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bishopsbeloved · 9 months ago

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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)

read this fic on ao3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like when you go to the store?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your voice catches in your throat.

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

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

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

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

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

“Because… I lied?”

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

“No I didn’t— what?”

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

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

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

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

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

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

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

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

“Huh? But I do.”

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

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

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

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

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

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

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

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

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

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

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

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

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

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She blinks. “Really?”

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

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

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

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She contemplates this.

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

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

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

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au #mama melina paramore reference u get a cookie if u spot it

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gyuvision · 10 months ago

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goodnight ricky

wc ; 1k - pairing ; ricky shen x fem reader

summary ; before your roommate left she promised she’d find you a replacement. 3 years later she never did, until now, leaving you as confused as ever while you looked at the 6ft male sitting in your room.

contains -> fluff/slight angst

you came back late, having class at a top (and painfully competitive) med school plus the late shift at the local coffee shop. you were tired especially during exams. all you wanted was to stay in your bed and read a book, or sleep for the rest of the night. however you pleased.

so naturally being that exhausted you were absolutely not expecting the man sitting in your desk, drawing towards the conclusion that you were hallucinating and that maybe sleep sounded like a better idea than a book.

“someone told me to wait for you here”

“what?”

“you know, your roommate?”

oh. right.

your roommate was your best friend. you were inseparable, shared the same dreams, got into the same college together.

but everything changed. she got a boyfriend, and suddenly your future wasn’t as intertwined as you originally planned it to be.

they broke up and she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted. everything about her had changed and your schedule almost never lined up because of how many times she changed it for her ex.

so, she cut ties, peacefully. she explained she no longer wanted the same thing as you and left but promised to visit soon and that she’d find someone to take her place because she knew how much you hated being on your own.

guess that explained why the man (who you later knew as shen quanrui) was waiting for you, in the same spot she always waited for you to come home.

“its been.. 2 years since she left. how could you have found me when she couldn’t even shoot a text?”

“unbeknownst you, you mean a great deal to her more than you seem to think you do. i was her partner in art school before we had graduated, and she sent me here. she knows how you are, with your life plan laid out in front of you, for you. she knows you’d still live here even after almost 3 years. she knows you’d end up getting into med school after college. you’re not that unpredictable jung y/n.”

“so i’ve been prepared all my life, and what about it? i don’t march towards things without a plan. and how could you address me by my full name when i don’t even know yours?”

“shen quanrui.”

“shim what?” “shen. quan. rui. shen quanrui. its not that hard.”

“so you’re not korean?” “obviously not. i’m chinese.”

“can you say your name one more time?”

“my god. you can just call me ricky.”

“lovelicky.” “what?” “nothing.”

“i brought back food. it was supposed to be a snack for me but i guess you can have it now that i know i’ll be accommodating for two from this point on.”

“thanks. but uh- can we just go to sleep?” ricky asked, moving from your desk to sit on your twin bed.

“what? this is a two person flat. go sleep in her old room.”

“uh- i would, assuming she left behind her bed. but you kind of boarded up her room and i’m not looking to take it down at midnight on a thursday.”

“oh. i guess you’re right. i forgot about that. i just never assumed she’d actually send someone to me so i didn’t want to look at everything she left behind.”

ricky shrugged and laid down on one side of your bed, while he let you climb into the side touching the wall. since when was he wearing pajamas?..

“isnt this weird?” you muttered.

“not really.”

“i just met you.”

“your couch looks stiff as fuck and i’m not sleeping on the floor.”

right. you had a couch.. maybe med school is taking a toll on your memory. you feel like your frontal lobe is deteriorating.

ricky watched as you reached for a book, before he quickly grabbed your hand and set it back down on the shelf above the bed.

“no. sleep. you have school then the night shift at the cafe.”

“how did you-” “you leave your schedule framed on your fridge.” “right..”

“goodnight y/n.”

“okay. goodnight ricky.”

#gyuvision #gyuvision - zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 smut #zerobaseone x reader #ricky x reader #ricky smut #shen quanrui x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 ricky #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone

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oops-all-concrete · 11 months ago

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Okay, BG3 fandom, I have had sweet thoughts and would like to share them; Companions reacting to Tavs hiding an injury until they couldn't keep it to themselves anymore/the companions put together that they're hurting. (Companions aren't romanced, but GETTING there)

Tooth rotting fluff in a text wall under the cut, enjoy

Lae'zel -

Lae'zel is annoyed, but in the "Don't fight me when I'm trying to love you without saying it" kind of way. She'll say "This isn't battle strategic, there is no advantage this offers us" but the whole camp knows what she means while she aggressively dresses your wound and tells you to stop whining. If Tav wakes up in the middle of the night to find her guarding their tent like a loyal dog, they didn't see anything as far as she cares.

Shadowheart -

Similarly to Lae'zel, Shadowheart is a little annoyed, but Shadowheart can admit she's worried. "You should have told me. I'd have taken care of this immediately" She tells Tav, healing the wound with a small prayer. She makes them promise to say something in the future, even if only for her sake. "This journey has been treacherous. I'd like the one good thing that's come of it to survive with me"

Wyll -

"Promise me you're not going to make a habit of that" He insists, dressing your wounds with a tense expression. "I'd like you to flourish at my side. And I can't be certain you're doing that when you hide things like this." He admits, apparent worry in his voice, gentle movements, a warning for every touch. He's a hard man to feel uncomfortable around. Tav can practically feel the care radiating off him with every patient smile.

Karlach -

She gives Tav the least flack for keeping it to yourself. "Woah soldier, let's take a break and look at that, yeah?" She suggests, keeping the worry out of her voice quite well. She knows they're hiding it for a reason and tries not to make them feel worse for failing to hide it. She just tries to make Tav as comfortable as possible so they might feel at ease enough to tell her next time.

Gale -

The man basically mothers Tav through the healing process. Insists they're off their feet, won't budge on Tav resting and cleans their wounds and changes bandages around the clock. "As much peril as we are in every day, I'd like if you kept even the smaller injuries out in the open." He explains one night. "As small as any harm seems when compared to impending ilithid doom, it's still harm. Much more, it's harm we can fix. Harm I'd like to fix. Ah- assuming you'll let me"

Astarion -

Sounds inconvenienced, will not sit still while you're unwell. He'll hang around and poke fun but won't let them get up for anything. "I mean, how have you even managed that" he says, handing Tav fresh water. "I know you're clumsy, but surely you could have avoided that" he chuckles, handing you another book to draw in/read. "I'll remember this next time you say you have an idea" He rolls his eyes cutting up food and feeding them personally. Anyone asks? "Well, I can't just let them suffer can I? They'll never shut up"

Bonus! (Our older folks)

Halsin -

"That looks painful...you needn't be in pain you know, I can carry you quite easily" He offers. If Tav truly doesn't want help, he can't/won't make them, but he will hover and puppy-dog-eyes at them until they cave. The man will let Tav use him for warmth in the night while they recover and carry them to the pond to bathe as well. Really, Tav could ask anything of him, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Jaheira -

"I don't even send Harpers out in that condition if I can help it. You'll sit and relax, yes?" She says. Not asks, because she's not asking. "I mean, what if this got infected, or started swelling? Would you just wait for death like a bird falling out of the sky?" She rolls her eyes playfully. She doesn't hesitate to ask for help on Tavs behalf either. "If they'd judge you for being hurt, they're not worthy allies...if they'd judge you for suffering in silence however, that makes them good friends"

Minsc -

"Boo says this should take care of your battle scars. You'll take it yes? When a hamster gives advice, it's bad luck not to take it" he smiles handing Tav whatever potion variant needed. He's overall jovial about it, casual and moves on quickly. Wether that's out of courtesy for Tavs pride or simply because he's a kind man with a hollow head, nobody can truly say.

Hope you enjoyed <3 (and Happy Holidays)

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

Note

AITA because my puppy was destructive and did a lot of damage?

I have a five month old puppy. Since she was five months old I have used a Pet Sitter as she is a puppy and cannot be left unattended. She’s completed puppy training and I’m working through an intermediate obedience class. I’ve lent the Pet Sitter the training manual in the past, so she knows the puppy’s commands and what we are working on.

My partner and I a week off from work so we decided to travel Tuesday - Thursday and Saturday - Sunday. I picked the puppy up Thursday night and brought her back to the Pet Sitter on Saturday afternoon.

On Thursday when I picked up the puppy the Pet Sitter remarked that she didn’t know how I kept a puppy in my apartment without a yard. That the puppy had been running around since 4 am and never got tired. I explained that I walk her and mostly tire her out with mental exercises like training.

The puppy slept most of the day Friday and wasn’t interested in getting up for anything, even food. She seemed completely exhausted and I was worried that the Pet Sitter had overdone it with her. When I dropped her off Saturday I told the Pet Sitter about how tired she’d been but the Pet Sitter didn’t seem concerned.

On Sunday morning the Pet Sitter texted me about how much the puppy loved running around outside in the rain and that she thought the puppy would love to live on a farm.

Sunday afternoon, she texted me saying that my puppy had destroyed her garden. “Hi can you have your roommate come and get the dog? I cannot keep the puppy out of the garden or stop her from destroying the yard.”

By roommate she meant my partner who was with me on vacation out of town. At the time she sent this text my cell phone did not have service and I received this text as well as the others about fifteen ministers later. She sent me pictures of the destroyed garden and a text.

“She literally has chewed up part of the little fence I had around the garden.”

She then sent me several pictures of pictures of my puppy actively chewing on the little fence thing. I felt frustrated that she took pictures rather than telling her to leave it.

She said the damage happened “within 5 minutes it took me to go to the bathroom. She needs a giant farm with cattle or sheep to heard.”

And asked how soon I could pick up the dog. I said we were leaving right away but it was a three hour drive (which ended up being longer due to storms and traffic).

When I got there to pick up the dog she wanted to show me all the damage the dog did and said she left it there like it was so she could show me. I declined because I was scheduled to meet with my puppy’s trainer.

She said she knows it’s not technically my fault but I need to understand she will never watch my puppy again and does not think the puppy is suitable to live in a city and should be on a farm.

I met with my trainer and showed her the texts and pictures and she said that digging and chewing was likely a boredom response. She’s never caused much destruction at my place aside from occasionally chewing things she shouldn’t chew when I wasn’t looking which resulted in me telling her to leave it when I noticed.

I never leave her unattended around the house. She’s kennel trained and if I have to leave her alone even to go to sleep she is in her kennel.

I had no idea she’d destroy the garden, but I also didn’t know the pet sitter had a garden or that she it wasn’t secured in a way to keep dogs out or that she’d leave my puppy unattended.

I’m not sure what how I could have managed the puppy’s behavior since I was not there and hadn’t been there since the day before. I assumed the Pet Sitter knew how to look after puppies since she looks after puppies, and agreed to look after mine and had done so repeatedly.

But I feel guilty about all the damage. The Pet Sitter said she’d done hundreds of dollars of damage to the garden and gotten her into trouble with her landlady for damage done to the yard and vines on the wall.

The Pet Sitter was always really nice. She has everyone call her aunty and called the puppy our baby. She sent puppy home with new toys and gave us a giant gift bag after watching her on Christmas with a new leash and snuffle mats and toys. I’m really sorry the damage happened but I’m not sure what I could have done differently.

https://imgur.com/gallery/ZFkp8ao

The imgur link, clickable

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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shitpostdevil · 7 months ago

Text

Am I Allowed to Cry?

(((SatoSugu one shot)))

Drowning in the Blue Nile

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

My boredom's bone-deep

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

‘Why didn’t you chase him?’

The words echo in my mind,

haunting me as I stare

at the bare wall of my dorm room

where photos used to stay.

It was my responsibility as a jujutsu sorcerer

to stop exactly what Suguru caused.

His smile was so soft.

He knew I wasn’t going to understand

and he didn’t even try to convince me.

He was always like that this last summer.

Something in him changed after Amanai died.

I’m pretty sure he had thought I was dead too

from the look on his face

when I walked into that room holding her corpse.

I knew I had changed.

Being on the brink of death will do that to a person.

I grip my bedsheets,

gritting my teeth at the tears

that burned their way out of my eyes

against my protest.

All I remember after that is screaming

until I heard Shoko’s voice.

“Give him space,

get out of here!

Gojo, hey, Gojo-”

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

Do we still talk?

It would be unwise to indulge the answer to that.

How they haven’t found me out yet?

I have no idea.

They must trust their golden boy enough

to not assume that he would be

in the bed of a criminal after long missions,

dressing my wounds,

always stretching out the time.

He explained himself.

Adopted two little girls-

I can’t blame him for doing what he did,

but I would never say that out loud.

This world is… horrible.

We know that better than anyone I suppose.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

Staring at my phone screen,

my scrolling through pointless pictures

paused by his text;

When are you coming over next?

Simple, but he always did get straight to the point.

My finger absent-mindedly twirls

around the black cat phone charm that he got for me-

something I had claimed I’d won in a random gacha pull,

but I knew the truth and that’s all that mattered.

Part of me needed him with me,

even if I couldn’t admit it.

I want to drop everything and run to him

every

damn

time.

Soon. I text back,

locking my phone and letting my arm drop,

painted fingertips grazing over sheets

he will never see again.

I keep these longings locked

In lowercase, inside a vault

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

“How long are you going to do this, Gojo?”

Shoko quizzes me,

her face holds a touch of disapproval

but not disappointment.

I just look at her.

Does she really expect me to give an answer for that?

Until the day I die.

I want to say.

Want to scream.

I can’t even give an actual answer

because all that would give is

confirmation that I still see the ‘traitor’.

She knows.

She has to.

She… saw how badly it broke me-

feelings I never want to unleash again.

“What are you talking about?”

I finally ask,

eyes begging her to drop it through sunglasses.

She just pulls out her cigarette box silently,

flipping the top open

and holding it in my direction, offering.

I take one.

These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me, we've already done it in my head

If it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

“S-Satoru~”

His liquor soaked breath stutters in the dark

as I work my art on him,

messy kisses to the insides of his thighs,

leaving marks that will only be known to us.

His hands are tangled in my hair loosely,

tightening every moment he feels good.

He refuses to be quiet,

but I couldn’t complain.

“A God amongst men,

and you’re begging for me.”

I state breathlessly,

smirking up at him.

He just hums in pure amusement.

“You always were so cocky~”

he chides,

hips bucking when my lips find his leaking head.

“You were saying?” I ask.

“Mm-mmm~” he says as he pushes my mouth onto his cock.

I can’t help but give him what he wants.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name

Building up like waves crashing over my grave

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

Shoko notices the hickey I tried my hardest to cover

almost immediately.

Deny.

“The girl I was with wasn’t really as careful as I asked her to be.”

I bluffed, laughing.

Her eyes questioned deeper,

but not her voice.

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly

I choose you and me religiously

“You know this can’t last forever Satoru.” He says.

I clench my jaw.

Of course I know that.

Why did he feel the need to bring this up again?

His hands are so gently painting my fingernails black.

It was his way of being intimate without having to admit it.

I secretly loved having any trace of him on me that I could get.

I don’t want to respond to him,

I just want to stay here,

at this moment.

Forever.

I never wanted him to stop holding my hands so preciously.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

“At least curse at me a little at the very end.”

His smile is still so soft even with blood everywhere.

I just fall to my knees,

eyes filled with traumas no one should have to see.

“If I had noticed…

If I saw how badly it destroyed you…

would it have changed anything?”

I’m speaking before I can think it through.

“Perhaps…” He coughs, breathing sharp,

“But then again… probably not.”

The tears are falling before I can stop them.

“I’m so sorry.”

I can't get my voice above a whisper.

“It’s not your fault, my one and only.”

My one and only…

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

“Satoru.”

The voice of a ghost speaks from behind me and I falter,

if only for a moment.

Suguru…?

I turn.

I’m trapped again,

but this time it’s real.

Is it really so bad to die if it’s at his hands?

Horror written all over my face-

that’s his body, but that isn’t him.

Am I allowed to cry?

My soul knows otherwise…

#~#satosugu #fanfiction #JJK SPOILERS #JUJUTSU KAISEN SPOILERS #am I allowed to cry?#geto #geto suguru #suguru geto #gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #found art on pinterest! if you want credit or want it removed please alert me!!!#I made the banner at the bottom #im so sick guys i fuckin forgot some of the formatting and the 18+ warning 😵‍💫

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ameliawarnerr · 1 year ago

Text

POV: MC is drunk at Aurora and she texts Jake.

Part - 2

Find part 1 here!

—MC—

I tip-toe down the stairs, my hand grazing the wall as I silently pray not to wake anybody. And by anybody, I mean, Lilly Donfort, Hannah Donfort and Jake Donfort. I am the only one who isn't Donfort so I figured I should get the hell out of here before any of them wakes up. Explaining my presence here is not going to be easy.

I'm clearly in the clothes I wore last night– all wrinkled and shrunken. I have no idea where my phone, my shoes or oh wait I don't know where my entire logic has vanished.

If I ran into someone, I truly hope it to be Lilly. And she could even tell me why I am at her place. Perhaps she found me and then rescued me here. Obviously, it cannot be Hannah. She doesn't even come out of the house that often. If I am unfortunate enough to run into her this morning, I have no clue what I am supposed to say. What if she thinks I slept with her half brother?!

Did I?

However, if I'm as ill-fated as Shakespeare’s tragic characters, I’d definitely come across Jake.

Although it cannot be Jake who got me here. He never goes to Aurora and if Phil was to call anyone to help me, the list would start with Jessy and end with Thomas. Jake wouldn't make it to that list for obvious reasons.

I successfully lay my feet on the ground floor. It's five in the morning. No one would be awake. I sprint straight to the door, paying little attention to my surroundings. I'd have my phone collected later. I'm currently in the red zone of potential awkward situations, followed by guilt and longing. All things I hate.

My hand wraps around the cold knob of the door. I turn it around but it's locked. “Son of a…”

“Where do you think you are leaving?” A distant voice makes a trail of obscene words escape my mouth. Whoever is writing my story is clearly inspired by Shakespeare.

I clear my throat, removing my hand from the knob. I don't turn away as I say, “I don't know how I got here but I need to be back at home. I have an important thing to do.”

“Make a mindmap of all the things that happened last night? I can help.” His voice is a little distracted, taunting and infuriating.

I scoff, turning away to look at him. He’s behind the kitchen island which I had conveniently ignored on the little run from the stairs to the door. He's cooking something. If he really wants to play the indirect, between the lines tormenting game, I think he doesn't know my argumentative and bitch side because I had a soft spot for him as soon as I knew him.

“If you are really feeling helpful, Donfort, then, why don't you tell me what I am doing here?” I fold my hands on my chest. Addressing the opponent with the last name is sort of a declaration.

He doesn't look at me as he sprinkles salt and black pepper onto whatever he's cooking in that pan. My eyes descend to his hands as he works before I jerk them away. “Oh, I stalked you and then I found out that you were drunk and vulnerable so I kidnapped you.” He deadpans.

I scoff again. Jake doesn't beat around the bush. If he's doing this, he wants to make a point.

“I can't imagine why you'd do that.” I crease my brows, pretending to be genuinely confused. I walk towards him. As I lay my palms on the island, I see the slight shake of his hand and his posture becoming rigid. I don't know if it's my closeness or that I indirectly pointed at our history because as much as we both try to ignore it, one of us would mention it. And I can't be the one being caught off-guard.

“Kidnappers often have motivations and planning for months but sometimes, they are driven by reasons that might be beyond the victim’s understanding.” He states, his hands moving swiftly again as he lowers the flame of the stove. There's a mug filled with coffee. I eye it.

Jake looks up then follows my gaze as I look away. He grabs the mug and offers it to me. I take it without saying thank you.

“What’s your point?” I cut to the chase. I'm used to him being percipient and having thoughts a normal human being can't fathom, but I could understand his points. I can, still. But it's five in the morning.

“My point, Stephens, is that the motivation for abduction doesn't matter if you are the victim.” He uses my last name.

“It mattered when Hannah was kidnapped.” I rebuke.

He sighs, putting the stove off and really looking at me for the first time. I might be tackling the guilt of shutting him out internally but the longing is coming out on the surface. “Again, it mattered to us. Not to Hannah. All she could have thought about was finding a way out or regretting being careless in the first place.”

I know what this is about now. No matter the status of our relationship, I don't think he can ever hold back from lecturing me about my own safety. I shove down the softness that his care brings in me and think about how much I hate being called weak. “So this is about my getting drunk in a bar owned by a friend.”

He gives me a look.

“What? It's not like I was totally alone. Phil was there and he's a friend. I'm allowed to get wasted in the company of a friend. And he owns the bar. There's no way he'd let anyone hurt me on his property.”

If I hate being called weak– directly or indirectly– he hates when I trust Phil.

“The same Phil Hawkins who got arrested and had to plead for help to a stranger towns away? The same guy whose bar Cleo and Thomas broke into and he couldn't do anything about that, save for sulking to his sister? That guy?” There's a challenge in his voice.

I slid down to the stool. I can't defend Phil against the truth so I drink my coffee silently after saying, “Yep. Him.”

Jake shakes his head. “All I am asking you is to be a little careful. I know you are smart and can get out of situations perhaps even I wouldn't be able to.” My shoulders rise. His words can make me feel absolutely weak and then inevitable all of a sudden. “But that doesn't mean you can be careless.”

I don't look at him as I drink my coffee, staring at the wall. “I think you shouldn't care.”

He nods. “And I think it's cruel of you,” our eyes meet, “To pretend not to know why I care.”

I tear my gaze off him. “I’ve moved on. I need to pretend that you have too.”

I can feel his gaze on me, pleading silently for me to look at him. I cannot. “You haven't moved on. You're trying to move on and evidently, you are doing an awful job.” He says, his patience little by little vanishing.

I look at him, then. “What do you mean, evidently?” I query, ignoring everything else he said. He turns away and reaches out for something from the opposite kitchen counter. Turning back, he hands me my phone.

The screen shows our chat. Two recent messages marked read. Two recent messages that I sent while I was drunk and it's clear that I was drunk. God, so many spelling errors on top of no punctuation. And I thought solving a case through texts would make me a pro at texting. I threatened him to sleep with any guy? What is wrong with me?

I shrug. “I don't talk like this. This must have been–”

He cuts me off. “Phil? Save it. The drunk you have already tried it. Not to mention, she was more like you than you are now. Honest and bold. She wasn't the one who'd not have enough courage to look someone in the eye.” His voice lowers with every word.

Mortification riles me up from the chair. “Alright. Thanks for the coffee and the lecture I didn't pay for. I’ll be leaving now.” I lay the cup on the island and turn away.

“You talk a lot when you're drunk.” He says, making me halt midway. All the stupid things I could have said wander around my head. The reason I got drunk in the first place is the most plausible one. Shit shit shit—

As I slowly turn sound, I find that Jake has left the kitchen and is now heading towards the stairs, unaffected by my declaration that I'm leaving. Motherfucker knows I'd follow him.

I rush towards him as he climbs the first step. “What did I say?” I ask, firmly.

“Weren’t you leaving?” He banters while continuing to climb the stairs. I do the same, only a step behind him.

“Jake, come on, we are not five years old. Tell me what I said.” I bark.

He barely acts threatened by my acidified voice. “What part? When you were babbling not knowing I was standing two steps away or the long one in the car? To me, they were both equally enjoyable.”

oh my god. I can't trust the drunk me talking to him directly, what shit would I have spitted when I didn't know he was around?

I glance up and he's already five steps away. I rush to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Jake, I swear to god, tell me right now—”

He whirls around and I'm taken by surprise– ending with one foot on the same step as his and the other one step down. My hand on his shoulder slides down to his chest. “Or else? What will you do?” He challenges, his coffee-like eyes dart from one eye to the other in a mischievous manner. He knows if he presents anything like a challenge, I'd take it.

My back is against the wall and if he takes half a step, I'd pressed between them. “Or, or,” the closeness makes me stutter. Or maybe it's the fact that he's not nervous at all. Or he's just hiding it well. I can't lose to him because of closeness. That's some excuse Thomas would pull.

“I’m listening.”

I gain my posture back, straight my spine but still need to look up to meet his eyes. “Or I’ll go to your room, sleep in that bed and come out when Lilly’s awake and before I’d even begin to explain, she’d go around telling everyone that we slept together.”

Jake has such an infuriating gaze then I can neither look at him nor look away. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

I really need to keep my fantasies away from my threats. “No. I guess I'm still a little drunk. So please, tell me what I said?” I try softening my voice, looking at him rather than glaring.

He blinks and looks away. “I think you know what you said. That's why you are so desperate to confirm it, that you are standing on my foot.”

I peek down. I am actually standing on his foot. I pull my feet back but end up losing my balance. The hand on Jake’s chest fists his black t-shirt. His hand wraps around my waist holding me in place. I gain my balance back and my face ends up too close to his.

His body is pressed against mine though there's still some sane distance between our heads. I gulp down the urges surfacing all of a sudden. The ones I locked away for weeks. The air is thick with ache and yearning. Our collective wants.

He glances at my lips then back at my eyes. “You said that I forced you to drink because I didn't try to contact you after you rejected me. You said you can't stop thinking about me. And when I was getting you out of the car, you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“Did I?” I foolishly ask, looking at his lips.

“Yes.” He breathes out, nearing me. His grip on my waist tightens.

“And did you do it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Of course, not.” He answers in a beat.

“Because I was drunk.” I say the reason out loud, leaning in.

He inhales and agrees. “Because you were drunk.”

“Which I am not anymore.” I lean in, merely an inch away from his lips. I don't think either of us is looking anywhere but each other's lips. I don't know if it's yearning for each other or the fact that we have spent almost a month thinking about us, that we no longer waste any time thinking. All thoughts weigh no importance anymore. It's clear what we want.

“Say it.” He whispers, his lips grazing against mine.

I don't. I let the weeks of frustration, guilt, longing release out as our lips touch. There's no point being gentle and slow. I know he knows it and he's acting upon it. I'm pressed against the wall, as his other hand caresses the side of my neck. I fist his t-shirt in my hand again, as the other hand wanders in his hair.

His tongue skims over my lower lip as he arches my neck up. I open my mouth, letting him enjoy my submissive side for a moment. Then, I bit his lip, smiling between the kisses. I can feel his smirk. The hand on my waist slides under my top and pinches my side. I wriggle in his hold.

I pull his hair harder but that only encourages him to kiss me faster. He grabs my hand on his chest and pins it against the wall, slowly sliding it above my head.

We break through only when we hear a door opening. We are both out of breath as we stare at each other, knowing the only wall between us: my decision to move on, has been burned down.

“Get drunk more often. It's always fun listening to you complain about me.” He smiles.

I bite back a smile but I think I'm terribly failing.. “Didn’t I need to be more careful?”

“When I’m around, you can put your guard down.” He affirms.

“That’s sweet but I really need to leave now.” I partly turn and take a step down only for him to wrap his hands around my waist to stop me.

“Yeah, that's not happening.” He says, leading me up the stairs again.

Yeah, that's not happening any time soon.

—The End—

#duskwood #duskwood fanfic #jake_duskwood #duskwood fandom #duskwood jake x mc #writing #jessy_duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #dan duskwood #jake x mc #jake duskwood #mc x jake #jake x reader #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jessy

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variousqueerthings · 5 months ago

Note

8 11 32 PLEASE!

HELLOOOOO AND THANK YOUUUUUU! also I remembered how much I overthink when looking at these whoops

8. Describe your gender without using any words traditionally related to gender: You know the opening to the Mr Bean series? Mr Bean gets beamed down onto earth and then it's implied that everyone Mr Bean does after that is literally because of being an alien, but it's never actually confirmed in the text? that but like. with a much more extensive wardrobe

11. Favorite (or just one you love) piece of LGBT media?: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME???? I'm gonna give u three out of Many that are perfect. and I'm going to connect them to a Theme (I'VE CONNECTED THE DOTS). the thing is that these movies are movies that have at some point held me gently and guided me into a greater understanding of the queer community and history generally, as well as my own feeling of place within this community

My Beautiful Laundrette: This is one of my personal seminal queer movies, I watched it as a young'un/baby queer and it's just. Oh. such softness amidst the violence of the times, and the thing is that the softness is something that saves the main characters from the violence, both as potential perpetrators and victims (and how those can be blurred concepts to begin with). the core of it is two men who come back together amidst the height of neo-nazi anti-immigration 80s England, one of whom is Pakistani British and the other a white skinhead. And they open a laundrette together. This movie is sweet, I promise! it also features one of the subtly hottest moments to me in film history, in which one of them licks the others' neck in public while being watched on one side by Pakistani family members and on the other by white racists but it's angled so none of them see it!

City of Lost Souls: Listen, Rosa Von Praunheim's documentation of trans people (and generally queer people) is so so important for our community and you should check him out, but this film in particular is such a wild fucking ride that is hard to explain. a bunch of queer artists in 80s Berlin (and this movie was made in the 80s so you get some real footage of that great big wall) just like... fuck around? share intense elder wisdom? connect? sing! (oh yeah, it's kind of a musical, a trashy punky musical). This is some of the real deep magic of queer connection. there's an iconic moment in this film (there are several) in which a trans woman picks up a one-night stand and explains to him that she's trans and he's like. "eh no idea what all of that means, but you're saying you're a woman right? great!" and it's just Fine

Desire Lines: listen this movie... I'm almost hesitant to recommend it, because I feel so personally affected by it and it's a one-of-a-kind (so far) insight into transmasculine gay culture that is just. deeply precious and not understood by a lot of even the wider queer community. myself and every transmasc person I know who's seen it have felt somewhat transcendent about it, the way you do the first time you see yourself as (positively) visible in this way, it's almost too much. it's a documentary at heart, but quite experimental in elements of its structure, with parts of it being a fictional telling of a middle-aged iranian trans man who works in an archive and is told of the history of trans men's inclusion in gay bathhouses, lou sullivan, and personal testimonies from gay transmasc people. sometimes you don't notice how deprived you've been until something gives you real oxygen

Hon. mentions: Joyland, Great Freedom, Die Beautiful my personal favourite queer films of 2023, still have me by the throat!!!

32. Do you do arts and crafts? Post a pic of a project you've done: okay I will share a picture of something, but I need to go take a picture when I have a sec. It's not complete, but I've started a little zine that's just a big collection of euphemisms and ways of talking about queerness and it's such a fascinating, fun project that's made me think more expansively about how queerness gets talked about, whether it's in the past or present (or potential futures), within and without the community, as modern, or bigoted, or outdated, or fun, or out-of-the-box, or specific, etc. -- it's very far from done, but I can give a sense of just how many words/phrases/concepts I've picked up + imagery I want to include + the construction of the zine itself, which has a few little secrets to it

#happy pride #pride asks #ask #thank you friend!!!!#queer stuff #queer testimony #queer cinema #queer narrative #queer culture

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kokomelt · 7 months ago

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I think it's very obvious I'm a Genshin enjoyer, but also I must mention I'm an avid Inazuma Eleven enjoyer too, and I will never get over the fact we have a nation literally named "Inazuma" (I know it's because it's the Electro nation, but still...let me be unu) so...how come Inazuma Genshin AU isn't a thing?? It probably is but I haven't seen much about it. Genshin has an element system and so does Inazuma Eleven, Archons can equal to keshin right? Or maybe the Go coaches? Imagine Endou or Kidou as Archons–

Ahem...wait, you must be wondering (sadly, I think you're not), who's this random person? Howdy, I'm Coco/Mimi, and you are watching me yap and gnaw at this AU's messy concept because I can't write to help myself (because English isn't my first language, sorry) and I'm in no way cohesive nor make much sense most of the time while trying to explain stuff.

Now let's get back on track under the cut...

When I say Inazuma Eleven Genshin AU I don't mean that it should follow the original plot, because who could even be Aether and Lumine??? But conceptually the Visions, nations and Archons just click to me for Inazuma Eleven, somehow (and if it doesn't you'll have to pry this AU from my wimpy, damp hands)!! Besides, most hissatsus could be translated to elemental powers so they can keep them even in Genshin (some of them at least) and it'd still work.

Before I dive into this any further, for those fans of Inazuma who are unfamiliar with Genshin, if you're wondering how much of the lore/basics you need to know to understand this, don't worry, not much really...i think?. I won't say anything that's not like very well-known regarding Genshin and/or common knowledge about it, any other thing I'll try to badly explain it without losing the flow (this is a mess, so spoiler: that's not likely to happen, i'm so sorry).

For any fan of Genshin who ended up here without knowing much about Inazuma Eleven... I'm not going to tag this under the Genshin fandom, because without context of Inazuma Eleven this will be even more of a bigger wall of nonsensical text.

For the sake of making this somewhat understandable I'll separate it into different topics, it won't make it more organized but at least it would be split into parts so no one gets (more) lost + with cute pastel dividers to try and be aesthetic about it...

Also I can't promise this is spoiler free, I doubt it so if you don't want spoilers for Genshin and/or Inazuma Eleven I think you should stop here.

꒰ The General Plot of this AU kinda ꒱

As I mentioned above, I don't think this AU can or needs to follow the original plot for Genshin, at least not the one with Aether and Lumine because again, I don't know who could fit the role so let's just say this is an AU who only grabs the concepts of Genshin (set in Teyvat, 7 elements and nations, Archons, visions, The Abyss, etc) and throws Inazuma Eleven characters into the setting.

However, some things make sense to me and I think can be equated to certain events in Inazuma Eleven but tbh, I don't even know which timeline would this follow. For example, Fatui being akin to Teikoku, and Kageyama Reiji being the Cryo Archon could fit. But also the Fatui sound a lot like they could be the equivalent of Fifth Sector, and the SEEDs are the Harbingers.

That's why I say I have no idea really what timeline this could follow, personally when this nonsense came to me while daydreaming I thought of it being set on the Inazuma Eleven Go timeline because idk, in Genshin the first element the player gets is Anemo (wind), and who other than Tenma could be both a protagonist and had an Anemo vision? But I won't jump into the vision headcanons yet.

So I think if that's the case, maybe The Fatui were indeed the whole of Teikoku. Archons are deities, ok, but one can ascend to become an Archon, so my take on Kageyama Reiji being the Cryo Archon stays but...what if he died like what supposedly happened in Galaxy? Basically...Kageyama was the Archon, but died, and who could succeed him? Well, I was thinking Kidou could, therefore that would make him the new Cryo Archon on Tenma's timeline.

But if the Fifth Sector is like the Fatui (somewhat, it's just because they're the main "evil organization"), and Fifth Sector was something created by Goenji, why would he bring back a group that's so related to Archon!Kageyama?

Also the whole Aliea incident could be tied to the Abyss Order or something, because the Aliea Stone and the Abyss corrupt people.

So yeah, that's what I mean with "it should follow the original plot yet not exactly". But I'm not that meticulous to actually try and make this make sense.

I still support my version where this AU is set during the Go timeline, but that's because I'm biased towards Tenma (and because Endou as an Archon sounds fun to me).

꒰ Everyone has Japanese names + why I won't use the dub ones ꒱

As you may have noticed by now, I'm using exclusively the original japanese names, nor the dub ones. This part is mainly a quick explanation about why I would refer to them with those names in the rest of the post about the AU.

Even though in Genshin there are 7 Nations based on mash-ups of different cultures (Fontaine is France + England, if I recall correctly, but basically you get what I mean) and characters are named accordingly, I physically can't use (nor recall all) the dub names, so let's just assume that while everyone here will be referred with Japanese names, they may be from different nations.

But whoever decides to develop this whole idea can do whatever, I just ask you to please, throw the link to me so I can read/see it because I'd love to >3<

꒰ Genshin Elements vs Inazuma Elements ꒱

I'm not going to develop this much...I hope??

I'm just going to mention that Elements in Inazuma are a beautiful mess (Wind encapsulates Ice, and Wood element somehow is tied to Darkness and Space...and I don't even know why???), but honestly I don't see logic (not much at least) trying to give the characters the same element they have in the games.

How am I supposed to translate the fact Hikaru uses Wood element? Cryo? Dendro because it's literally Plant so Plant = Wood? But his hissatsus are clearly Darkness and/or Space themed so I don't see how that fits.

I have read countless theories regarding the criteria to give someone a certain Vision, most of them revolve around ambitions or desires strong enough that Celestia acknowledges the individual who has them. I like the theories though, and it somehow makes sense even if it's not something set in stone (yet), so I guess we can still follow it a bit. I'd explain any theory but some are lenghty to sum them up, at least I, myself, can't.

Now with Inazuma Eleven. It doesn't have a similar elemental assignation system (again, there's Wood encapsulates Music, Space, Darkness and so on, while Genshin has just plain Dendro element for Plant powers) so I can't really give them their exact element + I think some visions' descriptions fit some characters that coincidentally don't have that same element in the canon source.

Who are the Archons though? Once again, I don't know, this whole post is a big "I have this idea, is making me tweak and roll, but I have no clue on who is what or what is who." so yep.

At some point I thought Daisuke Endou could have done the same as Zhongli. He was the Geo Archon and faked his dead (like in Inazuma, you know?) but also the idea of Endou being a normal human and ascending to Archonhood sounds epic, because he was a normal guy on the Inazuma Eleven series but upon reaching Inazuma Eleven Go he's a whole icon for the rest of it, he's the basis of new Raimon and now Tenma carries the torch.

Yes, I don't know what to do to develop this, moving on to the following point to tackle...

꒰ Aliea Stone = Abyssal Power? and much more ꒱

This is going to be long because to address this I need to explain Genshin stuff to show how it makes some sort of connection (to little delulu me, at least).

First off what is 'The Abyss' aka 'The Void' and to some extent Khaenri'ah, because both are tied deeply.

The Abyss originated because Celestia destroyed Khaenri'ah, which was a former nation of Teyvat without a deity (because they didn't need one (?)). Also the Abyss wants to destroy and/or corrupt all the other nations (the main 7 Nations) in revenge.

But according to the wiki it refers to four different things too, which are interconnected. However, I'll use just two mainly when referring to it: The Abyss as one of the Three Realms and the region beneath (and beyond) Teyvat that's considered a different world entirely.

To sum it up badly, The Abyss I'm talking about was a nation but became what it is nowadays after its destruction.

Why do I relate it to the Aliea though? Because Abyss power is purple, or at least that's the main color we can see in the Abyss' Mages floating runes and most importantly: the upside down corrupted statue of The Seven.

The whole purple power that corrupts people it's very reminiscent to the Aliea Meteorite, who glows in purple and alters the mind of people who use its power (just look back at what it did to Kazemaru).

But I did mention The Abyss is considered part of 'The Three Realms'...well, this section isn't also called "and much more" for nothing, because I'll have to bring Desuta and Sein into this AU...

You may not remember them, but don't worry my sweet little jellyfish. So...remember when Inazuma Japan had a match against literal angels and devils because Haruna and Rika were abducted by them? Hope this has unlocked a few memories from that chapter.

The Three Realms in Genshin are basically The Human Realm, The Light Realm and The Void Realm.

In the past The Void and The Light existed opposite to each other until the Human Realm was created.

In any case, the point is that The Void Realm could be akin to Desuta and his team, the Makai Gundan Z. and The Light Realm would be Sein and his team. Because, you know, Dark Void vs Light dynamic.

Also we have the Abyss Order right? That should have its own equal thing but I couldn't come up with anything, at least not Inazuma Eleven related.

꒰ Genshin characters that remind me of Inazuma Eleven ones ꒱

For no particular reason, maybe vibes, maybe personality idk. This doesn't mean I'd give them the same visions, nation, and/or species but rather that I find parallelisms between them somehow.

However, my fish brain can't pinpoint all the similarities they have and it's not good at analyzing. Also, I'll be mentioning from most seasons (if needed, also Ares/Orion timeline).

Charlotte and Haruna. Yes, it's probably the camera/reporter thing they have going on.

Scaramouche/Kunikuzushi and Kariya. Trust issues, both are very cat-like and they are most likely sassy (Scaranation, please don't chase me down, I know he has a lot of depth, I just tried to be extremely concise about it)

If you prefer, I also consider Scaramouche could have parallelisms with Fudou.

Dottore/Capitano and Kageyama Reiji. It's the unapologetically evil guy vibe I guess.

Bennett and Endou. I feel like these two have an unyielding positivism, sometimes they can get overtaken by doubts about themselves but on the end, they're sweet guys that deserve happiness.

Alternatively, Bennett and Tachimukai also work.

Thoma and Taiyou. Both of them have very warm vibes, they're rays of sunshine but at the same time I think both know more than what they let on. Also it's canon that both are popular.

Sucrose and Hayami. It's the glasses indeed, but also both of them are intelligent individuals who seem kinda shy or easily flustered.

Keqing and Natsumi. It gets easily overshadowed in Go!, but we should always keep on mind that Natsumi is incredibly smart (didn't she solve a case that was left on the drawers by the police or something?). Also, they both have kind of a tsundere-like attitude.

Ningguang and Koumei. Both of them are elegant, powerful and smart women.

On a side note, we have our own iteration of Koumei in Genshin. Koumei is Kongming, aka Zhuge Liang, and Kokomi has a reference to Zhuge Liang in her constellation.

Also not a comparison in itself but dragons who can take human form exists in Teyvat. Hakuryuu being one would make sense.

Amber and Nae. Cute bunny-themed girls, spirited and extroverted. Amber is excellent at gliding, Nae was the best runner in the track team.

Dehya and Midori. Fiery, untamable and strong girls. Midori somehow fits Dehya's title "Flame-Mane".

Shenhe and Minori. Both of them seem cold at first, and have a serious deadpan expression. However, Shenhe has quite a temper and so does Minori when she's not being possessed by Potomuri.

Yaoyao and Shinsuke. Small and warm-hearted balls of sunshine, they care deeply about those around them.

Raiden Ei and Tatsuya/Hiroto Kiyama. Albeit not quite the same, their situations are similar in the fact they ended up taking the position of their respective siblings (because yes, I consider Tatsuya and Hiroto brothers), and physically look like them (I'm not taking into account how grown-up Hiroto Kira looks in Ares/Orion. Both Hiroto and Tatsuya looked a lot like each other when they were younger in the og series).

꒰ Some Vision Headcanons ꒱

I want to think if someone read through this was at least to get to this part. I won't say my Headcanons on who gets which Vision are permanent (I'm always willing to listen to suggestions or just read your own Headcanons), they are open to change if I reconsider some.

And as I said above, not all of the characters I'll mention have a Vision that matches their canon element in-game.

Also I'll be choosing some based on the theories regarding what criteria do the Archons follow to hand out the Visions. I'll explain it (badly and super simple) to make it more understandable.

Credits to this post because it's what made sense to me for the Vision's criteria. At the same time, since it's rather ambiguous it makes sorting them somewhat easier.

► Anemo: Had past failures, struggles or suffered from unspecified problems, maybe a loss of some kind. Hardworkers with a sense of duty who do –or prefer to do– their own thing and follow their own pace.

► Geo: Care and worry deeply about others. Could take the lead in certain specific situations based on their talents. Rather single-minded and/or simple-headed. Very committed to what they believe or want.

► Electro: Lonely people or they just have a small circle of interactions. Some of their life matters could be too important that they affect other's lives. Prone to awkwardness or second-guessing themselves. Sometimes quirky or just unique, they may have accomplished great deeds.

► Dendro: Scholars or people oriented to knowledge. Good thinkers even in dire situations, sometimes creative. Some want to expand their field of knowledge and can get themselves in over their heads.

► Hydro: Highly specialize in certain skills or areas that others may not have or show. They're role models in what they do or strive to maintain it as such. Tend to weather their own hardships and seek excuses for it, wether they're self-sought hardships or not.

► Pyro: Ambitious people who will keep going even if others oppose them. This also applies to people who may hurt themselves in the process and fully acknowledge it, either for their own sake or because of others. Some keep people at arm's length, not always intentionally.

► Cryo: People who feel lost, specially after a life changing or impactful event on their lives. They may be stuck in the events of their past, so it influences what they live for or what they think they should do next. Some aspect of their life comes back or gets in the way of their goal.

I would also want to mention that while these may be criteria and I refer to them as such. I also believe the theory that says Archons will give out Visions based on each person's ambition/desire and of they support it. However, considering in this AU we don't have the same Archons and they may not have the same personalities as the originals, I decided to not follow that rule.

In addition, it is somewhat confirmed that it may not be that Visions follow a personality checklist to decide who should have which one. Apparently, Lisa's personality changed after receiving her Electro vision, and since it's always mentioned that stars guide the fates of Teyvat denizens (hence, constellations being a gameplay thing but also something important within Teyvat's beliefs, as shown with Mona being able to read people's lives/personalities on them), maybe Visions are also linked. Basically, we could conclude that Visions also shape someone's mind somehow, as mentioned in this post (which is rather old and doesn't feature Dendro, sadly). I recommend you also read the comments of that post to see further of my reasons for some of these headcanons.

But let's get into some Vision Headcanons, shall we? I'll try to be clean and make this in order but I don't know if I will be able to, and they're just a few because Inazuma has a lot a LOT of characters and I couldn't just think about every single one >.<

Tenma: I already said this but I'll also add it here because it's one of the Headcanons I refuse to change. Tenma gets Anemo vision just because wind is his thing, I always relate him to it regardless of wether it makes sense or not. I think he does fit the fact he's a hardworker but he goes at his own tempo, but what matters is the journey to reach any goal he has.

Taiyou: This boy gets a Pyro vision and you can't tell me that's unreasonable. He's the very definition of "will keep going even if it hurts him". Also going with the personality theory, I feel like Taiyou would take initiative of things (he's the captain of Arakumo after all) and openly expresses himself.

Kirino: I'd go for Electro vision for him, but this has a reason and that reason is Chrono Stone. Mainly the fact I thought it was very clear that Kirino has a tendency to doubt his actions or decisions, sometimes feeling like he's falling behind in regards of Shindou.

Shindou: I decided to give him Hydro, it makes sense to me and I think I can try to explain it. I wish the fact that he's a good pianist was brought up more in the anime, because it's one of the reasons I chose Hydro, since he comes off as your typical case of gifted child when it comes to music. I also think he's a role model to his teammates and strives to meet the expectations they may have about him.

Kurama: One of my fav characters, sadly we don't have much info about him but I tried my best to pick a vision for him. I ended up going for Cryo because of certain reasons. Kurama seems like a blunt person, but at the same time some episodes make me see him as someone who also doesn't expresses himself that much, like...he's not all that honest, but he's rather harsh in the process. Think of him like Diona or Eula, were they are fairly nice and caring but inevitably end up acting in a way that makes others perceive them as rude somehow, or just crabby (?).

Minaho: I'm bringing Minaho here just to at least mention Dendro (and because I like him a lot). Maybe he doesn't directly pursue knowledge but I have always perceived him as an extremely curious person that wants to uncover as much as he can, and that's somewhat tied to wanting to know. Also, owls are associated with wisdom and Minaho has an owl motif. I'm open to hearing thoughts about this though.

Akane: After considering it, I chose Anemo: for her. However, unlike Tenma, she's an Anemo: user not exactly because of accomplishing any journey or goal, but because I feel like she really does her own thing at her own pace and chooses that willingly. Most Anemo: users care more about the journey in itself, or have a recurring theme of freedom of choice. Akane overall expresses her interests very freely and doesn't seem to mind what others may think.

Goenji: Yet another one who getsPyro, because I feel like Goenji also has a bad tendency of being very stubborn and marching forward towards his own goals (mainly for other's sake) even if he gets hurt in the process. I think he'd definitely be a Diluc Case, were his personality doesn't exactly match the stereotype associated with most Pyro users (bubbly, energic and outgoing).

Endou: I would say he fits Geo, he has many of the traits mentioned on the theory. He's a very caring person overall even with rivals, I have always considered him simple-headed but with a clear goal and purpose somehow and it's commited to it. He's also a legit hardworker.

Kidou: He was hard to decide, and he's still one of the many I'll hear suggestions about. Anyways, I think he fits Cryo. AU wise he may have been a Cryo user even before meeting Kageyama Reiji and experiencing everything that entailed. I feel like Kidou works behind the scenes for strategies but that's an outloud secret somehow, he may come off like Shenhe or Rosaria at first because to me he has always seem a bit hard to approach, maybe the type of person you would define as stoic or something. Again, Kidou being a Cryo user isn't set in stone for me, I just wanted to make the break trio all have different elements.

Nosaka: I thought a bit about this but ultimately decided on Electro for him. Mainly, because Nosaka seems like unique in some sort of way, not only that but he has accomplished things to be able to stand out as "the tactical emperor" after all. Also, I feel like, despite how popular he may be, he has a small group of friends.

Fuyuka: I think Cryo is fitting for her, which is ironic considering that she lost her memories of her past, and Cryo users may be stuck in events from their past. However, Cryo users also have self-contradiction as a common theme. In Fuyuka's case I think her self-contradiction is the fact that the shocking event of her past shaped how she is now but at the same time she can't recall it. Also, she fits the stereotype of Cryo users being introverted.

And this concludes this long, messy, nonsensical but well-intended post, made with love but not much logic (and probably some grammar mistake I overlooked somewhere). If you reached this point, thank you very much for trying to pay attention and understand my chaotic rambling and Genshin fixation n.n ♡

This is just the outline of what I think this could develop into. I have messy headcanons that I couldn't really fit here nor wanted to as to not made this even longer, like races such as the Katzlein or Adepti, I may post them randomly, who knows? Keep in mind a lot of this was biased or subjective so not everything has factual points to support my ideas about it. In any case, my asks are always open if you want to throw in ideas or suggestions or just want to say anything at all.

#Yapping -- * frantic fish noises *#inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven go #inazuma eleven au #inazuma 11 #ina11 #ina11 go #inazuma genshin au #inazuma eleven genshin au #this is a Genshin au but I didn't want to tag it under Genshin #because this needs more context for Ina11 than for Genshin in itself so yeah #idk how many of the Genshin fandom actually know about Inazuma Eleven at all

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aquilamage · 2 months ago

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more thoughts from playing Spearmaster so far (under the cut because oops I wrote a thousand plus words):

I wonder if there's an explanation for why the bits of overhearing broadcasts are things we can understand without having a Mark of Communication. Maybe because it's being beamed right into our brain? or it's just for the player and the slugcat doesn't get anything at all.

I'm pretty confident I will get the ability to understand at some point if only because we gotta find out what's on the pearl that was in Spearmaster. Especially with the emphasis on the game making sure you have a hold on the pearl when Five Pebbles kicks you out.

So far I've found broadcasts in Outskirts, Industrial, Pipeyard, Waterfront, Five Pebbles, and Chimney. It's been one each apart from Waterfront which rocked my assumption that I was good to stop searching once I found one.

really hoping that if we get pronouns for any other iterators there'll be at least one with something other than he or she. because.

Saw Looks to the Moon and Seven Red Suns' overseers on the same screen at least once and it makes me wanna scream. I don't recall seeing any of Five Pebbles' overseers until after I got to them but I could be wrong

Just below the top level of the Wall I found a new gate that has a new symbol I've never seen before! Three rows and three columns of dots in a square. No idea what's up with that but I'm very excited to find out once I figure out how to get that symbol.

I'm really in love with the new weird blue things in Five Pebbles' area, they're very charming to me for some reason. Accidentally threw a spear at one offscreen and it started throwing things back at me, which was cool. Also one wandered into a bug zapper light and they drop larger versions of the overseer eyes so what's up with that. Also if this is in the past I'm thinking those might turn into the tendril beasts since some of them are in the same places and also just their shape/color generally (and then I had the horrifying realization that the other tendril beast color is orangey.....like Looks to the Moon's overseers and probably her version of those things).

I'm currently hypothesizing that the Downpour slugcats but Spearmaster especially might be purposed beings. Partially because that would explain why they're so radically different from both the original slugcats (which were all basically the same) and each other. and spearmaster's biology especially out of the four seems the least like something that would naturally occur (checking their info card, it's literally called an "abnormality").

But mostly because the broadcasts I found in Outskirts, Industrial, and Pipeyard (one each) talk about 7RS having previously sent sensitive info over a pearl and are currently doing it again. The specific wording they use is "I purposed a messenger." That combined with Spearmaster's little info card text about being set out "once again, messenger" making it pretty clear that it was the courier slugcat both times for 7RS makes me pretty confident about this hypothesis.

7RS sending something? sensitive to Five Pebbles the first time that he wasn't in a good mental state to use right. Briefly pondered if that was the Chimney "how to circumvent the self-destruction taboo" pearl (and maybe that was what he was trying to do that fucked up the water supply. I do think 7RS might have been one of the other members of the sliverofocean EP pearl. If they knew EP was Five Pebbles then maybe.....) but I can't think of a good reason why the pearl would then end up there since the message definitely reached Five Pebbles.

Screaming and biting things about the line "The fact is, he really looked up to me. As much as I gave him a hard time, that's not something I took lightly."

I feel like at least Spearmaster is supposed to be set pre-basegame but at this point I'm still not really sure. Past implications: Not-Shoreline having some areas less broken; one of the broadcasts I ran across in Waterfront was of Looks to the Moon attempting to communicate with Five Pebbles, which I've been assuming she can't do in basegame (this one doesn't directly say it's live but for now I'm assuming it is); the easy route through Pebbles' area at least doesn't have any rot tendril stuff (I didn't check the Unfortunate Development section because I didn't want to be dying extra much and by the time I noticed I'd already committed to easy path). Future implications: the convo with NSH and 7RS from Pipeyard I found where they very much seem to be referencing Hunter and NSH getting their help.

The biggest thing I'm obsessing over is thinking about Seven Red Suns vs No Significant Harassment on the subject of slugcat messengers.

First, the bit of dialogue on it where 7RS says "At least I used it for something more...practical." Which assuming they're talking about the Hunter stuff then WOW. Not knowing the contents of 7RS's initial message I can't judge if that's correct (NSH seems to doubt it, but I don't think they know what it was either), but even if they are that's a pretty callous way to describe an attempt to save Looks to the Moon (also I don;t think the "and the messenger even returned safely" bit is necessarily meant to be a jab at NSH but I did have that thought at one point so. noting that)

Anyway for the actual methods, Hunter vs this Spearmaster. The fact that 7RS has an overseer guide them and NSH doesn't is interesting to think about. This one I think might be a bit more of a gameplay difference but maybe not. I also do have to note that I don't know right now what resources the two of them have at the time of the game modes. Which also makes wondering what the reason is for there not being an overseer guiding Spearmaster after Five Pebbles. Again, might just be a game design thing, but it might also be they don't have more to spare! Or maybe they aren't bothering because they got what they needed out of Spearmaster (although my mind does go back to their bit about the messenger returning the first time. That makes it feel like something they might want to happen again. Unless something changed)

On a higher priority than that is the giving of the gift of communication. If 7RS has the ability to do that (and if they made Spearmaster I would assume at least then they would), then what does it say about them that they wouldn't give understanding to a messenger they're using again? Could they be trying to hide something? Is it like a 'you don;t absolutely need it so I'm not bothering.' Or if they can't do that, maybe that's why they're going through the effort of using an overseer to guide Spearmaster.

And then even bigger than that is that they decided to stitch the data pearl message into Spearmaster's body such that the only way to get it out was to rip it out. What the fuck?? Spearmaster's sprite after having the pearl taken looked super bad; that was not painless for sure. This is the one where there really isn't a second way to look at it.

My guess for the reasoning behind doing that rather than just giving it to Spearmaster to hold is that 7RS wanted to make absolutely sure the pearl wouldn't get lost. (my mind goes back to the use of the word "practical" in that one broadcast. I know they were talking about the reason, not the method, but still) And it worked! But it definitely puts them in a light that is not the kindest.

And I don't know why, but currently I'm kinda leaning towards the more ruthless explanations in general for this (ruthless in the sense of cold practical "I see the most straightforward way to get to my goal and I take that no matter what the means are" but not actively purposefully cruel). It certainly would make for the most interesting version of their character, even if it distresses me.

Also if we take those kinds of explanations plus them creating Spearmaster then this is a fascinating story of Seven Red Suns replicating the ancient-iterator relationship. Of creating a being specifically for the purpose of fulfilling something you want, of denying them of something in your creating of them, of using them and then abandoning them to fend for themself.

#an aquila original #wet beast saga #I'm having a great time with this game as usual. lol.

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starakex · 2 years ago

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Warden Ingo Cosplay Build Log

Hey Legends Arceus / Submas / Pokémon fans ! I spent two months last year making a Warden Ingo costume because the game made me fall in love with the franchise all over again (and because I love sad amnesia uncle, of course). I'm pretty proud of it, so I thought it'd be fun to share the process here in painstaking details. I've been cosplaying for over a decade now and I learned a bunch from so many defunct cosplay tutorials on this website, so I thought I'd give back. This isn't a guide, persay, but rather a dive into the methods and decisions I picked to complete this project. Any pre-made items or patterns that are available online will be linked! I'll be splitting down each piece of the costume into its own section for easier reading. This is gonna be a long one with a bunch of pictures, so I'd suggest viewing on the blog directly! Without further ado, all aboard!

Station 0: The Guidelines

Before getting into the build itself, I wanted to preface this wall of text with the guidelines I set myself for this project.These core pillars inform a lot of the decision-making, and some people might feel like using this log as reference for their own cosplays, so I thought it'd be good to put them here to explain why I did some stuff the way I did. Comfort first: I knew I was gonna wear it in the summer, and stand around all day at a convention, so it needed to be lightweight and comfortable. (well, as much as a cosplay can be, anyways.) Realism: Ok, that's kinda weird to associate "realism" to a Pokémon costume (unless you're Detective Pikachu I guess), but I wanted to look more natural instead of translating a shiny fancy 3D model straight to real life (nothing against that, it just wasn't my goal). This meant adapting certain elements that only really worked in stylized Pokémon graphics. Be a huge cheapskate: I didn't wanna break the bank with this one, so if I could save money thrifting or reusing stuff I had lying around, I was going to do it. Whenever you see me pull some material out of my ass that wasn't entirely fit for the job, that's why. After putting these down, jotted down a battle plan for the project (basically just a huge compartmentalized list of all the material I expected to need and the steps to complete the costume), and then it was time to get to work.

Station 1: Thrift Shop Pit Stop

I like starting every project with a quick trip to the local thrift stores to see what I can find. I hate sewing pants with a passion, so my priority was to grab some navy suit pants to match the coat's fabric to later. I also found a long sleeve black shirt for Ingo's undershirt, a belt I ended up not using, and lucked out with some excellent clown shoes with removeable insoles. After slapping in my own insoles, replacing the shoelaces and fixing up the pants' button, we were good to go on every element that could be done without any extra work on my end. Moving on.

Station 2: Three Refined Metals For A Hat

I'll be honest here: when I initially planned out the entire project in my notebook, the hat was scary as hell. I had no clear idea how I was going to do it; I didn't really want to buy a similar pre-made hat cause roughing it up would've been stupid hard to get to look right. I figured I could probably make it out of EVA Foam (a certified cosplay classic), but I've never patterned a shape this complex before. Turns out Kamui Cosplay made a foam pattern for the same kinda hat. Score! I purchased the pattern and assembled the hat using 6mm EVA Foam and Contact Cement according to the instructions. I then destroyed some poor polyester cord trim from the bottom of my scrap bin and glued it into the base for the... sticky-outies? The damaged bits. Y'know.

With the base finished, I drafted a pattern for the fabric covering, cut my pieces out of navy twill, sewed it up and slid it over the hat. I did the same for the inside with some cheap black muslin leftovers from another project, glued it all to the base in strategic spots, and then patterned, sewed and glued the band on. Finally, I took my seam ripper and scissors and opened up the seams where the little piles of sad polyester scraps were lining up to free them. With the main part of the hat complete, I cut up a disc of 10mm EVA foam for the insignia, scored the design on with a hobby knife and heated it up to form a bit of a curve. It was then sealed with flexbond, painted and sealed with a clear coat, and glued on! All that was left after this was weathering the hat. It's a little hard to photograph this piece properly, so I'll show the weathering process when we get to the coat.

I apologize for basically pulling a "rest of the fucking owl" here, but honestly a lot of the process was improvising and somehow not destroying the entirety of my progress, so I have no pictures of the hat building process beyond this.

Station 3: Sneasels Ripped My Coat

Ingo's coat started with a heavily modified version of a commercial pattern. Specifically, it's the D Coat from Simplicity's 4789. I could've probably found a pattern closer to the Subway Bosses' coat design, but this one had already been in my pile of "patterns I bought for an abandonned project and will totally use someday, I swear" and it was close enough, so I used it. Modifications included extending the collar, making the coat a little longer in proportion to my body, the sleeves wider at the ends, and adding inner pockets (a cosplayer's best friend). Oh, and the white bias tape on the edges and the orange stripes, of course. You may have noticed I'm not showing the pattern with all the modifications here. That's because as part of the Cheapskate Protocol, I really wanted to use this old Simplicity pattern to save money. A pattern I bought when I was a teen way back when. the misses sized pattern enveloppe. So I had to size up the entire damn thing. The biggest size on this pattern was like 7 inches off my measurements. It's a paper Frankenstein golem. It looks godawful. The actual adjustments to make the pattern Submas-ready are incomprehensible in there. But hey, I saved like 10 dollars! I started by assembling the base coat (undamaged) out of navy twill. I added heavy interfacing in the collar to help it stay up. I considered adding a lining to it to really sell the fact this used to be a modern machine-assembled piece of clothing, but it wouldn't have looked as good with the rips and tears later on. As a bonus, it's one layer less in the fight against heat exhaustion! However, if I were to make this coat for Pre-Eeby-Deebied Ingo, I'd definitively do a lining.

Next step was the stripes! I used some double fold white bias tape to finish the edges of the coat and topstitched the ones on the back of the coat on. I then used the same orange cotton as the hat band for the three orange stripes,which were topstitched on. Cheapskate Protocol made me buy barely enough orange cotton this time around because I was tired of building up the pile in the fabric scrap bin, so I had to improvise to make it work by snipping the bands in strategic spots in order to cover to whole coat properly. It's not like the parts that would be cut off later for the damage would need them, anyways. ✨Optimization✨

After rolling my rock up the hill of a Hell of my own creation, I booted up the game, dragged my avatar to the Ingo enclosure and marveled at the magnificent creature to see where the coat was ripped. I traced a loose guide of the tear designs with washable fabric chalk and crudely cut up the bottom edge, sleeves and collar to have the basic shape down.

All that was left was to add the armband and the buttons. Turns out the only metal buttonsI could find that were big enough were those buttons kits to cover with fabric. Since I wanted to go for realism here (and be able to throw the whole thing in the wash after sweating in it all day), I wanted to avoid crafting them myself. With the main construction done, it was time to do the weathering! ... ... ... OH GOD I FORGOT TO ADD POCKETS

Behold, the world's most awful pockets. Two stupid little bags sewn in such a way you hopefully can't tell from the outside that I completely forgot that I wanted these. They literally only exist so I can have my phone handy at a convention. There's a buttonhole to close it too, I guess. They're shamefully hidden with all my lining-less, raw seam sins. Ok now we can destroy the coat

Station 4: Stinky And Dirty

I mentionned earlier during the hat section that I was going to get back to the weathering process. This is happening now. For the sake of Realism™️, I wanted the damage to look natural in real life, so I had to make it look believable. Luckily this wasn't my first rodeo with the Dirt, so I had plenty of weathering experience under my belt. To break up the awkward scissor cuts from earlier on the edges and fray everything up, I pulled out the sandpaper and started... Sanding the fabric. Might sound weird to some, but a lot of costume makers swear by it. It's also great for ripped jeans (if those are still popular today) and general natural wear. I also refined the shape along the way with scissor to break up any long straight cuts before fraying the edges. I took care to reinforce any newly destroyed seams with a sneaky staystitch so it doesn't unravel in the future. I then mixed up a bunch of different shades of brownish grime with fabric paints (I had black, brown, yellow, orange and green on hand) to dirty the whole thing up. This doesn't look as realistic as some other methods like weathering powders and Just Using Real Dirt, but as mentionned earlier I wanted to be able to just throw it in the washing machine at the end of the day to sanitize it. (If you're interested in actually learning how to weather a costume, this guide is where I started my journey.) I prioritized the ripped edges and any spots where grime would realistically accumulate in over time, like under the edge of the hat band. Paint was dabbed, stippled and rubbed on with whatever garbage tools I could find, which in my case were some old crusty brushes, sponges and toothbrushes I could get really violent with. (brushes were harmed in the making of this costume, but not my good brushes.)

The whole thing was then sealed with heat using a flat iron as per the fabric paint instructions. With the coat done, all of Ingo's old Subway Boss uniform was complete!

Station 5: A Warden's Garb

Next step on the list was making the Pearl Clan uniform. Thankfully, there's a fun little piece of concept art that shows Ingo without his signature coat, so from it we can confirm that his clan outfit has short sleeves (good for the comfort goal) and consists of two pieces: a tunic and some kind of hip sash. I omitted the hood on the tunic because I was realistically never going to wear it up and it would have just bunched up under the coat anyways. Now you'll be painfully aware of that terrible corner cutting truth whenever you scroll down and see photos of the costume. Sorry. I drafted out a quick pattern for both pieces of the clan garb through the power of math for the sash (a couple half circles with another piece for the border) and tracing over a tunic in my wardrobe for the shirt. I assembled a test version out of scrap muslin to make sure it worked properly, then set the pattern aside so I could prepare the fabric. In order to have all of the tunic elements match together, I picked up a bunch of white stretch knit fabric and a bottle of purple synthetic dye so I could reach the shade of dusty lavender I wanted. I measured out two squares of fabric based on the pattern. One square was for the darker border on the waist sash, while the rest was the lighter color for the whole outfit. I boiled water according to the dye instruction and worked on my Fabric Soup.

With the fabric dyed and washed, I cut my pattern pieces out and assembled everything together. Nothing special happened there since the pattern had been tested and adjusted prior to sewing the real deal. Ok, one thing happened actually. My sewing machine absolutely hated how thin this fabric was and kept trying to eat my costume. By the end I was about ready to throw the machine out the window, but things worked out.

It's pretty sneaky and totally not visible on the outside, but the sash is held closed with two snap buttons on the front. It's easily the single jankiest piece of the costume due to the aforementioned attempt by my sewing machine to have fabric dinner. But hey, it works and the jank isn't visible so who caaaares (I care)

Final step for the Pearl Clan outfit was adding the logo on the front. I wasn't sure how I wanted to do this, at first, but to keep the fabric's stretch and keep with the idea that this is a hand-sewn garment from old Hisui, I decided to go with hand embroidery. I grabbed some scrap white cotton, dyed it purple, then cut it out in the shape of the logo. It was then painstakingly applique'd to the tunic by hand with embroidery floss.

With that done, the tunic was completed! It looks absolutely depressing on a coat hanger, but when worn with a belt it's all nice and cozy. As a bonus, it layers with the coat well enough that I don't have to wear a binder under everything to hide obvious boob shapes. Another win for the Comfort team! 👏 With all the sewing done, all that's left is the Warden bracelet and the hair.

Station 6: Noble Sneasler's Cool Bling

Ingo's got a bestie bracelet of his best pal Sneasler, so we gotta make that. The build should be pretty standard to anyone that's made anything out of EVA Foam for a cosplay. I drafted the pieces by referencing the in-game model, cut them out of different thicknesses of the material to create some depth, and glued everything together with contact cement and hot glue. (The main bracelet is 6mm foam, the details are 2mm foam and the black parts for the base of the head and the gem are 4mm foam.) I added an elastic on the wrist to keep the bangle secured to my arm while still being able to easily slip it on and off.

The whole thing was then sealed with flexbond, painted and then sealed with a spray clear coat. Honestly, it was the simplest part of the build and it actually went without a hitch this time around.

With the accessories done, it was now time to get to what I am convinced is every Submas cosplayer's worst nightmare: The Goddamn Hair.

Station 7: The Goddamn Hair

There's a lot of artists credited as character designers in the credits of Pokémon Black & White (2010). This means I can't figure out who to blame for Ingo and Emmet's stupid sideburns that make absolutely no sense in the real world. Instead we're just going to scream at the heavens and find a solution to the geometric flaps. Another fun fact: I'm awful at wigs. Like absolutely awful. I understand the methods involved, but I'm stupid bad at applying that knowledge on an expensive mop of plastic hair I don't want to ruin. So I did some research to figure out how people were making the twins' hair on their own cosplay. Everyone did a great job, but it wasn't really the effect I was looking for, so I decided to start from scratch. Because, you see, I was going to completely avoid styling a wig. I've always interpreted the art as them having some sick sideburns/muttonchops. (This art piece by waltias on twitter was posted like a week after I finished my cosplay and I felt so so validated in my interpretation) I also love Makeup FXs, so I thought "hey, I can look up beard makeup tutorials." I ended up with two ideas: either I could buy crepe wool hair in grey and glue the fibers to my face individually every time I put the costume on, or I could make a reuseable prosthetic. I'm a lazy piece of garbage that likes doing things once so prosthetic it was. I mean, I know how to ventilate wig lace. It'll be reusable and take 4 minutes to apply. Smart! I got the Jett in Light Grey from Arda Wigs, a ventilating hook, matching wefts and the lace. I had a plan, I was ready, it was going to look great. And then I spent 40 hours tying individual strands of plastic hair on a wig lace mesh. For a total surface area of maybe 3 square inch.

(Pictured above: A Fool.) It was hell. I might've incurred a stress injury from the process and then had to let it rest for a week because I did it all over a couple days. Would I recommend doing it? If you're patient, sure. I love the result. But this was, by far, the worst part of the entire project. 40 hours. The entire coat took me like 6 hours. 40 fucking hours.

After painstakingly tying individual hairs to a mesh and realizing I might've reached the Ninth Circle of Hell along the way, I took my couple squares of ventilated wefts and trimmed them to the proper length. The result was awesome, and I don't regret it at all. It looks exactly how I pictured the idea of sideburns would look like. But it also took 40 hours of me just tying some fucking hair to a mesh. Maybe there was a better solution, but there's so little ressources about the process online that I just went with the methods I could find, really. I pray someone starts offering squares of pre-ventilated wig lace someday so no one else has to suffer like I did. As a sidenote, I didn't even bother with the balding hair since I wasn't gonna go through all the effort of heavily modifying a wig and wearing a bald cap if I wasn't even gonna take the hat off.

40 hours.

Station 8: Bits And Bobs From Under the Subway Bench

Honestly, after the absolute nightmare I went through making the sideburns and goatee, The final touches were a cakewalk. After all, the costume is complete! What's next? Warden Ingo uses Pokéballs like a cool guy, so I wanted one. I usually make pretty much everything myself for costumes because it's fun, but after the ventilating adventure I just wanted to rest. I'd been following NisuzCraft's work for a while now, and I loved the wood grain effect on their Hisuian Pokéballs. I wholeheartedly recommend them, their work is awesome.

As a final touch, I grabbed some red cord I had lying around from a previous project to craft a little loop to hook my convention badge onto. I don't really like having the badge show up on photos, so it was a clean way to have it easily accessible while having it be easy to slide out of sight. I based the idea off of the knotted ropes the Galaxy Team member hang their Pokéballs from on their uniforms.

Lastly, though it's not necessarily part of the costume itself, I made an overly indulgent ita bag panel for the first con I took Warden Ingo out to. The collection's grown since then, but here it is:

Chandelure: JellyBearDesigns Ingo & Lady Sneasler: AstroTeenyArts Warden Ingo, Emmet&Ingo Duo: Cynniarts Ingo & Emmet with fingers crossed, Hanging Ingo, Emmet & Warden Ingo: Zhampip Rubber Straps: Official Pokémon Mate Merch Go show them some love!

Terminus: You Have Reached Hisui Station

So, first con wearing Warden Ingo came and went. What's the verdict? Pretty great experience, honestly. It was relatively comfortable to wear despite record heat in the middle of summer. The only real issue was that having a wig and a hat together trapped heat real bad, therefore some wig breaks were needed. I also initially used spirit gum to stick the facial hair on, and I struggled to remove the residue afterwards from the lace mesh, so now I just use body tape to keep it on. Nothing broke, nothing hurt, so I'd say it was a success! I haven't had to modify or repair anything for the future, so I'm very proud of the results. To anyone who read this Build Log to the very end, thank you so, so much for your interest. I hope this may have given you some insight into the process; especially if this helps your in future cosplay projects! If you don't cosplay, I hope it was still an entertaining read.

Hoping to see more wonderful Submas cosplays in the future!

#Cosplay Build Log #cosplay tutorial #pokemon cosplay #submas #warden ingo #ingo #pokemon ingo #subway bosses #original content #40 hours

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terranovathemust · 2 months ago

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POST FOR ih8marysues PART 2

the fact that I haven't upset my story by following your reviews depends first of all on the fact that, when your criticisms refer to the technical side they are not at all explanatory, such as the bad characterization of the characters you were talking about in your criticisms. ok, you wrote that they are badly characterized, but develop this criticism, otherwise I can't get to the root of the problem and solve it. it's useless to say "you wrote this scene badly" and then not explain anything. a criticism to be constructive and therefore helpful to the author, must be well developed, otherwise it's useless. I also noticed that in your reviews you attack a lot of futility such as the title of the fanfic, the meme, the plot that I chose to tell, etc… obviously, I put the plot that I chose to develop, because I tell what I have in my head and that I want to share with others, I'm the one who decides, the important thing is that it is well written from the technical side. when telling a plot, you don't have to care what I choose to tell, but you have to care how I tell it, that is the technical side, because I need the latter in the reviews, not to hear me say that the title sucks, that you want me to only tell what you like or that you don't like the meme related to the fanfic. those are futility. if you don't like what I tell, I will try to improve, but you are not forced to self-torture reading something that you don't find satisfactory. if you really want to help me with my work, then contact me privately, so you can express your ideas, give me support in writing dialogues, in translation, etc… it's useless to stay in that limbo where you write reviews in which you only hint at what you think, without ever developing your thoughts. on grammar and vocabulary, I ask forgiveness, english is not my native language, i am italian, so it's normal for me to make mistakes and use translate, for more complex texts that go beyond my limited knowledge of the anglophone language. In addition, I translate the texts over and over again to prevent translate from distorting what I write. it's difficult to write english, thinking in italian. among other things in terms of grammar and vocabulary they come out much better when i write them in my native language the chapters. i wanted to use more precise translators, but i don't want to spend money on various subscriptions to use the service. I apologize for the papyrus, but I had to clarify some issues, especially because he/she wrote a few aggressive reviews and so I'm curious to understand the thoughts of this person. thanks to those who will read.

PS: in one of your latest reviews you were able to offend not only the original work, because if you say that my fanfic is a copy and paste and then say that it is badly done, you imply that the original product is also badly written (which could also be partly true), but you also insulted those who appreciate my fanfic by saying that, "whoever appreciates this fanfic is a person who likes to waste their time watching paint dry on walls". so you subtly called an idiot those who appreciate this work, whether it is beautiful or ugly. A review should never be offensive.

#ih8marysues #fanfic #fanfiction #twdg fanfic #twdg #clarification #aggressive reviews #ask time #reviews #fanfic meme #the deepbreath #the walking dead telltale #the walking dead game #telltale twd #part 2

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wontheworld · 2 years ago

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“From afar”

Paring: fem!reader x popular boy! Heeseung

Genre: fluff (?)

Summary: y/n goes to a party to get stress off her mind and meets the popular boy while there

Warnings: swearing, drinking

Word count: 694 (I think)

Notes: Notes: not proofread! English is not my first language (Ik English more than my native language 😭), third imagine slayyy!!

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

Y/N walked into the college doors like any other day, already wanting to go back home. Her life was just a repeating cycle; wake up, brush her teeth, eat breakfast, go to school, go home, study, eat dinner, sleep.

Nothing new.

��Hi Yuna,” Y/n replied

Y/N met Yuna in 9th grade- she was basically the only friend Y/n had.

Although Yuna was extremely extroverted, Y/n was extremely quiet; so quiet that sometimes she got counted absent because the teacher didn’t hear her

Yuna also pulled boys whereas Y/n had been asked out but always rejected people after she had been in at least two relationships that did not end well at all.

Yuna sighed “were you even listening to me?” Yuna said, making Y/n snap out of her thoughts

“Fuck sorry. I’m stressing about that test that’s coming up,” Y/n apologized

“Girl, that test is literally next week. Cut it out! There’s a party tonight. You should come so you can get that shit off your mind,” Yuna groaned

y/n hummed.

“come on it’ll be fun all you do is stay at the dorm with your cat all day!” She spoke making y/n side eye her.

she thought to herself.

Yuna was right all she really does is stay at their shared dorm; she hasn’t been to a party in ages it seems

“I’ll go”

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

Hell, this was a bad idea. There are so many people which is making it really muggy and sweaty, and y/n and heat do not match

“Yuna, this was a bad idea!” Y/N shouted over the music.

Yuna smiled. “You gotta get used to it, babe!” Yuna shouted back as Y/N sulked.

“It’s hot as fuck in here,” Y/N said silently

Yuna looked at Y/N again. “Go get a drink, get some stress off your brain,” she said, and Y/N nodded.

She pushed past all the people, muttering little apologies, trying to get to the drinks. It had also been at least a year since she had a drink

As she was about to get a drink, someone's hand grabbed the same cup. “Sorry, here you go,” Y/N said without looking up to see the person smiling at her

“My fault, you can have it buttercup,” he said as she looked up to see him.

Lee Heeseung. The school's popular basketball player, the star player.

Heeseung also was poplar for his visuals he was very very handsome; and y/n couldn’t deny that she didn’t find him attractive!

“Oh. n-no I’m okay I was just going to sit by the wall anyways” she said and he hummed getting the cup

he looked at her up and down. “I’ve never seen you at parties, trying something new?” he questioned and she shook her head

“I’ve been to a couple parties in high school just not in college I don’t find the fun in it” she explained to him

he nodded. “Well you can hang with me outside if you want” he said and she agreed and walked outside with him.

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

To her surprised her and Heeseung had a lot of similarities maybe he wasn’t so bad as she thought.

“I’ve seen you from afar” he said and she looked at him.

“Really?” She replied.

He nodded. “In the halls and stuff and in high school I always seen you walk with Yuna we also had the same lunch period” he said and she smiled at the mention of her friends name.

“That’s shocking” she laughed and he laughed with her. “I need to go back to Yuna.” She said and he sighed.

“Can I get your number?” He said and she nodded pull her phone out of her purse.

She gave him her phone as he put in his number

heeseung 💗

she smiled. “I’ll make sure to text you….Heeseung” she said as he smiled back at her

“We should hang out sometime pretty girl.” He said making her face red.

“See you around Heeseung.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

©️wontheworld

This one was ass bro. There’s no plot I just wanted to make something though…

Song for today :

#my works #works #enhypen x reader #enhypen dribbles #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen #kpop fluff #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung fluff #kpop imagines #enhypen imagines #Spotify

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crystalninjaphoenix · 1 year ago

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Eye of the Storm

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Almost forgot to queue this because I was having so much fun with my friends haha. Anyway I'm very tired as I write this author's note so I'll be brief. This is mostly setup for the next chapter, and some exposition. JJ and Marvin look into some magic stuff, once again investigating that strange crystal ball. Meanwhile, Schneep thinks he's found where Jackie is. And yeah. A buncha stuff happens. Enjoy haha.

More of This AU | | First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Hey JJ. Those sound like some pretty serious issues. Do you want to meet up to talk about it in person?

JJ read the text from Persephone again, then looked up and scanned the restaurant. He was in the Waffle Cone, the same place where Aoife first introduced him to Persephone, the head of the Magic Circle. He was even sitting at the same table against the left wall. The waiter had been over a couple times to ask for his order, but he explained through writing that he wanted to wait for someone.

After what felt like forever, Persephone finally walked in. She noticed JJ right away and hurried over. “I am so sorry, I got caught up at work,” she said, sitting down.

Magic Circle things?

“No, I mean my actual job. What, d’you think running a magician coven pays the bills?” She laughed, then became serious once more. “Okay. But let’s get to this right away. This sounds like a complicated mess you’re in. Where do you want to start?”

JJ thought about it. Do you remember what I told you about Anti?

“The mind-control, right?” Persephone nodded. “That’s... pretty bad. Any magician who put someone under a spell like that would be immediately locked up for using strong black magic. This Distorter thing was able to just... do that?”

Well, Anti had been isolated for a couple days, JJ said. By that group I was looking for. IRIS. I think Distorter took advantage of that to... break him down.

“Hmm.” Persephone pursed her lips. “It’s... hard to know where to stand on Distorter. Aoife and I have done some research. He might be a Void, but I’ve never heard of a Void being so proficient in mental powers.”

What is a Void?

“Someone who has been consumed by a dark power.”

JJ sighed. That would make sense.

“But if Distorter is a Void, he’s not a normal one,” Persephone emphasized. “And honestly, a Void status would not help us to figure out Anti’s situation.” She paused. “Do you guys have any ideas at all?”

Our friend Stacy seemed to distract Distorter before, JJ recalled. Anti came out of the trance for a time while he was concerned with her.

“So you can distract him for a minute. That’s good. I did bring a list of counterspells.” Persephone reached into her purse and pulled out a few pieces of paper stapled together. “Maybe you could cast one while Distorter is distracted and it’ll dispel the power keeping Anti under his control.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at the list. Each page was covered in handwriting, on both sides. That’s a lot.

“There’s a lot of counterspells. And they’re always very long, which, by the way, have I ever mentioned how impressive it is that you can cast magic without spell words or some sort of implement like a wand?”

Practice, JJ said. My stage mask IS an implement, though, so if you see me wearing it casually, it’s because it makes things easier. But back to the topic at hand. What if the Circle helped with these counterspells? We both know multiple magicians makes magic stronger. Everyone couldn’t fit in the hospital, but surely we could bring Anti to the meeting house.

“Counterspells don’t work like that,” Persephone muttered sadly. “They’re sort of... they run opposite to all the usual rules. It’s why most magicians don’t even try to learn them. And I don’t think there’s a spell spell that could help your friend Anti.”

JJ sighed. He expected that, honestly. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed. What about IRIS? he asked.

“Oh yeah, we can totally help you find another one of their facilities if you need to,” Persephone said. “But remember. It was very tiring for us.”

Of course I remember that. He could vividly feel the lurch as their spells slammed into IRIS’s strange artificial power over and over again.

“So you have to be sure where this facility is,” she said. “And be sure that your friend is there. We probably won’t be able to do that two nights in a row. Hell, maybe not even two weeks in a row.”

That complicated things. It meant that JJ would have to rely on Schneep to find where Jackie was. But he nodded understandingly anyway. We’ll be sure. Now. Is there anything you want to tell me?

“Found anything else out about that crystal ball with the time magic in it?”

JJ shook his head. Not at all. I haven’t seen any more strange images in it. He’d tried a couple times, late at night mostly, staring into his own reflection in the hope that he could somehow divine a solution to this... this calamity they were in. Can you help with that?

“I can’t, but Aoife can. She’s the diviner, remember?” Persephone gave a little chuckle. “Call her sometime. Or... text her. Or you could FaceTime her, then she could see your signs.”

JJ groaned a little. How have I never thought about video calls for sign communication?

Persephone laughed. “Everyone has a blind spot. Don’t worry about it. Call her sometime, okay?”

I certainly will after realizing that.

“Great. Did you order food?”

JJ was a bit surprised at the sudden change in subject, but he rolled with it. No, I figured I should wait for you. I’m not too hungry anyway.

“Well I am. So let’s get something. We can talk about more magic while we do. I’m sure you have more questions about the Circle.”

And so they ordered.

———————

True to his word, Jameson called Aoife almost as soon as he got home, pausing only to tell Marvin everything Persephone had told him. Marvin was just as disappointed as he was to hear the Circle couldn’t help with Anti. “It woul’ve been awkward, anyway,” he said, covering up said disappointment. “We woul’ be jus’ standin’ around as you and all your magician friends did t’at.” And when JJ mentioned he was going to go up to the workroom and call Aoife about the crystal ball, Marvin said he would come, too. “I’m jus’ as curious about the t’ing as you are, y’know.” JJ pointed out that the wheelchair couldn’t go upstairs. But Marvin insisted. So JJ gave in and helped him up.

So now the two of them were there. Marvin sat in the room’s one chair—a swivel chair paired with the desk—while JJ propped his phone up using the pop socket and a scarf, and called Aoife through FaceTime.

It took a while before she picked up. When she did, it looked like she was somewhere... old? An old library? The reference section of an old library? JJ could see bookshelves of binders behind her. “Jameson? What’s up?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Is this a bad time? JJ asked.

“No, it’s fine, I was just doing paperwork for an old case. It can wait. What is it?”

I wanted to ask more about this. JJ held up the black crystal ball, careful not to touch it with his hands and instead using another scarf as a barrier.

“Have you seen anything else in there?”

JJ shook his head, put the crystal ball down again, and signed, The opposite, actually. I’ve been trying but nothing happens.

“What have you been doing to try?”

JJ paused. Last time it activated when I just touched it, so... that? And pouring magic into it.

Aoife shook her head. “I don’t think that would do anything.”

Why not? It did last time.

“How do I put this... sometimes old magic items will randomly become super sensitive. I’m not sure how old the crystal ball is, but I know I had it for years, and the Circle had it for years before me.”

JJ frowned. Somehow, that explanation sounded... wrong. Like it wasn’t what was happening. What about me pouring magic into it?

“Raw power?” Aoife asked. When JJ nodded, she continued. “Yeah no, that wouldn’t work. Divination is very specific magic, very tricky to wield. Most people can’t do it on their own, they need special tools. And before you say the crystal ball could be a tool, I’ll remind you it isn’t even supposed to have time magic in the first place. It’s not the right kind of crystal.”

“T’is is all very fascinatin’, and I do mean t’at,” Marvin said. “But can we get it t’work at all, t’en?”

“Oh! God, Marvin, you scared the bejeezus out of me.”

“Sorry! Forgot I was out of frame.” Marvin wheeled the desk chair into view of the phone with his good leg and cane. “Hello, Aoife. Nice t’see ye.”

“Nice t’see ye too,” Aoife repeated, her Irish accent briefly becoming stronger. “Anyway. You want it to work again?”

JJ nodded.

“Well, check first that it still has magic in it. Do you know how to do a Revelation?”

Another nod. JJ learned it after seeing Persephone do it one time.

“Do it, then.”

JJ held a hand over the crystal ball. He pulled his stage mask down over his face and concentrated. A light blue mist curled around his fingers and fell onto the crystal.

The black crystal surface changed immediately, the reflections on it disappearing. Instead, a tunnel appeared. It seemed to disappear into the crystal, a vortex of blue and orange swirling into infinity. It only appeared for a second, and then it was gone, and the ordinary reflections were back.

Aoife started to say something, but was interrupted when Marvin shouted. He wheeled closer to the table where the crystal was. “T’at—! T’at was—! T’at—!”

Marvin? JJ signed, confused. Calm down.

“Spiral!” Marvin shouted. “The spiral tunnel!”

What’s the spiral tunnel? JJ asked, confused.

“I... I-I don’ remember!” Marvin clutched his head. “I don’ remember, but t’at’s it!”

“Have you seen that before?” Aoife asked from the phone screen.

“Yes!” Marvin’s head shot up again and he pointed at her insistently. “Yes, I’ve seen it before!”

When? JJ asked, curious.

“I... I don’ remember!” Marvin slumped in his seat. “But I know I have. I know I have.”

“Well, that spiral tunnel also appeared when Persephone Revealed the crystal’s magic to us a couple weeks ago, so it must be a sign of that time magic,” Aoife said. “You’re JJ’s man-out-of-time friend. Maybe... you saw it when you arrived here. Or, now.”

We never figured out where that time magic came from, either, JJ recalled.

“Do you t’ink...” Marvin paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Is t’ere any way I caused it?”

“Did you ever come into contact with the crystal?” Aoife asked.

“Yes... one day, the day Distorter... used Anti to take me to...” Marvin’s voice got steadily quieter, until eventually it faded away entirely.

JJ’s eyes widened. Marvin, didn’t you see Anti in the reflection of the crystal? And then he attacked you?

“From behind...” Marvin whispered, revelation dawning on his face. “The way he got me t’at day. From behind. A-and I saw him behind me in the crystal.”

“Alright, forget what I said about old magic items being sensitive,” Aoife dismissed. “The reason Jameson saw visions while simply touching it is probably because the crystal was recently imbued with the magic at that point. By now it’s settled so it will be harder to activate.”

“You agree, t’en?” Marvin pressed. “T’at magic came from me?”

“Most likely. From what I know, the timeline seems to add up. Marvin, you’re a witch, aren’t you?”

“I’m—e-excuse me?”

“Someone who uses magickal items and rituals on a regular basis,” Aoife explained.

“I... do have my magickal cards,” Marvin said slowly. “But how do you know t’at?”

Aoife blinked. “I’m... not sure. It must have been one of my feelings.”

We always trust Aoife’s feelings, JJ said to Marvin. She did think something was wrong about those IRIS cameras, remember?

“Alrigh’, alrigh’.” Marvin decided to move on. “But what does me bein’ a... witch... have t’do with t’is whole mess?”

“That’s the question,” Aoife mused. “As a witch you don’t have magic of your own, you shouldn’t be able to imbue objects with power by yourself. Did you have your cards at that point?”

“...no.” Marvin slowly shook his head.

This is all very confusing, JJ said. But, I called you for a purpose, Aoife. How do I use the crystal ball’s magic again? To see the visions?

“Hmm.” Aoife thought about it. “Marvin. Can you touch it first? Maybe it needs... a refresh?”

“I s’pose it’s worth a try,” Marvin said, shrugging. He pushed his chair right up to the table and reached out. “Do I... pick it up?” JJ nodded, so Marvin took a deep breath and grabbed the crystal ball in both hands. He stared at his reflection on its surface.

“Do you see anything unusual?” Aoife asked quietly.

“I t’ink...” Marvin paused. “I t’ink the room behind me is diff’rent? T’ere are no bookshelves, and the walls are lighter in color.” He laughed. “T’at’s not as big a clue for the future as Anti bein’ behind me. All t’is means is I’ll be in a different room eventually.”

That’s still proof that there’s some time magic still in there, Jameson said. Aoife? Do you think I can activate it now?

“Touch it and see if you see anything,” Aoife suggested.

JJ nodded slowly. He reached out to take the crystal ball from Marvin—

An image flashed before his eyes. A single vision, one of the many he’d seen that day. Jackie, sitting at a computer screen in a dark room. Only now... now the image was clearer. Crisper. He could see more of the room, though its plain office-like appearance told him nothing. What mattered more... was the image he could see on the sleeve of the white coat Jackie was wearing. It resembled an eye, with three circles for irises.

And then it was gone.

“You saw somet’ing, didn’ you?” Marvin asked. “Your expression... went all shocked... all of a sudden.”

JJ took a deep breath, and raised his hands to sign shakily. I saw Jackie sitting in an office, at a computer. He was wearing a white coat... with IRIS’s logo on it.

“...oh,” Marvin whispered.

Well, that’s not very helpful, JJ said, trying to dismiss the shock of what he’d seen. We know Jackie is working for IRIS now.

“Sometimes it helps to think of visions as guidance, or as confirmation,” Aoife said.

“So... it’s tellin’ us t’at we shoul’ definitely find Jackie before we deal with Anti’s situation?” Marvin guessed.

Or it’s confirming that Jackie really is working for them like we thought, JJ said. Then he paused. I saw that same vision before... just less clear. Was it... always trying to tell us this...?

“It must have,” Aoife confirmed.

“If it was tellin’ us the same t’ing weeks ago... does t’at mean our future is locked...?” The expression on Marvin’s face could only be described as ‘overwhelmed by gloom.’

“Now boys,” Aoife said firmly. “That’s not true. The whole reason divination is hard for those who don’t have the natural talent is because the future is so uncertain. Having the same vision twice in a row just means it hasn’t changed yet. Or, it has, but that particular event isn’t what changed. Or it has but the meaning of the event is different now. It’s all very complicated. Don’t worry too much about the future.”

JJ blinked, as if that concept was completely foreign to him.

“We’ll work on t’at,” Marvin said hurriedly.

“In any case, it’s possible that the crystal ball won’t be able to show you visions frequently,” Aoife said. “Okay? So don’t put all your hopes on that, either.”

We’ll try, JJ said. But if we do want to see a vision, Marvin has to do it first?

“Seems like it. But really.” Aoife brought her phone close to her face and narrowed her eyes. “Try not to worry. It’s not good for you, JJ.”

JJ laughed. I’ll try. I’ll talk to you again some other time, okay?

“Okay.” Aoife leaned back again. “Goodbye, then.”

Goodbye. And with that, JJ ended the call.

———————

Schneep’s eyes were really starting to hurt. He’d been doing nothing but stare at a computer screen ever since they decided to focus their efforts on finding Jackie. Had he... gone to sleep last night? He couldn’t remember. And honestly, he didn’t feel too worse for wear if he didn’t. That scared him a little. Sure, it was helpful, but he didn’t ask for that.

He would have taken the chance to be immune to Distorter’s tricks if it was offered. But it was not offered.

“Hör auf darüber nachzudenken,” he muttered to himself. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it. But he couldn’t help it. How could he not think about it?

By continuing to look through IRIS’s files. That’s how.

He lied to himself earlier when he said he’d done nothing but stare at the computer screen. In truth, he snuck up north yesterday to try and download more of IRIS’s database. He got some. Would it be enough? Would it be...

...

Yes. It was enough.

Schneep reread what he’d found over and over again. This was up to date, right? It was accurate, right?

Yes. Yes!

He had to call the others. He had to talk to them. Who first? Hah. He wondered that, but there was only really one option. And so he picked up his phone and dialed Rama’s number.

It rang for a long time before the other end picked up. “Who is this?” Rama asked.

Right. He’d gotten another new phone. “Rama? It is me, Henrik,” he said. “I found him.”

Rama’s attitude instantly shifted. “You did?! Where? Where is Jackie?!”

“He is stationed at an IRIS facility east of Mirygale,” Schneep said quietly. “It was converted from an old prison, like the one to the north. Recently, yes, too. I have the coordinates. For, ah, ah... for the GPS. I mean.”

“Can you text them to me?”

“Now? Yes, hold onto your... hat.” Schneep pulled the phone away from his ear and sent a text to Rama, making sure to carefully copy down the coordinates on his computer screen. “There. Did you get that?”

A moment of silence. “Yes, I did.”

“Good. We must act as soon as possible. We must act to find him and, ahhh... get him out of there. Or, stop him? He’s doing nothing, I’m sure, but IRIS has goals, and they might be... something he is helping with... not knowingly.”

“Henrik? Are you... okay?” Rama asked, sounding concerned.

“What are you meaning? Of course I am.”

“You sound, uh... really fucking weird.”

“Am I? I mean, do I?” Schneep leaned back in his chair and stared at the motel ceiling. “I do not feel weird.”

“Well, maybe you do but you don’t realize it. How much sleep did you get last night?”

He didn’t remember. “I’m sure it was enough, I feel full of energy.”

“Yeah, ‘I’m sure it was enough’ is not how well-rested people respond to that question. Take a moment to actually look at yourself.”

“In the mirror?” Schneep asked, and giggled.

“I meant metaphorically,” Rama said seriously. “Look inward. Think about how you feel. You may think you’re full of energy, but that could just be your body running on adrenaline.”

“I don’t want to look inward, there are things there now,” Schneep whispered. “The Distorter was here. I saw him when he did not want me to. It’s because there are things there now. I have a scar on... I have them all over.”

“Henrik,” Rama said softly.

“This is not the time. We have to go get Jackie.” Schneep stood up, stumbling for a moment before something in his legs naturally corrected him. No, wait. That was just him. He did that. By himself. “I will be right where you want to meet me, and I will be there right away.”

“We can’t go get Jackie right away,” Rama said, pain in their voice. “I fucking want to, but... but apparently the IRIS facilities have themselves some strange shield around them that makes it impossible for you to see anything even when you know it’s there. Last time, when they went looking for Anti, JJ had to get a lot of other magicians to help him break that shield. So even if we go there, we can’t do anything.”

“I don’t want to do nothing.” Why did his eyes feel wet? Why did they feel... weak? He’d thought about this recently, he wondered if they were a different shade of blue. Or maybe only one? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to look into the mirror to check for sure. “I-I don’t want to do nothing,” he said again, voice breaking.

“You won’t be doing nothing. Waiting isn’t nothing.” Rama was clearly trying to reassure him, but he didn’t think it was working.

“I wait for everything,” Schneep muttered. He stood in the center of the room, one arm dangling loosely as the other pressed the phone close to his face. “I waited for so much. I wait, I wait, I wait, the only thing there was the worry, the... more than worry, the... Furcht. I cannot remember what the word is. But it was just me and it, and the wait, the wait, the wait for them to come... And then when the wait is over they take you back and it starts again, and you look at yourself, and you think... you think there is something in there that was not before... I was asleep. I was asleep. Except for the mistake. I was asleep. But I knew even before the mistake...”

“Henrik!” Rama’s shout snapped Schneep out of whatever trance he’d just slipped into. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” Schneep’s own voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure Rama could hear him. “Even if it was better than the mistake where I was not. I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“You have to try. You cannot function without it. As I can tell just over the phone.” Rama paused. “Nothing... nothing will happen to you, okay? There won’t be anything new when you wake up.”

“...do you promise?” Schneep hated that he just asked that. Like a child looking to their parents for reassurance that there was nothing in the closet. But he... he had to. He had to have that reassurance, real or imagined.

“I promise,” Rama said. “And when we break through IRIS’s shield, I will call you to tell you. And then we can go get Jackie. Okay?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you, Rama. I am sorry I’m being so... foolish.”

“You’re the least foolish person I know, Henrik.”

“...Thank you,” Schneep said again, and hung up.

So maybe he did still need sleep. And as he laid down on the bed and drifted off, that fact brought him a strange comfort.

———————

Do you think we could try tonight?

Tonight? I guess we could call an urgent meeting like we did last time. Are you sure tho? Thats really soon.

Yes. I’m sure.

“So you’ll be tryin’ t’at same spell with the Circle now, t’en?” Marvin asked, looking over at JJ in the entrance hall from his spot in the living room.

JJ nodded. I really don’t think we should waste any time.

“Because of the crystal ball visions?”

No, but they certainly didn’t help, JJ said. Will you be okay with me gone? If I recall, last time you were home alone while I was out at this, you left the house late at night on sketchy instructions from Schneep.

“I did, but t’at’s how I got my cards bask, isn’ it?” Marvin shuffled said cards on his lap. Mr. Flufflington, lying on the sofa nearby, suddenly raised his head in surprise at the shuffle sound. “Oh, sorry, Mister. Didn’ mean to wake you up. Anyway, don’ worry about me, Jems, I’m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.”

You weren’t planning on going anywhere last time, either, JJ pointed out.

“Well, I’m even less so now.”

JJ stared at him for a moment, then nodded. I’ll be back late again. Don’t wait for me.

“Good night, t’en. And good luck.”

Good night. JJ said that, then left, the front door locking behind him.

Well, with Marvin alone he had to figure out how to spend the rest of the night. Normally he’d read a book and then head to bed... but after earlier, he wanted to look at his cards some more. He was trying to form new patterns with them, balancing a tray across his wheelchair arms for a flat surface.

The two unknowns were bothering him. The jokers. He didn’t know why he had this nagging feeling that they were important. Was it simply because they didn’t know what their symbols meant?

Curious, he separated the two of them from the rest, lying them face-down on the tray so he could examine the runes on the back. An angled spiral with an X over it. That was a much more complicated symbol than any of the others. Did that mean it was powerful? The higher-value cards did seem to have broader concepts—and maybe more powerful runes. Jokers were wild. They could be anything. That was a sort of power.

What would happen if he tried to make a pattern with them?

Marvin debated that for a second, and then decided that nothing ventured, nothing gained. All of the successful patterns he’d found so far had needed at least one of the aces, so he grabbed the Ace of Hearts, with its rune meaning “mark” or “creation.” He placed it in between the two jokers, trying to find an arrangement where the lines on the back designs of the cards matched up. But nothing worked. Maybe he needed more cards?

He searched through the deck and found the King of Hearts. The rune on its back meant, funny enough, “heart” or “life.” Then he grabbed the Five of Hearts (“leaf” or “growth”) as well, because why not make this a heart suit party? Idly, he started messing with the five cards, shifting their positions relative to the others, bending close over—

Marvin screamed. His leg—his broken leg, it—it hurt again! “Fuck!” It was piercing, burning, sharp pain—

Instinctively, he swept a hand over the five cards, dislodging the formation they’d been in. And the pain instantly stopped. He sat there, breathing, for a moment, getting over the sudden agony and its even more sudden disappearance. Then, tentatively, he reached down and gently prodded the injury. It didn’t feel like it had rebroken. Good. Good.

“What the fucking hell was that about?” Marvin asked himself. He looked down at the cards. What pattern had they been in...? Right. The two jokers vertical on either side, with the other three horizontal and stacked on top of each other. Though he was morbidly curious to try it again, he resisted; he didn’t really feel like experiencing his leg breaking all over again. That wasn’t what happened, of course... but it certainly felt like it.

And though that probably should have warned him off from experimenting with his cards for the night, it didn’t. He merely put the jokers to the side once more and resumed. Their angled spirals seemed to shift in the corner of his eyes. Getting smaller and bigger, closing and opening.

———————

Schneep was awoken by a ringing sound. He started up, panic rushing into his heart—then realized it was his phone. Quickly he reached over to the nightstand and picked it up to check the caller ID. It was Rama again. So soon?

Wait... it wasn’t soon at all. The clock on the nightstand read 7:01... am, not pm. And there was early gray sunlight coming through the curtains. And his stomach was rumbling. When was the last time he’d eaten something?

The phone was still ringing. Sitting up, Schneep answered the call. “Hello?”

“Henrik? It’s Rama. Good morning.”

“It is morning, isn’t it?” he muttered, then laughed. “I have been asleep since you last called me.”

“Good,” they said firmly, sincerely. “It sounded like you needed it.”

“I did, I did.” Schneep nodded. “But to serious business. I can only guess you’re calling me because of Jackie.”

“Yes. Jameson and his magicians did that same spell, they found a second IRIS facility right where you said it would be. Well, it was a bit complicated, we had to actually drive out to the location first and that took a while—but after all that, it was there. We are planning on going there today. In only a couple hours if possible.”

“Good.” Schneep nodded. “Give me time to get ready and eat something.”

“You’re coming?!” Rama didn’t bother to hide their surprise. “But... your history...”

“I know,” Schneep said quietly. “But that is why I must go with you. Together we can provide Jackie with enough reasons to see sense. You can tell him why it was such a bad idea to leave... and I can tell him what IRIS is truly doing.”

Rama was silent for a moment. Then they sighed. “It’s up to you. What time would be okay with you? Nine o’clock?”

“That sounds good. Let’s meet at the park again. Will it be just the two of us?”

“No, Jameson is coming too.”

“Not Marvin, though?” Strange, Schneep would’ve thought Marvin would insist on coming even with a broken leg.

“No, he said he wanted to work on things with those magick cards of his. As for Jack and Stacy, well, Jack says someone should stay behind with Anti in case there are any developments. And Stacy has work again. She really wants to help, though. But I do not think this moment is her calling, you know?”

“I understand.” Schneep took a deep breath and stood up. “Nine o’clock at the park. I will see you there. We will finish this.”

“We will finish this,” Rama agreed. “See you then.” And they hung up.

Schneep lowered the phone. His hands were shaking. But he would do this. He would go get Jackie back.

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