move on from Lee Minho. Like ever. The fic left me feeling very vulnerable but well protected? I don’t know how to form words but...  Everything was just perfect. Truly a foundation. It’s a fic I want to read for the first time again for the feelings I felt and the sensations I was going through. Truly a magical ride. I’m not even being sappy - this is me being totally brutally honest. I loved it for lack of better words. You know that question that goes ‘If the words ‘I love you’ didn’t exist what would you use?’...This fic. That’s it. My new love language. 

13. @thepixelelf - Hood | THE BOYZ (completed) 

This was well and truly a rollercoaster.. god I could remember it. I was on the edge of my seat every update. I loved the whole friendship and the back and forth. Ever since that first chapter it has been a favourite of mine and has remained one of my favourites since then. Also it was literally a year spent together with a fic and I don’t know why but this makes me feel more attached and feel more love for this fic even more. It’s beautiful and it’s literally like cuddling a teddy bear. I don’t know how else to describe it. If I could hug any fic it would be this one. Cause it deserves everyone’s high praises and I want someone to experience reading this fic to experience it and just tell me what they thought and we can go nuts over it. 

14. @seokjinsdisciple - Who’s Your Daddy | ATEEZ (ongoing) 

What a rollercoaster of events. These ATEEZ fics (not even just this one) has a special place in my heart but I’m here to talk about this one in particular. It’s so incredibly cute and angsty at the same time. Anything you ask for in a fic, you get it practically. It’s everything. It gives me everything. It gives me life. Seventeen chapters in and I've already tried finding a wizard to turn me into a puddle on the floor because I can’t cope. It’s absolutely brilliant. Ahhhh- also one of the authors to open the new door for me in terms of social media aus. I never thought I’d be into them but I really am and a large part is due to author-nim so thank you for this medium of storytelling and doing such a good job every single time. No misses. 

15. @aspenwritesstuff - Prove Me Wrong | STRAY KIDS (ongoing) 

HOW COULD I NOT INCLUDE THIS. I can’t even remember how I came to read it but I remember reading it and being so hooked the very first chapter. I am also extremely affectionate of you, Aspen. This story and everything about it. I love it. It’s cute and fucking interesting and I’m just so hooked and excited I cannot wait to see how the rest of the story pans out. Like truly amazing. I’m going nuts over just thinking about it. Absolutely wonderful and just truly cute. I don’t know what else to say but it’s so cute. So fucking cute. Ahhhh. Just screaming and yelling and hollering at this point. LIKE YEAH THIS IS ME. THIS IS HOW EXCITED I CAN BE. Can’t wait, Aspen, honestly (take ur time tho <3) 

16. @gyukult​ - We Don’t Usually Hold Hands | SEVENTEEN (one-shot) 

So usually whenever I read Mingyu books I’m used to player Mingyu or sugar daddy esque-Mingyu who’s very cool. I’m not hating it. I still most likely would read it. But I never knew how much I needed a fic where I could actually see Mingyu in it and I think it’s perfect. I fell in love with this fic at first read and I think it’s actually changed the trajectory of my life forever. I’m not even being remotely funny. It really has. I don’t know - I loved the humour, I love just how casual the romance was. Like it felt so natural and just so Mingyu I don’t know what else to say without rambling. I feel like this fic is especially for those who don’t necessarily believe in romantic love, for those who do and in love with the idea of love and just everyone in between. So everyone basically. It’s a necessity. 

17. @kyufiber​ - How To Be A Heartbreaker | THE BOYZ (completed) 

God, I love this fic so much I don’t know what else to tell you. This is an Eric fic but it felt like more than just that. I’m a Sunwoo girl, have been from the very first video I saw of these guys but everyone just-. Let me tell you how PERFECT this fic is. It went exactly the way I wanted it but every update was a blessing and a gift. Like...is this music? No but I’m honestly always starstruck by this fic. I have no way of formulating proper sentences, it’s amazing. It’s so good. It’s so good. It’s honestly- GOD, especially if you’re an Eric person. This is for you. For all of you actually - read it! I’m begging with my whole chest, my whole soul, everything about me that is me - read it. 

18. @starrgaziinggg​ - Friends With Benefits | STRAY KIDS (ongoing) 

I can’t remember exactly remember the 6 W’s of how, where, when I found this fic. But all I remember is that it was a god send during my Minho phase (that is still in fact going, don’t get me wrong). Every new update is so fucking fun for me and definitely has me all up in there. I love this version of Minho. It’s one of my favourites. Absolutely. This fic has been a newfound love of mine and I’ve enjoyed falling in love with it every single chapter and I know that won’t ever change. I’m a bit speechless I don’t know what to say, currently I’m looking at it and I’m so excited to talk about it but all I am right now is a blubbering mess that can’t string two words together to make a single sentence. But I really appreciate this fic and I can’t wait for more updates! <3 

19. @wooyunhwa​ - Kingdom Of Welcome Addiction | ATEEZ (ongoing) 

Although it’s been a couple of years since the last update, I am still going to praise and praise this fic as if it’s my sole purpose in life. I love the way the characters are and how there’s a whole world away from everyone else - as if its just the three of them in this demon vs angel love affair. Don’t even get me started on the writing - it’s so beautiful, detailed and I love how humour is incorporated into it. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It surprised me so much in such little but significant ways that I think sets apart this fic from others like it. Truly. 

20. @yeow6n - boyfriend!haechan tiktok series | NCT (ongoing) 

Ahhh my current go-to Haechan fic writer. God, I’m in love. Have you ever felt a connection with someone you haven’t talked to or anything but because you share that one thing you’re in it for life? This is it my friends. This. Every fic I’ve read is a love of mine and I’m so excited to write about it. They’re usually short and sharp but incredibly sweet and it just- it makes loving Donghyuck easier. Honestly author-nim came in at the right time and totally swept me off my feet. In love with it. In love with him. Stan author-nim for good Haechan content. Honestly I feel like calling you bestie which is one hundred percent out of character for me so I won’t - but I just want to let you know that the temptation was there and it was a strong one! 

[ballercollective]

i have so many regretevator ocs and i have all their current info under cut. WARNING THERES A LTO AND NORMAN'S ISN'T FINISHED [they all have designs i promise. also if you remember my old charades art NO YOU DONT]

Name/Nickname: Charades [No NN] Age [Optional]: Early 30s Pronouns: They/Them Gender: Nonbinary Sexuality: Pan Ace Personality: A very shy person when out of their town, they try their best to help others, yet it’s hard for them to reach out at first. They struggle with social situations, especially awkward/sad moments. They’re a big fan of catching bandits and being the hero. They’re pretty anxious about a lot of things. Occupation: Sheriff Species: Cat; Grey And White Tuxedo[?] Etc.:

Has anxiety

HEAVILY implied to not be a cat at all

Phrase when walking in is “Meowdy! Haha.. get it?”

Birthday is July 27th ————————— Gets on at: Minefield, Other Elevator [Rare] Gets off at: Two Stud Camp, Slide 4 Admin Can be killed?: Yes [MR] Can damage?: No If full..: Minefield: Hop the fence and start running away Other Elevator: Stand still If MR is on..: Minefield: Walk on a mine and explode Other Elevator: Fall apart

Idle: “This place.. isn't very big on the inside.” “I hope I can get back home soon.” “Are you a bandit?? If yes.. can I arrest you?” “I gotta hang in there!” “I’ve always hated elevators.. Where do you think we’re going?” “Fun fact! Us sheriffs, we don’t actually carry guns a whole lot!” “oh god please don't talk to me-” “Uhm.. you seem nice enough.” “Fun fact! I only have 7 lives! “S-Sorry ab-meow-t how.. nervous I am.” “Agh.. I can’t stop thinking about.. that nya-ghtmare…” Leaving: “Bye!!” “I’m outta here- way too spooky!!!” “I should get back to town… later.” Petals: “Oh… thanks.” “purr” “They’re getting stuck in my fur!” “Well, aren’t you sweet.” “What purr-etty petals… Please tell me you got the joke..” “I-Is this some sort of confession?? Sorry, but no..” Spray: “HEY! CUT IT OUT!” “Ughh.. I hate getting wet.” “Ew ew ew ew..” “What did I do wrong??” Snowball: “AIEE!!!” “Brrr.. so cold.” “OW!” “Please don't do that..” Tomato: “EWEWEWEWEW!!!!” “Leave me alone!!” “It looks like I’m covered in blood, hAha…” “STOP IT.” “I’M SORRY!!!” C4: “THAT REALLY SCARED ME!!” “WHAT DID I DO??” “I-I didn’t even do anything to you…” “That reminded me of a bank heist..”

Name/Nickname: Kirnamii [Kirn] Age [Optional]: 264 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Sexuality: Agatic Personality: Laid-back and talkative, she loves making friends and meeting new faces. She’s sort of forgetful, but she tries her best to make every time a good time. Occupation: N/A Species: Ghost [Human] Etc.:

Loves talking about dance

Phrase when walking in is “Boo!” or “Sup?”

Phrase when walking in when MR is inside is “oh.”

Birthday is November 1st ————————— Gets on at: SharkCo Mall, Shop Space Gets off at: Happy Home, Backrooms Can be killed?: No Can damage?: No If full..: SharkCo Mall: Float around Shop Space: “Walk” around If MR is on..: N/A, no difference in entering.

Idle: “Why are there so many floors??” “BOO!! Did I get you?” “I keep trying to think about my life..” “This place is full of WEIRDOS!!” “When does a man become a monster?” “I could leave anytime I want, but I'm too tired.” “Did you know I used to love to dance? I can’t anymore, but.. It was fun.” “Hey.. do you know what happened to Kasper?” “Last night, I dreamt about going to a party!! But.. it wasn’t fun for long. That beret..” Leaving: “See ya!” “I guess this is my stop.” Leaving [Happy Home]: “I know I’m not invited, buuut..” Petals: “Wow, these are really pretty.” “I’d toss petals back at you, but.. Y’know.” “Even though they go right through me, I appreciate the gesture!” “Yeah, no thanks, keep your petals.” “Are these.. fresh? How are they not dead??” Spray/Snowball/Tomato/C4: N/A

Name/Nickname: ID_INVERT.EXE [Invert] Age [Optional]: N/A Pronouns: She/It Gender: Supposedly agender, unconfirmed Sexuality: AroAce-spec Personality: Kind-hearted and suspicious, but tries to get friends. It’s hard to trust them. Occupation: N/A Species: Chemically charged computer program, technically a robot. Etc.:

Related to Unpleasant somehow

Has implied that it kissed Bive a few years ago in a conversation with her

Phrase when coming on is “[]”

No confirmed birthday, but it’s implied to be when “The Thing [1982]” came out, aka June 25th ————————— Gets on at: FNARB, Dodge Teh Teapots Gets off at: Cardboard Mansion, Two Stud Camp, Infected’s Apartment Can be killed?: Yes [If sprayed] Can damage?: Yes [If MR is in the elevator] If full..: FNARB: Fade away Dodge Teh Teapots: Walk the other way If MR is on..: FNARB: Walk out one of the doors. After a second, all of the power cuts, which basically guarantees Reddy going in the office. Dodge Teh Teapots: Get on the elevator and play a ticking noise, exploding after 5 or so seconds, killing all NPCs and players in it. Including MR.

Idle: “>_WHAT ARE THE SCHEMATICS FOR THIS MACHINE??” “>_DO YOU ENJOY READING? I DO.” “>_CAN WE BE FRIENDS?” “>_SUSPICIOUS? ME? UNLIKELY.” “[<ACTION_IDLE>]” “[<ERROR. ERROR. BATTERY LOW. RECHARGING…>]” “>_…AWKWARD. THIS IS AWKWARD.” “>_THAT BLACK AND FUZZY ONE. DO YOU KNOW HER?” Leaving: “[<ACTION_LEAVE_RGTVR>]” “>_GOODBYE.” Petals: “[<SYSTEM OVERHEATING. COOLING ACTIVATED.>]” “>_I LOVE FLOWERS!” “>_RUBIGANOSAS…” “>_I THINK YOU DROPPED YOUR PETALS ON ACCIDENT.” “>_DID YOU PICK THESE?” “[<CHECKING FOR VIRUS “ILOVEYOU”… NO VIRUS DETECTED.>]” “>_PLEASE DO NOT LITTER.” Spray: “[<ERROR. ERROR. ERROR. SD_SEQ ACTIVATED.>]” Explode!!! Snowball: “>_I HATE SNOW. IT IS WET.” “>_HAS WINTER COME?” “[<ERROR. HEATING ACTIVATED.>]” “>_IS THIS SOME SORT OF WEIRD GREETING?” Tomato: “>_I WOULD RATHER YOU NOT.” “>_WHAT AN.. ODD GESTURE.” “>_DID YOU WANT ME TO EAT IT OR SOMETHING??” “>_I DO NOT LIKE TOMATOES.” “>_DISGUSTING.” C4: “>_THAT WOULD NOT HURT ME.” “>_I CANNOT DIE FROM EXPLOSIONS.” “>_I AM BLAST-PROOF.” “>_NOT FUNNY.”

Name/Nickname: Erick [No NN] Age [Optional]: N/A Pronouns: She/He Gender: Nonbinary Sexuality: Trixic Personality: Just Poob and Infected mixed together. A lil bit of Split too. Occupation: Science/Math teacher. Species: Epic face, “Epickani” Etc.:

Cringe

Constantly says random references, such as repeating “The president’s shoelaces.” during a conversation with Flesh Cousin

It’s implied he bites you after you hit him with 16 snowballs, with the lines “Yummy!!” and “Om nom nom!!”

Phrase when coming in is “HAI!!”

Birthday is December 13th ————————— Gets on at: Gumball Machine, Skyblock Gets off at: Slide 4 Admin, Tumblr Ballpit, Backrooms Can be killed?: Yes [MR] Can damage?: Yes [If hit with 16 snowballs. -25 hp.] If full..: Gumball Machine: Jump on top of the elevator Skyblock: …Also jump on top of the elevator If MR is on..: Gumball Machine: Run up the machine quickly, standing near where the player enters to beat the floor Skyblock: Jump off the side

Idle: “Do u liek teh color of teh sky?? :3” “JINKIEZ!!! @_@” “Pineapplez r in mah headdd… ^_^” “Beep boop!!!! I look 4 accidental haiku postz!!!! Sometimez I mess up.. :3” “Do u evn understand color theory???? xD” “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…” “Blu canary in teh outlet by teh lightswitch!! :33” “Mah stupid dreamz let dat THING in again!!! >x[“ Leaving: “SRRY YALL!!!! FOMO!!!! x3” “#StayWoke!!!” Petals: “Woa.. u could b mah bae… :O” “ILY!!!!!” “Teh rosez of romance!?!?!?” “woa.. this is so kewl…” “Kiss mee!!! Kiss me wif ur eyez closed!!!! X3” “RAWR!! <3” Spray: “I will smack dat bottle STRAIGHT outta ur handz. I’ll do it." “grrr…” "This is how 2 b a heartbreaker.. </3” “Ur such a n00b.” “Who do u think u r??? Teh queen of mean???” Snowball: “grrrrr…” “Spleef moment ^_^” “I used 2 eat snow :7” “This makez me hungry..” “Dat felt liek a mallet :[“ “Don’t throw so hard!!!!!” [After 16]: “Om nom nom!!” “Yummy!!” “I said DON’T THROW SO HARD!!!!!” “If ur hp gets 2 0, u lose!” “grrr BARK BARK." "I'm cold >:/" Tomato: “Ah, a classic!! :3” “I feel liek a hospital floor now…” “I’m nawt a jester!!! :[“ “BOB!?!?!? :O” “Nawt very epik…” C4: “Plz don’t scare me liek dat..” “C4.. more liek.. c u l8r.. xD” “KABOOM!!!!” “TACTICAL NUKE INCOMING!!!!” “AIRSTRIKE!!!!”

Name/Nickname: Pot [No NN] Age [Optional]: 20 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Cis Fem Sexuality: Pan Personality: THE KINDEST LITTLE GAL YOU'VE EVER MET. SO GENUINELY SWEET AND CARING!!! She’s really big into gardening, and she loves to plant clovers and daffodils specifically. Occupation: Gardener Species: Plant Pot Etc.:

Her pot can either have clovers or daffodils in it

Phrase when coming in is “Well hello there!”

Phrase when entering Pick-a-Plant is “Welcome to my shop! Have a look around!”

Birthday is April 22nd ————————— Gets on at: Bugbo Gets off at: Two Stud Camp, Cardboard Mansion, Pick-a-Plant [Fanmade Floor] Can be killed?: Yes [MR] Can damage?: No If full..: Bugbo: Stay at stand [she replaces the rock stand btw] If MR is on..: Bugbo: Same

Idle: “What’s your favorite flower? Mine’s the stock!” “I should grow some more clovers when I get back..” “Maybe I shouldn’t leave my plants around those bug-folk.. Eugh..” “I’ve tried to advertise my plants, but I don’t get many orders.” “I have this one client who keeps asking for apples. She’s really nice!” “I keep hearing rustling near my shop.. I hope it’s nothing.” “Sometimes, I’ll see a figure in my dreams. We talk a lot!” Leaving: “I need to check on my flowers!” “Did I forget to feed the venus flytraps!?” “I have to water my plants!” Leaving [Pick-a-Plant]: “Here we are!”/“Buy whatever you’d like!” “This is my shop!”/”You can browse if you wanna!” Petals: “Aww!” “Oh, are these rose petals? Adorable!” “Did you pick these yourself?” “Thank you!” “How lovely!” “You’re very nice!” Spray: “Thanks a bunch!” “How refreshing..” “That really helps!” “Now my plants are watered!” “Oh, I forgot to water these earlier! Thank you!” Snowball: “Yikes..” “I hate winter..” “That feels weird!” “Why’d you do that?” “If you’re trying to water my plants.. Don’t do that.” Tomato: “Oh no!” “Y-You dropped it!” “AYE!!” “The poor tomato…” “sniffle” “You could’ve really hurt me with that!” C4: “Woah! You nearly scared me to death with that!” “Yippee!!” “I’m really fragile..” “That’s a really mean prank!”

Name/Nickname: NO-R-MAN [Norman] Age [Optional]: N/A Pronouns: He/She/Any Gender: Male Sexuality: Hype-Bisexual Personality: {WORK IN PROGRESS} Occupation: N/A Species: Warning Sign [Robot] Etc.:

His face changes when talking.

Phrase when coming in is “Good evening.”

Birthday is Jaunary 1st Gets on at: Suspiciously Elongated Room Gets off at: Backrooms, Tumblr Ballpit, UES Can be killed?: Yes [MR] Can damage?: No If full..: SER: Doesn’t appear. If MR is on..: SER: As soon as she gets in front of the elevator, TARMITE crushes her. The floor ends after.

Idle: {WORK IN PROGRESS} Leaving: {WORK IN PROGRESS} Petals: {WORK IN PROGRESS} Spray: {WORK IN PROGRESS} Snowball: {WORK IN PROGRESS} Tomato: {WORK IN PROGRESS} C4: {WORK IN PROGRESS}