#but I think I’ll stop trying to justify every little thing and just have a little more fun with it

[bloatedandalone04]

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: You and Jake are broken up, so he has no business sending you dirty texts while you’re out with your friends, yet that doesn’t stop you from giving in every single time.

Word Count: 4.1k | THANK YOU FOR 5.8K FOLLOWERS

Warnings: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, swearing, just overall filthiness, exes hooking up, exes to lovers if you want to know what happens in their future, possessive jake, mentions of a bad break up.

“You’re going? Seriously?” your best friend since high school, Steph, asked once she saw you trying to discreetly slide your credit card and keys into your purse a few minutes after you checked a text on your phone and scoffed. 

You looked over at her with a soft glare, because her question had made your other friend give you a look of disbelief as well, when all you wanted to do was make your great and quiet escape. “What? I’m…tired,”

Steph scoffed this time and leaned back in her chair at the small table you managed to score in the back corner of a rather rowdy bar. “Yeah right. You’re such a liar. We just got here, like, half an hour ago,” she muttered and crossed her arms. “You’re not tired. You’re fucking horny.”

You gasped, but you couldn’t deny the truth her words held. “I am not,”

“Then where are you going?” Kayce, your other friend, asked as she too clued in to what was really going on with you, and she didn’t look too happy either. 

Too bad for them, you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. “Why does it matter?”

“Y/n, if you’re even thinking about going over to his place, I swear, I’ll rip my hair out,” Steph groaned and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Jake fucking Seresin. Or, you know, fucking Jake Seresin,” she reiterated and you felt your face heat up a bit. 

Damn, you thought you were being a little more discreet than that, but clearly not. “So what if I am?” you sighed, giving up on the whole act entirely as you hadn’t been nearly as careful as you should’ve been. They both knew where you were going now, there’s no point in trying to hide it. 

“So what? He’s your ex, Y/n,” Kayce stated, but her tone was much softer than Steph’s was. 

“And he’s a fucking ass,” Steph added, “I don’t know what you saw in him before, and I still don’t know what you see in him now. He’s so full of himself, he’s cocky, arrogant and he fucking smirks at everything. Oh, and he treats you horribly.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you defended your ex as you sat up straight. And it really wasn’t. Yeah, Jake was all those things she listed, she just missed him being overly confident, but he didn’t treat you badly at all. In fact, he was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, it was just the explosive fight you’d gotten in that ended it all. “He was good to me.”

“He’s trying to get you to come over so he can fuck you,” Steph said, a little too loudly for your liking since a few of the bars patrons had glanced over at the three of you. “He wants to fuck you then he’ll kick you out.”

“He won’t kick me out,” you scoffed, standing up and sliding your purse onto your shoulder. “Jake likes when I sleep in his arms.”

Steph looked like she was about to explode, but you didn’t care. You felt attacked by your friends, and you felt like they were trying to make you feel dumb and like a kid, when you are a grown woman who is capable of making your own decisions. 

You knew what you were getting yourself into. “And maybe we’re friends now. Have you ever thought of that? Exes can be friends,”

Steph raised a brow. “Not exes like you and Jake. You two can never be friends, not after they way you were together,”

She was right about that, but she also didn’t need to know that. 

Kayce looked up at you with a small frown on her lips, and you hated the pity in her eyes. You didn’t need it, and it wasn’t justified at all. “He texts you a lot, Y/n,” she said quietly, “Doesn’t it make you feel cheap?”

You looked down at her for a few seconds before shaking your head. “Cheap? With Jake?” you laughed, “Never.”

-

Jake was sipping on a beer and watching the highlights of the latest game when he heard a knock at his front door. He smirked, because he knew exactly who it was.

It was you, of course, and he knew exactly why you were here. 

Only a mere twenty minutes ago, Jake had sent you two texts, one reading, 

‘I wanna see you, baby. Come over,’

And the other, 

‘I miss your sweet pussy and your pretty mouth,’

Yeah, he was aware of what he was doing, because he knew you’d read them, and he knew you’d come over. Albeit, you’d take your time getting here, but still, you were definitely coming. 

And, you know, hopefully soon Jake would be too.

He set down his beer and abandoned the football game he’d been watching on the TV in the living room, and he wandered out to the front door wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants - the ones he knew drove you crazy, because they showed off the length of his cock through the fabric.

When he swung the door open and saw you in a tight skirt and a crop top, he knew he’d interrupted your girls’ night. That meant you ditched your friends in order to come to his place, and that made Jake’s smirk grow even more. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” he greeted, leaning against the door frame as he looked at your gorgeous face. “I think we’re way past the point of you needing to knock, don’t you?” he teased, and the eye roll you gave him had him grinning. You were so perfect and so fucking stunning, Jake felt like the luckiest fucker in San Diego, because you’re here. And you’re still his. 

A scoff left your lips as you crossed your arms, but the dramatic act wasn’t justified. You’d been out at the bar, attempting to have a decent night with your friends when you got his texts, and like always, any and all rational thoughts left your mind. 

“Not really,” you muttered, shifting on your feet as the cool evening air made chills run through your body. “Why do you insist on texting me filthy things in order to get me over here? Why can’t you just find another girl to fuck and forget about?”

Jake’s eyes were all over your body, the green a shade or two darker as he bit down on his lip. Your skirt was short and hugged your curves in all the right places, showcasing every inch he knew off by heart, and he wanted to pull you into his arms and warm you up properly. “Forget about you? Baby, you know that’s not possible. There isn’t another girl in the world who could ever compare to you,” he said, his voice low as he reached one hand out and rested it on your hip, pulling you closer. “And you’re here, aren’t you? Besides, I don’t want to fuck anyone who’s not you.”

You rolled your eyes again, making Jake grin. 

“Come on, you know I can’t help myself around you,” he mumbled, his deep voice right next to your ear as he brushed a kiss to your cheek. “I hate being away from you, and not knowing what you’re doing out there without me…”

You hummed, moving closer to him. “What do you think I’m doing?” you asked, raising a teasing brow as you slide your fingers up his bare chest before settling your hands on his shoulders. “Are you scared that I’m flirting with other guys? That I’m letting random strangers fuck me in the same bed you used to fuck me in? Are you scared I’ll finally move on from you?”

Your tone was teasing now as well as you leaned up and brushed your lips along his jaw. Jake felt a surge of possessiveness run through him, and a jolt of lust went straight to his cock, which he was sure you could feel against you right now. 

“I don’t scare easily, Y/n,” he muttered, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer as he leaned down to nip at your ear. “Though, the thought of another guy putting his fucking hands on you…touching what’s mine…makes me think I need to leave my mark on you so they don’t even bother trying.”

His big hands slid down to grab your ass, and he squeezed it through the fabric of your leather skirt, making you whine softly.

“You’re not going anywhere, baby. Not when I can feel you trembling for me…not when I know you’re already getting wet for me,” he added, and you moaned loudly at his words. 

“Relax, baby,” you cooed, “No guy has even come close, because I know I’ll just be disappointed. They’re not you. You’re the only one who can make me cum.”

A deep groan left Jake’s lips as you practically melted against him, your words laced with seduction and promise. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he was wrapped around yours as well. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he murmured, shamelessly letting his gaze trail up and down your body. “These pretty tits, that sweet pussy…your stunning fucking body. All mine. Always has been, and always will be.” 

His hands slid further down until he was gripping the backs of your thighs, then he was lifting you up into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him as he carried you towards his bedroom. 

He’d made this exact route countless times now, always with you, and only with you since the night you met. It felt familiar, normal, and natural, like he would always only be carrying you to his room so he could fuck the living shit out of you. 

“I think it’s about time I remind you of that fact, don’t you?” Jake asked, but it didn’t really sound like a genuine question. He tossed you onto his bed, the sight of you being nearly swallowed by the king-sized mattress one he fantasises about every time he goes to sleep. “You think you can tease me by talking about other guys, hm? When we both know that you’re never gonna let anyone else touch you like this.” 

Jake’s hands slid up and down your calves before tugging off your boots and letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. Next were your stockings, which he just flat out ripped off you instead of trying to pull them all the way down, and the glare you gave him had a smug smirk forming on his lips as he tossed the destroyed fabric aside. 

“Think I need to ruin you for everyone else. Fuck you so hard, you won’t bring up another guy ever again,” he hummed, crawling up your body. It wasn’t necessary, because Jake knew you hadn’t been with anyone else since him, like he hadn’t been with anyone else since you, but it was part of the game you and he had been playing recently. Riling each other up until the other breaks, then doing it all over again within a few days. 

Jake knew he still wanted you, he wanted to fucking marry you, for fucks sake, but your break up had been an explosive one, and if you still needed a little more time to yourself before getting back on track with him, that was fine. He could do that one hundred percent, as long as it meant he got you back in the end. 

You were leaning back on his pillow, your legs parting as he settled between them, and you already looked so fucked out and needy for him. It was such a pretty sight. Jake’s eyes were dark as he gazed down at your dishevelled form, his arms at either side of your head as he held himself up above you. 

“Jake,” you groaned, sliding your hands along his abs before you reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling his body down onto yours as you buried your face in his neck. You placed soft kisses along his skin, breathing him in as if you were as gone for him as he is for you. “God, you’re so fucking hot…I love getting you all riled up like this.” 

Jake was so hard for you, and your touches only made him harder, almost painfully so. “You love it, huh? You just love pushing me until I fuck you so hard, you can barely walk the next day,” he muttered, leaning in and kissing all along your neck and jaw as he ground his hips against yours over and over again until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He sat back on his knees, tugging your shirt over your head as he did so, and tossing it aside. His gaze immediately went to your chest, his cock twitching with need as he bit down on his lip. “Fuck, these tits…”

You laughed quietly, and Jake knew how he looked, drooling over you as if he hadn’t been with you for nearly three years before the break up. “You love them, don’t you?” you teased, reaching for his wrists and guiding his big hands to your chest. “Touch me, Jake…”

Jake groaned, squeezing your soft mounds as he looked down at you. “Oh, I more than love them, baby. I’m fucking obsessed with them,” he said as his thumbs circled your hardened nipples before he leaned down and took one between his lips, sucking greedily as he continued to tease your other one. “They’re mine. This whole fucking body is mine.”

“Mmm, for now,” you purred, giving him an innocent look as you writhed under him and he glared at you. But he didn’t let himself get too worked up at your words, since there was no for now with you, there was only forever. 

After he worshipped your chest with his mouth for a bit, Jake pulled back and admired the red peaks that were straining against the cool air of his bedroom. You were whimpering for him and looking up at him with needy eyes, Jake had never seen a hotter sight in his life. 

He gripped your hips and flipped you over, pulling your skirt down and off your body, leaving you in just your soaked panites. “Look at how perfect you are,” he murmured under his breath, his hand smoothing along the curve of your ass before he delivered a sharp smack to one side of it. “You’re such a good girl, presenting yourself so nicely for me.”

You whined as Jake hooked his fingers in the thin fabric of your panties and dragged them down your legs impossibly slow, exposing your wet core to the cool air. “Jake,” you mumbled as you propped yourself up on your knees and elbows, your fingers bunching up his sheets as you wiggled back against him and left a damp spot on the front of his sweats. 

Jake reached down and palmed himself through the fabric, his cock begging for attention as he looked down at the pink handprint that was forming on your skin. “Fuck, look at you. So desperate for my cock already. Bet this needy little pussy is clenching around nothing, isn’t it?” he mocked, gripping your hips as he ground his clothed erection against your slick folds, not caring at all about the mess he was making on the grey fabric. You were moaning loudly now, his dirty mouth never failing to turn you on, and he knew that. 

He rolled his hips a few more times before delivering another swift slap to your opposite cheek before he soothed the sting with his palm, his cock twitching more at the desperate sounds you were making for him. 

His fingers delved between your thighs and collected your arousal, the wetness making his head spin in the best way, before bringing it to your lips. “Taste yourself, baby,”

You obliged quickly, turning your head and capturing his fingers between your lips. “Mm,” you moaned, licking and sucking at his fingers until they were clean of you and left coated in your spit. “So good…” you hummed as you pushed yourself back against him again, the dark spot on his sweats only growing in size the longer he kept them on. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Jake grunted, pulling his fingers free from your mouth. “Getting off on your own taste.”

Then he licked his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as his free hand palmed your reddening ass. “You love it,” you mumbled, and Jake grinned as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed, grabbing your thighs as he pulled you back onto his lap, your slickness dragging along his damn near painful erection. His sweatpants were messy now as he gently bounced you on his lap, leaning over you to place kisses all along your shoulders, and then he was guiding you to lay down on your back once more as he pushed down and kicked off his sweats. “Spread those legs for me, Y/n. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

When you did as you were told, Jake settled between your thighs once more, his cock rubbing along your soaked folds. “Jake,” you whined. “I need you. Fuck me already. Please?” 

“I will, sweet girl,” he laughed deeply, reaching down to circle your clit with his fingers. Then he was pushing forward and sinking inside your core, the wet warmth making him groan as he braced himself above you. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Missed this perfect pussy so much, baby.” he grunted, leaning down to kiss you as he began to fuck you with long, deep thrusts. 

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you kissed him back. Your hands ran up and down his arms before pushing against his lower back, encouraging him to absolutely wreck you as your mouths pressed messily together. “God, yes. Fuck me, Jake,” 

Jake groaned into the kiss, one hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back a bit while his other gripped your hip tightly. “You were made for me, baby,” he murmured against your lips as picked up the pace a bit, breaking the kiss as he looked down at where you were connected. The sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside you had him thrusting a bit harder, his grip on you tightening even more. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He hooked his elbows under your knees, shifting your position on the bed and giving him a better angle to your sweet spot, and the way you practically squealed had him fucking into you a bit faster. “Jake, oh fuck,” you moaned as you ran your hands along his abs, feeling the way he flexed under your touch. “Harder…harder…” 

Jake grunted as he complied, hitting every spot deep inside you until he felt your tight walls start to flutter and clench around him. “Not yet, baby,” he rasped, not wanting this to end too soon. He was desperate for you now more than ever, because every second with you was next to precious at the moment. “Hold on just a little longer, sweet girl.”

But you were whining in protest, shaking your head as you buried your face in his neck. “Jake,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. Then you pulled back and looked up at him, and your gaze softened a bit as you nodded. “Okay…okay, just go slower then, okay?” you asked so sweetly, your bratty persona from earlier gone as you leaned up and pressed kisses along his jaw. 

Jake’s hands loosened their grip on you, and instead he wrapped his arms around you and cradled you against him, slowing his thrusts significantly. “Mm, there’s my good girl,” he praised, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. “I wanna take my time with you…love you in the way you deserve.”

He knew his words were perhaps a little more intimate than they should be during a hookup, but Jake would never consider you that. Just a quick, easy fuck. He’d never think so low of you when he was so in love with you still. 

His big hands caressed your body, touching all the places he knew off by heart, and he reveled in the soft moans you let out when he gently pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers. 

Jake leaned down and kissed you as you tangled your fingers in his hair, his hips slowly rolling against yours in unhurried thrusts. His own hands slid around you and down your body until they reached your ass, and he gripped you tightly as he lifted you up a bit to meet his deep strokes. “You feel so good, baby,” he mumbled against your mouth before fully breaking the kiss to look down at you. 

You tugged on his hair, hiking your legs up higher around his waist as you arched your back. “So do you,” you replied, tipping your head back on his pillow as he increased the pace again by just a little. “So fucking good, Jake.”

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he fucked into you, his sounds muffled against your skin. “Fucking hell, Y/n,” he moaned, “You drive me crazy, sweet girl. I’ve missed this so much…missed you so much.” 

Jake leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, grazing it gently with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. 

You tugged a little harder on his hair before pushing on his shoulders, and for a fleeting moment Jake thought he might have gone too far with his words (not that he had much control over them anyway), but then you settled on his lap when he sat back on his knees, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh, my God,” you gasped, your breasts brushing against his chest as you began to ride him. “Fuck…fuck.”

Jake’s hands grabbed your hips, holding onto you tightly as he helped guide you into a steady rhythm. “That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that,” he praised, dipping his head down to press kisses along the tops of your breasts. 

Your moans were becoming a little more desperate now as you bounced on his lap, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, and the look in your eyes told Jake all he needed to know. 

Maybe you didn’t mean for it to be there, but he could see the love, adoration and longing in your gaze, but he didn’t say anything about it. Just seeing it was all he needed to know that he’d be with you again properly someday. 

“Jake,” you whispered, running your hands along his slightly sweaty shoulders as you moved on top of him, squeezing him so good, Jake had to bury his face against the side of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” he groaned, thrusting up into you as he gripped your hip tightly and pulled your chest right up against his, using his free hand to apply pressure to your stomach. “C’mon, baby, give it to me.”

You whimpered and bucked your hips a few more times before you were shaking on his lap, your hands pulling at his hair as you came with a soft cry, and it was still the prettiest sound Jake had ever heard. 

He grunted, and a few seconds later, he came too, filling you up as you became limp in his arms. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and moved to lay down so you were cuddled against his chest. “I love you,” he mumbled, the words all too familiar as he usually said them every single time you and he had sex, as well as every day before the breakup. 

You groaned, shaking your head as you leaned up to press a firm kiss to his lips, then a few more after that. “Shh, don’t,” you murmured before rolling off him, making his cock slip free from your warmth as you rolled onto your stomach. “Just…come here. Come hold me.” you said, burying your face in his pillow as you closed your eyes. 

Jake laughed under his breath as he pulled the covers up over your body before wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you like you were his entire world. “Okay,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head as he let himself relax against you.

This was where he belonged, he knew that, and he knew that you belonged here too, it would just take you a little longer to get back there. Which was fine, because Jake would always wait for you. And as he listened to your quiet breathing and inhaled your familiar scent, he let his mind wander to the image of you finally wearing the ring he’d bought for you that was safely tucked away in his closet.

[soulsforsales]

I don’t think people understand the extent and effect of Jason Todd’s trauma. I mean, every time Jason goes “I died.” Everyone’s like “we know, Jason!”

But no. No, you don’t know. He died — in every sense of the word. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped giving out air. His body was taut, numb, paralyzed.

And the crowbar, the beating didn’t kill Jason Todd— the bomb did which means he laid down on that cold stone floor of the warehouse in a pool of his own blood and counted down the minutes to his death, quite literally and even in his last moments, beyond all logic, he was hoping that Dad will come, Dad will save him, Dad will be here. But Dad was too late.

And he was helpless and tired and bleeding when the shrill scream of the explosion cut through followed by that chilling silence. He must have felt the debris press into his already broken bones and skin and that’s when it must have hit him that it’s actually over. He’s dead and Dad couldn’t save him. So, he must have closed his eyes and waited for the peace that follows with being dead.

Because he was just a kid. Sixteen. Kids die and go to heaven, right? Well, even that was snatched away from Jason.

Because he was forced back to life— whether it was climbing out of your own fucking grave or the Lazarus pit— he was forced back into a life that was his no more because who he was, the kid, the Robin— he died and what came back was someone no one could identify.

He must’ve felt his heart beat frantically to push all that blood through his aching muscles, his lungs finally swallowing in air after being black and blue for god knows how long. He came back only to find out that the one person he loved most in the world didn’t think him worthy of being avenged. No matter how much Bruce suffered after Jason’s death— in my opinion— Jason’s anger is justified. Because he was JUST A KID. He was killed simply to spite Batman, he was killed as collateral damage. A KID- BEATEN BLOODY AND BRUISED FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO HELP HIS MOTHER FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO PROVE HE WAS GOOD.

Can you even imagine how many times he must’ve just wanted to stop? Can you imagine how much he wanted to just go home and have Alfred bake him cookies again? How much he wanted to hug Bruce and try forgiving, how much he wanted to call Dick “brother” again and just be his “little wing?”

It pains me to see how he’s treated— both fanon and canon.

Jason Todd isn't just the “angry Robin” or “the violent anti-hero with a grudge” he’s so much more.

He is a hero. And he died a hero. He died trying to save someone. He died hoping he saved someone.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: he did NOT deserve that. But look how he took all the bad things that happened to him and only gave the world something better in return?

Yeah, that’s who Jason Todd is.

[jacqueline-01]

You're Safe With Me

A.H x Y.N

healing from toxic family, comfort, fluff

The boutique lights sparkled softly against the polished floors as you stood in front of a row of delicate necklaces. They gleamed like tiny constellations, arranged neatly on black velvet. Your fingers hovered over one—a simple gold chain with a small, crescent moon pendant. It wasn’t flashy, but something about it called to you.

You hesitated, heart pounding as your mind raced back to the echoes of your childhood.

“You don’t need that,” your mother’s sharp voice rang in your ears, cutting through the calm of the present. “Why are you even looking at things like that? Do you think we’re made of money? Do you think you deserve it?”

You could still feel the burn of embarrassment you’d felt as a child, standing in stores like this, admiring something small and simple, only to be scolded for it. Even when you’d had money of your own—birthday gifts, babysitting money—it had felt impossible to spend. Every purchase had come with scrutiny, criticism, or worse, guilt.

“You’re being selfish,” your father had once said when you’d asked for a new pair of sneakers, your old ones too worn to wear without socks showing through. “You already have shoes. Why are you wasting money on another pair?”

Aaron’s voice broke through the storm of memories, his presence grounding you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his tone gentle and encouraging.

You blinked, realizing your hand was still frozen in mid-air. “Oh, um… it’s nice,” you murmured, but the conflict inside you was already bubbling over.

He stepped closer, his steady warmth chasing the cold from your chest. “If you like it, let’s get it,” he said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “It’s too much,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron frowned, his gaze softening as he studied you. “It’s not too much,” he said firmly. “Y/N, you don’t have to convince yourself you don’t deserve nice things. You do.”

The tears surprised you, stinging your eyes before you could stop them. “It’s just… it’s hard,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to—well, I wasn’t allowed to buy anything unless it was ‘necessary.’ Even then, it was like I had to justify everything. I’d saved money for years, but it didn’t matter. It was never really mine.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his protective instinct kicking in as he reached for your hand. “I hate that you went through that,” he said softly. “It wasn’t fair. You were a kid—you should’ve been able to enjoy things without feeling guilty or controlled.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache of memories long buried but never forgotten.

“When I was younger,” you continued, your voice quieter now, “I remember seeing a bracelet I loved at a little shop in town. I’d saved up enough from babysitting to buy it, but my mom…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the memory surfaced. “She told me I was wasting my money. That it was stupid to spend money on something so ‘useless.’ I ended up putting it back.”

Aaron’s hand tightened around yours. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “No one should have taken that from you.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to push back the tears. “It’s just a necklace,” you said, almost to yourself, as if you were trying to convince the little girl inside you.

Aaron turned you gently to face him, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s not just a necklace,” he said. “It’s a step. It’s a way of saying, ‘I can have nice things because I want them, and I deserve them.’ And I’ll be right here, helping you take those steps, no matter how long it takes.”

With his encouragement, you finally let yourself pick up the necklace. It felt weightless in your hands, yet the act of holding it carried so much significance. When Aaron handed it to the cashier, you didn’t protest. And when he fastened it around your neck in the car, his fingers brushing your skin, you felt something shift inside you—a small crack in the wall of guilt and control that had defined so much of your life.

As the two of you drove home, your fingers absentmindedly played with the pendant, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Aaron glanced over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated before answering, your voice quiet but steady. “I was just thinking… that little girl I used to be? I think she’d be happy. She’d see this and know it’s possible to feel free someday.”

Aaron reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “She’d be proud of you,” he said. “And I am too.”

For the first time in years, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you were finally stepping into a life that was truly yours.

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Avior Quotes

this was so hard to cut down; this isn’t even half of the original list. also some angsty ones snuck in bc it’s AVIOR. @mokozroach ta daaa~

“I’m just a little testy after being trapped here for who knows how long thanks to the religious fanaticism of an uninformed peon.”

“The human who never stops asking questions, and the demon who thinks he knows everything. We make quite the pair, huh?”

“Do you trust me? Good, you shouldn’t.”

“If you ask me — which, no one ever does, but hey, when has that stopped me — …”

“I’m sure it feeds that knowledge hungry gremlin that’s apparently forever tap dancing across your neurons.”

“Don’t look right now, okay? Look at me. Look at my eyes. Yeah, like that. Just keep looking at me. Shhh… Hi.”

“This place won’t be the end of either of our voices, Starlight. I won’t let it.”

“Kissing you makes me think of lots of things. Some of them are even nice.”

“I wish I could show you Aria. It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

“What are you doing? I know what a hug is, Starlight, don’t be obtuse.”

“All I can tell you is that I fell in love with you two years ago when we got trapped in this place together. And I loved you two years later when I pulled you back in. And I still love you now.”

“I love the way you do that. How you hold my arms like that when I hug you like that. [..] It’s cute. And so are you.”

“But have you considered that means that everything visible here is a kind of illusion? Including… my clothes?”

“You look so heavenly like this, Starlight. Bathed in ethereal light. Gold dripping from gorgeous skin. Lips that taste like cinnamon and hope.”

“I feel things with you, that I’ve only tasted in the hearts of others before.”

“You’re an awakening from a dreamless sleep I didn’t know I’d settled into.”

“You make my heart bound. And you make my cock throb.”

“I’m left threadbare and shuddering in the wake of you.”

“In truth, the limits of my magic are the limit. But I would expend every last ounce of it for you.”

“Only you could leave me speechless. A rare gift.”

“We will be free of this place. But in the meantime, I’ve found a different kind of freedom in knowing you.”

“Deft implements like these deserve praise. I could just say you have nice hands.”

“I’m happy. Even in the midst of literal hell, surrounded by imagined medieval torment of damned souls… with you, I’m happy.”

“Tell me about it. Yes, the boring coffee shop, tell me about it. I want to hear it.”

“Simple pleasures. The things that shouldn’t feel special. But when I imagine them with you, I cherish them.”

“Starlight. Look at me. Please.”

“I do love you. But love is too easily used as an excuse for terrible harm.”

“You have one life. One fragile, beautiful life. Please don’t throw it away.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. Just let me help.”

“The things I feel for you fly in the face of every justifiable fear and suspicion this situation has burned into me. And yet, somehow, because it’s you… I don’t mind that.”

“I’ll grapple with the existence of my people’s ancient gods and them giving us a mission to save the world in a second. Right now I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea that you don’t fucking hate me.”

“I’ll always find you. I feel you. Like a lighthouse in my senses.”

“In every hell we find ourselves, you’re heaven to me.”

[penelopesbaby]

"I’ll have a...."

Xanthus x reader

____________________________________________

The whole night had been an absolute blur. From killing off Xanthus' long lost traitor of an old friend to finding almost every alliance dead, including love who was in terrible condition. The trio, Xanthus, Dontis and love found their way back to the previously abandoned car in the middle of the woods next to the blood stained bayou.

Dontis sits in the driver seat while Xanthus sets love down in the back, sitting next to them to patch up the cuts and bruises given by audrick as a form of experimentation, test how strong the bond really was.

He was a sick man, a sad case of what tragedy can do to a person. And though Xanthus knew this, he could never feel remorse over his death. No matter how sad and "justified" his kidnapping and torture felt to audrick, Xanthus would not let him get away with the abuse he dealt to his love.

"Xanthus stop it that hurts." They whine, as he wipes a cut with the rubbing alcohol found in the first aid kit in the backseat.

"I know love but I need to patch you up, it will only take a few minutes, please be still." He replies grabbing the bandages.

In the front seat, dontis' mind is still trying to process the past few days for him, wondering if his hunter is safe, worrying for xanthus, and his lover who they only recently got back. It doesn't help that the couple in the back are yelling at each other over the pains of cleaning a wound.

He doesn't know what to do this time. For the first time, he has no words. Making a joke in a serious situation would only annoy the couple more, and words of encouragement would only fall on deaf ears. The only thing he can think of to make the situation better is... stopping for some food.

Its a perfect plan. Maybe not for xanthus, of course, but knowing his lover has had close to no food in their recent situation can only transfer the feeling of hunger and agitation to xanthus through the bond. Soothing love might fix things a little, at least he hopes.

"Xanthus stop touching me! I told you that shit stings-" "Well I need to disinfect your wounds! You've been covered in filth the past fews days what if you get-"

"Are you two hungry?" Dontis speaks above the bickering couple. "Theres uhh... a mcdonalds up ahead I think. [name] you haven't had much to eat, have you?"

The car falls quiet. Theres a moment of silence while love realizes how hungry they are before answering, "No, I haven't."

"Well let's fix that. I’m tired of listening to you two argue, so figure out what you'd like to eat." Dontis says while pulling into the drive thru.

"The line is quite long." Xanthus chimes in.

"I agree. I don’t feel like waiting and I’m sure your damsel doesn't either. Let's go inside." He responds.

Love looks around with confusion at the two unfazed men before making a statement they thought was obvious.

"We can't just go inside. I’m drenched in blood and sweat.. what if they kick us out?"

"It's McDonalds. I don't think anyone these days actually care. Especially not at 2:30 am." Xanthus responds and they only shake their head before getting out of the car.

Walking in and heading to the counter, they skim the menu to figure out what they're going to eat. Xanthus doesn't eat fast food. Or mostly any food for that matter, so he waits for love to tell him what they want while Dontis orders his food.

"Yes I’ll have a... Double quarter pounder with a large fry, a 20 piece mcnugget, 2 McCrispys and another large fry with a diet coke."

Xanthus and love glances at each other with wide eyes.

"Lord, Dontis!" Xanthus exclaimed. "Now that's really watching your figure."

"Gains can always come back but my McDonalds order can't, and I’m hungry!"

Xanthus scoffs, "Yeah yeah sure, what do you want love?"

They scan the menu one more time before answering.

"A 10 piece, medium fry and... a water."

"Will that be all?" The employee asks.

"Yes."

-----

"Fuckin weirdos man what the hell.." the employee thought before handing them their food and taking one more look at the blood stained clothes love was wearing.

"Guys.. We should probably eat in the car right..? Like to avoid staring." Love suggests.

"I don’t really care if people stare. But if you insist. It'll be better anyways, as I can continue patching you up." Xanthus replied before opening the door for them to walk out.

Dontis is already eating one of his orders of fries while they walk out, side eyeing Xanthus because he knows he's gonna hear more complaining about how bad the rubbing alcohol hurts from the backseat. At least the silence was nice for a while.

____________________________________________

I really love this idea! I think it was really cute, and I have an idea for an extended ending (please lmk if you wanna read it)

Tysm for reading!

-💋👠💄

[keiiaq]

₊˚⊹ awareness post ♡

whew.. 2 posts in 1 day. hey guys ! I am sososos sorry I haven’t made any proper posts besides small little rants, i’ve been busy with a lot of things recently but i’m hoping it should stop soon!

this is a different post but I wanted to address a serious topic that has come to my attention since late february in regards to the art shifting community, specifically the MHA art community. and now that this has only been increasing up until now, I want to give my take on the situation.

on a small note, just remember these are real people so please don’t send any hate or any threats, the best thing you can do is report, block and spread awareness so they stop. now let’s start !

-ˋˏ✄ ┈┈┈┈┈┈

. ۫ overview ꣑ৎ .

since late february, there has been multiple art stealers who have been stealing my mutuals and other peoples art of their dr selves without any permission and at worst, impersonating them.

please do not interact with these people that I will mention because not only will it give them the attention they want, but also because it’ll likely encourage the behaviour and make it escalate further!!

. ۫ people mentioned ꣑ৎ .

i’ll split this into 3 categories just so it’ll be easier to comprehend. every account that I will put into this section are all found on tiktok, no other platforms.

art stealers/tracers — @heartz4lilaahh, @only.the_oneacc.of_izumi, @miyako.amaneko

impersonators — @hikaria17, @athenia59, @cerisie3, @.takashiiishere, @h4rumik0, @sweetiepiexp

original artists — @_luna4._, @my.oc_wasinsane, @hydrothena, @yumis.space, @portalis_aoi, @1tsastr0, @runa_.shiftz, @sweetly.sumiko, @ccrystallyy, @yumi.reid

. ۫ why is this wrong? ꣑ৎ .

this will be a long long rant so bear with me!!

firstly, it’s incredibly wrong to trace or steal someone’s art. any reason doesn’t justify why you can steal or trace said persons art. they’ve spent a long time making the art themself so not only is it just irritating that your work is used as a trace for someone else’s art. but it is also infuriating, pick up a pen because it is so much better to practice than use someone’s art as some “blueprint” for yours.

to make matters worse for this situation, it is ILLEGAL to impersonate someone. to find that you get satisfaction trying to impersonate someone is incredibly messed up and just so selfish. if you do impersonate someone, please get help. it is not the right thing to do and it is best to cope positively than negatively, as said by my mentor.

lastly, it is incredibly exhausting for these original artists to defend themselves and it does normally make the original creators quit posting, or privating their account so this doesn’t happen again. which is just incredibly horrible they they’d continue to the point just to make them stop

. ۫ my opinion ꣑ৎ .

in my opinion, I genuinely think that many of the impersonators. at least 50% - 75% of the impersonators are the same person. mainly due to the pattern in their usernames always being the original creators drself name and a random number at the end. especially with how their bio’s seem to match up in a similiar pattern; (ship name) canon, shifter/oc creator, all my art.

I don’t see this as right whatsoever as what they are doing is just trying to encourage and promote this behaviour. the purpose of art is to create and express. not to steal it and pass it off as your own.

like i’ve said, please don’t attack the people mentioned in this post because the last thing I want is them getting more attention and art stealing/impersonating being encouraged and normalised in the mha shifting art community.

nobody deserves their art to be stolen and traced, especially with people as problematic as said impersonators and art stealers. I don’t understand as to why this is slowly being encouraged. do not use anyone’s work as your art, pick up a pen and practice!

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

thanks for reading this super long post.. i’m so sorry this isn’t shifting related, per se. but as someone who is part of the shifting art community. I wanted to bring awareness about this since this is getting out of hand. I have a few posts coming up too so don’t worry!!

thanks for reading my lovelies and happy shifting!

[viridianevergarden]

I’m sick and tired of hearing these:

“Elain will come around”

“Lucien deserves someone too”

“They’re mated”

“They’ll get along eventually”

Please.

These arguments are literally the most popular arguments that I see all the time in nearly every comment section about them.

Perhaps it’s me being overdramatic or in general a bit of a hot take but I feel like the people who say this have a little 🤏 internalized misogyny.

Like imagine genuinely feeling uncomfortable around somebody who you’re match made with and people continue to debate over whether or not you should “come around” just because the man deserves it.

Just because your dear Lulu deserves it?

It really rubs me the wrong way. What about Elain’s wants? What about her feelings? Her thoughts? As if her body language wasn’t obvious enough of a tell tale sign of her discomfort. Not to mention the fact that Lucien is also uncomfortable around her.

Moreover, regarding my thoughts on Lucien:

I also feel like the same people who say these things are the ones who truly glorify Lucien and think him to be some innocent puppy or just an all around good guy.

Do we not remember the fact that he enabled Tamlin’s abusive tendencies by doing nothing for Feyre? Do we not remember that he tracked Feyre down like some hunting dog to get her back because (mainly) Tamlin wanted her back? (Even then, it was all about Tamlin rather than Feyre, the one actually suffering the most.)

Lucien’s eye widened slightly. “We need to get out of here. Tamlin’s been—he hasn’t been himself. I’ll take you right to—” “No,” I breathed (ACOMAF, ch 47).

All about Tamlin.

I understand Tamlin saved his life. I understand that Tamlin means a lot to Lucien. They’ve been friends for centuries. I get it. But his constant “I’ll try to talk to him” wasn’t enough. I feel like Lucien should’ve been the bigger person in that situation with Feyre. She literally begged him for help.

“I begged you,” I said, the words sharp and breathless. “I begged you so many times to help me, to get me out of the house, even for an hour. And you left me alone, or shoved me into a room with Ianthe, or told me to stick it out.” (ACOMAF, ch 47).

He knew and recognized the fact that Feyre was actively wasting away under Tamlin’s discretion yet he chose to stand by because Tamlin is his friend and a High Lord. It’s honestly no better than kicking an already downed man.

Not to mention the fact that he compared Elain to his dead ex lover? And questions if Elain is even worth the attention or attempt to bond with? If she is even worth risking his life for just to get to the Night Court after betraying Tamlin? (Not very mate-like behavior). Kind of shitty if you ask me.

Lucien isn’t an amazing person, just as everyone else in the book. No one’s a 100% good guy in ACOTAR. But some actions (or rather inactions) are justifiable just as some others are not.

So all this talk about “Lucien deserves love too” while Elain is merely treated as a prop for him because he deserves love and not her too is utterly ridiculous. It’s gotten to the point where I neglect looking into ACOTAR comment sections lol.

Now with all of this being said, I don’t hate Lucien. I don’t love him either. He’s just there for me. There’s plenty wrong that he’s done just as anyone else. I just wish people would stop babying him and glorifying him as if he’s some saint. He deserves better than that.

And most of all, Elain deserves better treatment too. But then again, people in this fandom are ✨delusional✨ and close minded so I don’t think that may happen. Especially not until Elain’s book release.

Rant over.

[passionateseadruid]

Dusk 3 of 5

Charlie’s just a baby. She’s just a baby. She was just Lilith’s baby. …but at the same time… She was her Luci’s baby…

UGH!! This is the worst thing that could have happened! How was she supposed to deal with this? Luci was promised to her not Lilith! It wasn’t fair! How could Lilith do this to her!

“You know you don’t have to stare at her like that.” Luci giggled as he entered the room.

“I’m well aware, Sir.”

“You don’t have to call me Sir.” He smiled sheepishly.

“But of course I do! You’re my boss now. I can’t call you nicknames anymore. It would be inappropriate workplace conduct.”

“Yeah but… I’m the King! I get to break the rules!” He giggled deviously.

“Firstly, no one should be above the law. Not even a King, Sir. Secondly, while you may be a king I am but your loyal, humble servant.”

Luci Smirked. “Loyal huh?” He spoke in a teasing tone.

“Yes. I shall do whatever you ask of me. Down to the letter.” ‘But it’s not because I was made for you. It’s because I love you. I’ll always love you.’ She thought.

“Then I ORDER you to call me by any nickname you want.” He giggles.

“Any?” She looked at him longingly. ‘I can’t… I just can’t call you what I want.’

He grins widely. “Mhm!”

‘I want to call you mine.’ “...Can I call you my Luci?” She pushes her luck just a bit, before backtracking and trying to justify it. She unintentionally cuts him off though she doesn’t seem to notice. “Y-You were mine to protect and care for after all… It would remind me of the good old days-” She finally noticed his beautifully big smile.

“I already said yes, dummy.” He smiles so warmly that it makes her heart flutter.

“Thank you, Luci.” ‘for the illusion of having it as it was… as it should have been.’

“Like I was saying earlier, you don’t have to stare at her so intensely. She’s not going anywhere.” He sits next to her as she sits criss cross in front of the bassinet so close to the ground.

“I want to make sure the baby is okay.” She continues to stare at the sleeping princess. “What if she needs me?”

Luci giggles. “Then I trust you’ll be here. But in the meantime you should enjoy yourself. You’ll wear yourself out before she’s even a few decades old.”

She sighs. “... Luci?” She prompts in an attempt to change the subject.

His head snaps to meet her eyes. “Yeah?”

She hesitates. “... Why is the crib so low?”

“Lilith had it custom made.” He looks away sheepishly. “I think she thought it was an Imp who was going to be Charlie’s nanny.”

‘Right that’s all I am. Stop getting your hopes up.’ Her thoughts couldn’t stop her chest from clenching in pain. She pulls on a teasing grin. “You didn’t tell her about me?” She jabs him slightly in the side.

He laughs nervously. “She doesn’t exactly… like you…”

‘The feeling is mutual.’ “Why not?” She pouts.

“I have no idea? Who wouldn’t like you?” He blinks twice as he lets that slip. He quickly springs to his feet and he points at her in a motion she’s overheard the hellborne call “finger guns”. “W-Well I’ll catch you later! HahahAhaHa!” His nervous laughter was quite endearing as he speed walked out of the room.

She turns back to Charlie who had woken up in the commotion and sat up to stare at her. They lock eyes for a good few seconds before she bends over and kisses Charlie’s forehead. “You’d be even more perfect with wings.”

…

It’s been a few years since the Angel started working for the royal family. So far Luci spends about five hours a day with the girl and Lilith only spends an hour with her before protesting that she’s bored.

18 hours a day Charlie was left alone with the gentle Angel. Charlie slepts most of the day, being a baby after all, and her caretaker tried to sleep whenever Charlie did. They had plenty of security so after the first few months of getting only a few hours of sleep every night, she tried to sleep alongside the baby… just in case.

One day when she’s dressing Charlie up in a cute little duck onesie, Charlie starts making intelligible noises. “LUCI!!”

Luci came running into the room. “WHAT HAPPENED?!” He asks, worried.

“I think Charlie is about to speak!”

Luci calls in Lilith and the couple watch Charlie.

"mmm... ma-..." Charlie mumbles.

"She's gonna say mama, Love!" Luci grabs Lilith's arm.

"Mm...mama!" She Squeaks out as she looks at you.

Lilith snatches her from the other woman. "Oh darling! Look at that! She said my name!" Charlie looks upon the face of the woman who barely held her. "Come on, sweetheart. Say it again." Charlie looks to her father and she starts crying. "Sweetheart no."

"You have to be gentle with her." The angel scolds.

"Don't tell me what to do! I know how to hold my daughter!" Lilith growls at her.

"I never said you didn't. I just want you do be gentle with her. She's a fragile baby." The angel defended as her devil counterpart took Charlie to try to calm her down.

"You don't know how to take care of her! You can't fulfil her needs like I can." Lilith smirks.

"With all due respect miss, I've spent far more time with her than you have! I've actually gotten to know her!" The angel glares.

"I'm her mother! I know how to be a better mother than you do!" The succubus's eyes turned red in furry.

"You barely spend anytime with her now that you have her! What's the point of it if I'm still the one picking up after her messes." A black flame burned in your cindered eye.

"SHE CHOSE ME!" Lilith finally snaps at the other woman. The both of them knew the underlining subtext of this conversation. It wasn't just about one Morningstar.

Charlie started to cry again and held her arms out for her nanny. Lucifer stepped closer to the other woman as she gently picks up Charlie. Charlie immediately started speaking. "MAMA! MAMA!" The room fell silent.

The angel couldn't help but look Lilith in the eyes and taunt. "Did she?"

It was a shitshow after that. You took Charlie into the living room as the married couple argued in the nursery. Lilith was furious that their daughter was calling another woman Mama. Lucifer didn't know what to tell her. She was barely around the baby. Plus, now that Charlie has become attached to the Gester it wasn't exactly feasible to fire her. At least that's what Lucifer tried to excuse.

"You're very lucky I care about you." His voice slips into your ears as he stood in the doorway behind you. "She wanted to fire you." She wanted to ring your neck is what he wanted to say. "I don't know what to tell you... I didn't know what to do. You'll be taking a pay cut as you won't be spending nearly as much time with Charlie..." he turns away from the Gester even though she hadn't taken her eyes off the baby. "She's my wife and I love her more than anything!" His voice cracks in a painful, straining sadness.

Keep telling yourself that. "Yes Luci."

"It's sir." He bites.

"...yes sir." She parrots, begrudgingly.

…

After that the roll she took in Charlie's life was downsized significantly. ...But it was never zero. Instead she had become far more active in Lucifer's life. On the nights he spent in his workshop she had stayed with him. She would even end up sleeping at his feet on rare occasions. Every morning, however, she ended up in her own bed all alone. It was stupid of her to long for him to be with her when she woke up, incredibly so. She knew just how laughable it was, yet she could not help it. He looked so sad every time Charlie was taken away from him by Lilith. After the "mama" incident it was like Lilith was punishing him for not throwing his best friend out onto the streets. How could he do that though? He had lost her once... he had lost the girl he'd known since her creation... and he had lost her for 6 thousand years!

The only thing that kept him going through those last few centuries were having the other sins keep an eye on her and report back to him on her movement. Well... that and Lilith's constant seductive shenanigans during the other angels last few centuries in the pride ring. 

But none of that matters right now. His sweet Gester was here with him and that's the only thing he needed to get him through the time without his daughter! ...Well... her and the rubber ducks. Everything was great!

Until it wasn't.

…

The little Gester swears that she didn't mean for everything to go so wrong! ...but she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was in absolute bliss over it. She couldn't dwell on it though! She wouldn't allow herself to. She had been burned before in this exact scenario! Twice! She let herself become too comfortable and then everything would come crashing down on her because of Lilith.

But we're getting off track. What happened this time?

It was Charlie's 100th birthday. The big triple digits. Everything had to be PERFECT! 

The cake was vanilla and buttercream. They served Pepperoni, cheese and, of course, pinnapple pizza. It was Charlie's favorite after all. The Gester insisted on having it despite how much Lilith called it a crime against the food all together. The Gester rolls her eyes. She didn't give a shit what the queen thought at this point. If it made Charlie happy then it was worth a pay cut or a 20 minute scolding session. The Gester even wore a veil to hide her scar in front of the guests as to not disturb the other children.

Everything was going great! All Charlie's friends were here. Seviathan and his older sister Helsa, Barbatos, Eligos, Orobas, Shax, and Camio. It was adorable to see them all running around.

Until the Gester went into the kitchen to fetch the cake.

"Where did your mommy go?" Helsa mocks.

"She's with my dad at the grown up table." Charlie points to Lilith.

"I meant your REAL mom!" Helsa laughs.

"Shut up Helsa!" Seviathan stomps on the ground.

"Don't tell me what to do you brat!" She shoves her little brother away. "Face it! You're no demon! You're a disgusting, 100%, purebred angel!"

"Shut up!" Seviathan yells again.

"My mom says that they grew up together too! They were basically siblings! You're just an incest baby! EW!" Helsa points at her and laughs.

"S-Stop it!" Charlie sniffles and Seviathan hugs her.

"Incest baby!" Helsa rips the two away and Charlie ends up running away and bumping into the Gester, causing her to slip and drop the cake.

"OH NO!" She quickly grabs a fire extinguisher and starts to spray all over. It gets out of hand and she accidentally sprays it all over the Goetia and Von Eldrich families.

"NANNY! STOP IT!" Lilith stomps towards her in a purple, square neckline, tiki wiggle dress. Just as she got over there the sprinklers went off, soaking Lilith completely. She screams as Lucifer walks in.

He smiles sheepishly. "What did I miss?"

…

It was later that night.

Everything had finally calmed down. The guests got cleaned up and they left on relatively neutral terms with the royals though it's not really like they could voice their complaints anyway.

Lilith was about to scold the nanny when Charlie tugged on the bottom of her mothers still slightly damp dress. She explained what Helsa had said and apologized profusely for it. Her nanny wanted to scoop Charile up in her arms and wipe her flowing tears away, however, Lilith got to the child first. The Nanny had to admit it made her profusely jealous to see the child she had come to care fore being comforted by another, but she had to temper herself... remind herself that Lilith was, in fact, Charlie's mother. Even though the girl looked more like her father anyway. Was it really so wrong for her to pretend that the Nephilim was really her own and that she was a full angel? 

Lilith dismissed the nanny early for the night. 

And at about 9:46 pm there was a knock at her door.

"Come in, sweetie." She figures it's Charlie, needing her to read her a bedtime story or reassure her that she is in fact... not her daughter.

"Thanks Apple-tart." Lucifer teases and smirks at her as he enters the room.

She blushes. "S-sorry... I thought you were... nevermind."

"You though I was Charlie..." He looks down and smiles sadly.

"Um... did you need something sir?" She tries to change the subject.

"Actually yeah... I need a place to sleep. Lilith kicked me out of the bed because I sided with you that this wasn't your fault..." He runs his hand through his hair and smiles sheepishly. Oh what I wouldn't GIVE to be the one running my hands through his hair right now.

"Here. You take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch." She tosses the covers off and prepares to sit up.

"NO! I-... I won't kick you out of bed. I just... I didn't want to be alone right now. I don't want to... I don't want to risk me doing something right now. I'll take the floor." 

"No, you're a king. You cannot sleep on the floor. I will-"

"But it's your bed." He reasons.

"So then share it with me!" She shouts. Her mouth moved before her brain did. She covers her mouth and blushes slightly. how could she suggest that to him!? He was her boss! And he was married!

"Like a sleepover?" His eyes sparkle in excitement and she finds herself nodding to him before she could really think about what she was doing.

"Just like the old days." She reasoned more to herself than to him as she scoots over and makes room for him. They both lay on their sides and stare at each other as she pulls the cover over them both.

A long moment of silence washes over them before she speaks again.

"What was that about you not trusting yourself to be alone tonight?" She asks in genuine fear for him.

"Shhh... I'm okay... just been having some thoughts... What if I'm not good enough for her?" He looks away from her.

"You're... perfect." It's the only words she can manage to squeak out that don't make her throat burn. She can only pull him closer as he drifts off to sleep.

...

She waits for a moment to make sure he's fully asleep before she quickly steals a kiss from him.

[neon-kazoo]

Helloo I love your work I wanna just munch on it every time you post >:)

I have a request but you totally dont have to do it I bet your probably busy with others anyway lol

If you could could you do a scenario where the Hero gets pretty sick and cant go out, but they have a public reputation they need to hold on to. And the Villain owes Hero for saving them once so they have to go out and impersonate the Hero? And they start to realize how hard and miserable the Hero has to work after saving somebody? Tyy :D sorry if to specific lol

(Hey! Thank you for the request, it’s my first and I’m flattered! Hope you like it <3)

Calling In Sick

A faint jiggling could be heard from inside their desk. Villain sighed, hanging their head for a moment before opening the drawer and answering the call.

“I’m not interested in purchasing an extended warranty-” they began, only to be cut off by a familiar voice.

“It’s Hero, dummy.”

Villain pulled the phone away from their ear to glance at the number on the screen.

“How did you get this number?”

“That’s not important,” Hero spoke hurriedly, “What is important, is that I need you to be me for today.”

“You need me to be what now?” Villain questioned, raising their eyebrow in a show of confusion, despite being completely alone in their office.

“It’s simple, you just have to put on the costume-”

“Why would I do that?” the villain asked incredulously.

“Because I’m sick!”

Hero coughed pitifully for emphasis.

“Surely you have someone else you can call,” Villain replied, dumbfounded.

Was this a joke?

“Not on such short notice. Please, Villain, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Why would I care about your sterling reputation?” Villain laughed.

They were a villain, after all. Their entire role consisted of making the hero look bad.

A sniffle and sigh traveled through the speakers before Hero spoke again.

“You remember the City Tower?”

Of course Villain remembered the City Tower. They remembered the blaring of a horn, a hard shove on their shoulder, and the burning of skin against pavement.

How could they forget when Hero saved their life and never let them live it down since?

“Ugh! Seriously?! You push me out of oncoming traffic once-“

“Twice, actually.”

“What do you mean ‘twice’-”

“City park?”

Damn it. The pond incident.

“Fine! I’ll put on your stupid costume,” Villain grumbled.

A little impersonation was nothing compared to saving a life. Plus, if they really thought about it, the villain supposed the deception of the act was villainous enough to justify partaking in.

“Great! I’ll text you where to pick it up,” Hero informed them cheerfully before promptly hanging up.

A chime and a buzz came through the phone a moment later, and Villain gathered their things and headed for the door.

One finicky zipper and some shimmying later, and Villain was passable as the city’s golden savior.

Now what?

They wandered around town aimlessly for a while, getting a multitude of strange looks from citizens going about their day. They froze when they heard sirens whooping around the corner, before they realized that they were currently residing on the right side of the law.

Right. Think like a hero.

First order of business, save some people.

The spotted the red and blue lights, breaking into a sprint to follow them around a corner. They arrived at a building a few blocks later, and walked in just as a perimeter was being set.

“Hero! Thank God you’re here! My baby, he’s still up there!” A woman cried, pointing up to a balcony that appeared to be on the verge of collapse.

A boy hung off the side of it, feet kicking to try and find a grip on the wall.

Villain took off running towards the building, climbing three flights of stairs before they realized they hadn’t stopped to count what floor the boy was stuck on. They quickly located the nearest window and kicked out the screen, ducking their head out and looking down then up.

There, two floors directly above them dangled the kid, and it looked like he was loosing his grip.

His fingers slipped away, but Villain was ready. They braced their legs against the wall and leaned out as far as they could. As the child dropped, Villain caught hold of his forearm, stopping his momentum and allowing Villain to pull him inside to safety. The boy was crying, probably a product of the terror of falling combined with the shoulder that had just been wrenched from its socket.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” the villain-turned-hero repeated in a whisper as they carried the boy down the stairs and past the (too-late) emergency personnel that had flooded the building.

Stepping outside, Villain easily located the hysterical mother and making a beeline for her. The second she saw them coming, she burst into tears and broke out into a run.

Villain handed over the kid they had cradled in their arms to the woman who reached them at record speed.

Relief washed over the mother’s face while she looked over her son. She pushed his hair back behind his ear, whispering to him how worried she was and how glad she was to have him back on ground level.

Something changed when she saw his arm, however. Fury overtook her features as she realized that an injury had been sustained by the boy during the ordeal.

“You let my baby break his arm?!” She screeched, whipping her head back to the temporary hero.

“It’s not broken, ma’am,” they started to explain, “it’s just dislocated-“

“I’m going to be telling the news about this!” She spit, turning towards the ambulances on the perimeter and marching away with a huff.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” The villain could hear her yell as she walked away, injured-but-alive child in tow.

“I had no idea this profession was so thankless,” Villain murmured under their breath.

It wasn’t until they had to fight past the sea of cameras and wall of reporters shouting questions (that really sounded more like accusations) that Villain realized just how idealized they’d viewed the job of hero. There clearly was no simple fame and glory to be earned here. From what Villain could tell, it was mostly ridicule and media coverage masquerading as a reward for their heroism.

And no sick days?

Hero must be truly miserable.

If Villain was a little easier on Hero after that day, then nobody was any the wiser.

[marshvlovestv]

It's halfway through November but I still have a couple of these I wanted to fill but didn't get to!

Prompt number: 21 "We've done worse"

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: G

Warnings/Tags: Mental health issues, schizophrenia, paranoia. Ship: Boyd/Fred

There is a stain on the cover of the manila folder. It’s an undistinguished blob, it smells like rancid spilt milk. When the tall man picks up the folder, his thumb goes through the stain and then it flickers and it’s gone. Boyd gasps, because for a moment, he feels all clear. In which case, he wasn’t clear before.

Which means he’s made a mistake.

“This says ‘Classified Psychonauts Intelligence’ on it,” says the man holding the folder. Question marks come out of his mouth. “Boyd, why is there classified Psychonauts intelligence in our kitchen?”

“Who are you?” Boyd gulps.

The man crouches. He looks Boyd in the eye. “It’s Fred,” he says, and Boyd starts to recognize him. “It’s Fred, okay? What’s going on?”

Boyd takes a breath – that’s getting a little easier. Fred looks worried, looks sad. Sometimes Fred is actually someone else, someone they call Leon. Leon is brave and angry and he fights for the people he loves, and he says he loves Boyd just as much as Fred does. But Leon is new and Boyd can’t trust him yet. Fred is here now; Boyd holds his hand out and Fred takes it, squeezes it.

And Boyd admits. “Agent Vodello was here.” She’s teaching him how to be a good psychic, she’s helping him, she’s only ever helped him. “She brought the intel with her. So, so I intercepted it.” It was barely even sticking out of her bag, he had to dig for it while she went to the bathroom…

Fred knits his brow. He’s looking at Boyd with disappointment and with pity and like he’s heard something like it before. He puts his other hand on Boyd’s shoulder, then runs it up his neck, to his cheek. Fred runs cold, and it’s soothing. “Why’d you take it?”

“These Psychonauts… they’re not working in our best interests, are they? They’ve got their hand up the government’s trousers, trying to sell their brain-powered tanks to the military!” Boyd doesn’t believe it, not as much as he did half an hour ago. But he has to make himself believe it. It’s the only thing that makes sense, it’s the only thing that justifies what he’s done…

“And what are you gonna do about it, Boyd? Huh?” Fred raises an eyebrow.

Boyd hangs his head. He wrings his hands together. “I could always… I took…”

“If the Psychonauts have brain-powered tanks, I think they’ve already got the two of us beat, no matter how much intel we steal.” Fred is good at pretending to believe what Boyd does. A long time ago, when he wore the same white clothes every day, he used to argue with Boyd, try to convince him his theories were wrong. Now, he pretends. Boyd appreciates it. “I think that if we give this back, there’s a chance they won’t try to vaporize us.”

It sounds silly coming out of Fred’s mouth. It’s silly. Boyd almost laughs, but tears come out instead. “I messed up.” He trembles and he imagines the benevolent, generous Psychonauts punishing him by kicking them out of their new home, stopping his training, putting him back in the hospital…

“Hey…” Fred says as he takes him in his arms. “It’s an easy fix, okay? You know how understanding Agent Vodello is.” Too understanding. It’s almost suspicious. “Not to mention, we’ve done worse, you know?”

Fire dances in Boyd’s eyes. It’s not a welcome sight.

“Both of us have,” Fred continues. “I’ll help you return the folder. I’ll, uh, I’ll pretend I was your, you know… accomplice.”

Never before has anyone been so willing to step into the world as Boyd sees it. Well, plenty of Psychonauts have tried, with their little spy doors… But Fred doesn’t have a psychic cell in him. And here he is, putting himself on Boyd’s level. “You don’t have to…” Boyd mutters against his shoulder.

“But I have to, Boyd. I have to.”

[raainberry]

Moonflower - III

« In literature, the moonflower has been used as a symbol of love, mystery, and enchantment. »

Sana x gn!reader

Okay maybe it’s angst this time

synopsis - your job is still flowers. she's still not sure how she got into this mess. but maybe you could get her out of it.

- part I - part II -

wordcount - 3.4K

TW - like three (3) of the same soft cuss word

A/N - here is my first piece of work that made me cry out of frustration (we will be blaming emo hours). now if you saw my breakdown live on the tl two days ago, no you didn’t. and if you saw my update yesterday saying this very thing would be up later that day, no you didn’t either. i fell asleep, your girl was running on three hours of sleep (wonder why🥰) it happens to the best of us SORRY. hope you enjoy it though! im actually not too mad at how it turned out🤭

“How would your wedding look like?” She asked, taking a sip of her water bottle.

You chuckled softly at the question, wondering what had prompted it apart from the obvious.

“I haven’t thought about that.” You answered truthfully.

“Not even once?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” She said, convinced of her own words.

“Am I?”

“You’ve helped hundreds of people with their own.” She pointed out. “It’s impossible not to think of what yours would look like.”

“I help them choose flowers. I’m not organizing their entire reception.” You argued.

“Then you probably thought about that much.”

You turned to her.

She was right, but you weren’t lying either.

Flowers were the only thing you’d envisioned so far.

“So which is it gonna be?” She insisted.

“Moonflowers.” You answered, making her chuckle.

“I could have guessed that.”

“Yet you haven’t.”

You fully expected the way she rolled her eyes at you before looking away to focus on the dark horizon.

A small, comfortable silence settled between the two of you. One of many throughout this spontaneous outing, and with each one, you seemed to appreciate them a little more.

Because they never seem to last with her.

“I’ll get the moonflowers.” She blurted out, cutting the moment short yet again.

“What?”

“For the wedding.” She said, almost shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Given the context, it was, but still… You stayed silent, thinking back to the very reason you were even sitting beside her at the moment.

The two of you were parked at the top of some small hill overlooking part of the town, laying against the windshield of your car and sitting on top of the hood.

All your problems seemed so small up there, barely even deserving of a thought. The afternoon you just spent together did wonders for your souls.

She had asked you to drive around before going back home. That somehow lead you to hours of wasting gas and money at random shops, most of which you’d never even heard of.

The more you followed her around, the more it all felt like a getaway. Not in the idyllic sense, rather in the literal one. You could tell she was avoiding her apartment. Obviously you had an idea as to why, and maybe that’s what pushed you to give in to every single one of her requests.

It was nice doing things she wanted.

Sana eventually realised that was the true reason why she delayed returning to her apartment over and over. She couldn’t care less about the man living there with her, nor about whether or not he was actually waiting for her there.

She just didn’t want it to stop. The feeling of mattering. Of being considered. Being seen. Heard.

Her smile slowly returned as hours went by, justifying everything you’d done for her in so little time. It gave you purpose, proving you weren’t losing your mind in vain.

Because boy did she drive you insane.

Was she really still going through with it all?

“Why don’t you choose your own?” You asked her, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts.

At the end of the day, it was none of your business. It wasn’t your decision to make.

“Possessive much?” She teased, and you straightened yourself up. The top of this hood suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Not necessarily. But the only way you’re getting moonflowers at your wedding is by marrying me.”

That’s what you heard yourself say just seconds later.

You’d mumbled it to yourself, letting your old flirting skills and days get the best of you for some reason. You looked at her, hoping she hadn’t heard or at least not enough to get it.

A second passed. Then two. Three.

The lack of questioning was alarming, and in good reason.

You had managed to make her speechless. Unwillingly, yes, but it only made it that much more unbelievable.

Even thinking she couldn’t do, as if her mind had short-circuited at the thought of marrying someone else than the man she’d been conditioned to.

“It was a joke.” You finally spoke up, hoping to break her out of her trance.

It was the truth. It might have been borderline flirting, but the main goal was humor. You were technically joking.

But still. All she did was blink.

Maybe she needed help at finding words, that’s why her lips suddenly fell on yours, right? To steal them from you?

You mentally chuckled at your ridiculous thought process, ashamed of it as if it had been heard by the whole world. Good thing it faded out with each one of her kisses.

She was efficient, you’ll give her that. However what stuck with you was how soft, how delicate her lips were against yours. It debilitated all cognitive functions of your brain. The power was out for at least three seconds at one point. You couldn’t think straight, kissing her back as if you were supposed to.

As if she were yours to begin with.

It’s unclear how long it took for you to gain enough sense back, all you knew was that feeling her bite down on your bottom lip did the trick.

The faint pain as she tugged on it ever so softly snapped you back to reality, warning you about what would come if you didn’t pull away in the next second.

You felt your heart race as it all sunk in.

The one thing you had told yourself not to fall into earlier that day… A trap that seemed so obvious it managed to fool you. You practically jumped into it.

As much as you danced around it, you knew what you were here for. What you’d agreed to. What she wanted you for.

You knew you were just a pawn in her vendetta from the start. She’d made it very clear. So why did the whole idea just dawn on you now?

Maybe you’d turned a blind eye for as long as you could, you couldn’t say to save your life. All you knew was that you didn’t like it one bit.

So when she went for another kiss, leaning in to capture your swollen bottom lip, you made sure she never reached it.

That earned you a confused look from her, as if it were the first time her kiss was denied. The sight would have been amusing, if only you didn’t feel so torn yourself…

Your gaze reflected that to Sana, and she had a hard time figuring out what exactly was it that was so wrong.

Though she could at least tell you were tormented, it was only confirmed when you jumped off the hood.

She watched as you started to walk away from the car and further into the darkness surrounding you.

Where the hell were you going? You were basically in the middle of nowhere.

“Y/N!”

The sound of the rocks and dirt beneath your shoes faded out as you came to a halt, feeling her eyes burning into your back.

“Where are you going?”

You turned around, seeing she had stepped off the hood too, and taken a few steps towards you.

“I’m going home.” You told her, tearing your eyes off her as you started walking away again.

“So you’re leaving me alone in some hilltop at night in the middle of nowhere?”

No, you weren’t.

You made sure to brush right past her on your way back, though, heading straight into the driver’s seat.

Slamming the door behind you, you let out a heavy sigh you were sure she’d heard from outside. It took longer than you’d have liked for her to join you, only sitting in the passenger seat after making sure you’d calmed down.

Not a word from her. Not a sound from you. Only your clothes rubbing together as your leg showed itself to be restless.

You refused to look at her. She didn’t like the attitude, but a part of her could understand. So she didn’t say anything, and stared out her own window in silence.

As minutes went by, your anger and frustration slowly get overcome by a familiar sensation.

Greed. You wanted to know.

Nothing about this woman concerned you. Yet you wanted to know more. You needed to.

The feeling appeared as soon as she’d spoken up at the flower shop, and now it managed to appear without a single word from her.

It was only days ago. The speed of it all was frightening.

Yet you couldn’t help how curious the still silhouette in the corner of your eye made you. What was she thinking about now?

The wedding? Her fiancé? Herself? You?

Turning to look at her, you watched her through a calmer mind as your questions grew in number despite yourself.

“What’s on your mind?” You finally spoke up.

Your voice was louder than you remembered. It startled her, but she hid it well before meeting your gaze.

“Nothing you’d care about.”

You frowned internally. The same feeling as back in the flower shop again. You felt it back when she sat down beside you on the hood earlier too.

She was close. She was pretty. So pretty.

You suddenly felt jealous, and that pretty much signed off on the insanity of this situation you’d somehow put yourself in. Or maybe she’d dragged you in it, who cares, it wasn’t important anymore.

“Don’t get married.”

You whispered this time, but the words were still loud.

Sana closed her eyes, and the silence that followed was loud enough to stress about it. Your words had slipped out again, but this time you found nothing to cover them up with.

Partly because you didn’t even want to cover them up.

Her eyes opened again, allowing the cheap lighting outside to reflect on those beautiful brown eyes. You were in awe at that point. Tired, but still able to appreciate such a pretty sight.

“You’re so unfair.”

You snapped out of your trance at the sound of your own thoughts echoing through her lips.

“What?”

“You know why I brought you here, right?”

Her gaze fixated far ahead while you could only focus on hers. You weren’t trying to make her look at you, though. You were only trying to see what she was seeing.

“Answer me.” She ordered, attempting to conceal the weakness in her voice.

“I do.” You admitted.

“Then help me.” She pleaded. “I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m trying to.” You assured her. “Ever since you stepped into the shop, that’s all I’ve done.”

“Then why did you pull away?”

You sighed once more, finding interest out the windshield as well. Your lips parted without sound for a second, debating on whether or not you should let these words slip out too…

“I don’t want to be your scapegoat.”

Sana swallowed the knot in her throat. The truth was a little hard, but it remained. You were right.

She didn’t plan on kissing you earlier. That alone could have proven your worries to be wrong. However, everything she managed to think about as soon as her lips touched yours… It all gave you more than one reason to worry.

Giving in to desire was weak on her part. Part of her regretted it. It threw away all her hopes of ever pulling the spectacular revenge she dreamed about.

So she had to think of a backup plan.

What she managed to come up with was simple, deprived of any details she would normally be able to think of. Infatuation only allowed her to think of the big picture, while she focused on satisfying her desire.

By that point, she did plan on sleeping with you. She did plan on letting her fiancé find out. And after that, she did plan on throwing you under the bus if things ever got too much to handle.

Now that her mind was given time to properly think, she realised something very upsetting.

This so called backup plan was none other than her inital one. One she’d made up in the lowest point of her life, all out of hope and lost in purpose.

She was back at square one.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, making you look back at her.

Her eyes were closed, and you found out it was a weak attempt at stopping the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

The sight of them surprisingly left you indifferent. You stared at her in silence for a few long seconds, unsure of what to do, or say.

You were hesitant, but you were far from heartless.

Your index finger ended up reaching for her jaw, catching the salted droplet before it stained the fabric of her pants below. The one on the other side of her face might have, but that wasn’t something to worry about for either of you.

Sana’s mind was stuck on your finger lingering on her sharpest bone. The feeling of your skin against hers, of a touch as innocent as this one… It was conflicting.

She opened her eyes, catching yours by surprise. She expected you to, but you didn’t look away this time. That allowed her to notice the color of your eyes for the first time.

She couldn’t tell you why she got stuck on such a detail, and to be honest, she didn’t feel the need to find a reason.

She could, so she did. Something else she hadn’t been able to do in a long while.

And it felt good.

“Y/N…”

Your jaw clenched at the sound. Your name sounded so pretty enlaced in that sweet voice of hers…

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you anticipated her next words. The flutter in your chest made itself known again as the adrenaline left little room for shock when she’d eventually say them.

“Do you still want to sabotage a wedding?”

A heavy sigh freed the breath that had caught in your throat.

It dawned on you yet again. Hearing those words for a second time… You were going in circles. This really was nothing but a trap.

You didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose, if she lured you in or if she was just as stuck as you were—Hell, you didn’t even care.

You just needed to get out while you could.

So your hand found the key in the ignition, and it took no time for you to start the car up.

The sound of the engine revving as you prepared to leave triggered something in the woman sitting next to you. Something that made her heart race as she began mumbling something.

It seemed as though she was repeating something under her breath, her gaze out in the dark around you and absent like she’d retreated within her own mind.

Her words were loud enough for you to notice she was saying something, but not enough to understand it.

You froze at the scene, unsure if you should hear her out, reassure her or step on the gas. It was obvious what you should do, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to.

So she made you do it herself.

“I don’t want to go back!” She yelled over the engine, and grabbed onto your arm.

You let go of the key, her fingers tightening around your forearm as her eyes looked for yours.

“I don’t want to go back.” She repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Your eyebrows furrowed, something you could only feel as your body reacted to her once more. You didn’t know what hurt more; seeing the tears pool in her eyes as she struggled to hold them back or her nails digging though the fabric and into your skin.

“Please...”

You couldn’t answer as something on her hand distracted you from the pain. Something shiny. A glimmer on her ring finger—most likely diamonds. Might as well have been rocks; it held no value in that so called promise between her and that man. At the least it didn’t for one of them.

You looked back at the bearer, your jaw tense as you thought. Your mind flashed back to mere moments ago. Why was she still wearing it? She had no right to. Not after leaving such betrayal on your lips.

“Then take it off.” You spoke up, your voice hoarse as if you’d been yelling for liberation.

Her mind was shaken, desperate to see through eyes that looked so unfamiliar now.

Your gaze was stern. It all looked blurry, as if you’d built a wall in front of what she had access to just moments ago…

“What?”

“The ring, Sana. Take it off.”

She barely glanced down at her own hand before looking back at you. The chuckle tasted bitter on your tongue.

“You can’t even face it.”

“That’s all I’ve been telling you.” She let out a defeated sob. “Why don’t you just do it for me?”

You looked back down at her hand, and her gaze followed yours to land there as well. She hated the sight of it. It felt as though it had been there forever.

All she dreamed about was taking it off.

All you had to do was take it off.

So you did, and finally slipped the ring off her finger, holding it between two of your own.

She mindlessly watched as your thumb and index rolled it around to observe it above the steering wheel. All that pain. All that torment. All because of a single, shiny metal ring.

“Doesn’t it feel lighter?” You spoke in an attempt to pull her out of her own mind. The last thing she needed was to get lost in it.

“I…” She trailed off, looking down at her hand, and finally seeing her finger naked in what felt like a lifetime. “It does.”

You trapped the jewel inside your fist, sighing as you leaned back against the back of your seat.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well…” Your hand found the commands of the automatic windows, pushing the button to roll yours down. “Whatever you do, you take care of yourself.”

Most people would have asked what the hell you were doing. If that ring didn’t hold any sentimental value, financially, it still held its own.

Not Sana, though. She didn’t seem phased by your action as she watched it land who knows where.

“Wait…” She trailed off, rewinding your words. “Are you not going to stick around?”

“I did all I could, Sana.” You started, your eyes focused out the open window as a breeze helped to dry off the tears before they even formed. “I kept my word and helped you. I took it off. But you’re gonna need to face him yourself.”

“But I can’t do it alone—“

“You have to.” You snapped, turning back to look at her. You ignored her lips parted in surprise, and continued. “If what I’ve learned about you in this short time is true, it’s the only way you’ll ever be free.”

“What have you learned?”

“Nothing.” You scoffed. “That’s why you have to do it. You’re the only one who actually knows how to deal with this. I can be by your side all you want, but I’ll never be any help. No one ever will.”

Your rant caused a small sob to escape her lips, and she ignored your surprise when she reached for your hand. You could only let her again, allowing yourself to relish in her touch and find pleasure in your body’s reactions to it.

You looked down at your joined hands, watching her intertwine them. You found yourself responding to her touch, your fingers closing around hers.

“Then at least stay.”

You softly caressed the top of her thumb, giving yourself some time to actually think before agreeing this time.

“On one condition.” You said, finding her eyes.

“What is it?”

You glanced down at your tangled hands.

It was an insane thing to look at. To feel. It didn’t make any sense. You’d only met her three days ago. You’d only spent an afternoon, part of an evening with her.

Yet so much happened. So much was felt.

You blinked, and her hand was still in yours. It felt good. But it lacked warmth.

It was telling.

At that moment in time, deep down, you knew this wouldn’t last.

Maybe you’ll part ways right after she’d break the engagement off. Maybe you’ll date and break up once you realise it was all comfort and reassurance disguising as love and affection. Maybe she won’t even break the engagement off.

Whatever the reason, you knew you wouldn’t see her at your wedding.

So you had to make one last thing clear.

“I keep the moonflowers.”

[archivalofsins]

My toxic Milgram fan trait is wanting to normalize being a little hater. Like actually stop trying to justify voting a character Guilty it's so fucking pointless and drenched in hypocrisy it'd be much simpler to say I hate them and move on.

Oh, but Gunsli, you wouldn't do that with a character, would you? Yes, and I plan too. I don't think people understand how little I care about people knowing my biases and exactly why I have them. So, for anyone interested in knowing.

Yeah, I hate Kotoko on an ideological level.

I am not interested in her second song, her crime none of it- I fucking hate this lady. The best Milgram is getting from me is either abstaining from voting or voting her guilty every fucking day of those three months. Bu-but why? Well, I don't really have to explain why I can just hate her like I said. I don't need a reason.

Well, it's because she jumped the other prisoners right- Because she jumped Mikoto and threatened to kill him, right? And you like Mikoto that's your bias, right?

22/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Mikoto: Ah, Koto-chan. It’s been a while. Both of us have kinda split off from the group, but how’ve things been? A lot’s happened, but fr now let’s try to get along. I mean, it’s your birthday today, right? I got the feeling nobody else was going to do anything, so I came to celebrate.

Kotoko: ……how carefree. It doesn’t matter, a villain like you won’t be forgiven next time either. And when that time comes, it’ll be the end for you. I’ll make sure of it myself.

Mikoto: Ahh?? Just try and do it, you nutjob. I’ll crush anyone who hurts me…… You’re gonna be totally beaten at your own game……! [TN: The word “me” here uses first person pronoun “boku”.]

Kotoko: Hm. The border between the two is getting a lot vaguer. Your entire existence is a crime. And I will see you’re punished for it. That is what Milgram, and Es, and I have chosen.

Like, Gunsli I could understand if you didn't want to vote her Innocent because of that we all have our favorites we're only human.

Mikoto ain't a bitch like Shidou he can take care of himself. I ain't worried about ya'll girl she ain't about it, she a coward, she needed to order weapons because she really ain't that good. Hope she ordered herself a shield during trial two because she's going to need it. I'm sorry Mikoto better figure it out. Love him but uh nothing I can do about that if he gets killed by Kotoko I'll just be disappointed in him.

Outside of that I already didn't like her before she did that stuff. Well, damn what the fuck did she do? Nothing but be herself. I don't like her. I don't believe she's a good person. I don't think she's doing what she's doing now or did what she did before for anything other than the satisfaction of herself.

I find her mentality a direct threat to my personal safety for various reasons and will not support it. How about any of you guys try growing up and going to high school during the resurgence of fascism? Having people walk around armed with military grade weapons as you're just trying to get a book from a bookstore. All while stating they're going to make the world better through violence and see how you feel about people with Kotoko's mindset afterward.

See how any of you feel about it when you're at the receiving end of constant persecution based solely on how people like you are reported on in the news. Something that is never biased, as we know.

Like she was doing a good thing- To some in some people's opinion! I don't have time to argue about why this sort of mindset is dangerous to people who've never lost a thing from it, and I'm not gonna! I'm tapping out before her trial even starts. I did my investigation already I do not care.

So, everybody can miss me with that she killed bad guys shit because I recognize that I just think she's just as bad as they are and knows it.

I'm never voting her Innocent (Forgiven), it's a kindness I'm even considering not voting her at all. Unless I'm getting something out of voting her that way like a secured Amane and Mikoto Innocent verdict she can kick rocks.

Fuck her, the ideology she espouses, her justifications, the hill she lives on, the hill she'll die on and the horse she rode in on.

The worse sort of person to me is some nosey entitled son-of-a-bitch that comes into my life telling me their actions are going to make the world better by any means. So, if I have a problem with how they do things I can either shut up or they'll shut me up. Because useless weaklings should just be quiet and let themselves be protected by them.

Fuck that I'm not agreeing with that because that sort of thinking ends with people who look like me dead. Someone would have to have me all the way fucked up if they thought I'd agree to letting her of everyone here back out into society. There are enough people like that in my immediate vicinity to my ever-growing discomfort already.

So, yeah normalize hating a bitch for no reason. Normalize not having to explain yourself because I'm not about to hurt my own feelings trying to explain how this mentality is dangerous and harmful to people who don't care. Because they'll never see this behavior as the issue it is.

Simply put it's not about anyone else's ability to understand my reasoning behind my actions. The thing most important to me is that I understand the reasoning behind my beliefs, and I at least put forth an effort to interrogate those. Even if through interrogating those things I arrive right back at the answer I started with.

I at least understand why people like Kotoko at the end of the day and recognize this is my bias alone. While fundamentally understanding how someone feels about any of the characters in Milgram doesn't define who they are as a person or what they're willing to let others get away with in the real world. So, I don't feel like I have to defend disliking anyone or how I vote a character because it's my opinion.

I'm just gonna do what's best for me and keep it moving. If she wasn't a character in a piece of media, I'd care more, but she is. So, I can recognize her good qualities. Those are however outweighed by the multiple red flags and sirens consistently going off every second because of my background belting the words,

WARNING! WARNING! IMMINENT THREAT TO SAFETY!

As though I've entered a fucking sundown town at sunset. There is nothing in me that doubts this bitch would commit a hate crime and is therefore someone just unsafe for me to be around. Avid defenders would be like "Um sweety is it a hate crime to get rid of child abductors and criminals?"

I don't know, has anyone seen the film The Birth of A Nation or looked over the historical context around criminality? Or just read how the news reports on people who deviate from norms committing crimes regularly in contrast to how they report on the dominant culture committing crimes? No, I don't think anyone put that much effort into interrogating the ideology of the good looking subtly gender nonconforming lady.

Because they said oh bad guy bad, news said so- So, they deserve to be killed Kotoko is so right go off girl boss.

So here,

Kellie-Jay & the Neo-Nazis | Shaun One hour, fifty-six minute, and fifty-seven seconds long.

How Police Make Up The Law (ft. LegalEagle) | Philosophy Tube Forty-eight minutes and fifty-six seconds long.

The Hidden Rules of Modern Society | Philosophy Tube Forty-four minutes and fifty-four seconds.

The Americanisation of Blackness. TheStoryteller Twenty-eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds.

Triumph of the Will, or, "Yes, You Might Be a Fascist" | Cinema Antifa Twenty-two minutes and fifty-three seconds long.

How Black Americans Monopolized Racism Foreign Man in a Foreign Land Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds.

The Cultural Gentrification of Black Britain | EXODUS TheStoryteller Fourteen minutes and ten seconds.

The Need for Gangs? | TheStoryteller Twelve minutes and twenty-six seconds.

Why You Shouldn't Watch The Birth of a Nation (AND WHY YOU SHOULD) | Brows Held High Ten minutes and forty-nine seconds long.

There's a lot of videos that go over a good deal of the things I think about when considering Kotoko's case and mentality. So, anyone interested can go and take a look over this information and think for themselves whatever they want. I won't be discussing this because a lot of people in my opinion are very willing to cut off their brains and let Kotoko get away with whatever just to make themselves feel good.

People liked to discuss how Futa was radicalized through the Internet yet continue to ignore the clear radicalization of Kotoko through mainstream media. People all over widely accept everything put into mainstream media as true or unbiased. Because unlike the internet people believe mainstream media cannot lie without repercussions. Yet this is not always the case and the fact that Kotoko is so willing to end other people's lives over uncertain or extraordinarily little information based off the bias judgements of others as she continues to do even now is an issue to me and something I do not personally agree with.

Especially considering how mainstream media can be biased and get things wrong. She's just looking at what appears to be a more reputable source, a source with more authority than the internet mob then going it must be true because they said it. Just like how no one fact checked Es when they claimed that they were considered an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti because why would Es lie? Why would the news lie? When has law enforcement ever forced a confession out of anyone or arrested the wrong person.

As a news article sits in Harrow about the jumping, we know Kotoko did with the police stating they assume the assaulter was a man. Not even going into the news articles that stated people paid to have information buried. But yeah, the information she had is much more concrete than whatever the hell Futa was basing his shit off of.

[auroraescritora]

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME - PERCY/NICO AU HIGH SCHOOL - CHAPTER V

Hi, we are back (temporarily). I'm still on my resting days, but I managed to bring you one more chapter. Hope you like it.

Previous chapters: CHAPTER I / CHAPTER II / CHAPTER III / CHAPTER IV

As expected, a new day came. The sun was shining brightly through the blinds, the birds were singing and they were late. Still, what worried Nico was not the fact that it was almost seven o'clock in the morning, but that someone was knocking on the door. And that someone was his sister, Bianca, who would usually be long gone to her first class of the day, but now was standing inside his room, watching them happily.

He was in a nightmare, that had to be the only explanation to justify the scene Nico has found himself in. Percy against his back, hugging him tight with only a sheet hiding their crotch. If Bianca decided to pull back the sheets, she would see it all, the marks on Percy's back and the hickey between Nico’s legs, impossible to miss even from that distance. And contrary to what he thought, Bianca decided to be kind. She waved goodbye with a lopsided smile and closed the door softly, though he could hear the sound of her laughter as she walked away down the hall. And again, he wondered what he was doing. He hadn't even… hadn’t reciprocated Percy the night before. He was the pettiest, most selfish person in the whole world.

Nico would’ve continued his self-flagellation if he hadn't felt the silent laughter against his back.

“Are you laughing at me?” Nico said, turning in Percy's arms. The boy was awake and wearing one of those smiles that infuriated and excited him at the same time.

“You have to admit, it's pretty funny.”

"No, it is not!”

"What's new? It's not the first time someone has caught us sleeping together.”

"Yeah? But it's the first time we're naked!”

“Oh.” Percy says, his smile softening. "It's even better.”

"You--you!"

Nico got up faster than a rocket, he grabbed the first thing he saw and threw it at Percy's head. When he saw it was a pillow, he picked up the object again and smacked Percy over the head with it until his arms began to ache and he was forced to stop, settling where he was, only now realizing to be Percy's lap. What pissed him off the most was the fact that Percy didn't even try to defend himself, laughing, sprawled across the bed like it was the happiest day of his life.

“Percy!”

“Gods! I think I’m dying. Did I go back in time by any chance? I still remember--

"Don’t you dare! How old are you?”

"Ten. Want to play house? I’ll build a fort out of chairs and blankets and we can--

"What got into you today, huh?"

"I'm happy. Don’t you?”

Nico stopped in the middle of another complaint, realizing that he was naked and still sitting on Percy's lap, just like he had a thousand times before, but this time, it meant so much more.

“Of course I am. But you don't have to go back to kindergarten.”

"Why not? It’s more fun than pretending to be a responsible adult.”

"We're not pretending… are we?"

“Nico." That's what Percy said before sitting down and hugging him tightly from the middle of his back. “I can fake many things, what I feel for you is not one of them.”

“I don't understand why now. What has changed?”

"Everything changed. You went away.”

“Per… I didn't know you cared so much, I thought… it was better if you didn't have a shadow following you around the corners.”

“Nico." Now Percy looked like he was in pain. "Who told you that? What made you think like this?”

“Well… it's just… you know… she said those things and I asked myself 'what if it's true?' I thought a little distance would be good.”

"For who? For me or for you?”

It was a good question. He just didn't want to feel so bad every time he saw those people in the school’s hallways, murmuring behind his back, things he didn't even want to know what it was, but deep down already suspected what it could be.

"Answer me.” Then Percy grabbed his face and made him look at him closely. "What were you running from?"

"Does it matter now? What will you do? Go after them and say how horrible they are? What... what's the use of looking back at the past?”

"When did you grow so much?" Percy didn't look happy about it, resigned at best.

“When I had to leave behind the one I loved the most.”

This finally silenced Percy, the boy looking at him so sadly it looked like Percy would burst into tears at any moment.

“I know who did this.” Percy said. “I needed to hear it from you. I didn't want to believe that she would do something like that.”

Nico found himself smiling, though it was a wilted, sad thing. That was the truth, people were mean and some of them would do anything to get what they wanted. The secret was not to be innocent and protect yourself, or try to stay away from their wrath. 

What could you do but try? He hugged Percy tightly and laid his head on Percy's shoulder. Since they were running late, there’s no need to rush things up.

***

When they finally went downstairs with their shower taken and hair combed, breakfast was already on the table; eggs, bacon, coffee, and juice. Something simple, but that they rarely had time to do. Why didn't they? Ah, now he remembered. Having to run from Will or explain to his father why he didn't want to spend time at the company had indeed taken up all his time and Bianca's as well, who ran from Hades as much or more than he himself did. But here? In the stillness without people chasing them was heaven, like a weight had finally lifted off their shoulders. It probably wouldn't last long, unfortunately. That’s why Nico wanted to take it slow, and maybe that way, he’d have more time to organize his mind and decide what to do from this moment on.

"All good?” Percy said in the hallway, as they left the room, heading towards the stairs to reach the first floor. “You've been quiet since we got in the bath.”

“Hm.” Was he that obvious or was Percy just paying attention? "I was thinking…”

"In what?”

“I… I just want to finish high school without the drama, you know? Graduate and try to make something useful out of life.”

"Is this about us?"

“I meant it when I said I didn't want a boyfriend. But I want my bestfriend back.”

"Allright.” Percy waved, all serious, though he had his hands on Nico's shoulders as they walked down the stairs, too close, to be honest. But it was a closeness Nico liked, even if he knew it made things more complicated. "Are you going to stop talking to me or is it about the sex?"

"I…" It was another good question. Did he want to get away from Percy?

“So there's no reason to put labels on what we are. It's just a name. I’ll never ask for something that you are not interested in providing.”

Nico knew all of this. Percy had never done something like that before and it wasn't now that his friend would start forcing him into something. In fact, Percy had been so patient that he'd been mistaking care for disinterest all these years. Now, he understood. Well, he understood because of yesterday. It was revealing. For real.

"Percy, look--”

“I understand more than anyone, but that doesn't change anything between us. I'm not in a hurry and I'm not going anywhere.”

"You promise?”

"I promise. I'm the same old Percy and you are my sweet little Nico. Nothing’s going to change.”

Nico blinked slowly and found himself lost in Percy's eyes, caught in every word and every whisper uttered. He knew all of this and hated how sexual the nickname now sounded, ‘my little Nico’ or ‘my sweet Nico’ spilling from Percy's lips in a tone so possessive and hot he should have run far away while he still could. He knew he should, and that was the problem, the urge and compulsion to get close to Percy was greater than any rationalization he could’ve had. When he realized what was happening, he found himself pressed against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, Percy right next to him, hands on his ass, their hips grinding against each other, and Percy's fingers pulling him by his hair in that kind of kiss meant for privacy of a bedroom walls.

He didn't remember Percy being this intense. Was all of this really because he'd been away for two years? The boy he knew was sweet, kind, and selfless. Now, most of the time, he could barely control himself when Percy decided that talking wasn't what they were supposed to do. Like in that moment, feeling Percy's hips grinding against his, almost making him come in his pants like a teenager, something he'd never was defore.

Gathering strength he didn't even know he had, Nico dragged his lips away from Percy's and took a deep breath and then pushed him away, just enough to disentangle their bodies, holding Percy by the shoulders at a safe distance.

"You can’t do that. You said you wouldn't force me.”

“I'm not forcing you.” Then Percy thought again and added, “I’m sorry. I won't do it again.”

Nico wasn't sure he believed it. Those green eyes on him, so intense they seemed to burn wherever they landed and the quick, gasping breaths told him something else, told him that if it was up to Percy they wouldn't be standing in the middle of the stairs.

"Percy, I don't think this is going to work."

“I said I'm sorry. I had to wait a long time. That's it. I'm not a monster, no matter what people say.”

“Nobody says anything.” Well, not since he went abroad. He remembered how Lou and Alabaster had hinted that Percy was waiting for the right moment to strike. And, all he had thought at the time was, “So what if Percy was? Were they jealous?” In the end, he'd walked away with a broken heart and another trauma for the collection.

“Hm, beautiful.” Percy smiled and this time Nico was paying attention. Percy took a step forward and contrary to what he expected, Percy didn't try to kiss him, I mean, not on the lips. Percy took his hands and brought them to his lips, kissing each finger separately. "I would never do anything that could hurt you. I hope you know that.”

"I do know.” Nico thought he knew, but he had discovered that good people could do bad things and after his last relationship, he wasn't sure of anything. “Just… let's take it slow, shall we?”

"Sure, Nico.”

Percy smiled once more and let both hands fall apart only to hold them in a comforting grip as they both looked down at their clasped hands. It was a scene he had never let himself visualize before, him and Percy, in a quiet place, nature around them, maybe some chairs stretched out in the sun and the two of them together, holding each other's hand as they watched the sun go down. Maybe… maybe if he was lucky enough. In a not too distant future. Maybe if they could--

“Here you are. How long will you whisper in the dark?

It was Bianca. Who else could it be?

***

For some reason, Percy wanted to laugh, even though the experience was turning out to be stranger than he'd anticipated. Instead of finding Hades who had told him he would arrive that morning, it was Bianca who had greeted them last night and opened the door for them; she hadn't asked anything and just said, 'Nico's room is in the same place.'

With a shrug, he had picked Nico up and headed upstairs, not the least bit put off by Bianca's presence. Percy admitted he was moving too fast, too eager, but who could blame him when as soon as they entered the room Nico had moaned softly and kissed him even sweeter, starting to take off his own clothes and lying in the middle of the bed with his legs open? He was only human, and like the weak being that he was, he did what Nico didn't have the courage to ask aloud, but said with his gaze and all that bare skin. Percy had knelt on the bed, kissed from Nico's legs to his neck to finally touch where he wanted most. Maybe he got a little carried away, touched too hard, because when he saw Nico, the boy was coming in his mouth and on his face, moaning as if it hurt and contracting so hard that for a moment he thought Nico was going to have an epileptic seizure; the only reason Percy wasn't worried was the expression of pure ecstasy on the delicate face of his baby, the heaving sigh as Nico relaxed on the bed and closed his eyes, calm and content.

He hadn't even cared about the result, him excited and frustrated, and Nico sleeping peacefully. It was his fault, plus Nico was under no obligation to reciprocate, whether they were dating or not. Taking a deep breath, all Percy did for long minutes was watch Nico sleeping comfortably on the bed, arms stretched over his head, gripping the pillows, legs spread and cock now flaccid, small and collected in the path of thin black hair that went from the lower part of his belly button to his groin, still wet with saliva and semen. Percy wanted to touch him again right then, turn Nico on one more time and see how long it took for him to come again.

In the end, making an effort to get away, Percy got out of bed slowly so as not to wake Nico up, entered the bathroom that was inside the suite and lowered his pants. It would be safer if he took care of things away from Nico, just to make sure he could behave the rest of the night; Percy knew how suspicious Nico was when it came to sexuality and trust, especially when a year ago Nico had broken up with his boyfriend and not told him the reason. And even if he suspected what had happened, that was none of his business either. If Nico didn't want to tell him, Percy should respect his decision. For now.

That way, He took care of things mechanically, found a clean towel, dampened it with warm water and cleaned Nico, then stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed with him. Percy had barely laid his head on the pillow when Nico wrapped his arms around his neck in his sleep, snuggling against him. Legs against legs and chest against chest, practically kissing him, stretched against his body.

"I missed you.” Nico murmured, sighing contentedly and falling back into his deep sleep once more.

Percy thought that had been one of the happiest moments of his life, Nico after so long letting himself be vulnerable around him when Percy thought that these scenes would never happen again.

Feeling a tightness in his heart as if it would explode at any moment and wanting to cry, Percy finally allowed himself to close his eyes and accept his feelings. He loved Nico, not even time or other people would make that same sense of completeness set in; no one made him feel as good and as powerful as Nico did, no one made him laugh or cry as easily, or create this crazy desire in him to be the best just to make sure he was able to give Nico everything he needed.

“I missed you too.” Percy ended up muttering back before falling asleep, pulling Nico closer and finally letting himself go.

Now they were sitting at the kitchen table, Bianca sitting across from him while Nico sat beside him, filling a plate with food and a cup of plain, unsweetened coffee, handing it to him.

“You still remember.” Percy said picked up the cup, taking a sip and inhaling the fragrance of freshly brewed and ground coffee, not as strong as he liked, but of exemplary quality. It was all so familiar that Percy found himself smiling, watching Bianca smirking and Nico pretend he wasn't embarrassed by the compliment. Nico was never very good at receiving them.

"I did nothing.”

“Hm.” He murmured, trying not to provoke Nico any further. But he couldn't help it, he followed Nico with his gaze, seeing him finally sit down and grab a glass of orange juice, taking a long sip before concentrating on his plate, when Bianca looked at him and asked:

"Percy Jackson, what brings you here?"

“Nico.” He said and smiled at Bianca. Between them there was never room for anything but outright sincerity. After all, she had allowed Nico to practically move into his home for those long, magnificent years and he wouldn’t do anything to break the trust between them.

"Are you serious this time?"

"Yes.”

"That’s nice.”

Bianca nodded, satisfied. She turned back to her food and raised a mouthful of eggs to her lips.

"What was this?” Nico asked, putting down his fork. He crossed his arms and glared at them.

"I wanted to know.” Bianca shrugged. “You arrived late yesterday.”

"I can’t believe this!” Nico covered his face and groaned anxiously. "Did you see us?"

"I saw everything.”

There was silence, however, not for long. Nico pushed back his chair and stood up, staggering.

“I need… I need to get my bag.”

Which was just one reason for him to hide for a while or until the blush faded away. Percy watched Nico drag himself out of the kitchen and turned to Bianca.

"So, then?" He asked. He knew Bianca wanted to say something, but he didn't want Nico to hear.

"You look different.”

"As?”

“More…decided. Mature.”

“Some things happened.”

When Bianca didn't say anything else, he shrugged and continued:

“Nico left and I found out a few things.”

"Things?”

"Nothing much.”

Bianca raised her eyebrows and Percy surrendered.

“It seems I was very nice and innocent. So I decided not to be anymore.”

"Do not tell me.”

"Nobody tells me these things! I thought Nico didn't think about…about…”

“Sex?”

“Apparently I was wrong and he thought I wasn't interested.”

"Hm..." Bianca looked at him for a few more moments and was merciful. “It's not your fault, it was that blonde girl who was always after you.”

"Damn it. I don't even like women!"

"And? I would be more careful if I were you.”

Percy knew this wasn't a threat but it was a warning, as Bianca would never do anything to get in the way of Nico's happiness.

"Do you think I should do something more drastic?"

“I think Nico would do something drastic if he thinks he's in the way.”

Percy stopped breathing for a moment and realized the seriousness of the problem, only now did he see that Bianca looked worried. She wouldn't be home when responsibility always came first for the Di Angelos; she wouldn't be wasting that precious time if Bianca didn't think it was extremely important.

“I'll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry.”

"It's what I hope.”

With that, they both lowered their heads and continued to eat until Nico returned, calmer and more composed. Both finished eating the rest of the food, and in a hurry, Nico soon pulled him by the hand and towards the car parked in front of the Di Ângelo's house.

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As always, your feedback is always important. Thanks for reading!

[cloudsandcrescents]

☁️ Current Life Update ☁️

Just wanted to provide an update here as I know I’ve gotten quiet again. Anyone who knows me personally knows I don’t make excuses and don’t like to procrastinate. I’m pretty organized and love sticking to a schedule. No one has accused me of being either and I know my personal life and health (mental and physical) take precedent but I’ve always been one who feels the need to explain things and share updates because I’ve gained a bit of a following and the last thing I want is for anyone to think I’m abandoning these works or just screwing around.

Again, I know, I know, I don’t have to justify this and you all are always supportive and understanding but I also believe in transparency and my own personal accountability. It’s a little lengthy but here we go.

Shortly after I posted my last posting schedule, I was supposed to be taking a few days off from work. I am very susceptible to burnout and could feel myself getting too in my head, struggling with remembering to eat, not getting enough sleep, etc. That very first day of my break we had a very unexpected family emergency and I was the only person who was able to help. I’m an introvert by nature and while I do love my family, I really enjoy my time to myself and I try to prioritize that alone time because it’s integral in helping me prevent burnout.

This sudden emergency brought a familiar but sudden change that I wasn’t prepared for and immediately lost all of my days of my mini break to having to socialize and extend more of myself that I didn’t have to give away. That shot my mood down tremendously and further exacerbated negative feelings and thoughts that I was hoping to get away from. I stopped eating entirely and was averaging a few hours of sleep and was immediately thrust back into working.

After some much needing venting and conversation with my RDN and my therapist, I started to gather myself back together. Writing was resuming and I didn’t feel great but I did feel a little more like myself. About a week ago I started feeling under the weather but brushed it off, took some medicine and tried to keep pushing through it. It didn’t work. Despite taking medicine and trying to rest and eat properly, I noticed I wasn’t getting better and was gradually getting worse. Finally decided to go to the doctor and found out that I have pneumonia so of course my measly meds weren’t working and got switched over to some antibiotics.

So that’s where we are currently. Mentally, I still feel a little off but I’ll get there and was able to schedule some more time off next week. I have been writing in between where I can but nowhere near as much as I would’ve liked. Today’s feels the best so far but even now I’m probably only about 40%.

Again, I know an explanation isn’t really owed but I don’t like leaving you all hanging without hearing something from me. It feels like every time I get back ahead of things, something gets in the way and it makes me feel worse because it seems like I’m doing more updates on why I’m not writing than updates on new chapters.

If you managed to sit here and read all of this, I applaud you and appreciate you for doing so. I’m hoping that whatever this horrible spell is that I’m going through right now ends swiftly. I love writing these stories and I love sharing them with you all and I really want to get back to it more than anything. Sorry for the long post but you all are amazing and deserve to know what’s going on.

Thank you,

Your Friend Cloud 🩵

[writing-for-marvel]

I’m back on the hurt train ready to get absolutely railed again

I’m pretty sure I said this in my first read of the chapter but the fact that your amazing mind chose to start and end this chapter, a fic about time loops, in flashbacks is actually genius

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

Oh this just feels so Nat, you’re characterisation feels so spot on, even down to the detail of her just needing to stare reader down and reader just keeps rambling like shes justifying herself

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You obviously can’t see me but I literally flinched out of the way reading this like it was me she had done this to 😂 but I love this scene with Nat so much, it’s such a *her* thing to do, the details are just perfect

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

Literally took the words out of my mouth

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

I love the inner monologue you have written, it’s honestly so refreshing and actually hilarious

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

Stop it we can’t have more death and grief than we do already please

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not.

Literally flash back to what I said before about reader just rambling under her stare without her saying a single word

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

Eeeee they make me giddy 🥰🥰🥰

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

I’m literally just giggling and kicking my feet every time they interact

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

Oh my baby 😭 just the thought of him sleeping on the floor for comfort actually hurts my soul

With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

Oh she takes his advice 🥺🥺🥺

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

See I knew this was coming this time and yet it still felt like a shock to the system!!!

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

If someone comes into my room and insults one of my favourite books you can best believe I am finally learning to throw a punch and clock them in the jaw

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

She cares so much about Bucky that she’s activated the time stone??? Nika your mind wtf 🤯🤯🤯

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

I’m just sat here waiting with bated breath for this whole sequence

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

You’re telling me he dies in every rendition of this god damn day Nika it’s too painfulllllllll

Bucky figuring out that somethings wrong 😭😭 they barely spend any time together and yet he’s already worked her out 😭😭 don’t mind me imma just sob over here

Things were finally starting to look up.

Right just the kick to the gut I needed at the end of this torture (affectionate; I love it)

Nika I love it, I am after two chapters already pulling my hair out every time we have to see Bucky die, but the story itself is exceptional!!

Your writing style is absolutely gorgeous, I always feel so present in the moment with all of their conversations, all the characters feel so *real*, I adore them all

And I honestly can’t say enough about the magic system in place and readers powers, like I’m bewildered by how your gorgeous mind came to that. I can’t wait to dive more into it and learn the backstory behind it all

time after time [2]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, the angst continues, another reminder to read the fic premise; a couple of guest appearances; flashbacks are my establishing shots and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: 2am updates are kind of my brand at this point. big shout-out to @barnesafterglow who read a good chunk of this yesterday and is still talking to me <3 thank you all for your patience and your love for chapter one!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

two: twice upon a time

The first time you met Natasha Romanoff in person, a few weeks after the Snap, she only had to look at you for a couple of seconds to be able to read you like a book.

They’d compiled a file, of course, filled with all the general academic credits and official family information that was still available to the public and definitely more than a few things you’d tried to bury, too. Even then, the folder was reassuringly slim.

She’d have to take you at your word about what you’d come to offer her, anyway.

“And why would we want to have you?” she asked. As if she were interviewing you for a job. Which, technically speaking, she was.

You were on edge and Natasha knew it, even though you tried to hide your ever twitching fingers in your lap under the table, picking at the skin around your nails until you felt it break. You took a deep breath.

“Look, I know that I’m not exactly a soldier, or a—a superhero type, but I … I don’t know, I would just like to use my … thing to do good, for once. You know, stuff that will help people.”

And do it on your own terms. It stayed unsaid, then. You didn’t admit that part until much later.

Natasha’s face stayed perfectly neutral through your rambling, and you weren’t sure whether that was calming you down or making you more anxious. You reached for your necklace, tugging at the chain.

“But I can’t really do that on my own,” you continued, “and you, well, all of you, you’ve done it for a while and you’re good at it. And I think I could help with that.”

She still didn’t say anything, just kept waiting while you sat awkwardly in that uncomfortable office chair, regretting your decision of ever following through with your crazy impulsive idea of coming here.

But where else would you have gone?

“Also,” you remarked in a sudden burst of boldness, “I think you could use every extra pair of hands you can get at the moment.”

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

You couldn’t be sure, then, if she’d pieced together what little information they’d had on you in your file or if she’d just figured you out while you were sitting in this office, but it didn’t make all that much of a difference. She didn’t have to ask why you’d decided to offer up your abilities to the Avengers now, after everything, when they’d been hidden away for most of your life.

“You’re lonely. And you need a purpose, like all of us,” she said, looking you up and down apprehensively.

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You flinched to the side and it shattered on the wall behind you. The leftover drink slowly sank into the carpet as you turned to stare at her in shock.

Natasha lifted one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows. “You wanna try that again?”

Really, you should’ve expected the test.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands.

It’s a strange experience, going back in time. No one had really asked you to describe what it was like, and you probably couldn’t have if you tried. It felt a little like retracing your own steps in your head, relocating your conscience to an earlier moment, second by second, in a rapid backwards motion. Like very vivid remembering. Only, it’s not just that.

“You’re lonely,” Natasha said, swirling the dregs of her glass, her green eyes tracing over you. “And you need a purpose, like all of us.”

You were expecting it this time, but the glass still slipped through your fingers and broke into tiny shards on the floor. Not good enough. You didn’t wait for her reaction this time, cursing under your breath and pulling yourself back again. As always, it took considerably more effort.

You tried your best not to stare at the glass while Natasha spoke, but you didn’t really listen anymore. This time, you caught it, even though its contents spilled over your hand.

Natasha smirked. “Not bad. First try?”

“This is when I lie to sound capable, right?” You shook the liquid off your fingers, sure she’d already noticed the sweat on your temples. No use in lying to a spy, anyway, you supposed, so you admitted, “Third.”

“We’ll work on that. But honesty’s a good start.” She held out her hand and you returned the glass. “Have you ever done combat training?”

You could barely stifle a nervous laugh. “Do I look like I’ve ever done combat training?”

“I don’t tend to judge people based on how they appear,” Natasha said, uncrossing her legs. “Come with me.”

You followed her back out of the office into the wide, empty hallway. You hadn’t seen anyone else around on the whole Compound, even though it could probably house hundreds of people on the ground floor alone. The clacking sound of your steps on the tiled floor seemed to echo all around you.

It felt like you were announcing yourself to everyone within a two-mile radius while Natasha moved around on her bare feet without a single sound.

A glass elevator took you down to the subterranean level of the building. Once the doors slid open, Natasha marched straight to a double door with square windows and large metal handlebars.

“Leave your shoes and bag by the door,” she told you. She waited for you to untie your laces and awkwardly wiggle out of your boots before she let you both in.

The Compound gym was even bigger than you’d expected. You weren’t sure if you were more surprised by that revelation or by the presence of a certain super soldier kicking the life out of a punching bag on the other side of the hall.

“Hey Rogers,” Natasha shouted as it got smacked to the ground. “Brought a new recruit!”

“Really?” he called back, unwrapping the bandages around his knuckles.

“Really?” you said. Sure, that was what you came here for, but even so, you were a little shocked it had been that simple.

“Like you said, we’re a little desperate at the moment,” she winked.

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered anxiously as Captain America jogged over to join you, a towel thrown over his shoulder. Despite his workout, he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile.

You shook it, slightly bewildered, and introduced yourself. He repeated your name back at you and you had to take a moment to think how strange this whole situation was, even in all the madness that’d been going on. How unreal.

“I’m sure it’ll be good to have ya,” he said, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time.

Meanwhile, Natasha had dragged one of the thick foam mats away from the heavy equipment and rolled it out. Cracking her neck, she stepped onto it and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Okay. Show me how you’d throw a punch.”

She held out her hands flat in front of her and nodded her head for you to join her on the mat. You’d never felt so stupid in your life as you tried to rack your brains for whatever little you took from those self-defense lessons however long ago. At least Captain Goddamn America seemed to be politely ignoring you in favor of putting some weights away.

“Just move on instinct, you’re not getting graded,” Natasha said calmly.

Your instincts were telling you you were absolutely getting graded and this was your worst idea to date, but you tried your best. She had you aim at different heights a few times before she stopped you.

“Okay, your posture’s terrible. You have to straighten your back and bend your knees more, see?” She demonstrated the right stance, waiting for you to copy her. “There you go. That’s your standard pose.”

“Alright,” you said, testing it out with a little bounce. “And what do I do with that?”

“Depends on what you’re trying to do. With the right training, you can use your own weight to your advantage in a fight. Steve?”

“Oh, great, am I volunteering?” He joined you on the mat and you moved to give the two of them enough space.

“You love it. Now watch me,” she added, looking at you.

Before Steve could even properly raise up his arms, Natasha launched into a handflip and somehow managed to wrap her legs around his body. The sudden movement made him stumble backwards. He lurched his body forwards to get her off his shoulders, but she used the momentum of her fall to kick him off his feet onto the mat. She gracefully landed on all fours like a cat. It looked effortless.

“You’re right,” Steve groaned, “this is very fun for me.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

“I don’t expect you to,” Natasha said, pulling her hair behind her ears again. “But you do have to be able to survive in a fight, even without your powers, if you want to join the team. We can’t babysit you.”

You pressed your lips together, slowly curling your hands into fists and opening them again.

“Alright,” you said, your voice strangely dry. “When do we start?”

*****

Your initial reaction is relief.

Relief, because it’s Friday again, which means nothing has actually happened, which means Bucky is still alive.

Then, the implications of that fact hit you all at once.

You must’ve blacked out for a second or two, because when you open your eyes again, you’re lying on the floor next to your bed, heart still pounding a mile an hour. Your breath comes out in short gasps, and you force it to slow just in time for the knock on the door.

“Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

“Just gimme a minute!” you shout back and stumble to the bathroom.

Your hands and face are speckled with blood and you wash it off furiously, biting your lip as the tiny cuts on your skin left by the glass shards burn under your touch. Turning off the faucet, you keep leaning onto the basin and stare at your hands.

You’re not sure what you expected. Your rings are still the blackest you’ve ever seen them, and the dimly glowing symbols keep slowly circling around your wrist. It doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, because once is a coincidence, a strange, fateful accident, but twice is a pattern. And of course you’ve heard about this kind of thing happening. Only not like this.

Life everlasting.

No. Definitely not like this.

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

“Did you get lost in there?” Sam remarks with a grin when you finally step out of your room, still looking slightly disheveled.

“I—” You stop yourself, blinking at him until he starts looking slightly concerned.

“You alright? You look …” His eyebrows raise even higher. “Shell-shocked.”

Well, this isn’t exactly an everyday occurence even for me, Samuel, you want to tell him. Instead, you say, “Don’t ever wake me up like that again.” It lacks yesterday’s punch.

“Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

You hum, but don’t reply otherwise, still lost in thought as you climb the stairs, trying to assess your situation and come up with some sort of plan.

It’s fairly obvious you fucked up your reset the other day. So much for the precious space-time continuum; oh, you hate it when the wizard people are right every now and then.

You glance sideways at Sam while he stretches his back in the ring. He seems fine, completely normal, unaware of what’s going on with you, and of course he would be. Nothing unusual about that part of your powers. Or what’s left of them.

You raise your hands experimentally.

“I’m not high-fiving you until you get one kick in, at least.”

Not even the slightest hitch. It’s like your powers have just up and left you completely. A strange heaviness settles in your stomach. Fucking useless.

You avert your burning eyes from Sam’s gaze.

It’s not like you … talk.

None of you do, not really. Sure, you chat. You’re great at chatting. You’ve had years, countless tries of perfecting smalltalk, of knowing the things you can get away with saying to certain people. It’s made you reckless in the past, knowing you could probably replay entire conversations in the blink of an eye, the pressure of expectation gone completely.

Ever since you started coming out of hiding again, though, the fun has drizzled out of that more and more. It’s one thing to impress strangers and another to be several steps ahead of the people you’ve started to consider your friends.

Because even though sometimes it sure would be easier, having people un-live conversations they’ve had with you, particularly hard or emotional ones, is sort of a shitty move if you continue to spend your time around them afterwards. And you’ve grown determined to not intentionally hurt people with your powers. Not anymore.

So yes, you chat. You know Sam’s favorite color and the video games his nephews want for their birthdays. You know what kind of music Bucky listens to, mostly because he forgets to turn on the soundproofing in his room and Jazz trumpets are surprisingly loud. You know their habits, the foods they like, the movies they hate.

But you don’t … share. Nothing that goes deeper than the general stuff.

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not. You’re almost resolved to call her as soon as you get back to your room before you remember.

You’re gonna have to do this on your own. Back to square one.

“What is up with you today?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, but make no effort to get back up again. “Didn’t sleep well. Ow.” You narrow your eyes at Sam. “Did you just kick me?”

“I wanted to see if you’re still alive.”

“Horrible. I’m quitting. You can go spar with Bucky again.”

“At least he puts up a fight.” Sam crouches down next to you. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

Yes. You shake your head. He probably wouldn’t believe you, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, clapping you on the shoulder. You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna hit the showers. But we’re doing a rain check for tomorrow, and you sort out your pea under the mattress situation.”

“Okay.”

You listen to Sam’s receding steps and the sound of the door opening and closing again. Then, there’s nothing but silence and the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

Even though you know you should probably just head out as well, you can’t help but linger again. Just in case.

“You look like shit.”

Your head rolls to the side. Fuck you, Barnes. “Hey, Buck.”

Same spot on the bench next to the ring, same hunched over position, same concentrated look on his face while he cleans up the shimmering golden nooks in his arm.

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You don’t answer, just keep staring at his profile for a little while longer. Your eyes are drawn to the nape of his neck, to the center of his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Bucky says lowly. You turn your gaze back to the ceiling.

“Nothing,” you answer, pulling an arm over your eyes. The sweatband rubs against your eyebrow.

Maybe, you think, just maybe, it could still be a fluke. Only one more time to get things right, and then all will just go back to normal. Maybe you’ll be fine today. He’ll be fine.

There’s a buzzing in your ears, and you’re not sure if it comes from the green symbols gyrating around your arm or if you’re just imagining it altogether.

“What happened to your face?” Bucky asks unexpectedly, casually, as if he were talking about the weather.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you dove head-first into a rose bush.”

“Hah.” You slowly sit up, your muscles aching for a hot shower. Three days of training and fighting in a row are not agreeing with your body. “Must’ve scratched myself in my sleep.”

If he sees through your lie, he doesn’t call you out on it. “Didn’t know you have talons.”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“My cat slept soundly, thank you very much,” Bucky says dryly.

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

“Funny.” He stands up, hanging the piece of cloth over the side of the boxing ring to air out. “Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

“Thanks, Buck,” you say with a smirk. He ignores you.

***

The shower is what brings your mood back down again. In the silence of the water hitting your back, there’s enough time for you to think about the upcoming day that you’ve already been through twice.

Up until the mission, it’s gone by fine, unremarkably so, which only makes the build-up to the evening even worse, in your opinion. You face the stream of hot water directly, trying to rid yourself of the image of Bucky lying on the floor, bleeding out in front of you.

You need to be rational about this.

First, you need to figure out what’s going on with your powers. Then, you have to make up your mind about lunch, because while you don’t exactly resent the thought of your third pizza in as many days, your stomach sadly doesn’t agree with that notion. And finally, you’re going to break this damn cycle you’re in. Easy as that.

You turn off the shower with your newfound resolve and grab the clean towel.

Your determination lasts up until you get back to your room and realize you don’t actually know how you are going to fix your powers. They’ve always been somewhat fickle, unpredictable even to you, acting up whenever it’s most inconvenient. Impossible.

No one has ever been able to tell you where they came from, nor how you could properly control them. Everything you know you had to figure out through trial and error, replaying the same scenario over and over again, and, more often than not, lucky coincidences.

Usually, when your rings are black and your powers are weakened, it helps to let your body regain its strength first. In other words, you need to sleep.

This is something you probably should have thought through before getting your morning coffee with an extra shot of espresso, out of habit, but that’s not something you can change right now.

The living room area wouldn’t usually be your first choice for a midday nap, but you’re not ready to face the bloodstains on your bedding quite yet, so you’ll have to make do with one of the suspiciously IKEA-looking throw pillows on the couch. The TV is chattering away in the background, just loud enough to somewhat distract you from your own thoughts.

It’s not enough to fall asleep, though.

You keep tossing and turning, half-listening to three or four episodes of some nineties sitcom, while your anxiety gnaws away at your insides. There’s a constant low pounding in your head that drives you up the wall, and again you swear you can hear the symbols looping around your wrist. You keep scratching at your sweatband, but it’s no use.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the pattering of small paws makes you sigh in disdain.

There’s an obnoxiously loud meowing close to your feet, followed by a sudden weight dropping on your stomach that almost invites your garlic bread back up for a double feature. You peer out at the white shape on top of you, innocently toying with the hem of your shirt.

In general, you like cats just fine, but something about Alpine has always unsettled you. Sure, she’s a cute-looking ball of fluff, but she’s also quick to scratch unsuspecting people bending down to pet her, and she seems to have a particular bone to pick with you.

“Maybe she’s just a good judge of character,” Sam jokes whenever you complain about it.

“She doesn’t like you any better.”

“Yeah, but I’m allergic to her,” Sam shrugs. “The farther she stays away, the more a favor it’s doing me.”

In truth, the only person Alpine likes is Bucky, and she loves to show it every chance she gets.

“You’re in her spot.”

Alpine graciously allows you to push up to your elbows with a groan. Bucky’s tall figure is looming over your head; there’s a bemused expression on his face. He must’ve just walked in through the door, because he’s still wearing his jacket.

“Why does the cat need a spot on the couch, exactly?” You try to shoo her off your lap, but Alpine digs her claws deeper into your shorts and you wince. “You really need to teach her manners.”

“You gotta be gentle with her,” Bucky says, pulling her off you without a hitch. “Move over.”

You swing your legs off the couch with a roll of your eyes. “Can’t you sit somewhere else?”

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

Alpine starts purring as Bucky scratches her under the chin. “You watchin’ that?”

“I was trying to nap,” you mumble, throwing him the remote with a little more force than necessary. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Thirteen twelve hours.”

“Please stop just saying numbers when I ask you that.”

Bucky smirks again and switches channels. “Quarter past one-ish.”

You blink at him tiredly, surprised to find out he’s been back so early. The past two days, you didn’t see him around again until the broadcast was about to start. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention at that point, either.

There’s that tick in his jaw that he always gets when something is bothering him, even as he’s distracted by a playful cat in his lap. You’d better relieve him of the burden of your presence.

“Well,” you say, standing up. Alpine whines indignantly at the sudden movement. “I’ll try to find a cat-free spot in this tower, then.”

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

You hide your hands in your pants pockets, even though it’s far too late by now. He’s already noticed your black rings.

With a short hum, you briskly walk back to your room, leaning against the door as it closes behind you. This is getting ridiculous, you think, worrying the ring on your pinkie finger with your thumb. As if you didn’t have enough reasons to get a hold of your powers again; you don’t know what you would do if Bucky really got suspicious of you now.

Taking a deep breath, you eye your bed. Compared to yesterday, the blood stains on your sheets are barely more than a few specks, because you weren’t as close to Bucky when it happened. Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“Fine,” you mutter in annoyance, grabbing one of your pillows and throwing it on the floor next to your bed. “FRIDAY, can you wake me in time for Sam’s speech?”

“Of course,” FRIDAY tells you. “Do you want me to use the same song as this morning?”

“Please don’t.” A little idea pipes up at the back of your head. “Do you have any record of playing that song before?”

“Last dates played. Friday, July 4th 2025, 07:50 a.m. Playtime: forty-five seconds. Thursday, March 13th 2014, 02:49 a.m. Playtime: one hour, twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. End of record.”

Interesting night for Tony, then, but not exactly telling when it comes to your time loop situation. With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

You’ll think of something once you’ve had a bit of sleep. He’ll be fine.

And then, just as you’re finally about to drift off, you feel a sudden jolt go through you. It’s a bizarre sensation, like you’re falling and jumping at the same time, but your body isn’t actually moving with you. Like someone pulling at your very consciousness.

Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air.

You’re still in your room, which should be good news, but everything looks … weird. Not as out of focus as it would be if you were simply dreaming, but somehow crooked, the angles unusually pronounced. The colors are all off, the lights way lower than they should be this time of day, and when you reach out for the edge of your bed, your hands—

You take a sharp breath. Your fingers are bare, no trace of your rings anywhere, and even worse, your hands are partly transparent. Cautiously, you get up on your equally as see-through legs and turn around.

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

You stare at yourself in disbelief. One of your body’s hands is tucked under the pillow, and it’s breathing regularly. Carefully, you take a step closer and reach out your noncorporeal hand. Your shoulder feels warm and solid underneath your fingertips.

Your body wrinkles its nose in its sleep and you jerk back again, losing your balance and falling to the floor. Your body doesn’t react at all, even though you pull part of the blanket with you as you go down.

“Okay. This is a dream,” you tell yourself, even though you feel your heart pounding. “Just some weird-ass dream, and I have to wake up.” Again, you can’t help but look at the sleeping body lying in your bed.

You press your hands over your eyes, willing yourself to slow your breathing. The edge of your nightstand jabs you painfully between the shoulder blades, too real to be nothing more than an act of your imagination.

“You’re not what I expected.”

The man’s voice makes you flinch slightly. Slowly, you peek through your fingers.

You either didn’t notice him while you were taking in your surroundings or he’s just blended in with them seamlessly, although you’re not sure how that last one could even be a possibility. His back is turned to you, his frame covered by a long, deep red cloak with intricate patterns stitched along the seams. He’s perusing your bookshelf, picking up old copies seemingly at random.

For some reason, your shock at the sight of him is outweighed by immediate irritation. Something about the man instantly irks you.

“Thanks, I think,” you tell him, throwing the edge of the blanket over your sleeping body again as you get up, never letting the man out of your sight.

He turns around, one of his eyebrows raised. Your eyes immediately fall on the amulet around his neck and your heart gives a stutter. You ignore it.

“Not a compliment.” He holds up a book. “This is how you spend your time, then?”

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

“Sue me for trying to relax in between saving the world,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Of course,” the man says wryly. “Because god forbid you use those powers of yours to their full extent, we wouldn’t want that.”

“And what’s it to you?” you snap.

The man calmly puts the book down again; not where he picked it up from, you notice in annoyance.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” he says, watching your face for your reaction. “Ah, so you have heard of me.”

Of course you have. You know who he is, you must’ve seen his picture hundreds of times during the Blip, and even before that, you’d heard about his reputation. As one of the keepers of the time stone back when it still existed, he’s on your list of people you least want to see, ever.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How did you find me? What—” You take a quick look back at your own sleeping form. “What is this place?”

“The astral plane,” he says, swiping your bookshelf for dust and inspecting his fingertips contemptuously. They’re shaking ever so slightly. “Something you would know if you hadn’t spent the past decade avoiding every single chance to use your powers responsibly.”

“Wow,” you huff. “You don’t know anything about me or about my powers.”

“Don’t I, Y/N Y/L/N?” Strange’s cloak flaps slightly as if it were shrugging.

“I spent the last couple of years trying to save lives.”

“You’re riding on luck and pretend it’s control. You have no idea what this could do to the grand scheme of things.”

“Well, I never asked for these powers, okay?” you say defensively. “I just have them. What I don’t have is any interest in being a pawn in some grand scheme of things when I never wanted any of this.”

“People don’t generally get a choice in that matter.” His gaze drops to your wrist. “And now look where your resistance to accept your responsibilities got you.”

The green band of symbols is still leisurely circling around your arm. You bite your tongue. “I don’t know how that happened,” you say, your voice breaking slightly on the last word.

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

“Why, so you could use them for your own gain?”

“So I could prevent this exact kind of thing from happening.”

You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “So end it, then. Or did you drag me here just to berate me?”

Strange chuckles humorlessly. “This is not something others can just fix for you, Miss Y/L/N. You cast a very powerful spell in creating this loop, and you are the only one who can lift it again.”

“Great. I’m screwed, then, is that what you’re saying?” You might not be inside of your body at the moment, but you can still feel your cheeks heating up. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“You need to calm down,” Stange says sharply.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, get out of my—head, or whatever this is. Get out!”

“Alright then. Continue to play stubborn. See how far it gets you.” He holds out his right hand and there’s a crack in the air behind him; almost like a doorway, or a mirror. “I’ll be here when you’re done acting like a child.”

You come to on your bedroom floor, feeling almost more tired than you did when you laid down earlier. It takes your bleary eyes a moment to adjust to your surroundings again. When you sit up, a thin throw blanket that you don’t remember pulling over your shoulders falls into your lap.

This really is just a whole bunch of disasters stacked on top of each other.

You don’t even have to look at your rings to know there’s still not the slightest green spec in sight. Your fingers find your necklace and you tug slightly to reassure yourself of its presence. How the hell did Strange even find you?

There’s no time to think about it for too long, because once again, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“We got a lead on that lab,” Sam shouts on the other side. “Jet’s leaving in half an hour, get ready.”

You blink at the clock on your wall in confusion. Even though you feel like you only spent a couple of minutes in this other dimension you were dragged into, several hours have passed in this one.

Time is seriously out of your hands, and it’s only getting worse.

***

“Don’t you think that maybe they have an alarm set or something?” you say, contemplating the explosives laid out in front of you.

Sam raises his eyebrows, adjusting the intercom chip in his ear. “Is that a hunch or are you telling me?”

“Both.” You flex your fingers. “It’s just that announcing ourselves probably isn’t in our best interest right now.”

“And you couldn’t have said that earlier? As in, before we landed?” Sam sighs.

Bucky snorts as you shrug your shoulders helplessly. Your body desperately needed the half hour of uneasy sleep the flight has afforded it, even though your powers seem to be unimpressed by it.

“Look, it’s gonna be fine,” Sam continues, squeezing your arm. “We’ve handled worse. Besides, if they do have an alarm set, they’re gonna come to us whether we knock down that wall or not.”

“I guess,” you mumble, grabbing the explosives. “Let’s play knock-knock with terrorists then, that oughtta be fun.”

“Reminds me of ‘44,” Bucky says, more to himself than to either of you.

When you follow Sam down the hallway once again, you can’t help but search for the cameras you know are hidden here somewhere, but it’s impossible to tell in the dingy light. You should bring a stronger flashlight next ti—no.

You blink, stopping that thought before it’s fully formed.

There won’t be a next time. This thing ends tonight, once and for all.

Third time’s the charm, right?

About as charming as a kick to the face, you think as you find yourself delivering just that.

Sam takes off. “We better get moving. If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Bucky catches Sam’s shield as you disarm the white jacket with the knife and duck as the shots ring out. You’re sweating in your kevlar vest.

“Two o’clock, Bucky,” you tell him, throwing another punch. You’re so sick of this white-coated asshole in particular; it’s like they think you’re in the rumble from West Side Story. “And whatever you do, don’t throw that shield, alright?”

“You’re bossy today,” Bucky huffs, taking out the one with the blaster.

“I think you mean thorough,” you reply as Riff finally goes out cold.

“You tell yourself that.” He reloads his gun instead, shield firmly locked around his right arm. “How much longer for the transfer?”

You glance at the monitors and try to remember. “About a minute, maybe two.”

“Sam, you copy?” The last white jacket goes down.

“Ready for take-off in five,” Sam confirms cheerfully. “Heads-up, there’s at least another dozen heading your way.”

“Got it.” Bucky bumps your shoulder as he starts back towards the computers, leaving you only a second to process the different turnout of events.

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

The only thing that differentiates this mission from the first one is that you haven’t had to jump back to know what to look out for, and therefore don’t suffer the immediate side effects a redo usually has on you. You suppose that’s what they initially expected your powers to be like; flawless, useful, magical.

It’s like a slap in the face, even though Bucky doesn’t realize he’s doing it. The fact that he really does think lesser of you because of your stupid, faulty powers stings more than you care to admit.

You shake yourself back to the present moment. “Take the drive and then get away from there!” you shout, trying to catch up with him. Your lungs are burning. “They’re gonna blow up the—”

The blast of the explosion throws you backwards and you land on one of the unconscious bodies on the ground. Coughing, you roll to your hands and knees.

“Wha—ppening?” Sam’s cut off voice comes through the broken comms.

“Bucky?” You stumble towards the flaming mess that was the lab corner.

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

You can’t stop a relieved laugh as you crouch down next to him. “Wanna get out of here or what?”

The reflection of the flames makes his eyes almost look green as he squints at you, groaning. “Geez, I hate you.”

“Come on, tough guy,” you say and he lets you pull him to his feet, almost toppling over at his unsteadiness. “Let’s get you home.”

You keep turning around as you make your way to the tunnels, keep looking back towards the staircase you came down, worrying about the reinforcements Sam told you about. Maybe that’s your mistake.

Because you haven’t made it this far before, you don’t think to check that the unconscious white jackets are all still unconscious.

You still have Bucky’s shield arm around your shoulder as he jerks, sensing the motion on his left before you do. He catches the first bullet with his metal arm as you twist out of your hold on him, grabbing your knife and whirling back around. He makes a side step, taking a big swing—

Only you told him not to throw the shield.

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and–

“Okay, alright, turn it off, FRIDAY!”

By the time you wipe your mouth and flush the toilet with shaky knees, hair and face still caked with blood, you’re finally starting to understand how well and truly screwed you are.

***

You lean against the fridge, staring at Sam while he’s typing away at the kitchen island. He likes working standing up for some reason, particularly when he has to write some sort of statement.

“If I have to give the speech standing up, I’ve gotta write it standing up,” he’s explained it to you once. You can’t pretend to get it, but you suppose it’s also a perk to be within an arm’s length of snacks at all times while you’re getting stuff done.

“What do you want?” Sam says evenly. His gaze remains fixed on his laptop, his fingers never stopping to move.

You bite your lip. It’s a bad, very bad, terrible idea. You shouldn’t be bothering him with your fuck-up. You don’t even know how to go about it without having him laugh in your face.

“What if I told you that I’m stuck in a time loop?”

The question comes out weirdly flat, as if you’re joking. Fuck, what’s happening to you? You’ve always been fine with being the person who knows more than anyone else in the room. This situation though …

It’s different. It unrattles you in a way your powers never have, because even though it’s your own doing, it also seems so out of your control.

Sam raises an eyebrow, still not looking up. “I’d ask when you started drinking today and why you did it without me.”

Honestly, you should have expected something along these lines as long as you have no way of proving it to him.

“Well,” you say light-heartedly, as if you’re merely chitchatting. “What would you do if you were reliving the same day over and over again?”

“Enjoy my time off, probably,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m starving. Shouldn’t the food be here by now?”

You check your phone. “About half a minute.”

It gives you an idea for the future.

Lo and behold. You startle the poor delivery guy, opening the front door right before he can knock. “Hi,” you smile, handing him a generous tip. “We don’t know each other, right?”

“Uhm. What?”

“Do you have like, two minutes?”

“Did you have to haggle for them, first?” Sam calls over when you finally make it back to the kitchen, closing his laptop and helping you put down the boxes and containers on the counter.

“Had to convert to Pastafarianism,” you say, getting out the cutlery. “Ready for blasphemy?”

Sam chuckles.

By the time lunch is done and Sam has left for Madison Square Garden, another wave of exhaustion catches up with you. You pull your rings off and leave them on the table before you lie down on the second couch in the living room area, hoping that maybe this time, you’ll get a little bit of rest.

Only once again, it’s no use. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in the lab, watching Bucky get shot. The background buzz of the TV isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of your cursed memories.

Or the sound of the cat whining next to your ear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Alpine settles on your chest this time, leaving long white hairs all over your shirt and hitting you in the face with her tail. You grimace, trying not to inhale any of her fur.

“You’re in her spot.”

You don’t bother turning your aching head. “I thought her spot was over there!” you say accusingly, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the living room.

“Who told you that?” Bucky says, a bemused tone in his voice as he scoops Alpine up in his gloved hands, careful not to touch you. “Move over.”

You blink at him. You did.

You feel his expectant glare on you and sigh.

“Really, you too? We have plenty of room, you know.” You pull your knees in.

“I do,” he says, sitting down next to you and reaching underneath the cushions. “But you’re always hoggin’ the remote.”

You put your cold feet on his thigh in retaliation. Bucky tenses.

“How are you so cold, it’s like ninety degrees outside.”

“Emphasis on outside,” you shrug. “I just run cold.”

“That you do.” He switches channels, then pulls his gloves off and puts them on the table next to your rings.

You bite the inside of your cheek and roll to the floor inelegantly. Alpine meows in disdain, like a knife scratching the whole diameter of a dinner plate.

“Please tell your cat to chill, geez,” you mumble, slumping down on the other couch and stretching your legs out again with a contented sigh.

Bucky doesn’t reply.

“My dear girl,” a thickly accented voice on the TV says, “you cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. The evidence was definite. We can’t remove it by wishing or crying.”

“He trusted me,” a female voice answers. “I led him into a trap, I convicted him. Is that real enough for you?”

“There is no one to blame,” the first voice continues. “The case was a little deeper than you figured. This often happens. You must realize now one thing, it is over for both of you.”

“What are you watching?” you ask.

There’s a short pause before Bucky answers. “Hitchcock. Spellbound.”

You can’t help your reaction.

“Why’d you just do that?” Bucky says.

You stare at the ceiling. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

“Did not.” You can taste blood in your mouth.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

You turn to the side and demonstratively stare at him, even though it makes your insides twist. Bucky’s face doesn’t change at all as he gazes back at you, frown deepening between his eyebrows. It’s like he’s trying to drown you with the endless blue of his eyes.

You drop your gaze and shake your head.

“What’s your point, Bucky? Not everyone likes staring at people like you do.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And invasive.”

“It’s invasive to look at you?”

“Yes,” you say, “if you do it like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” You sit back up again in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

You look at his face this time, not his eyes. It still makes your cheeks burn, because his jaw sets that way again and he doesn’t immediately respond.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, finally, and you hide your face between your hands in what you can only hope looks like frustration. Then you realize that that’s only making your missing rings more obvious.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you snap, balling your hands into fists.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

“You promised,” Bucky says coolly. “Remember?”

Your stomach plummets.

“Yes,” you say, forcing your voice to stay calm. “But I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got this.”

You feel his eyes on your back all the way to your room, and you’re not sure if you’re lying to him or to yourself, even as you slam the door behind you and look anywhere but your bed.

Your book is lying in the wrong place.

*****

“Honestly, Nat, you could’ve killed her.”

“Don’t be dramatic. She’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

There were yellow dots dancing across your vision when you opened your eyes, groaning at the bright neon lights hitting you in the face.

You were lying on the mat in the gym of the Compound and your nose had been ripped clean off; at least that was what it felt like. Judging by your red-soaked shirt, your guess wasn’t that far off, though.

“Hey,” Natasha said, kneeling down next to you. “Sorry, that must hurt like a bitch.”

“Your head is bery solid,” you replied, touching the blood still dribbling down your face. “Ow.”

“Thank you,” she said and handed you a wet towel. “Put that in your neck and lean your head back.”

“Di’ I faind?”

“You knocked yourself out, honey,” she said with a sly grin.

“It isn’t funny, Nat,” Steve shouted. You snorted, then winced in pain.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha winked. “You’re gonna be as pretty as before once you clean up. Already reset your nose while you were out.”

“Thangs.”

Surprisingly, this was the first serious injury you’d sustained in the past couple of weeks you’ve been living as a rookie Avenger; though in truth, that was mostly due to the fact that Natasha had only had you build up your stamina and agility up until today. Your first proper day in the ring was nothing short of humiliating.

“You could always go back to the moment before you decided to headbutt me,” Natasha said once the bleeding had finally stopped.

You wiped your nose carefully, taking a few breaths to clear your airways. “Sadly, that’s not how it works,” you said, letting her help you slowly come upright again. “I’m the one moving through time, so I stay exactly the same. I can help you guys avoid the punches, but I’ll still be the one receiving them.”

Cursed to stay the same, just like you’d always said.

Natasha tilted her head. “That seems like something you could work on with proper help.”

You grimaced. “I’ve tried that before. There’s no one who can help me, no one who can … fix me, or my powers.”

There was worry in her eyes, then, and you were taken aback by how genuine it seemed. It left a crack in your shell.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said quietly.

But it was. “I mean it,” you said, your lip twitching. “You can’t tell them that I’m here. For all they know, I got dusted just like everyone else.”

She knew; it had been the one condition you’d set in exchange for your help. That didn’t mean she had to like it.

There was a prolonged pause until Natasha nodded. “All the more reason to get you proper training,” she said, getting back to her feet and helping you up. “Let’s get you some ice cream. Good for the healing.”

You smiled when both she and Steve kept worrying about you the entire way to the kitchen, even though both of them tried hard not to make it obvious. It still filled you with a strange sense of warmth that almost had you forget about the pain.

You were safe here.

Things were finally starting to look up.

chapter three

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[aggrorat]

The Un-Wise Men

Prologue

Gabe

I reach over to adjust my duffle bag while walking down the trash littered streets. Between the cans of paint obnoxiously rattling against one another, the grey face mask, and the light blue hood hanging over my eyes, I'm not exactly being subtle. It's roughly three in the afternoon, the roads are busy, but the sidewalks are empty. Although, you can hardly call them sidewalks now-a-days. They’re eroded slabs of concrete broken up by patches of dead grass. Most of the time it's easier to walk along the road instead, if not more dangerous.

  But it doesn't matter much. I’ll be dead by 25 anyway. At least if my dad has anything to say about it. He’s never really liked me, I'm honestly surprised that I never ‘disappeared’ like my mother. I never found out what happened to her, I think my dad had something to do with it. But he’s a cop. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't face any consequences for it. Maybe he wanted to keep me around to mold me into a mini-him. 

Never gonna happen.

See, there's one big difference between Moe Sheppard and I. 

I, Gabriel Sheppard, am a man of God. Anyone could tell by the little metal cross around my neck that I'm a good, God-fearing man. All of my faith, my morals, everything, were instilled in me from my mother at a young age. Just before she drove away with my dad, she gave me this cross so I could always have her and Jesus next to my heart. 

I never understood what she meant by that. 

Not until my dad said she wasn’t coming back.

I didn’t wanna believe it. I didn’t think my mother would just… leave me here like that.

Leave me with him.

So I've always known my father had something to do with her disappearing. She seemed scared when she left… I wish I'd known. I wish I'd have stopped them… somehow… but here I am. Almost 10 years later. 

Committing vandalism mid afternoon.

I still have to be careful; if I get caught actually spray painting by the police I'd be screwed. My dad would rather watch me rot in prison than even CONSIDER paying my bail. Even if he did pull some strings with his cop buddies, the second I got released he'd smash my teeth in for DARING to commit the sin of... 

Of uh... 

...Pissing off the cops? 

Honestly, I can't really remember where in the bible it said vandalism was bad, but regardless good ol' Moe would kill me if I got in trouble with the law. He’s the kind of guy who proudly proclaims “this is the only parenting book I need” While waving around a bible that I'm willing to bet he’s never even read. 

To him, the bible says whatever he decides is convenient for him. He treats the 10 commandments like they have secret amendments, like there's an asterisk after every one of them. Thou shalt not kill? Oh no, that doesn't apply to POLICE officers. Afterall, it is their civic duty to kill ‘dangerous’ unarmed, handcuffed people in the middle of the street.

  Really, he uses a combination of his christianity and his status as a police officer to justify every horrible thing he’s ever done. But he’s well respected by the community, especially by other cops. So I need to at least try and keep the spray paint a secret. Usually if they stop me while I'm walking, I just tell them I'm working on a school project. They’ll usually let me go with a pat on the back and a “tell your dad i said hello.” 

I walk into the Pop-N-Shop, immediately catching the eye of one Tatum Whiteman. I was friends with him in highschool, he was our team’s quarterback.

He was really bad at it, but his dad paid off the coach to keep him on the team. With a brown faux-hawk that catches the sunlight just right, and hazel eyes that could bring any woman to their knees, he’d be pretty attractive-

Tate pulls out his gayest voice, waves a limp wrist and waggles his fingers at me, "yoouu-hoooo little sheepy boy." 

-If he wasn’t such a dick.

Tate is the f*ggiest straight guy I've met in my life.

Tate doesn't even need this job. His dad, Richard Whiteman, is a huge tech CEO. He's arguably one of the most influential men in the world. He made Tate pick up a job at the local pop-n-shop so he didn't have to deal with him all summer. 

I don't blame him to be honest. Tate sucks.

I approach the front counter, passing rows and rows of the most generic convenience store items I think ive ever seen. Tate leans towards me, elbows on the table as my bag hits the counter with a loud metallic clunk. 

"I need more white."

His gay voice suddenly goes southern. "Comin right up sugarcube~" He turns around and struts towards the locked cabinet of spray paint behind him.

He usually interacts with people like a, relatively, normal guy. I mean he's kind of a douche, but I hear he still brings home a new girl every week. It's not hard to see why. Tate's pretty hot, he's well built, he's charismatic, hes- 

...

That… is Tate's ass.

He's just bending over to pick up the paint cans but he’s deliberately shaking his flat ass in my direction. Lovely. 

I fucking hate this guy.

He's been acting like this towards me ever since my ex-girlfriend posted my private sketchbook to the group chat. 

Back in high-school I used to hide under the bleachers during football practice, drawing all of the guys... to practice anatomy, of course. I WAS gonna draw some of the cheerleaders, really I was, but then I started dating Karly (yes, with a k) and I decided against it. I mean what kind of a creep hides underneath the bleachers and stares at girls for hours drawing them anyway? AND while you have a girlfriend? That's basically cheating. Drawing guys is fine though. After all, I'm not gay…

I can't be gay. 

I’m a man of God. 

My hours of staring at sweaty men from the shadows mean absolutely nothing. If anything, it makes me MORE of a man. It shows that I'm comfortable enough in my sexuality to look at other men without being gay about it. But, it does mean that everybody ELSE thinks you’re gay. Our entire friend group, Raquel, Marianna, Karly- ALL of them, decided I was gay for drawing our classmates in a ‘weirdly homoerotic way’ (their words, not mine.)  and told everyone I was gay.

 I remember when they showed Tate my drawings of him. He said “DAMN bro got me cheeked up. Even I’d eat that cake.” 

He hasn’t stopped harassing me since. It's been like 2 years since that happened, we graduated last year but he still won't let it go. I figured now that we were adults, he’d be normal about it. 

Apparently not.

"You like what you see?" Tate winks at me when I finally pull myself back to reality. 

Gross…

...Oh, right, Tate's ass. I spaced out and I've been staring at Tate's ass this whole time. 

Fuck. 

"You wish," I pull out my wallet as he struts back to the counter.

"Six bucks."

I pause. "Wasn't it five last week?"

Tate shrugs, "maybe, I don't really pay attention to the price of paint.” He stretches and dramatically groans. “I have more important things to focus on." 

Somehow, I doubt that. 

Regardless, I pay for my spray paint and exit the store. At least I know what my next mural will look like. 

I walk towards the old record shop. An old run down building with a brand new red canopy over the front door. Sitting on the bench outside, is a man playing an upbeat love song on his guitar. He’s here almost every day. He’s black, with long, beaded braids in his hair that are half tied into a bun behind his head. 

“Hello… Salute… it's me… your duke…”

He's honestly not bad, I don't know why he wastes his time playing on the streets instead of... I dunno, becoming a SoundCloud rapper? That's what Tate's been trying to do anyway. 

Keyword: Try

He's terrible. 

But this guy’s music is actually good. His voice is husky, he's well-groomed, and incredibly attractive. If this was still high-school I'd sit on the bench and sketch him. But ever since Karly ruined what little bit of an image I had, I haven't been comfortable drawing around people. I mean, How can I? After that, every time I pulled out my sketchbook people started being all... awkward. Now it feels like I'm doing something weird every time I go to draw men. It’s so bad that I've resorted to committing vandalism in retaliation, tagging any empty walls I can find and painting murals wherever I can. Retaliation against what exactly? I couldn't tell you. Retaliation against the world, my old friends, these…feelings. All of it.

 I don't really draw men at all anymore. I haven't drawn any actual people in... well, a while actually.

I guess I could draw women, but I don't normally do that. I can, technically. I've done it before, but I just... don't I guess. It's not that I don't LIKE women, don’t get me wrong, I'm not gay. I'm just not as... artistically drawn to their form. 

Women don't have strong jawlines, or enough muscle to deadlift a cow, or big meaty calves. Plus women just aren't as graceful when they sweat. When men sweat it's like big oily raindrops running down their face, lining some of their best features. It's like looking at a living renaissance painting. When women sweat they just look like they're... well... sweating. They look uncomfortable. Like, I'm not gay or anything, but women just don't... aesthetically please me. 

Anyway, I turn a corner into the alleyway and drop my bag on the ground. The owner of the music store just had this painted, it's a fresh canvas. Pulling out my paint cans, I start my mural. I'd pull out my headphones, but it's too much work. I might as well listen to the corner guy.

"Hello… Hello… It's me… Picasso, I will paint…my words of love with your name on every wall"

Wow. This song is beautiful. 

It's similar to the way I make and view art. Art is meant to make you think or feel something, whether you can put it into words or not. I guess in his case... It's love. 

In my case it's not.

 I start with painting a simple baseball bat on the wall before adding a thick, oozing rainbow dripping off the end of it.

 It represents me beating the f*g act out of Tate. 

And everyone else that called me gay for my art. ESPECIALLY my dad. Piece of shit. ‘Serve and protect’ MY ASS. He ruined my life, my mother left because of him. She left me with him AND his anger issues. He'd never let me go to art school because he thought it'd ‘make me gay.’ I'm lucky he never saw my sketchbooks. I can’t stand looking at my reflection anymore. I look just like him and it feels… wrong. 

Like, it's not me. 

After about half an hour I shove the spray paint back in my duffle bag and leave. The guy’s still there, but he's taking a break, chugging some terrible looking off-brand energy drink. I try not to make eye contact as I walk out of the alleyway. 

Then Tate DMs me over Clickr. 

"Yo, meet me behind the pop-n-shop after my shift, I wanna show you something."

Oh great. Tate wants to meet in a sketchy, private location. This’ll be fun.                       

Benji

This energy drink sucks. 

As I go to dump it down the storm drain, that emo kid with the white hair walks past me. Lucas told me not to say anything to him, he swears he's seen this guy before, and once he puts his finger on it he's going to the cops. He's been obsessively studying the security footage for the last week. 

It's stupid, I know.

Lucas is the most stubborn, prideful man I've met in my life. (Evident by the fact that he owns a record store in 20XX.) Besides, I think he's living out his weird detective fantasy. I guess it's not that big of a deal, the kid's vandalizing an alleyway next to a dying music store. Besides, some of his work isn't half bad. 

Well, at least the ones without the evangelical Christian undertones are pretty good.                         

A lot of his work focuses on police brutality, mostly anti-copaganda murals. But there's also a lot of homophobic and transphobic pieces he's done, like "Jesus didn't die for f*gs to get head."

I think about that one a lot. It was a mural of Jesus nailed to the cross, getting a blowjob surrounded by rainbow flames. 

and WE'RE the sacrilegious ones!

You consensually suck ONE dick and you get sent to hell for eternity, but you paint a whole MURAL of gay Jesus voyeurism and get a pat on the back from Christ. It's unbelievable. 

I pack up my guitar and decide to take a look at emo guy’s newest mural.

Stepping into the dank alleyway, it's immediately clear that this piece isn't much better than the Jesus voyeurism. At least as far as being homophobic goes, this ones just as bad. 

It's a club dripping with gay, rainbow blood. Cool...

Normally I'd move on, but this time... I don't know. It just pissed me off. I don't understand how talented people can be so... 

So... 

Hateful? 

Why waste your talents tearing down people who chose to walk a different path than you? How do pieces like this benefit ANYONE? We only have one life, why waste it trying to please someone that you don't even know exists? Or spend all your energy on hating those who are just trying to get through their lives? Those stuck within a system meant to ONLY benefit the rich while the rest of us suffer. 

I pick up my guitar case and walk back out of the alleyway, straight to the Pop-N-Shop. Entering the store, the guy behind the counter is immediately on guard. I can tell this isn't gonna go well. 

Still, I put on my best customer service voice and try anyway. 

"Hi! I'm looking for a package of spray paint? Like one with multiple colors."

He looks long and hard at me. I flash him the kindest, gentlest smile I can muster.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can no longer sell spray paint to suspicious individuals."

Suspicious?? Are you fucking serious? I immediately stand up straight, before I can even open my mouth the clerk reaches under the table.

I take a deep breath and back off a bit. "What's so suspicious about me?"

"I'm sorry sir, it's just store policy."

I read his name tag. 'Tate,' of course he's a Tate.

"Well, sir I was just wondering what makes me SO suspicious. Is it my hairline?" I whip my hands over my forehead to cover my baby hairs.

Tate crosses his arms, completely unphased by my very funny joke. "I'm sorry sir, it's just store policy."

I take my hands off my face. "You know you legally can't refuse service to me just because I'm black right?"

He gives me a patronizing smile. "I can assure you, it's not because you're black. It's just store policy."

"Right, I get that, but WHAT is suspicious about me? Because to ME it looks like the only difference between us is my skin, and your nametag."

"...well, I'm not supposed to insult the customers."

"What the fuck does THAT mean?"

He reaches his hand behind the table again. "Look, Unless you want to buy something else, I need to ask you to leave. Before I call the police."

"My 6 year old niece decided to decorate her walls. I wanted to cover it with something nice for my sister before she gets home. What am I supposed to do?"

He shrugs at me "I don't know man, try the craft store."

"A pallet of spray paint costs $130 there, I can't afford that!"

"That's not my problem, sir."

I sigh and snatch a box of shitty "outdoor" acrylic paints off the shelf. Its $25 per set, but I'm already committed to the idea of pissing off that evangelical emo fuck thats been vandalizing lucas’s shop. If I went to the craft store it'd be double the price for worse paint. So I pay him with cash and leave. 

I walk back into the homophobic alleyway and pull out my shitty little paint tubes. It's not a lot, but it's just enough to cover up the bat with a big, gay ass pride flag. I decide to leave his tag there, a black cross with the suits of cards on them. 

After all, I wouldn't say I'm Anti-Christian, I just can't stand when they force it down our throats. 

I should probably add my own tag though. I wreck my brain looking for some simple symbol that could represent me....

THAT'S IT! My BlueToob logo!

BlueToob as a platform is dying, I know that. It's been on the decline for many years now. But my channel’s what made me realize I wanted to pursue music to begin with. I made my logo based off my cat, Bones. It's a simple kitty drawn with one pink line. It looks like neon cat light. I've always been proud of it. 

I paint it on the opposite side of the cross tag. Just before I leave, I decide to add one last thing.

I paint a massive BLM in big black letters right next to the flag. Just as an extra fuck you to this guy. If he's a homophobic, radical Christian then he's also probably racist. Those things tend to go together a lot. 

I haphazardly shove the paint tubes back in my bag and head home. 

I really shouldn't've been surprised waking up to a text from Lucas the next day. I made no attempt to hide my face so he has me in 4k vandalizing his store. Me and Lucas go way back, he'd never snitch on me for something like this. He didn't really buy my explanation, in hindsight vandalizing the vandalism to cover up the homophobia is still just vandalism. 

Who would've thought, huh?

The next couple days, the mural didn't really change much. Despite Lucas's effort to scrape the paint off the wall, my pride flag remained. 

Three days later (yes, seriously) my pride flag was replaced by the simple image of Jesus on the cross. No ones getting head this time, no homophobic subtext, just Jesus hiding the pride flag with "REPENT" in capital letters.

But then I notice something else. He left BLM on the wall. Not only that, he added “fuck the pigs!” next to it.  

Maybe he’s not one of those MAGA freaks, but he’s still homophobic. 

So how do I make this gay again?...

…I got it. 

The change I made was small, I just made the blood coming from the nails and thorns rainbow. LGBT people face persecution like Jesus did DAILY from homophobic assholes like this guy. I've heard so many stories of LGBT teenagers being murdered and completely dismembered just for being LGBT. The gay panic defense is still legal in a lot of states. It's metaphorical, emotional AND spiteful!

I paint a happy little white cloud over "REPENT." Nobody should have to apologize for their existence. I'm sure that kind of metaphor is gonna go WAY over this guy's head, but those who need the message will see it. That is, if they choose to walk down THIS specific alleyway.

The Mural stayed, unchanging for weeks. I was starting to think the emo guy just… gave up.

Until one day, when I went to check on it, there was one little addition next to Jesus's shoulder. 

A small pink heart. 

The rest of the mural was unchanged.

Lucas wouldn't let me see the security footage. He just told me, "yeah, it's that same guy. But if you paint on my walls again you're banned from the property." 

Which would suck. The record shop is one of the last public places with a bench where I can play guitar. Everywhere else either kicked me out for making too much noise, or got rid of their benches to "deter homelessness." 

I started going out to play and collect tips when my views started dropping to make up for the lost income, but even that's getting more difficult by the day. 

At least I get to go out and connect with the community, even if it doesn't make me much.

I still wonder what happened to that emo guy. I stare at the little pink heart on the wall at least once a week, waiting for him to stop by again.

But he never does. 

It's not fair, once I FINALLY figure out what this guy's deal is, he disappears. I wanted to tell him...

I used to be just like him. 

I was a very religious man, I thought homosexuality was a sin. I thought only the fires of hell could truly cleanse my soul. Until one day, I realized that's just... not who I am. I fell in love with a man, and I chose to love him as my authentic self. And for the first time, I felt truly happy. The relationship may not have lasted, but I still decided never to let my freedom of expression go again. But it took me so long to get to that point, so many years of vile, self-hatred, wearing me down until I couldn't hide what was inside anymore. 

I wonder if that's what this guy is going through.

I wonder if he knows I'm here.

I wonder if he knows he's not alone.