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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 days ago

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a beautiful little lie. [chapter 6] l Harry Castillo

Summary: you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), some kissing, ex-boyfriend, Mrs. Kruger, some tears, an unpleasant situation, some romance, some nerves

A/N: I wish I could write better to show what I have in my head when I plan this story. I'm not completely happy with it, but I hope it's just my mood and being overwhelmed. Thank you for every heart and reblog and comment. I don't want to demand or put pressure on you, but if you wrote a few words, I would be glad that I could read what you think about it all. Thank you for being here!

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

When you woke up in the morning, you felt a strange anxiety in your chest. Even though the previous evening had been really pleasant, nothing more had happened between you and Harry except for that kiss, you had the impression that you had crossed a certain line that you shouldn't have crossed. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol or the influence of the stars, but you couldn't hide one thing - you really liked that kiss.

"But he's your boss..." you groaned, rinsing your face with cold water. You repeated the same words later while taking a shower and getting dressed, as well as in the elevator and on your way to the dining room for breakfast.

But as soon as you saw Harry sitting at a table covered with a snow-white tablecloth, the thought that had been occupying your head quickly disappeared.

He noticed you as you entered the room. Your simple, casual dress nicely emphasized your shapes as you headed to his table.

"Good morning." he greeted, rising slightly.

"Hi." you replied with a smile, sitting down next to him "Have you been waiting long?"

"I just got here." Harry nodded to the waiter and he immediately appeared next to you "Would you like some coffee?"

After a moment, coffee and your breakfast appeared on the table. All the worries you had were blurred in the casual and pleasant conversation, and Harry didn't once refer to yesterday evening, for which you were grateful. If Harry had different impressions than you, you didn't want it to cast a shadow over such a promising day.

"Do you have any meetings today?" you asked, putting a piece of croissant in your mouth and reaching for your phone "I could work in the meantime. I'm sure I have a backlog of emails and..."

The phone slipped out of your hand and Harry without hesitation pressed the side button, turning it off. The screen went black. "We're not working today." he said, a mischievous smile appearing on his face "Neither you nor I. Tomorrow we go back to New York, we should use this day."

"What do you mean?" you asked surprised "Harry, your clients won't be happy if..."

"They can handle it." he interrupted you, took a sip of coffee, and then smiled again "We can spend this day however we want. Do whatever we want, eat whatever we want."

You watched him carefully as if you wanted to catch him in some trick. Maybe he was joking and just checking your reaction? You guessed that there must have been a few unread emails in your inbox, not to mention other messages. But your switched off phone was still resting on the table next to Harry, and his brown eyes were staring at you with audacity.

"Are you serious?" you asked finally.

He nodded. “Of course. You haven’t seen much yet, but if you just want to go to the beach, that’s fine with me.”

He noticed right away how you frowned and looked at him suspiciously. However, when you spoke, the corners of your mouth turned up slightly. "You just want to see me in a swimsuit again."

Harry raised both hands. "Guilty. But can you blame me?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I feel like I'm going to regret this, but... Damn it. Let's do this."

When Harry said you could do whatever you wanted, he really meant it. In the rented car, you set off through the streets of the city, visiting all the most popular places. You couldn't take your eyes off what the city had to offer, you admired the beautiful people, buildings, iconic places. Even though Harry had been to LA many times, he never once let you feel that he was bored. On the contrary, he accompanied you everywhere and was present one hundred percent.

Hidden behind his black glasses, he watched the delight in your eyes and the smile that never left your lips. Those small details and gestures that he knew so well about you, now seemed even more expressive to him.

He was afraid that after what had happened between you, some tension would appear, but you were so free with him that Harry felt relief. He didn't want to ruin your friendship, but he didn't think that what had happened was bad either.

"Harry! Come, you have to see this."

"But you wanted coffee." he was surprised, but you had already grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of a shop window with some trinkets to show him something. His brain didn't even understand what you were saying to him, he was only focused on how your hand fit perfectly in his.

You ate lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then ice cream in some booth by the beach. When in the evening you found yourself in a crowd of people and Harry, so as not to lose you, grabbed your hand again, you didn't let go of it even when your steps headed towards the beach.

“I’m gonna miss this sun,” you said as the waves lazily lapped at your feet.

“It’s only a few hours of flying. We can fly back anytime you want.”

You looked at him. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, his pants pulled up so the waves wouldn't get them wet, and his face was directed straight at the setting sun. He looked really handsome. The wind gently played with the strands of his curly hair, and his skin glowed as if Harry himself was the sun.

"You probably say that to all your assistants." you said, and he burst out laughing.

"Only to you, darling, I assure you." he replied.

"Such cheesy." you shook your head, but you couldn't hide your smile. "Oh, any woman would fall in love with you, Mr. Castillo."

He watched with interest as you lowered your head and lifted your foot slightly, playing with the waves that were steadily hitting the shore. This moment seemed to him cut out of life, where there was nothing more than you. Maybe that's why he decided to ask.

"And you?" you looked up at him. "Could you fall in love with someone like that?"

"Not with someone. That's not what you want to ask, is it?"

You were right. That wasn't what he was asking you. He wanted to know if you could fall in love with him. Was that even possible? You had crossed the line between boss and assistant a long time ago. The long evenings that you theoretically spent together at work, but in reality you just talked, the dinners, the occasional movie together, and many other things when you were just two friends.

“I think we make a good duo,” he finally said. “In and out of work. You know what I mean?”

You nodded.

“I would get first prize for Assistant Of The Year?”

“Definitely.” He frowned suddenly. “Does such a thing exist?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea. But I like working for you, Harry. I really do.”

“And I like spending time with you.” You smiled. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful…”

“Oh God, don’t do that…” you mumbled, feeling the heat rise to your neck.

Harry took a step toward you. “What shouldn’t I be doing?”

“That! You make me feel… embarrassed.”

One more step. “Is it bad? Tell me, when I kissed you last night, was it embarrassing?”

You took a deep breath, your chest heaving, and your eyes briefly darted away from the people walking in the distance. When you looked back at Harry, he had already taken off his glasses, his eyes looking at you softly, as if waiting for that one answer.

“No.” You answered quietly. “It was nice. Very nice, even.”

“I liked it too.” He replied. You didn’t even flinch as he gently brushed away a strand of hair that the playful wind had been playing with in your face. “And you know what? I still want more.”

His fingers gently trailed over your jaw, then down your neck to your shoulder. A warm shiver ran down your spine. You were almost certain Harry could hear your heart beating, he was so close. He waited for just one signal and he got it a moment later when a quiet, "So take what you want, Harry..." left your lips. And so he did.

His lips captured yours in a sweet and gentle kiss. Carefully, as if you were both exploring the area, testing how much you could allow yourself. His hand slid into your hair, pulling your face closer, the other rested on your hip, as if he was afraid you would run away. But you didn't have that in mind.

The scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of the sea, and you felt completely intoxicated by Harry. You gave yourself over to this moment completely, against all arguments of logic. Parted lips were an invitation to him. Without hesitation, Harry deepened the kiss, his soft tongue slipped in and you moaned quietly. The bastard smiled, you felt it.

"What?" you whispered. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, still smiling.

"Nothing." he rubbed his nose against yours, still smiling, until you finally patted his chest and pulled away.

"You're unbearable, you know that?"

Even though you stepped back, Harry's fingers slid down your arm and then tightened around your wrist. He tugged lightly, pulling you back to him. "And you're cute."

You rolled your eyes. This guy was taking you apart with childish ease.

"Tell me..." you looked at Harry with interest, "When we get back to New York, will you go out with me? On a real date?"

You watched him carefully, analyzing his words. There was nothing but sincerity in Harry's eyes.

"Do you really want this?" you asked.

He tilted his head, smiling. "Of course I do. I wanted to ask you out two weeks after you showed up at my office."

You shook your head in disbelief and giggled. “Okay. I can’t keep Harry Castillo waiting for me any longer.” He pulled you in again, kissing you lightly. You gladly let him.

Your suitcase was almost packed when you closed the door behind you and went to breakfast. You had a few hours before you were supposed to be at the airport, so you and Harry didn't have to rush. The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and you entered the lobby. You hadn't even taken a few steps when someone said your name.

"Daniel?" You frowned in surprise, not really knowing what was going on. "What... What are you doing here?"

The man smiled, walking up to you. It looked like he had to wait here. "We flew in at night. Nice to see you."

"Is Beth with you?" You looked around the lobby, but didn't see a familiar face.

"It's a business trip."

He didn't need to say anything more. A heavy stone fell into your stomach as you looked towards the dining room door. You already knew who you would meet there.

"And you?" he asked.

"W-what?"

Daniel smiled, then lightly placed his hand on your elbow and led you towards the dining room door. "I think you could use some coffee. Still drinking the same one?"

You noticed them immediately as you entered the sunlit hotel dining room. Many of the tables were occupied by guests, but where you usually sat, Mrs. Kruger-Waltz was now sitting with Harry. Her blonde hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, and her lips stretched into a dazzling smile. She rested her chin on her hand, completely engrossed in her conversation with Harry.

A cup of coffee was pressed into your hand, and Daniel led you straight to the table you had been eyeing.

“Mrs. Kruger, Mr. Castillo.” Daniel greeted politely, and Diane looked at you.

“Oh! It’s good to see you.” She said. “I was just telling Harry how hard it is to find you here. Could you answer the phone or at least answer your emails, darling? I thought you were responsible for that.”

Harry cleared his throat. “We’ve been busy.” He replied. “Sorry, Diane. I’m to blame too.”

Yes, he was. The phone he had turned off was still at the bottom of your bag. You hadn’t had time to check your emails. Cold sweat ran down your back at the thought of what you would find when you turned those devices on.

“Harry…” Diane placed a tender hand on Castillo’s shoulder. “That’s what we have assistants for. I think she should face the consequences of her negligence. But never mind!” she smiled happily. “I have some really good friends in Los Angeles that you should meet. Working with them could really benefit you.”

You noticed the quick glance Harry gave you. You must have looked like an idiot, standing at the table with a cup of coffee in your hand and complete surprise in your eyes.

“I have to apologize again, Diane, but we’re leaving today. In a few hours…”

“That’s no problem. I have my own private jet.” The woman took a sip of her coffee and winked. “Your assistant can fly back to New York on her own, right? Will you be okay?”

"Y-yes." You stuttered in surprise. "Of course."

"You see! Brave girl." Diane beamed. "She'll have a lot of work to catch up on, and we'll have a nice time here."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't have the courage to look at Harry, because Diane was watching you carefully. Finally, someone gently squeezed your elbow, said goodbye to them for you, and led you out of the dining room.

"You look really good, you know that?"

Daniel's words tore you out of your stupor. You looked at him in surprise and carelessly tilted your mug, spilling coffee on yourself.

"Fuck!" you hissed louder than you intended. You put the mug down on the small table by the wall and saw a stain on your shirt. "Ugh! Not that."

Daniel watched you carefully, a smile never leaving his lips. "Hey, don't worry. It's just a shirt." he said. “You’ll have time to change before the flight.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled. “I just… didn’t expect you’d be here. If I checked my email or something…”

You felt a familiar touch on your shoulder, and Daniel placed a hand on it, trying to calm you down.

“Nothing happened. We all make mistakes sometimes, right? You’ll go home and make up for it.”

You quickly glanced at the door where you had left Harry and Diana. An unpleasant feeling of disappointment washed over you. You felt like you had let down not only Harry, but Kruger-Waltz as well, even though she wasn’t your boss. If you weren’t standing in the middle of the hall, you probably would have burst into tears.

“Listen…” Daniel caught your attention again. He pulled a white business card and a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “If you need any help or… want to talk.” He scribbled something on the back of the card and handed it to you. “Call anytime. You know, I always liked talking to you.”

You looked at the card and then at Daniel, completely confused by the whole situation. In the meantime, he led you to the elevator, pressed the button, and the doors opened.

The next few hours passed at an alarming rate. Checking out of the hotel, taking a taxi to the airport, checking in and heading to the terminal. Your brain was on autopilot and you weren't entirely sure what to think.

In the morning, when you woke up, you felt like you had touched the sky, and at this point you were already down. You hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry and honestly, you wouldn't even know what to say. You felt like you had let him down, that your resignation letter was already on his desk. You shouldn't have let him turn off your phone, or at least you should have done your chores when you weren't with him or kissing him.

When you got on the plane, you felt even worse, if that was even possible. You sank into your seat and stared out the window. You exploded. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you hastily pressed your hand to your mouth to hold back a sob.

You hadn't felt this humiliated in a long time.

"Is this seat free?"

Shit. You wiped your tears with your sleeve and nodded. "Y-yes, go ahead." You waved your hand, trying to hide your face from the passenger sitting next to you. From the quiet sounds, you guessed he had taken the seat that was supposed to be Harry's.

"Did you enjoy LA?" the voice next to you said again.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down and not sound desperate. "I really had a good time here."

"I'm glad to hear that. Are you free this week?"

"You know, I'm really not..." you turned to the other person and froze. Harry sat down right next to you, a gentle smile on his lips. He was clearly pleased with the effect of surprise and your expression.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Diane... She's waiting for you, Harry."

"I had to decline her offer. I hope she takes it well, although she didn't seem thrilled." he replied.

You looked at him, completely speechless. A few moments passed before you spoke again.

"You shouldn't have done that. You were supposed to sign a contract... Your company could have lost a lot of money." You spoke so quickly that even if Harry wanted to interrupt you, he wouldn't have succeeded. "You should have stayed in Los Angeles. I've already caused so much trouble. Of course, I understand that my resignation is just a formality..."

"Hey! Stop it." Harry grabbed your hand and that made you fall silent. "I won't accept any resignation, not from you."

“But Kruger…”

“Mrs. Kruger-Waltz is not someone my company would want to work with. Her attitude towards people in lower positions goes against my principles. As my assistant, you should know that.”

Your eyes widened even more, but you didn’t say anything. You stared at Harry with a mixture of awe and fear. Had he really rejected Diane and appeared on that plane?

“You should stay.” You finally said quietly.

He looked at you, then smiled gently. “One woman promised me a date. She’s worth coming back for.”

You shook your head in disbelief, but you smiled back. This was crazy. But it was Harry.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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#pedro pascal #harry castillo #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo x reader #a beautiful little lie series #the materialist

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forestclan-clangen · 1 day ago

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MOON 13 (Part 2)

<< FIRST | < PREVIOUS |

Hopechase and Iciclepool have been acting sickeningly lovey-dovey all day, even with Hopechase's injury. Redstar teases them a little. She's happy for her friends. The grief of losing Talontooth lessens a little for her.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 95 moons. Playful.) (Iciclepool, deputy, female, 68 moons. Ambitious.) (Redstar, leader, female, 71 moons. Strict.)

Iciclepool and Morningspot go out near the border, mostly to try and find any remaining signs of the Fake Cat that Perchpaw was attacked by. Instead, they find a body of a young cat. Icicle feels somber - but when she goes to lift it, she's shocked when it groans in pain. They're alive! Morningspot is agitated, eager to bring them to Windfur, now. (Morningspot, warrior, female, 15 moons. Nervous.) (Iciclepool, deputy, female, 68 moons. Ambitious.) (???, male, loner.)

Perchpaw actively avoids talking to Morningspot. She just doesn't trust her. She especially does not want to talk about what happened the day she saw the Fake Cat, and shuts down whenever someone asks. At least Branchpaw doesn't pester her.

(Perchpaw, apprentice, female, 8 moons. Adventurous.) (Branchpaw, apprentice, female, 8 moons. Ambitious.)

---

Perchpaw wished she had died. Or, at least, that's what she would say to herself while sleep deprived, in pain, and unable to swallow more than pulp and water. In moments of clarity surrounded by her mother and her sister, she felt a pang of guilt at the idea of them mourning at a funeral pyre, like they did for Bearkit.

No…no, she didn't want to die. Not really.

She just wanted to be normal again, and she hated all the things that made her feel not normal.

She didn't want to talk about the Fake Cat. Hopechase had approached her and apologized with deep sorrow for not teaching her about them sooner. Redstar tried gently asking if she wanted to talk about it. Even her mother said that she'd be a listening ear. Perchpaw pretended to not be able to talk.

Branchpaw seemed to be the only one who understood her, saying nothing about the Fake Cat, but telling her about the news of camp.

"Um…Redstar and Hopechase said that they're going to try hosting something called the First Bloom. Remember the Gathering in leaf-fall? Well, apparently it's a lot like this, but for newleaf instead. Apparently there's games and stuff involved?" Branchpaw's tail twitched with subdued optimism. "I know you're not feeling too great, but they mentioned that flowers are an important part of it. You like flowers and stuff, right?"

Branchpaw made a somewhat of a face as she said this - Branchpaw was never into things that Perchpaw felt were pretty, and when they were kits, she poked fun at her for it. Seeing her now put in effort to be nice about the things she liked was like watching Redstar attempting small-talk. Perchpaw wanted to let out a chuckle, but it sounded more like a snorted chuff. The sound felt ugly to her. She stared at the floor.

"Well, Morningspot and Iciclepool are out of camp right now - I think they're checking near the border for - er - well, I assume flowers? I dunno, I didn't ask," Branchpaw shrugged.

Perchpaw felt a twitch of anger surge through her chest. She shifted uncomfortably and looked away from her sister. If Branchpaw had noticed, she likely chose not to comment on it. Branchpaw had gotten to her feet.

"I'll ask Redstar if you could help with making decorations! Like, if your paws are fine, why not, right? I'll be back!"

Perchpaw watched as Branchpaw darted past the fern curtains that blocked the medicine den. It was a strange feeling, watching the world through a partial veil. In her memories, she could only ever recall fallen leaves and a layer of snow surrounding the outside of the carved out den. But now, she could barely see what was happening outside.

And it made her feel isolated. Different. Ignored and she hated it.

Perchpaw's claws ripped up bits of her bedding as she stared at the fern curtains. A fire of anger surged in her heart.

She was trying to help.

Talontooth was a good cat. He was nice to her and Branchpaw. He taught them how to do the hunting crouch. He was one of the only adults to tell stories of what was outside camp with some amount of hope. Yeah, like all adults, he warned them about Tendrils, and under whispered tones, he described Nature's Mockery, and what a Woodcrawler might look like. But he didn't only tell fake stories like Windfur and Tree, or stories of things that happened a long time ago like Redstar. He told them about stuff outside the territory - like a big mountain that stood across a vast lake, and the strange, angular dens of Twolegs that jutted from the treelines. He wasn't their friend, but he was a good cat who made her look forward to going out there, beyond the camp walls.

She felt gutted when the adults told her that he was gone, and petrified when she heard his voice calling for help.

Why didn't any of them talk about those?

All she saw was Talontooth seemingly alive, calling for help, in pain. She didn't see a monster. She saw a Clanmate who was hurt, maybe sick, maybe REALLY in trouble. She remembered staring at Morningspot, waiting for her to lead their patrol, tell her what to do, do something to indicate what they should be doing.

She just froze and did nothing.

Morningspot was the patrol leader. Perchpaw always thought that Morningspot was a scaredy-cat, even as an apprentice. But people still liked her and consoled her and for a short time, it seemed like even her mom talked to Morningpaw more than she did with her and Branchkit at the time. So when she was still scared as an adult, refusing to actually lead, what else was Perchpaw supposed to feel? Talontooth was screaming for help. Why did Morningspot only do something when Perchpaw was pinned down by the thing, sharp branches jutting out from its feet, writhing towards her mouth -

In her distressed turbulence, Perchpaw's tongue passed over one of her teeth. She bit back a hiss as she felt something cut at her. Dismayed, she ran it over gently again.

Her tooth was chipped.

Perchpaw wanted to yowl. She physically couldn't with her brace around her neck and jaw. She raked her claws on the cold dirt, her tail thrashing. She couldn't even bury her head in her bedding without destroying her brace.

Day after day, she was reminded of one more thing that made her abnormal and broken. That made her damaged, ugly.

She hated that she felt that way, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be loved and she felt like she was pitied. The only time she felt like someone really saw her for her was when Riversnow approached her during leafbare, and complimented her fur and asked her about the little snow-cat she made. Sure, everyone was nice to her and Branchpaw, but it was always her AND Branchpaw. She never felt like she stood out, or caught anyone's attention, and now that she was like this, she felt like no one would genuinely want to be with a cat with a messed up jaw, chipped teeth and a stupid brace.

She felt ugly, pathetic, and useless.

Why didn't they tell her about Fake Cats? Why didn't Morningspot do something? Why did she freeze like a stupid doe on a thunderpath and only moved when Perchpaw was already -

Her thread of hatred tangled as noise kicked up outside. She heard shouting, then the stern voices of cats. She heard Iciclepool and Redstar talking firmly to one another, and the sound of pawsteps rapidly approaching the medicine den.

Perchpaw scrambled, mortified at the idea of being seen like this. She scrambled to cover her ripped up bedding with her body, trying to pretend like she was asleep. She saw the shadows of Iciclepool and…ugh, Morningspot. As they walked into the medicine den, Perchpaw faked having just woken up.

Her eyes widened. She didn't expect an unknown cat to be draped over Iciclepool's back.

"Morningspot, can you clear the bedding across from Perchpaw?" Iciclepool asked. Morningspot did what was asked. Perchpaw pretended not to be curious, but failed as she watched the two mollies gently lower the cat onto bedding. He was a black tabby, very skinny, and unconscious.

"D-Did Redstar say when they'd be back? A few minutes? An hour? What if - "

"Morningspot," Iciclepool placed her tail on the young warrior's shoulder. "Breathe. Windfur and Shiverpaw should be back from their patrol soon."

"B-But what if - "

Perchpaw immediately scowled and looked away, tuning out the conversation. Right now, the last thing she wanted to hear was Morningspot's panicking.

A small sliver of her conscience tried to coax her into having compassion. It was overruled by the throbbing pain in her jaw, her chipped tooth, her anger, and the memory of the adult she turned to choosing to do nothing until it was too late.

Time moved around Perchpaw as cats entered and left the medicine den repeatedly. She knew Shiverpaw and Windfur returned from their patrol, and to her annoyance, she knew Morningspot tried to talk to her - which she pointedly ignored. Shiverpaw and Windfur poked and prodded at her brace after they had finished rummaging over the stranger that was now in the medicine den. Branchpaw had come back to visit her once again, telling her optimistically about the possibility of learning how to do flower crowns. Perchpaw faked enthusiasm with a slow blink, but otherwise, she didn't say anything.

By the time everyone had finally left the stupid den, Perchpaw's eyes reluctantly fell onto the only person remaining.

Her throat tightened as she realized what she was looking at.

The cat was a young tom - close to her age. And just like her, his head was wrapped in a brace meant to secure a broken jaw.

Perchpaw blinked. She watched the tom's faint breathing. Every once in a while, he made a whine in protest.

Perchpaw brought her own paw to the side of her face, feeling the ragged brace. For a moment, she became painfully aware of its existence, and how it pressed against her skin.

...Would he, too, hate this as much as she did?

Perchpaw sighed, allowing the crushing anger and sorrow exhale from her system before turning away and staring at a wall again.

She hadn't expected the tom across from her to whine in his unconscious sleep, and whimper something that barely took coherent shape behind his crooked jaw. Perchpaw's ears twitched and strained to put his words together. Finally, she realized he was repeating a single word over and over.

"Bracken…"

---

When the young stranger wakes up, he's confirmed to have a broken jaw. He is dazed and dehydrated, calling for the name "Bracken". Windfur recognizes it - this must be the littermate Bracken was searching for! After a few days of care and speaking with members of the Clan, he is quite enamoured, and the young cat agrees to join the Clan. His name is Rift, and he takes on the name Riftpaw.

(Windfur, medicine cat, male, 27 moons. Lonesome.) (Riftpaw, apprentice, male, 11 moons. Charismatic.)

The First Bloom festival goes without a hitch. Cats are much happier watching Cloudthunder's kits enjoy games, collect flowers, and even the adult cats have fun playing a game of pick-up sticks - trying to pull as many sticks from a pile of them without causing the pile to topple over. It's very enjoyable, and reduces the Clan's overall stress.

(Barleywave, warrior, male, 42 moons. Playful.) (Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 46 moons. Adventurous.) (Olive, mediator, female, 69 moons. Calm.) (Redstar, leader, female, 71 moons. Strict.)

Cottonkit, Airkit and Deerkit made flower crowns during the First Bloom festival! Cottonkit is so enamoured by the gorse flowers that she decides to permanently wear some. She asks Perchpaw if she thinks it's cool, and is giddy when Perchpaw approves.

(Perchpaw, apprentice, female, 8 moons. Adventurous.) (Cottonkit, kitten, female, 3 moons. Fearless.) (Deerkit, kitten, female, 3 moons. Noisy.) (Airkit, kitten, male, 3 moons. Polite.)

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jpmarvel90 · 16 hours ago

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Don't Belong Part 4

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 6125

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: It's Y/n's birthday and everyone is making an effort to make it the best day possible. Including a suprise early visit which sees Y/n experience a happiness she's not had in a long time.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n's POV:

When the morning comes around, I blink my eyes open. I don't know what woke me first, the muted knock at the door or the quiet creak as it opens. For a moment, I think it's one of my moms again, coming in to check if I've eaten or taken my meds. I'm already halfway to turning away when I hear a familiar voice. "Knock knock," Kate calls softly, her voice like a warm breeze slipping through the room.

I blink my eyes open, squinting at the brightness filtering through the window. She's standing just inside the doorway, a sheepish smile on her lips, and something tucked behind her back. She looks like she always does, messy ponytail, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder like it was made to, and for some reason, my chest tightens. Maybe it's the way she looks at me. Or maybe it's because, for the first time, someone came just for me.

"Kate?" I croak out, surprised. "What are you doing here?" She enters fully now, closing the door behind her. "Well, it's a special day," she sing-songs, stepping closer to my bed. "And I thought I'd drop by early to wish a very certain badass agent-in-the-making a happy birthday." She smiles.

My brows raise. "Wait... it's today?" Kate giggles. "You forgot your own birthday?" Well, I knew it was coming but it kind of snuck up on me. With everything going on, the healing, emotional trauma, being babysat by my guilt-ridden moms, it just hadn't occurred to me. "Guess I did," I mumble.

"Well, that won't do." She steps closer and pulls a small box from behind her back. "Here." I blink, looking at the wrapping. It's simple, but there's a purple ribbon, her signature colour as I've learnt. "You didn't have to..." I start before she interrupts me. "Shush. It's already here, and you're opening it."

There's something so easy about the way she talks, like we've always done this. Like this, whatever this is, has existed longer than I've allowed myself to notice. I peel back the wrapping, careful not to tear the paper, and reveal a small velvet box.

Inside is a silver bracelet, dainty and simple, with a single hawk feather charm that glints in the sunlight streaming through the window. It's understated, elegant, and... weirdly perfect. I look at it in awe. "This is..." I start but she cuts me off.

"I saw it when Yelena and I went shopping yesterday." Kate shrugs, suddenly looking nervous. "Reminded me of you. Strong, graceful, always aiming for something even if no one's paying attention." My breath catches in my throat, and I look up at her. "Kate..." She's biting her bottom lip now, her eyes darting between me and the bracelet.

Something twists in my stomach. Not unpleasant. Just... unfamiliar. "Kate..." I say again, but there's not really anything else I can think to add. She shrugs, pretending to play it cool. "Also, feathers are cool. And you're cool. So... logic." I laugh softly, and she looks up, eyes dancing with relief at the sound. "Too much?" She questions in a small panic. "No," I say softly, feeling my heart flutter in a way it hasn't in a long time. "It's perfect." Her grin returns, more relaxed now. "Well, good. Because I was ready to fake an excuse and run out if it was weird."

I laugh, genuinely this time, and motion for her to help put it on. Her fingers are warm as they brush against my skin. She doesn't pull her hands away immediately once it's clasped. "You look good in silver," she says casually, but her eyes say something else. There's a pause, and the air feels different, charged. "You really didn't have to do this," I murmur, though I'm glad she did. "Birthdays deserve presents," she says. "And you deserve to be celebrated."

Before I can respond, there's a knock and the door swings open again. Dr. Cho enters with a clipboard and a smile. "Well, well. Look who's already popular this morning." Kate stands up straighter, pretending to be innocently casual. "Just a quick visit." Cho grins at the both of us. "Actually, I've got a bit of a birthday gift too. Since your vitals have stabilised and your infection is nearly cleared, I'm approving a short supervised walk outside." She announces.

I'm in shock and a smile slowly creeps on my face. "Wait, seriously?" I ask wondering if I heard her correctly. "I don't joke about recovery milestones," she replies, then adds, "Fifteen minutes. Wheelchair assist. Someone responsible with you. I assume you two can manage that without scaling the roof or anything." I states, now turning to Kate with a raised eyebrow.

Kate salutes. "Scout's honour." Cho narrows her eyes. "You were never a scout." She calls her out, making me chuckle. "I could've been." Kate mumbles in return. "Don't make me regret this." Cho says pointing her pen between us. "I'll be on my best behaviour." I promise, moving to sit up in the bed. "That'll be a first." Cho mumbles to herself as she heads out the room.

A few minutes later, I'm being wheeled outside, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and thick blanket that Kate insisted I bring. The sunlight feels foreign on my skin, almost startling in its warmth. I close my eyes and breathe it in. The fresh air, the gentle breeze... it all feels surreal. Like I'm not in the compound, not in recovery, not hovering between everything I want and everything I've lost.

Kate's walking beside me, hands in her pockets, glancing at me now and then like she's worried I'll fall apart in the sunshine. We find a bench near the gardens, away from the main paths. There's the soft hum of bees somewhere in the bushes, the quiet rustle of trees overhead. I sit up slowly, wincing a little as I adjust. Kate sits beside me, just close enough that our knees touch.

"It's beautiful out here," I murmur, breathing in deeply. Kate glances at me. "You okay?" She asks softly. I hesitate for a second, then nod. "I am... I think. It just still feels unreal. Everything happened so fast. One minute I was on a mission and the next..." Her hand brushes against mine, fingers grazing. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she says softly.

I stare down at the grass for a moment. "It's not just the mission," I admit. "It's everything. My moms... I thought they didn't care anymore. I still don't know if I believe this whole 'we're here now' act. Like, where were they when I needed them? I've been alone for years and now that I'm bleeding out, suddenly they remember I exist?" I huff in frustration.

Kate's quiet, but not in a way that feels dismissive. It feels like she's giving me room. "My biological parents gave me up," I continue. "Hydra turned me into something I never wanted to be. Nat found me and... for a while, she made me feel like I was worth something. But then Billy and Tommy came along, and I guess I was just... extra."

I glance down at the bracelet on my wrist, the charm glinting like it knows something I don't. "You ever feel like... no matter how hard you try, you'll never be enough?" I ask suddenly, barely above a whisper. Kate's head turns toward me. "Yeah. More than I'd like to admit."

I nod, staring straight ahead. "That's what it's been like with them. My moms. At first, I had everything. A home. A family. Then the twins came and... slowly, it was like I just faded out of frame. Babysitter, housemaid, invisible. I tried to earn it back. Be better. Be perfect. But they didn't notice. Or maybe they just didn't care." I share honestly.

"Now they're around all the time. Bringing soup and fluffing pillows. Acting like they didn't ignore me for the last few years. And I don't know how to trust that." I admit vulnerably. "You don't have to." She says gently. "Not right away. Maybe not ever. But you can still heal, with or without them." She advises.

"Hard to do that alone," I admit. "You're not alone," she says, brushing her fingers against mine. "You've got Steve. You've got friends. You've got me." I turn to her, heart in my throat. "Do I?" Kate meets my gaze without flinching. "You do. You've always had me."

I finally turn to look at her. "I don't tell people this stuff. Hell, I didn't even tell Steve half of it." I chuckle awkwardly. Kate's expression is unreadable at first, but her voice is steady when she says, "Y/n... you're not extra. Not to me anyway." I blink. She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, her hand lingering near my jaw. "Not now, not ever."

My heart skips again. I try to scoff, to deflect with sarcasm like I always do. But it dies on my lips. The world feels still. The breeze moves lazily through the trees, birds chirp somewhere in the distance, but all I can hear is my heartbeat. Louder than it should be.

I don't think. For once, I don't overanalyse or build up walls or second-guess what I deserve. I just lean in, slowly, giving her space to pull back if she wants to. She doesn't. Her breath hitches softly, and then she leans in too. The distance between us disappears with a quiet inevitability. Our lips meet, warm, hesitant, searching.

It's not rushed. It's not perfect. But it's real.

Her hand finds mine again, fingers curling between mine with a gentle squeeze as her lips linger against mine, soft and sure. I feel the way she exhales shakily into the kiss, like maybe she's been waiting for this as long as I have.

The warmth of her palm grounds me, anchoring me in this moment. This tiny, quiet miracle I didn't know I needed. We part slowly, but not fully. Her forehead brushes lightly against mine, and I open my eyes to find hers already watching me. "Wow," I murmur, my voice barely audible. Kate grins. "Yeah," she whispers back, her nose nudging mine. "That was... definitely not just a birthday present."

I laugh softly, the sound surprising even me. It's light. Unburdened. Something I haven't felt in a long time. Then she adds, "But if it was, I really outdid myself." I roll my eyes with a smile, bumping her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head."

We sit there for another long moment, her hand still in mine, the kiss still tingling on my lips. For the first time in forever, I don't feel like I'm on the outside looking in. I feel seen. Wanted. Maybe even loved.

"I think I like you, Bishop," I murmur. She grins. "Well... I was hoping you'd say that." I laugh, breathless. "Smooth." Kate shrugs. "I have my moments." We sit there for a little longer, fingers brushing, letting the quiet speak for us. Today doesn't feel quite so lonely. And maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone as I thought.

She stands, offering her hand. "Come on, birthday girl. Let's get you back before Cho realises I'm terrible at following instructions." She jokes. I take her hand, letting her help me up. And for the first time in a long while, I don't feel like a background character in my own life. Maybe this birthday is going to be better than I had expected.

By the time Kate wheels me back through the medical wing's hallway, my chest feels lighter. I can't tell if it's the kiss, the sunlight, or just the fact that, for the first time in a long time, I feel like someone really sees me.

We're laughing at one of Kate's terrible impressions of Steve ("Language!" she says in a fake-deep voice, holding up an imaginary shield) when we turn the corner into my hospital room, and everything stops.

The room is... glowing. Streamers in purple and red hang loosely from the ceiling. There are balloons everywhere. Some Avengers-themed, others with "Happy Birthday!" printed in glitter. My bed is surrounded by snacks, presents, and handmade decorations. Someone even stuck a banner over the window that reads: "Y/n—Top of Her Class and Queen of Badasses."

And then.... "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

The room erupts in cheers. I blink, startled, as people begin stepping out from where they'd been hiding. Steve's standing at the foot of my bed, grinning. Pepper and Tony are by the snack table (which, of course, is colour-coordinated). Clint's got a party hat on backwards. Even Bruce is there, waving from the corner.

But it's the next voices that break me completely. "We got you! We actually got you!" Tommy cheers. Billy is right behind him, his face lit up. "You didn't even guess!" I'm almost too stunned to speak. "Wait, you guys planned this?" I ask in shock. "Well, Uncle Steve and moms helped a little." Billy admits with a grin, "But we made the decorations. Look!" He runs over to show me a clumsily drawn poster that reads "Best Sister Ever" with stick figures of the three of us drawn beneath it.

My throat tightens. "You guys..." Tommy launches himself forward, arms wrapping tightly around my waist before he seems to remember I'm injured and pulls back. "Oops! Sorry! I didn't mean to...did I hurt you?" I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. "No. You're okay. Come here."

They both crowd me then, Billy on one side, Tommy on the other, snuggling up to me as best they can without bumping the healing wounds. I run my fingers through their hair, holding them close. "I missed you both." I whisper. "We missed you more." Billy says, looking up with wide, honest eyes. "Are you gonna come home soon?"

I look at them, at their innocence, their hope, and despite everything that's happened, I can't bring myself to say anything but, "Yeah. Soon." Tommy grins. "Good! 'Cause we need someone to settle who's better at Mario Kart." He declares. "Definitely not you," Billy shoots back, making Tommy gasp and begin a dramatic argument, and I just laugh. I haven't laughed like this in forever.

I don't notice her until I hear the soft cough behind me. "Room for one more?" I glance up and there's Yelena, standing awkwardly near the doorway with a bag slung over her shoulder and that familiar half-smile she always wears when she's trying not to look too emotional. "Lena." I smile. "Get over here." She strides forward, more confidently now, and kneels beside my bed. "You know, I had a speech planned. Something dramatic about Russian strength and glorious birthdays. But now I feel like an idiot." She sighs. I chuckle. "You're my idiot."

Her smile softens, and she reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Happy birthday, malyshka." I smile widely. Since she has been back, she's been a breath of fresh air. I sometimes go months at a time without seeing her and I realise now how much she does in my life and how much I wish she was around more.

"Thanks. For coming. For... all of it." She nods. "I would burn the world down for you. But instead, I helped decorate and resisted the urge to strangle Tony. Which is almost harder." I snort and take her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm really glad you're here." I tell her honestly. She leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, staying close. "Just don't scare me like this again, okay?" She practically orders. "No promises," I whisper.

Kate's still nearby, arms folded, watching the exchange with an amused little smile. She doesn't say anything, but when Yelena steps back, she gives Kate a subtle nod of approval. I don't miss it, and neither does Kate, judging by the soft pink tint to her cheeks.

Eventually, everyone gathers around. Steve insists on speeches. He actually wrote one, of course he did! Tony hands out cupcakes and calls it "nutrition for emotionally stunted heroes." Clint juggles party favours for the twins. Bruce accidentally knocks over a stack of gift bags and looks mortified.

And me? I just sit there, taking it all in. The laughter. The chaos. The family. It's messy and weird and loud, but it's ours. I can't remember the last time we all just existed together. Not during a mission. Not under stress. Just as people. As a family. I lean back against the pillows, the bracelet Kate gave me catching the light, and I smile.

I've never had this many people show up for me before. The medical bay isn't exactly the most glamorous venue, but no one seems to care. It's alive with laughter, the kind of laughter that vibrates through the walls and settles somewhere deep in your bones. For a while, I just sit there, watching everyone move and talk and tease each other, absorbing the atmosphere like it might disappear if I blink.

The tray table in front of me has become a mountain of tissue paper, ribbons, and gift bags. I've unwrapped more things in the past twenty minutes than I have in the last three birthdays combined. Kate is still right beside me, comfortably close, legs crossed at the ankle, her fingers brushing mine every so often as she hands me each present. It's subtle, but grounding.

From Clint, it's a custom arrow set with glittery purple fletching and tiny inscriptions carved into each shaft. "You'll have to work on your draw, obviously," he jokes. "But when you do, you'll be better than Bishop." Kate scoffs. "Untrue. But cute."

Tony's gift is as over-the-top as expected. A sleek tactical vest designed specifically for fieldwork, complete with integrated tech and a touch of ridiculous Stark flair. "Look, it glows when you're under UV light," he says proudly. "Very nightclub assassin." Pepper rolls her eyes, but her handwritten card makes my chest tighten in a way I don't expect. It says, simply: We see you. Always have. Always will.

Bruce hands me a leather-bound journal filled with his recovery notes, complete with diagrams and some shaky sketches of me in various combat poses. I laugh when I see one labelled: "High kick of doom, 3.5 ft trajectory." There's even a small pouch attached with a hand-carved wooden pen. "You'll need to track your healing. I thought it might help to write it down." I don't say it, but I will. I will write everything down. The good, the bad, and especially the parts where I've felt like I didn't exist. Because now? It feels like I do.

I'm still smiling when the crowd begins to shift, people making room as two familiar figures step forward, each holding something in their hands. The noise in my head returns, just a little. Mom and Mama.

They've been here this whole time, quietly moving through the celebration, helping out, cleaning up plates, never taking the spotlight. I noticed it earlier, and I've been thankful for it. I needed space. I still do. But now they're here, in front of me, and it's harder to keep the barrier around my chest intact.

Nat steps up first, her hands clasped around a long rectangular case. It's black, sleek, familiar. My stomach knots in anticipation. "I, uh..." She hesitates. Natasha Romanoff hesitates. That alone is enough to jolt something inside me. "I wasn't sure what to get you. I've never been great at birthdays. But these... these kept me alive for a long time. And I think it's time they had a new owner."

She opens the case and turns it toward me. Inside is a matched set of weapons. Intimate, in a way only warriors understand. Twin shock batons, sleek and polished with matte-silver handles engraved in Russian script. A Glock 43, lightweight and efficient, with a grip she's worn smooth over the years. And the Widow's Bite cuffs, the real ones, resting on black velvet.

My breath catches. "These are..." I blink down at them, my hands hesitant to reach forward. "Yours?" Nat nods. "They were. Now they're yours. I always knew that you would be a better Agent than me. I just wish I had shown that pride more." There's emotion in her voice, but she reins it in expertly. She doesn't reach for me. Doesn't try to hug or explain too much. She just offers them, like a passing of legacy. Of trust.

I nod slowly, something like awe and confusion twisting through my chest. "Thanks. They're... badass. When I was training, I always based my tactics off you using these." I share a glimpse into what she missed. She gives a quiet smile, a flash of hurt in her eyes, but steps back without comment. I don't miss the way her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, as if resisting the urge to do more.

Then Wanda steps forward, her gift flatter, wrapped in dark green and tied with a silky ribbon. She holds it carefully, like it's something ancient. "No weapons in this one," she says, smiling, "unless you count Frodo's sword." She jokes. I give her a curious look and begin unwrapping the gift, careful with the ribbon. When I peel back the paper and lift the lid, my heart skips.

First editions. Hardcovers. Faded gold lettering on rich leather bindings. The Lord of the Rings trilogy. The original artwork. My fingers hover over the covers, reverent. "Where did you find these?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"I didn't," Wanda says softly. "They were mine. I've kept them for years. You used to sneak into our room when you thought we were asleep, remember? You'd hide under our covers with a flashlight and whisper-read Gandalf's speeches like you were preparing for battle." I do remember. Vividly. That tiny space of time when everything felt safe and warm, when their room was my sanctuary.

I don't realize how hard I'm gripping the box until Kate gently places her hand over mine. "These are..." I swallow. "Wow." It's all I can manage to get out. Both of these gifts have been so thoughtful, and they've caught me completely off guard. Wanda's voice lowers. "I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how strong you already are. Even when you felt small."

A lump forms in my throat, but I force it down. I nod. Not because I'm ready to forgive. But because I'm not ready to push them away either. "Thanks." I say quietly. "Really." And just like that, they back away. No expectations. No more pressure. I appreciate that. It's like they're finally listening to me.

It would've been so easy for them to hijack the day and to make it about apologies or guilt. But instead, they've given me room. Let me have this one day to feel like I'm the centre of it all. And I needed that more than I ever realized.

The party picks up again, as Clint accidentally knocks over a cupcake tower and Billy yells "five-second rule!" before diving for the last chocolate one. Laughter ripples through the room like it belongs there, like we all do.

Kate squeezes my hand again and I smile at her, letting myself melt into the comfort of her presence. That's when I notice it. A movement, subtle and precise. Mama is watching. She's near the far wall now, leaning against it with her arms folded. But her eyes are locked on Kate. Not hostile. Not even judgmental. Just... focused. It's that hyper-vigilant mother-spy thing I haven't seen in years.

Kate follows my gaze and catches Nat's eyes, lifting her chin in subtle challenge. Natasha doesn't blink. Just tips her head slightly, evaluating. I huff a quiet laugh and shake my head. "She's profiling you." Kate smirks. "I should be flattered."

"You should be cautious," I whisper, nudging her with my elbow. "She has very creative ways of intimidating people." Kate leans closer, her voice low and teasing. "Good thing I'm hard to scare." I believe her. And I believe, for the first time in a long time, that someone might actually stick around. Not because they pity me. But because they want to.

The laughter has begun to soften now. People are settling into quieter conversations, cups half-finished, frosting smudges drying on napkins. The decorations still flutter gently in the airflow of the room, streamers casting coloured shadows across the walls like echoes of the joy they helped shape.

I'm still riding the high of it. The weightless kind of happiness that you don't quite trust to last, but you cling to anyway. That's when the door opens, and the atmosphere shifts. Even before I see him, I feel him.

Nick Fury doesn't enter a room. He commands it. Even here, surrounded by friends, cupcakes, and glittery party hats, he's unmistakable. The kind of presence you don't forget once it's in your life. "Don't mind me," he says, his voice a familiar gravel tone, softer than usual but still laced with authority. "Just came to see the guest of honour." He smiles.

A quiet hush falls over the room as he approaches. The tension isn't fear, it's more like reverence. Respect. The kind that makes people straighten their spines without realizing they're doing it. He walks to my bedside, pausing just beside the tray table, arms behind his back. His eye meets mine with a steadiness I've always found both comforting and intimidating.

"You gave us a scare, kid." I smile faintly, keeping his gaze. "Didn't mean to." He doesn't laugh, but something in his expression softens. "I read the full mission report," he says. "I know what went down. And I know it was my call that put you there in the first place." My chest tightens. I shake my head immediately, the instinct to defend him rushing forward. "It wasn't your fault," I say. "You didn't know someone on the inside had turned. You couldn't have." I defend.

Fury's jaw flexes. "It doesn't matter." He replies after a beat. "I should've. Should've read deeper. Dug harder. Hell, I should've seen it coming. That's my job. To know before anyone else does. To protect you." His voice cracks, just barely. But it's enough. It unsettles me. Because I've never seen him like this. Vulnerable, human in a way that doesn't wear a patch or a trench coat. And it's not guilt for guilt's sake. It's care. "You've done more for me than most people ever have," I say quietly. "You gave me a chance. You trained me like I mattered. You saw me." I admit.

He lets out a breath, slow and rough. Then he nods. It's not to brush it off, but to acknowledge it. "You're one hell of an agent, Y/n. I've seen plenty come and go, but you've got something different. Grit. Instinct. Fire." She observes. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a gravel-soft whisper. "Don't let what happened change what you know about yourself." I swallow hard, nodding slowly. "I won't."

And then, in a rare moment of unspoken affection, he rests a calloused hand gently on my shoulder, just for a second, before straightening and stepping back. As he turns to leave, he casts a long look toward Nat and Wanda near the back of the room. His gaze lingers, and something in it, maybe warning, maybe reassurance, passes unspoken between them before he disappears through the door.

I exhale only once he's gone. Then, just as I start to gather my thoughts, Dr. Cho re-enters the room with a clipboard and her no-nonsense smile. "Okay, everyone," she announces, clapping her hands together once. "Quick update before you all crash from sugar and emotional whiplash." The room chuckles in response. I sit up straighter, something in my gut already stirring.

"Y/n, your scans look great. The infection's resolved, and your vitals have been strong for the past forty-eight hours. Based on today's assessment..." She pauses, flipping a page like she doesn't already have it memorized. "You're officially being discharged tomorrow morning."

The room erupts louder than it did the first time. This time it's more than celebration. It's relief. Release. Tommy jumps up like someone plugged him into an outlet. "You're coming home?! Like really home?!" He questions excitedly. Billy's already halfway into planning mode. "We have to do a welcome-back breakfast. Wait, no, brunch. Brunch is fancier. And we can use the good mugs!"

I laugh, the real kind, as they both launch themselves into my arms, hugging me with as much force as they dare. "I missed you guys," I murmur into their hair. "We missed you more," Tommy says without hesitation, grinning up at me.

Across the room, I catch sight of Nat and Wanda. They're not saying anything. Not pushing their way into the moment. But I can see it on their faces, the way Wanda's lips tremble just slightly, the way Nat's arms remain crossed tightly over her chest like she's holding herself together by sheer force of will. They're relieved. Genuinely relieved. And they're holding back. For me. It means more than I know how to say.

Still... as the twins start rattling off pancake toppings and "who gets to sit next to Y/n at the table," a familiar flutter of anxiety flickers to life in my chest. I'm going home. To the apartment I once called mine. The home that now feels half-foreign and half-frozen in time. To Nat's watchful eyes and Wanda's worry-laced hovering. I know they love me. I believe that now, at least a little. But I don't know if I'm ready to live under that roof again. To be seen that closely. To be reminded of everything that fractured before I ended up in this hospital bed.

Kate must sense the shift in my energy. Her hand closes around mine, steady and warm. "You're not doing this alone." She murmurs. Before I can answer, Yelena slides in from the other side, arms folded but her eyes fierce. "I will be checking on you. Every day." She promises. Kate smirks. "We've got it covered."

"I'm serious," Yelena adds. "If they hover, I will stare them down until they leave the room. If they make too much soup, I'll eat it out of spite." She says with a straight face. Kate leans in toward me, her voice barely a whisper. "She will. I've seen her do it." She chuckles.

"I don't need babysitters." I murmur, but there's no real heat in my voice. Yelena raises a brow. "Good. Then we're just company." She corrects. "Support." Kate adds. I glance between them, and something loosens in my chest. Maybe I can go home. Because this time, I'm not going back alone.

The room is quieter now, but it still glows with the remnants of laughter and light. Nat and Wanda remain in the background, not imposing, not forcing. They're waiting. Not for forgiveness but for me. And I think that matters most of all.

The soft hum of conversation has tapered into scattered goodbyes, quiet laughter, and the rustle of gift bags being gathered. The scent of vanilla frosting still lingers in the air, mingling with the sterile but oddly comforting smell of hospital-grade fabric softener.

I sit at the edge of the bed now, legs dangling over the side, blanket wrapped loosely around my shoulders as Kate helps me tuck away a few of the smaller gifts into a bag. Most of the guests have left. The noise has died down to a gentle murmur. It's just us now, me, Kate, Yelena, my moms, and the twins, who have passed out on a beanbag in the corner under a pile of discarded wrapping paper.

Kate shifts beside me, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Alright, Bishop Security detail clocking out," she says, offering a playful two-finger salute. I chuckle at her goofiness, and I can't hide the flutter to my heart. "But I'll be back tomorrow. Bright and early. Probably with coffee and really bad jokes."

"Looking forward to it," I reply, trying to keep my voice light, though a quiet kind of sadness starts settling in my chest. I don't want the day to end. Not yet. Not when it finally felt like everything was okay. Kate seems to sense it. She steps closer, her smile softening as her eyes search mine.

"Hey." she says, gently brushing a stray hair from my face, her fingers lingering near my cheek. "You did good today." I huff a small laugh. "I didn't do much." I sigh. "Still," she says, her voice quieter now. "You let yourself have today. That matters." She points out.

She leans in slowly, giving me time, and I meet her halfway. The kiss is brief, gentle, warm, a promise wrapped in quiet goodbye, but it anchors something deep in me. It's the kind of kiss that doesn't demand anything. It just reminds me I'm not alone.

When she pulls back, we're both smiling. But of course, nothing in my life happens without some form of chaos. "I swear to god, Bishop," Yelena calls from the doorway, arms crossed and smirking, "if you break her heart, I will personally staple your arrows together and feed them to you." Kate blinks a flash of fear in her eyes, then she grins. "Creative." She shrugs, trying to play it cool. "I'm Russian. We invent new ways to threaten people daily."

I burst into laughter, chest-shaking laughter that makes me wince slightly, but I don't care. It's worth it. Kate just shrugs like it's part of the deal, then throws me a wink before heading for the door. "Sleep, okay?" she calls back. "I will." I say, holding her gaze a second longer. "See you tomorrow."

Once she and Yelena slip out, the room falls into a softer stillness. The kind that lingers when the lights have dimmed and the buzz of the day begins to fade. Mama, Nat, steps forward first, arms crossed but eyes gentle. "She seems nice," she says, voice casual, but the comment lingers in the air.

I turn to look at her, studying her face for any sign of disapproval. But it's not there. Her expression is sincere, measured, and, if I'm reading it right, curiously fond. "She is." I reply, testing the waters.

Mom then joins us, walking up beside Nat with a little nod of agreement. "She's kind. Confident. I like her. I'm excited to see more of her around the house." I blink at her, surprised. Mom has always been the more intuitive of the two, more emotionally open, but still. The ease in her voice, the warmth, it catches me off guard.

"You're not going to interrogate her?" I ask, only half-teasing. "Only a little," Nat says dryly, but there's no edge to it. Just a trace of the protectiveness I used to crave from her, back when I didn't think I deserved it.

For a beat, none of us speak. They stay near, not hovering, not pressing in. Just... present. And for the first time in a long time, it doesn't feel suffocating. I ease myself back onto the bed, wincing slightly at the pull in my side. The hospital room is quieter now, dimmer. The balloons have started to droop, and the party glow is beginning to flicker out.

My eyes flick to the stack of gifts beside me. Clint's arrows, Mom's books, Mama's weapons. Kate's bracelet still rests gently against my wrist, glinting faintly under the soft lamplight. Today was a good day.

But now that it's over, a gnawing restlessness settles in my chest. Tomorrow, I go home. The word tastes foreign in my mouth. Home. That apartment. That space full of memories, some good, some aching like bruises not fully healed. I can already see the way they'll watch me. The soft questions. The hovering. The awkward silences when no one knows what to say. And I'm not sure I'm ready for it. But I'll go. Because something inside me, faint and fragile, wants to try. And I also know it have no other choice.

The quiet stretches long now, the day finally unwinding. Wanda kisses my forehead gently before retreating to gather the twins. Nat lingers just a moment longer, eyes sweeping over me like she's committing this version of me to memory. "Sleep well dekta. I love you." She says quietly, not making a fuss or waiting for a response. She simply leans in and presses a soft kiss to my head and joins Mom with carrying a sleeping Tommy out of the room.

I'm left alone with the hum of machines, the echo of laughter still clinging to the walls, and the distant warmth of Kate's goodbye on my lips. And for the first time in a long time, I let the silence hold me. Tomorrow begins something new. Maybe hard. But maybe good, too. And maybe that's enough.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute-blog @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality @elle161989 @jusnough @nessheartnat @yelldontwhisper

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff #fanfic #mcu #avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x daughter #avengers #romanoff #maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x daughter

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dolceaspidenera · 16 hours ago

Text

Saw this and had to reblog to spread some love and appreciation for all the fics I stumbled upon that brought me some kind of comfort.

@surlydragon you already know it, but your series "In which Sylus..." is for me THE comfort fic. I never felt more seen and emotionally validated in my life. The way you voiced MC and the way you write Sylus taking care of her is incredibly comforting. Their dynamic and the way they love each other is beautiful. Seeing someone who is willing to put the work in, who is gentle and patient and loves you despite the hurt, despite the unlovable parts of yourself that still need healing is one of the most comforting things about your story. You have really written something important, I hope you know it and remember it every time you have doubts about whether or not you should share your stories (ultimately it will always be your decision but I wanted to let you know without a doubt that your writing is very appreciated and also I'm happy it made me "meet" a wonderful person, our conversations always bring me a smile).

@senualothbrok your stories about Aurora's healing journey (Progress and Promise) really left an impression. I still find myself thinking about them, and I really appreciate you for putting such vulnerable work out there. Plus, I think it was thanks to those stories that we really started talking, so one more reason to think back fondly on them.

@iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia your headcanons have brought me so much comfort and so many smiles. Thank you for everything you've written over the years. I have my personal favourites but I enjoyed seeing each and every one of your posts (Julian will always have a special place in my heart).

@linkons-most-wanted I think What The Cat Dragged In is by defenition the most comfort fic that could be made, and it found me on a day I really needed it. Also Double the Birthday, Double the Fun is another one of your works that somehow I find very comforting, and seeing the twins happy and being spoiled is always fantastic, they deserve it. Also, I have no idea what is wrong with my brain chemistry, but this line right here, "Sylus steps up quietly behind me, looping a hand around my waist and running a thumb softly over my ribs" makes me melt every time I read it. It's just those little gestures and body language that convey reassurance and closeness, a silent way of showing affection, of saying "I'm here," you know? Ugh, my heart.

@shenanigans-and-imagines, I Want It All was my very first BG3 fan fic I ever read so it definitely has a special place. Also, the ace!Tav x Astarion pairing was a breath of fresh air in the fandom climate at the time. Thank you for the positive and very empathetic ace rep.

@senseandaccountability, Blaze Me A Sun is one of my favourite fics ever. I just love the way you write, it inspired me to try writing something for myself, and I wish I had even 10% of your talent. You perfectly captured so many of the themes that are so important to me in bg3, especially when it comes to Astarion's story, what it means to live with trauma and scars, knowing that you didn't deserved it but it happened anyway, and the years you lost you’ll never get back, and yet life is still full of beauty and hope and you should still be kind to others. And then there are the developing feelings between him and Elnys, and what it feels like to find someone who actually sees you. Thank you for your incredibly touching prose and for addressing difficult themes with the care they deserve.

my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day

#spreading positivity #fan fiction #writing #txt post

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pomefioredove · 17 hours ago

Note

Hi, there! For the Christmas event, can I have a sugar cookie, #7, with frosting and chocolate drizzle, please? Thanks!

of course! and thank you for your patience

order #7, sugar with frosting, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the temperature on tuesdays

summary: a ramshackle mishap forces you to stay with your benevolent ex tropes: only one bed, exes to lovers characters: trey additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, short and sweet

Nightmare.

Nightmare, nightmare, hellworld. Hell. This is hell. You're in it.

As if your pitiful life couldn't get any worse. Wretched, wretched world, curse it all!

If you were Malleus Draconia, Ramshackle- no, the entire school would be flooded, frozen over, and on fire all at once.

Luckily for everyone, you're just you. Silly, little you. In your silly little dorm, doing your silly little homework for your silly little classes (that are actually terribly difficult). No magic, no special talents, nothing interesting about you, except the novelty of being normal.

And then a silly little- no, no, a seriously large storm had uprooted a seriously large tree, which was now in your living room.

Nothing could be done until morning, if anything could be done at all.

Sometimes, you wish that nothing had changed.

"Sorry, sorry again. We're so sorry," Deuce repeats, as if hearing it a thirtieth time will suddenly change your mind.

Ace rolls his eyes and tosses you a pillow. "Dude, would you can it? The last thing we need is Mr. Curfew to descend upon us like the plague,"

Riddle. It figures that your lousy friends hadn't bothered to tell the housewarden about the situation at hand.

Deuce catches your cold stare. "We didn't want to wake him,"

"Yeah, he turns into a regular ticking time-bomb when he's woken from his nappies,"

You roll your eyes at the two. You're almost sure you'd rather wake Riddle and incur his wrath than stand out here all night.

"It's not weird," Ace insists. "Trey's a nice guy. He'd do this for anyone!"

"Just don't let him look at your teeth too closely," Deuce mutters.

You still don't move. Your feet stay firmly on the cold floor, your arms wrapped around yourself in a comforting embrace. You'd almost prefer to take your chances with frostbite.

It's not as if Trey is some terrible person. It's not as if your relationship was toxic or painful or even that eventful at all.

It's just... the awkwardness. The forced smiles, the fleeting conversation, the act you two put up to make it seem like you've gone back to being friends.

It makes things easier for everyone... except for you.

Sometimes, you really wish that nothing had changed.

"I don't wanna," you pout, almost like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum.

Ace and Deuce sigh. "It's not like it's just gonna be you guys. Trey has roomies,"

"It's not fair that Grim gets you guys, and I have to-"

"It's not like I'm jumping for joy, either," Ace snaps. "But he fits on the bed and you don't. Trey's bed is bigger. You'll like it in there."

You glare, but Ace doesn't give in. After a few seconds of silence, hoping they'll finally let you stay with them, you sigh. Your feet are starting to freeze over, anyway.

His room still smells like vanilla.

There's some comfort in knowing that some things never do change. Trey will always smell like vanilla and flour, he'll always look cute without his glasses, and his bed will always be neatly made, even with two people in it.

"Comfortable?" he whispers, tucking the blankets around your shivering body. "Sorry it's so cold. There's a rule..."

Figures. You only shudder in response. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Write him a love sonnet about how nice he is? Bake him a cake to thank him?

Obviously not. He's the baker. You're just... you.

"You look like you're freezing to death," he murmurs. "Here, let me..."

If you weren't so damn cold, and tired, and pissed at Ace and Deuce, you might have bitten his hand like a wild animal. But, damn it, if you aren't a wild animal in need of some warmth. You think you wouldn't mind so much if you were scooped up in a cardboard box and driven to a rehabilitation center.

Trey tucks you into his side, his arm around your shoulders and your head on his chest. He's surprisingly warm- you suppose he must be used to Riddle's strictness about the temperature on Tuesdays.

You're almost mad at him. How dare he be so sweet and thoughtful and perfect... and... and all boyfriendy.

"Good night," he whispers, patting your head. The movement is soothing, in its way.

You must never speak of this again.

"Good night," you murmur back, losing yourself to his warmth as if nothing had really changed at all.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #queued

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paulyenvol6 · 7 hours ago

Text

Made To Take It

Jackson!Joel x female!reader

Part two to this smutty one shot I wrote. Hope you enjoy it :)

Contains: oral (f receiving), fluff, dom!Joel, subby and needy reader, lots of aftercare and sweetness, protective and caring Joel, praise, dirty talk, begging, reader is literally too tired to hold herself up, use of names like princess/babygirl, angst, crying, reader has pubic hair

Wordcount: 4,677

Masterlist

The words hadn't fully reached you.

You had heard them, but weren't entirely aware of their content which was why you flinched in surprise when Joel cupped your mound and pressed his palm against your stubby hair.

"Hey there, 'lil one," he smiled, his eyes soft and his lips pursed and then slid a hand around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"Joel," you mumbled and turned your head to the side so you faced him.

"Yeah… Tell me how you're feelin'… Tell me what ya need."

A coiling heat spread through your lower belly, the cruel reminder that you hadn't finished yet and as his words to Tommy hadn't penetrated the cloudiness of your mind, you had no reason to believe that it would change any time soon. Angry and frustrated tears welled in your eyes and glistened on your lashes and although you were beyond tired and exhausted, all you could think about right now was finishing.

"Please… Please I need to cum, fuck… You were mean not lettin' me cum too," you complained and allowed the tears to roll down your face as you were gripped by a defiant and desperate rage that was only enhanced by your tiredness. You simply didn't care about anything, but the desires of your body and were too exhausted to restrain yourself.

You had broken eye contact, your lips forming a pout while Joel adjusted himself next to you and then took hold of the side of your face with a sigh, forcing you to look up to him.

"I'm gonna let ya cum, angel. If you play by my rules."

He teasingly circled your entrance, dipping two fingers in, but not giving you quite the satisfaction yet which frustrated you so much, part of you wished he would just stop and you could make yourself cum on your own fingers. But then you wouldn't see his beautiful face anymore and wouldn't enjoy the pleasure of hearing his arousing voice, and you didn't even want to start with his thick fingers. You knew how well he was capable of making you feel, he had proven that earlier when he had toyed with your clit. All you had to do was make him give in to you instead of teasing you.

"I'm even thinkin' about goin' down on ya," Joel continued, pressing his palm against you, missing your clit by inches. You were sure he was torturing you on purpose.

"Maybe I'm gonna eat your sweet 'lil pussy 'cause you've been such a good girl earlier, but I'm only gonna do it if you behave yourself. If you do as I say an' shut up when I tell you to an' don't squirm. You understand me?"

"Yes Joel," you replied, your voice thick with tension because you were scared to make one wrong move. The prospect of him diving between your legs turned you on so much, your head began to spin and your surroundings became indistinct.

Joel clearly noticed your reaction and chuckled. "Good."

He was about to crawl to kneel between your legs, but before he could you reached out to touch his chest and stopped him.

"Please… Can I clean myself first," you asked, no, rather whined and Joel almost broke at your big doe eyes. He didn't though.

"No. I'll get you cleaned up afterwards. Look way too pretty like this."

Discontentment surfaced on your face and for a brief moment he wished he had accepted Tommy's offer to assist in making you cum because his brother would have been quick to put you in your place. Joel could do it too when it really mattered, but he had to admit that Tommy was better and stricter than he was, even if that wasn’t always how he came across to others.

"Don't even start with that pout o'yours. I told ya, you can be lucky I'm gonna make you finish and not just throw you outta the house an' join my brother."

You nodded and averted your gaze which Joel considered a sign that you had yielded and he decided to proceeded with his initial plan. He settled between your legs, sensing how weak and tired you must be when he parted your lifeless legs and then put a hand on your hip. You truly were a sight for the eye, covered in cum and tears, your hair messy and sweat reflecting the dim light on almost every part of your body. You were a mess, but the kind Joel more than welcomed.

You didn't react when Joel crawled down your body, your head still thrown to the side, but he made a mental note to change that soon. Once his head was on the same height as your pussy, his face hovering right above your mound, he pinned down your knees so you couldn't close your legs around him and glanced up to you.

"Eyes on me. I didn't think I'd have to remind ya, babygirl."

Your eyes snapped open at his words so he knew he hadn't lost every respect and dominance now that his brother was gone. You were still able to obey him and he silently triumphed. Joel rewarded you by rubbing over your inner thigh and then lowered his face to your pussy, pressing a slow, but forceful and sensual kiss to your clit.

Your first reaction was resistance, your body overstimulated and swollen after hours of teasing and taunting so you arched under him and let out a heart-breaking sob.

"Shhhh," Joel cooed you, his grip on your hips tight and firm so you couldn't jolt away.

"You're gonna like it. Gonna like what I'm doin', just lemme go on, alright? Your 'lil clit's gonna enjoy it, I promise."

Joel almost wanted to ask if you had never been eaten out before based on your reaction but perhaps it was just your exhausted and overwhelmed body speaking, which surely yearned for a break after the way Tommy and him had wrecked you. Joel carefully started to kitten-lick your bundle of nerves and soon your cries actually turned into quiet moans and a little later your hands enclosed around the sheets, your lips parted as your breath hitched in your throat and your body trembled in anticipation. You poor girl…

A twisted part of him found pleasure in seeing you like this, wrecked, used and completely at his mercy. Your beautiful body so wonderfully marked and Tommy and his doings so clearly visible with a single glimpse at your tits and face. It filled him with sheer pride and fulfillment.

But of course you were now at a point where you truly deserved to reach your high as well and so Joel didn't waste much time teasing you and instead went straight to work, sucking your throbbing clit in his mouth and rubbing over the underside with the tip of his tongue, a technique he had perfected over the years and that had a satisfactory effect on you as well.

Your sleepy body did things you yourself hadn't believed it to be capable of, your back arching from the mattress, your toes curling and digging into the bed and your hips shifting when he flicked your clit to the side. When he additionally worked two fingers inside of you, your eyes rolled back and you reached for him with your hands without really knowing what you wanted. Joel seemed to though, and grabbed them with one large hand, pinning them down on top of your stomach while his other kept you wide open for him.

"That's a good girl…," Joel growled, the vibrations transferring over to your body and making a shiver run down your back where new sweat gathered.

"You're gonna cum for me, mhm? Your poor pussy needs it so badly, right?"

He curled his fingers at his words and you rejoiced, your teeth sinking down hard on your bottom lip while you repeatedly blinked, trying to catch up to the things he was making you feel.

"Please," you cried and Joel frowned seeing new tears spill from the corner of your eyes.

"Whatcha need, pretty girl…," he whispered trying to make his voice sound as soft as possible and ran his thumb over your knuckles in fear of that he was doing something you didn't like.

"Need to cum, please… Please Joel, I…"

You didn't end the sentence but Joel had a pretty strong idea of what you were going to say so with a grin, he connected his mouth with your pearl again while simultaneously curling his fingers again to hit that spongy spot that was hidden so deep inside of you and surely was never found by your dumb little boyfriends. Joel was motivated by the way your body flexed, feeling sure about the fact that you were close to cumming and glided over the sensitive underside of your clit over and over again, savouring your salty taste on his tongue and occasionally blowing some air over the nub which made you shiver every time.

"Oh my sweet girl… You need it that badly, huh? Turned you on so much suckin' our dicks, hm?" he whispered when you buckled up your hips, your hands moving under his grasp.

"Sh shh… Just like that, stay still for me," Joel purred and sucked your clit into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he applied pressure to the sensitive little bud.

When he looked up to you again, noticing how your eyes watered a crease appeared between his brow and he raised his head from your pussy for a moment to check in with you. He did all of this for you – well, not entirely, but in its core, yes – so he wanted you to feel good of course.

"What's wrong, babygirl?" he asked with a voice as soft and gentle as a blow of the wind.

"You in pain? Is it too much for you, do you want me to stop?"

"No," you whimpered and pulled your hands back under his grip which made him finally release them so that you could wipe over your eyes.

"Don't stop, Joel, please…," you sobbed, your body trembling and your legs trapping him between your legs, but now that Joel intended to take care of you rather than use you for his pleasure like the Miller brothers had done earlier, he knew that he would feel bad if he continued without paying attention to your crying.

"Why you cryin' mhm? You feel sad or – or somethin' wrong?"

If only you were able to answer him. You didn't know why the tears had started streaming down your cheeks again, but now that they did you felt awful and wanted them to stop as quickly as they had come. You enjoyed Joel's touch so much and didn't want him to think that he was doing something wrong. And what you definitely didn't want was for him to stop.

"N-No," you whimpered and reached down to grab his locks. "Please. Please, go on, Joel, I need it. I don't know why m'cryin', everything's fine, I swear."

Part of you couldn't believe that this was the same man that had split you open on his cock half an hour ago and had laughed at your pathetic yelps with his brother. You had been able to sense a certain tenderness about him back then too, but now the only thing he seemed to care about was your well-being and as much as you had come to enjoy their rough treatment, you were also able to appreciate Joel's kindness and the way he took care of you. Half an hour ago you didn't have to do anything except stay still and leave all of your body parts available while the two men wrecked and used you for their liking. Now, you also felt like you didn't have to do anything, but that was because Joel was here to keep you safe and protected while giving you the most thrilling kind of pleasure and apparently that was his priority above everything else.

"You sure?" he asked, still not giving in although you pressed his head down – to be fair, your hands couldn't apply a lot of force – and gave you a stern look.

"Yes. Please, Joel, I promise, I want it."

His eyes wandered over your face from one ear to the other like he would be able to find the source of the tears somewhere in your expression, but then lowered his head, said nothing more and went straight back to work with the same passion as before.

The two fingers that were snug inside of you started to move again, the tips tapping against your g-spot while his lips and tongue stimulated your clit. He tried something new now, gently taking the swollen nub between his teeth with the hope that you were down for pleasure that bordered on a little bit of pain and luckily the squeal seemed to be caused by joy rather than fear.

Joel's forehead wrinkled as he looked up to you, his chest tightening at your parted lips and your glowing skin. Your face radiated heat and lust as well as sheer joy and delight about what he was doing to you and Joel couldn't have been more proud. When your hands in his hair tightened, your nails leaving a sting in his scalp, he growled lowly in his throat and added a third finger. You whinced, rocking your center against his face and felt like the world around you was about to collaps.

"Joel, I think… Ughh fuck, I think I'm close," you whimpered and were surprised by the fact that the words were relatively understandable.

"I know, babygirl," he hummed, palming your hipbone in a soothing manner while he put even more effort into circling your clit.

It was almost a possessive action, using his lips and tongue on you like he wanted to prove to you that no one would be as good as him and something made you believe that it perhaps was the truth. How would anyone be able to top this? How would anyone be able to make you see stars the way Joel did right now? How could a tongue feel warmer and more endearing than his? How could you ever move on from this? But these were all questions you could ask yourself at a later time because right now you were focused on your breathing and not fainting. The air in the room was hot and stuffy, your body exhausted and dehydrated and your head spinned with arousal.

"Come for me, little one…," Joel whispered and also picked up the speed with which he pressed against the spongy spot deep inside of you.

"C'mon… Soak my chin, I know you want it so bad."

And then you finally came and it was one of the most heavenly experiences of your life. Heat spread in your tummy, but now it wasn't the uncomfortable and overstimulating kind, but one that hugged and embraced you like a warm blanket or warm water that was streaming down your tummy. Your thighs tingled and prickled and over all it just felt like a giant weight was dropping of your heart and all you could do was stare at Joel between your legs with your mouth open while the pleasure just wouldn't fade.

"Fuck. Joel, fuck…," you cried and arched on the bed, your head thrown back although the view of his gorgeous face between your legs had been captivating. His eyes were so dark, you couldn't distinct between his pupils and iris, his lips and chin covered with your wetness and his brow sweaty like eating your pussy was an sporting competition.

"There ya fuckin' go…," Joel growled and slapped your outter thigh roughly, licking a strip from your hole up to your clit to savour your juices and then raising his face to take a look at you. And god, what he saw made him want to laugh and sigh equally. Your eyes were closed, your breathing heavy, but evenly, but what was the main reason for the way his heart fluttered was the slight pout on your lips.

"Oh jesus…," Joel chuckled to himself and was fast to crawl up to you, your lids flinching when his weight pressed you into the bed. He was careful though, resting most of his body weight on the knee between your legs and his elbows he propped himself on as he hovered over you.

"Look at me, sweet girl," he demanded and lifted the corner of his mouth as you didn't react at all.

"C'mon, baby, needa make sure that you're good."

He cupped your chin, gently tilting your head and then your lashes moved and you looked up to him through tired and hazy eyes. A soft cry left your throat and Joel couldn't help himself and pursed his lips while trying to process the adorable picture. You were so sweet, he would have dived right back between your thighs to give you one high after the other if he hadn't had so much empathy with you and your fucked-out body.

"Oh my… Someone's gotten all sleep, right?" he murmured and grabbed the side of your face to run his thumb over your cheekbone.

"C'mon, open your eyes for me, love. You can go to sleep soon, just needa check up on ya 'n' then we're gonna get ya cleaned an' then you're gonna eat 'n' drink somethin'."

The protesting whine was more than clear, but Joel remained uncompromising and squeezed your bicep.

"Babygirl…," he said softly, but with a slight warning. "C'mon, now. I'll take care of ya, alright? Gonna carry you to the bathroom and clean ya up, but you need to cooperate."

He melted at your hands coming up to grasp his thumb and leaned in to kiss your hairline, the stubby beard tickling your skin and making you shift.

"S'okay… I'm gonna take care of ya, don't ya worry…"

You whined again, but this time it was a sound of satisfaction, like a cat purring at the way it was gently petted.

"Yeah, s'right… You did so well, baby. So goddamn well for us… You deserve to get some rest now. S'not gonna take long, I promise."

The grip around his thumb tightened and it took everything in Joel not to just roll of you to lay next to you, pull you snug against him and cuddle you until the both of you were sound asleep. He would have loved to fall asleep with the sound of your sweet moans in his ears and your scent in his nose, but before this would even just become a prospect, he had to clean up the mess on your face, your tits and between your thighs and then make sure that you would drink enough water.

Unwillingly Joel rolled off you, a sigh catching in his throat when you whimpered in frustration and his own body instantly regretting the loss of contact. You still silently cried when Joel slid a hand around your shoulders and one under your knees and lifted you in the air, but when you realised what he was doing, you buried your face in the curve of his neck and nudged your nose against his collarbone which made his mouth curl.

"I know, I know…," he whispered and carefully carried you into the bathroom right next to Tommy's bedroom, turning on the light switch with his elbow and then helplessly searching the room for a place where he could put you down.

You definitely didn't have the strength to hold yourself up if he made you sit on the edge of the bathtub so he chose to lower you onto the carpet that certainly wasn't as comfortable as the bed, but fortunately was quite fluffy and cosy. He moved it to the bathtub with his foot and then slowly put you down, his hand holding the back of your head so you wouldn't bump it against the edge of the tub. You squealed again, your hands immediately searching for his body once his hands had left you and Joel kneeled next to you to kiss the top of your head. You were sitting on the carpet now, your back resting against the bathtub wall and your eyes half-closed.

"I'm right here. Not gonna leave you."

As quickly as possible he grabbed a towel from a cupboard near-by and wettened it while making sure the water from the tap wasn't too cold, but not too hot either. Then Joel returned to his position next to you and placed a hand on your knee.

"Open your legs, alright? I promise I'm gonna be gentle."

Your eyelids quivered, a sign that you had understood him and then parted your legs so that Joel could slip the cloth between them and rub over the insides of your thighs.

"Good girl…," he praised you, thinking that you might need the encouragement right now and then continued to clean you up with the towel and return to the washbasin every now and then to wash it until he was finished with your pussy. He had noticed your squirms from time to time, your clit overstimulated and swollen after the intense night so it was natural that your body rejected the touch of the rough fabric, but Joel had talked you through it and now that he was done with your most sensitive part he rewarded you with a kiss on your cheek right next to your ear.

"See? Wasn't that bad, was it?"

You gave him a nod and put your hand above his that held your head.

"Mhmm," you made and then finally glanced up to him again, your eyes tired, but at least you were able to focus on him.

"Good girl… Don't forget to breathe, mhm?"

"Yes, Joel," you even managed to reply and when Joel briefly pressed your head to his chest it was with pride.

"Yeah, you're being such a perfect girl for me… Now lay back, alright? Gonna clean your tits and face now. It's gonna be even less uncomfortable, babygirl."

With a groan Joel rose to his feet and headed to the washbasin again to wash off the remains of your body fluids and continue to clean the rest of your body. Your feverish skin made him think that you might prefer a cooling touch over the warm towel so this time he soaked it with slightly colder water. Then he knelt down next to you once more and began gently stroking your tits where Tommy's cum had hardened and left a crumbly trail which Joel carefully removed.

You were calm under his touch, your breathing lulled into a soothing cadence and your body completely pliant and welcoming which once again made the burning coil in his stomach revive. Next up on his list was your face which he was even more careful and precise with when he rubbed over your skin and neck. Your pretty eyes were on him at all times and although they looked exhausted and swollen Joel appreciated that you made the effort to pry them open just so that he knew you were still with him. Perhaps you even enjoyed the view, Joel thought with a crooked smirk which you were too tired to register.

"I'll be done soon. We made quite the mess, sweetheart. But you took it so goddamn well, what were we supposed to do?"

There was no reaction except for the the twitch of the corner of your mouth but it might have been caused by the washcloth that was now cleaning your cheeks, still covered with remains of your tears and Tommy's spit.

"But you still look so pretty, babygirl. Always so pretty for us…," Joel whispered and then drew back the cloth, finished with his business now.

"I'm done. Do ya need to pee or do ya want me to carry you back to bed?" Joel asked over his shoulder while carelessly throwing the towel over the edge of the tub.

"To the bed," you replied without hesitation, already stretching your arms longingly towards him.

"Alright. Whatever you want, baby."

You smacked your lips, your eyes softly closing and your upper lashes touching your waterline like feathers lightly falling to the ground as Joel glided one arm under your knees again and the other tightly wrapping around your upper back.

"There we go…," he mumbled while lifting you into the air and then carrying you the few steps back to the bed where he gently lay you down on your back. You had pressed your face against his torso again with the hope that this time the moment might last longer, but you were disappointed again and whined in disapproval at the loss of contact.

"Joel," you whimpered, your heavy eyelids lifting, but then you felt a large hand on your bare shoulder.

"I know. I'll be right there. Just gonna tug you in real quick so you won't get cold later."

Now that was something you could settle with so you remained quiet while Joel pulled the blanket over your frame, ensuring the hem touched you right under your chin. You gave him a sweet smile, your eyes following him like you feared he would vanish if you didn't pay close attention, but fortunately he kept his promise and the next thing he did was slipping underneath the covers right next to you. A muffled cry of sheer joy and satisfaction left your throat and you were quick to crawl to him, a new bubbling energy in your tummy giving you the strength to nestle against his chest, your hands clenching in fists that rested on his stomach.

"You alright?" Joel growled and moved an arm around your shoulders to keep you close against his broad body.

"Yes. But please stay. Don't wanna do anythin' else."

He gave you a nod that you couldn't see but he hoped you might feel and then leaned in to kiss your brow.

"Fine. Even though you really need some water…"

Your head that rested on his collarbone shook in disagreement, your hands possessively pressing down on his ribs to prevent him from leaving.

"No. Joel, please… I just wanna stay like this…"

He lowly chuckled, the vibrations prickling on your skin and your stomach fluttering with nerves while you reflexively had to smile at the happiness and peacefulness he radiated.

"Okay. But if you wake up feelin' thirsty or hungry or if you're feelin' uncomfortable in any way, you wake me up. I'll get you anythin' you need. Even if it's just a glass of water."

Although you felt that with him at your side, there was nothing you could possibly be missing, you nodded.

"Promise me," Joel insisted, his gaze on you to figure out if his words had reached you and his forehead wrinkled.

"Yes. I promise."

He pursed his lips, still in doubt about whether it was wise to give in, but when you crouched against his chest, your fingertips drawing patterns across his torso his mind went blank and there was no space left for any concerns or worries.

In fact, there was no space left in his head for anything except you. He forgot about what he had told Tommy about the two of you joining him downstairs as soon as he had cleaned you up. He forgot about his own rumbling stomach. He forgot about the mental note he had made to himself earlier to make you some tea as soon as he was done with you in the bathroom to help you with your sore throat.

Now, his thoughts were consumed by you, your plump lips, your glowing face and your little hands that felt so firm and determined in your need to make him stay right here, it made his pulse quicken.

"Sleep well, princess," Joel whispered into the darkness and heard you swallow.

"Goodnight, Joel."

He gently stroked the small of your back and it was not just an affectionate and soothing gesture, but also the promise that he would stay here with you for as long as you needed him to.

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cintasvel · 19 hours ago

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i am trying to process my feelings about vel, cinta and velcinta because for a long time i didn't even think we'd get featured queer characters in star wars. i remember feeling completely disillusioned by the rise of skywalker same-sex kiss because it felt so out of touch to celebrate the bare minimum, or as i like to put it, crumbs. it didn't bring me joy.

when andor s1 happened, i was so overwhelmingly surprised to see vel and cinta as an actual couple. i genuinely could not believe it. the 'blanket' line really threw me and, after not expecting anything from star wars when it came to queerness, i was so flabbergasted to see genuine love and yearning between vel and cinta. like, it's bonkers to me that some people thought that relationship was remotely one-sided, but i've learned that many people will not give a sapphic couple the time and attention they deserve so i move past that.

throughout the wait for s2, i was so excited to see how vel and cinta's relationship would develop. how cinta's way of thinking would be challenged majorly, and what that would mean for the both of them. i think it's this waiting and hoping for better, for seeing how well conveyed vel and cinta's relationship was in s1, was ultimately what led me to feeling so betrayed with what happened instead. i don't think i'll ever forgive or not resent the writing decisions that led to cinta not being considered a character worth exploring. or, worse, only used as a tool to bring vel pain. i think, personally, cinta deserved to be more than just a lesson for vel to learn from. but that's neither here nor there.

ultimately, i'm so happy vel and cinta even exist. and i realize, even as i'm writing this, that to some velcinta will always be crumbs and i get it to a certain extent. because at the moment the wound feels so incredibly fresh and so undeserved and senseless and downright cruel. but for me, velcinta was not crumbs and their relationship will always mean the absolute world to me. the love story between a stone cold warrior who chooses love in the end and a rich girl who abandoned her life of privilege to become a rebel will always matter to me. i didn't think we've ever get it. i wish it hadn't been taken away and effectively shot out back by creators who, to be frank, simply don't get the intersection between gender, sexuality and revolution. but just because it's effectively 'ended', doesn't mean it stops mattering.

as an aside: it is also a very humble reminder for me that i should seek intersectional media from non-white male creators far more often than i already do. it won't always stop disappointment as big as this from happening, but i at least know i won't feel incredibly punked by it as i have with andor season 2.

anyway. velcinta forever i love my space lesbians <3

#andor critical #velcinta #vel sartha #cinta kaz #aimee chats #this is a reminder to me to actually catch up with the high republic and read dr aphra #i am clearly missing out!!!!#anyway love you velcinta you will forever mean everything to me and tony gilroy cannot take that away from me <3 #and like big up to varada sethu and faye marsay because if i was in a loving velcinta competition and they showed up #i'd be SMOKED #i also just totally think i should not have watched this show so soon after my mom died but that is a personal thing so #anyway #sorry to vent in tags i am going through things lmao #overtagging because i feel bad but also velcinta fans are all so sweet i do genuinely have fondness for every velcinta fan i meet #ok shutting up!!!

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cherryblossms · 1 day ago

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he should have known better than to think the conversation about darius was over, especially when he was the one to bring the other man up to begin with. but it still surprised him that angel immediately offered darius up to help install the camera. garam's brows lifted as held his breath, though only for a moment before he started nodding his head. "oh, is he handy like that?" lord knows garam wouldn't have been able to do it. his handiness came in through technology, but not that kind of installation. he definitely wasn't a builder but he'd be able to set up whatever accounts, connect the device to their wifi, and give access to both of their phones. "if you think he can, definitely ask him if he's willing to do this for us. last thing we need is me screwing it up. i'd likely end up breaking something or putting a bunch of little holes in the wall trying to get it in place." garam knew he couldn't stop the two of them from being friends nor would he ever ask that of angel, he'd just have to get over any sort of discomfort he had in regards to darius sooner than expected. "we should probably go with a smaller one, too. if you-know-who tries to come over ever, i don't want him acting all fake nicey-nice because an obvious, overly-jumbo camera is watching him. i'd rather he act on impulse so we'd have physical proof he's dangerous." even if that meant putting himself at risk. he let out a soft, childish giggle before repeating, "my room," as he looked down to the ground. even though he knew his staying with angel was a temporary situation, that it'd still feel like a guest room because it didn't house his own furniture nor decorations, having angel refer it as such made not only his cheeks flush but his ears and the back of his neck as well. garam pulled his phone from his pocket so he could get a head start on ordering the doorbell camera along with other things he would need, so he wouldn't have to be holed up for too long, only to be bombarded with dozens of texts and missed calls when he opened his phone up. he'd completely forgotten to take it off silent, granted he never thought it would have been a bad thing to leave it on. and, of course, they were all from the same person. the man he wished to avoid for the rest of his life; his ex. it made garam question what exactly was going on. axel was supposed to be at work, he wouldn't have had the time nor could he sneak away to try to contact him. he figured that's why axel's brother was there, to keep an eye on garam and angel and act as a makeshift spy where axel couldn't be. so where did all this free time to repeatedly reach out to garam come from? he looked down to see his hand enclosed with angel's, just that small squeeze being enough to calm the anxiety that starting creeping into his chest. when he looked back up to angel, he flashed a small smile— much more sincere than the previous. "i'd really like to go back home." he tried not to sound as worried as he was, he didn't want to give angel anything to worry himself over with, but it was hard to keep it all hidden. no amount of smiling could disguise how he truly felt and he hadn't even read any of the texts yet. garam quickly laced their fingers together, not waiting for angel to take the lead as he began tugging at the taller man. he lead them through seas of people, only looking back to angel once they'd put a comfortable distance between themselves and that store. he figured if they moved quick enough, didn't stop anywhere else throughout the mall, maybe they would lose axel's brother entirely.

“I’ve taken fewer shifts with everything going on…Can’t risk that idiot showing up at the bar.” Angel watched Garam closely, even as he spoke. He gave a soft chuckle, one corner of his mouth lifting. “We’ll leave in a second,” he said gently. “I know you were excited to come, so I don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing out. Besides, I’m kind of enjoying the people-watching. It’s like a zoo, but with worse fashion.” Angel tried his best to make light of it as he did his best to push down his panic. He reached out and tugged Garam just slightly closer by the sleeve, guiding them both toward one of the quieter wings of the mall. The scent of perfumes and coffee faded a bit, giving way to the colder, metallic smell of the floors and distant electronics. Angel didn’t need to hear Garam say it to know he was blaming himself. It wasn’t in the words—never was. It was in the way he kept offering to leave or do the dishes. Angel appreciated the kindness. “Hey,” Angel said, pausing and looking at him, tone suddenly softer. “What about this one? It's simple and it’s one that can’t be easily removed. I could have…well, Darius could install it.” He let the words settle before smirking lightly, trying to ease the weight of them with humor, “Or we could get this massive one. Make it as noticeable as possible.” That earned him a look, but Angel only grinned and walked on. His eyes flickered now and then, instinctively scanning the crowd for signs of Axel—or worse, his brother. Angel hadn’t forgotten the uneasy feeling from earlier, but for now, it seemed quiet. Safe. And still, even through the relative calm, Angel could feel that same desire pulsing through him—not desire for flesh, but for closeness. To protect. To soothe. Garam seemed anxious, and it sparked something primal in Angel, the need to curl around what was his and make sure nothing could touch him. What he needed was for Garam to feel safe, to feel seen. A soft laugh escaped him when he thought about Garam mentioning ordering online. If the man offered to leave, why was he trying to convince him to stay? “Amazon’s the real MVP sometimes,” Angel said gently, brushing his fingers briefly against Garam’s arm.“Let’s go. You can do your shopping in peace from your room, and I’ll make sure to prep everything while you do so.” And that was that. Angel didn’t need grand speeches or guilt-laced reassurances. Just the quiet, consistent way he stood between Garam and the world when it became too much. Angel took his hand and squeezed it, smiling, “Whatever you want, we will do.”

#threads #thread: garam #thread: garam & angel #ang3lmoans

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zozo-01 · 3 days ago

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on loving a sport that only demanded the best from you, and how you cope with taking your life back from it. (feat leon s. kennedy <3)

You could feel his eyes trained on you, trying to ignore his gaze as you help the kids off the ice and into the change rooms to get them ready for their parents.

You didn't even flinch or look his way when he stopped next to you on the ice, his back resting against the rink. Through all of that, he never took his eyes off of you.

"Is there anything you need, captain?" You finally turned your head towards Leon, trying to figure out what he needed from you.

He didn't say a word, opting to continue to just stare at you. What was going on behind those baby blue eyes, you'll never know. Quite frankly, you didn't even care. But at this point, his staring was starting to freak you out, and you're ready to bolt out of there to avoid his scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, if you're not going to say anything, I'm gonna go-"

"Your skills are still there," he finally spoke up. Your raised eyes brow and confused face must have prompted him to continue. "The way you handle the puck and skate around... You're just as good as you were when we were kids."

With the way your training was instilled in you, it was hard to let go of the way you played hockey. It was true that your instincts were still there, and if you were being honest, you could probably put on a jersey and play better then half of Leon's team. And that was probably putting it nicely.

But the thought of putting on another jersey had bile rising in your throat. You shook those desires out of your head.

"Congratulations, you're the first person to tell me that." He wasn't the first and you know he won't be the last. The moment you stepped away from the sport, all you heard around you were pleas to keep going and to save your home team, with no regards of your health or even what you wanted. It left you bitter, how the people who'd call themselves your 'fans' just treated you like a circus animal, who's only purpose was to keep them entertained. You scoffed, "I'm sorry you won't get your rematch though."

His eyes widened and his mouth was ready to defend himself.

"That's not what I meant-"

"If you're keep going to say the same shit that everyone has said to me, then you can drop it Kennedy," you snarled as you squared up to face him. "I am never setting foot on ice during a game again, and you're just going to have to deal with that." You were exhausted of everyone thinking you owed them an explanation. You didn't owe anyone shit, let alone Leon.

His eyes hardened as he squared up to you as well, not afraid of the challenge you're posing. Fine, if he was going to be stubborn, then you'd just have to beat his ass again.

"I just hate that you have all this talent," he used his gloved hand to gesture at you before continuing, "and it's going to waste when anyone would kill to have your natural skills." He tried to hurt you with his words, and it would have worked had you not heard worse over the years.

Still, it didn't stop anger lighting up your blood and the scars on your heart slowly reopen.

Before you could go off on how very wrong he was, you were cut off by one of the girls from your class. She was talented for her age and you saw a lot of you in her, back when you thought hockey was what you wanted. Part of you wished to deter her from this path and save her from the pain that awaited her. You of all people knew that wasn't your decision to make.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting anything..." her voice trailed off with nerves. Your heart softened as you knelt down to hear her better.

"It's ok, sweetie. Is there anything you need?" you asked as you felt your rage leave your system. You would never be like the coaches you had growing up, always treating your kids with the kindness and care you were denied.

"It's just... I just want to thank you for everything that you do and that it's really cool to have you as a teacher!" Her eyes lit up as she continued singing your praises. Your cynical side wanted to come out and tell her that you weren't as good as she said, but you kept your mouth shut. But there was one thing she said that stood out to you.

"I want to be just like you one day!"

No you don't kid, you thought remorsefully. You didn't say anything because Leon decided to speak up on your behalf.

"You're choosing a great person to look up to." Your eyes snapped up to him, not expecting him to praise you after such a heated exchange. "She's one of the best to ever do it, and you already look like you're on your way to be like her." He smiled at her, his voice confident in his words. You never knew he thought so highly of you, and your heart fluttered at his compliment.

That was the end of the conversation, as the young girl's father had come by to pick her up. She thanked you and ran off to her dad, but you stayed kneeling on the ice.

This is what you loved about the sport. Seeing young players look up to you and having older players validate you. You were so damn good at hockey it hurts you everyday that you would forever be just a juniour player when you knew you could be more- were destined for more.

The silence didn't scare him off, so you offered a little bit of your story.

"It wasn't easy," you finally spoke, standing up with your back to him. "I don't even think I made the right decision sometimes."

"There's always a spot on the team for you," Leon offered. You knew that, with Coach Branagh giving you the same offer. "You're a better player then literally the entire team, except for me of course," he boasted. He didn't see the little smile at his cockiness. He continued, "if you love the sport, there's always a way back."

"But I have to love me more. No sport is worth my life," you said with an air of finality, and you hope that if you said it enough times, your heart would stop aching every time you said it.

Leon deflated, but if he wanted to say more, then it would have to wait for another time. A cursory glance at the clock told you that his practice was about to begin and it was time you head home.

"I'll see you around, Kennedy." You didn't wait for a response, stepping off the ice and unlacing your skates, leaving him standing there on the rink. You grab your bags and head over to your car.

As you left the ice rink, you couldn't help but have a feeling that you're going to see Leon around more often. A small and dismissible part of your heart was okay with that realization.

(Leon gave himself a mission as he watched you walk away again, and that was to break the shell you created for yourself and try to bring back the girl he fell in love with all those years ago.)

(The fact that he wishes to deny is that he never stopped loving you, and he's scared he'll never get over you.)

reader: sorry i don't date hockey players leon: but... you were a hockey player... reader: my point exactly

well... hockey boy! leon apparently has my heart and i have @vaaaaaiolet to blame for that. i'm sososo excited to read your hockey boy! leon fic and i am clutching you so hard during these trying times (the nhl playoffs as a leafs fan)

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #look... grumpy girl x fuckboy is my trope of all time #they have a complicated history ok #reader is canadian (im sorry its plot relevant even if i didnt say it) and yes she was put through the hockey canada system shivers #vivi if you're seeing this i love you and i am scared for the leafs #sorry redacted fans a different blond man has my heart lmaoooo #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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lair-of-the-white-worm · 2 days ago

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Hi! I know you've been asked this before so I apologize, but will you be continuing EOTY with a new chapter soon? I'm very curious! It's one of the most well written dark stories I've seen for OW

Thanks for the compliments, I really do appreciate it. I wish I was in a good enough mood to return to you but. This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a bit now, because I have a lot of anons asking similar questions about my fics and they get overwhelming, but I just wanted to answer this one frankly; most likely No. I will NOT be posting a new Employee of the Year chapter anytime soon. I don't know if I'm ever going to post another chapter period. I want to apologize in advance for how long this response is going to be. But I've been accused of some pretty heinous things lately and I feel beyond sick. A sour taste has been left in my mouth about my writing. Writing was my outlet and I feel horrid about this.

I didn't want to post anything about this publicly. I didn't want to post anything about this to my friends, be it here or in private conversations. I have been trying and trying and trying to let it go, and move on, because I hate arguing on the internet, but I'm at my tipping point. An Oddtumblr user named sei/the/zordokon, as well as a user going by glenglam/324 have been saying and doing some insanely sick shit to my friends. (please, for the love of all that is sacred, do NOT sent them any cruel messages to these two. I know I'm talking to a wall when I say this, but I do not condone or endorse any anonymous harassment or hate mail whatsoever. I am too old for this. Do not send them anything. I want them to leave me alone and this is why I am angry. They cannot keep me and my friends' names out of their mouths, and it's made it's way to people I trust now, so I can't take it anymore).

They have accused me, my beloved partner Roman (this-game-has-themes), as well as my mutuals and dear friends including ghostmoor and several other individuals of condoning and fetishizing rape and incest in the art and fanfictions I create. I already have immense posting apathy. This has put the nail in the coffin for me. I try to post for myself and nobody else, but this has left me sick. I cannot stand rape kinks. I struggle to write the explicit scenes in Employee of the Year because it was mentally taxing. The story is not supposed to be "kinky", and if anyone reading it thought that was what it was then I have to say you've come to the wrong place. The story is meant to be traumatizing. It is meant to be disgusting. It is meant to make you want to toss Molluck down several flights of stairs. The reader is supposed to be made sick by it because I don't want people to like what Molluck is doing in the story. Writing that story had been immensely therapeutic for me for coping with My Own Baggage about Things that aren't much anybody's business but my own. But I didn't make that clear enough it would seem. So now the entire story leaves the sourest taste in my mouth and I can't stand to look at it, knowing that what people have been taking from it is that "I get off to rape".

I cannot stand incest. It makes me sick. It makes me vomit. It is one of the most sensitive subjects for me and I can only stomach it when it's being depicted in a way that demonizes it. However, what Glenglam and Sei have been doing lately is accusing my Abe & Alf content of being incestuous. Which makes me feel rotten to my core, that anyone under the sun could look at my works of Abe and Alf and think that was what I was trying to do. They have been telling strangers I support incest. My art was so kindly shared by OWI themselves on Twitter and other socials, and they were genuinley telling people it was fucking incest.

I don't have the energy to post all the horrid, vile, insulting, sickening shit that Sei and Glenglam have said about me and my friends to others. I realize now that a lot of the cruel messages I was receiving a bit ago may have been coming from them. It makes me sad. It makes me sick. I haven't even gotten into all the transphobia coming from them, but I don't want to post about it because talking about it makes me find my own body disgusting. I should have gotten the hint when I first shared my trans headcanons in front of Sei's mun, and she instantly shut them down. But that's old hat.

I don't want to post anything anymore. Because I considered them good acquaintances. Even though we were not friends. I would have never posted anything about them, to anyone, had they just left it all alone. They don't like me, they don't like my friends and they don't have to like me. Or my friends. But spewing this vitriol about me to other people in the fandom, making posts about me and my friends and then deleting them when word gets to us, ACCUSING ME AND MY FRIENDS OF CONDONING INCEST AND RAPE BECAUSE THEY WANT PEOPLE TO SHUN US, I can't stand it.

I haven't shared this much fanfiction and artwork in ages. Oddworld was such a wonderful outlet for me and it still is. But if these are the sorts of horrid things people in this fandom are going to accuse me of, I hesitate to share content further. I had no desire to post anything about Glen or talk about her to anyone else until now. I had known of Sei for years. I thought her a wonderful, wonderful artist. Just because we were not friends and she made me uncomfortable on many occasions did not mean that I wanted to fight her, insult her, or anything of the sort. I only gave her criticism when it was asked of me. I was direct with her when I needed to be. We did not click as friends. It did not bother me that we did not click as friends. But this is BEYOND the last straw.

Since this is quite literally the only post I will be making on this matter;

Sei and Glen, if you're reading this, fuck you both to hell. I am done holding my tongue. I am done giving you both the benefit of the doubt. Fuck you for the disgusting shit you've accused me and my friends of. Keep my name out of your fucking mouthes, keep my friends names out of your fucking mouthes. You don't know anything about me, who I am, why I write, you don't know anything about it. You both had no respect for me as a trans person, you currently have no respect for me or my friends as individuals, and you have absolutely fucking destroyed the last shred of respect I had for either of you, as well as any motivation I had to post my content, because I will forever feel sick to my stomach every time I see you in the tags, every time I see you interact with my friends acting like you're innocent, every time I hear your name or see your art I will be reminded of the ROTTEN shit you have done and said to me and about me and my dear friends. When I met you, you were artists I looked up to and respected. After getting to know you, I wish I never fucking did.

This fandom is small. So it's hard to keep these things contained. It's hard for me to avoid these things. I'm still fairly new here, and I am so upset that my welcome into this fandom has been turned on it's backside by the last persons I thought would do such a thing. And I feel horrible even posting this because I know they have friends who are none the wiser to this situation who are following me and I am so, so so incredibly sorry. But I am at my boiling point.

Anyways. Posting will be slow from now on. This whole debacle has made me feel disgusted to my core. I want to privatize all of my Abe and Alf art as well as all of my fanfiction, knowing that people are running around telling people these soul crushing fibs.

#I'm not putting this in any tags. I am so tired.

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acourtofthought · 3 days ago

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Do you know what they’re saying about their belief that Elain is being forced to be with Lucien and that’s why her story will center on choice to not be with him? It makes no sense to me especially since we’ve seen that Feysand and Nessian in a way, had even less control over their feelings for each other because they didn’t know fate was involved. Elain and Lucien have known about their bond from the very beginning meaning MORE choice. What makes them think Elain has less choice than Feyre or Nesta? What’s their reasoning for hating the Elucien bond, when compared to Feyre and Nesta Elain doesn’t even hate her mate? Feyre and Nesta clearly did hate or at least borderline hated theirs at first.

So when Nesta, word for word said, "I don't know what I want. I didn't have a choice" and when Cassian responded, "Well, I didn't have a choice in being shackled to you, either" they somehow got the impression other pairings had more choice than Elain and Lucien?

The fact is none of them got to choose who their mate was. Not Rhys, not Feyre, not Lucien or Elain. Had Lucien been able to choose he probably would have chosen Jesminda way back when. For Elain it would have been Graysen. Had Rhys gotten to choose my guess is he would have never gone searching in the human lands for his possible mate. For Az? Mor, hands down. Feyre would have wanted Tamlin to be hers in ACOWAR and the start of ACOMAF.

Where is the outrage over lack of support for those pairings? Elain desperately wanted to return to Graysen but I don't think a single person in this fandom was hopeful for their reunion.

The LoA chose to stay with Beron, does that mean we should respect that for her character or are we still allowed to hope that she finds a way to break free from him?

I think Sarah has demonstrated through her writing that "choice" is trash unless it's accompanied by other important factors.

The other sides fixation on choice and choice alone reads a bit like "But Daddy I Love Him." Sure, someone can choose to be with whoever they want but when he turns out to be a lying, cheating, deadbeat who leaves you alone and pregnant at 16 years old you start to realize that maybe there is more to dating than freedom to choose.

I'm not religious (and I know Sarah is Jewish) but Sarah's message seems more "Jesus, Take the Wheel." Where you realize there are times when you have to accept there being forces at work that know a bit more than us. Where even a 500 something year old fae (and especially not a 20 something year old human who doesn't fully understand magic) is still not as wise and all knowing as the creator of all. No, someone doesn't have to like the Fated Mates trope and they can choose not to read it but you can't act like Sarah J Maas feels the same. To her, it is a beautiful thing, to have Fate know better and though her FMCs initially push against their mates in an act of rebellion, after healing and growth they finally see why that person was made in the likeness of the other half of their soul.

"But Sarah wrote some bonds aren't matched!" Yeah, for characters we could not give a shit about. Sorry but does anyone really care that Rhys's dad and mom were a poor fit? They gave us Rhys, right? Nobody is about to wish away his creation which led to his meeting Feyre which led to us reading about all our favorites just because some want to take up the crusade about choice but only for one particular pairing.

As the author, it's as simple as putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) for Elain and Lucien to choose each other in the next book (or the one after). They conveniently forget how Sarah also said, "is it choice? Is it fate? Or is it both?" Feysands romance is wildly celebrated and that romance was clearly "both" since Rhys knew about his bond with Feyre early on and she said her heart knew he belonged to her even before she realized it so why would she want any of her other main characters to have something less than that? Why, when Feysand, Quinlar, Rowealin, and Nessian had Fate and Choice at work in their relationships, wouldn't she want that for Elain / Lucien, Az and possibly Gwyn?

And you're right, Elain and Lucien knowing about their bond gives them more choice than either Feyre or Nesta. All Feyre and Nesta had was the illusion of choice but it was only ever that, an illusion, because they felt drawn to Rhys and Cassian from the start but didn't understand why and falling in love with them was never actually organic because it was the bond tugging them to one another the whole time. At least Elain and Lucien have had the time as individuals to keep their distance and sort through the different emotions they're experiencing, "is this me or is this the bond?" in a way that the other pairings never did.

She's not going to give any of her pairings less than what her other couples have. The only difference is in the angst and tension they experience along the way. For Feysand, it was Rhys who knew about their bond first. For Nessian, they both suspected from the start but didn't really know for sure until they fell in love. For Rowealin, she knew first. For Quinlar, it was something they realized simultaneously after becoming friends then falling in love. And for Elucien, it was something that happened when they were complete strangers locking eyes for the first time.

Choice means nothing when it's clear the FMCs "choice" would be one that holds her back from reaching her full potential and that's exactly what Elain choosing Az would be.

#elucien #elain archeron #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #ask and answer #sarah j mass #mating bonds #ACOTAR series

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intersex-anthology · 1 day ago

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Copying material under the "keep reading" for archival:

-Do you ever find yourself wishing that you were another gender? How often? How intense are these feelings when they arise?

-Do you ever find yourself wondering what your life would be like if you were born as a different gender? How often? How do you feel when you think about it?

-Do you find yourself looking at or admiring people of another gender very often? Is this admiration not really the same as romantic/sexual attraction--it feels different, somehow? Do these people just look really good or cool to you, in a special way that you can't really explain?

-Do you find yourself feeling jealous of other genders at all? Why do you think you feel this jealousy?

-If you are not otherwise LGBTQ+, do you find yourself feeling connected to or attracted to the LGBTQ+ community in a way you can't really explain? Do you feel attracted to the trans community in particular?

-Do you feel more comfortable or happier around trans/nonbinary people? Do you feel as though you can relate to trans/nonbinary people better than you can relate to cis people?

-If you are attracted to people of the same gender as your AGAB (Assigned Gender At Birth), does "gay" feel like the right word for that attraction or not?

-If you are attracted to people of the opposite gender as your AGAB, does "straight" feel like the right word for that attraction or not?

-Do you have trouble understanding your sexual/romantic orientation? Have you changed your labels several times, or perhaps never put a label on your attraction at all? Have you just kinda slapped a label on at random until further notice?

-Do you feel very uncomfortable engaging with your sexuality at all? Do you identify as asexual or sex-repulsed, because of this discomfort?

-Do you experience distress or discomfort when in sexual situations, for no otherwise discernable reason (i.e. nonconsensual situations or dealing with past sexual trauma)? Do you find yourself dissociating during or after a sexual situation? What about anxiety or panic? Do you find yourself becoming depressed after sex or masturbation?

-Do you find that you need to "get into a different headspace" in order to have sex or masturbate?

-When you wear clothes commonly associated with your AGAB, how does it make you feel? Happy? Sad? Do the clothes feel like you, or does it feel more like a costume, like you're cosplaying or performing in a play? How does it feel when you wear clothes more commonly associated with other genders?

-How do you feel when you imagine yourself far into the future, living as an elderly person? Do you find it hard to imagine yourself in old age as your AGAB? How does it make you feel? What about as other genders?

-Do you find yourself coming up with excuses for reasons that you aren't trans that, when held up to scrutiny, don't actually work? Phrases such as "Well, I didn't know when I was little, I didn't start questioning until I was X age (people of any age can question their gender and figure out they're trans)", or "I don't have genital dysphoria, so I can't be trans (trans people can have all sorts of feelings about their genders--no particular kind of dysphoria is required to be trans, or even any dysphoria at all)".

-Do you find yourself thinking things like "Well, statistically, trans people are so rare, there's no way I'm trans"? What about "I'm already (other marginalized identity(ies)), I can't possibly also be trans"? What about "I have a friend/family member/someone else in my life that's trans, I'd just be copying them"? (None of these things need to mean that you're not trans!)

-Do you have a very "mind over matter" mentality? Were you more of a smarts or arts kid than you were a sporty kid in school? Are you the kind of person who wishes your consciousness could be uploaded to the cloud or something like that, so you can leave this fleshy body of yours behind?

-Do you find yourself frustrated with society's emphasis on gender and gender roles? Do you ever feel that gender doesn't even matter at all, and you're confused as to why everyone cares about it so much?

-Do you feel constrained or trapped by being your AGAB? Do you feel like you would be so much freer and happier as a different gender?

-If you could press a button right now and wake up tomorrow as a cis member of the opposite gender, as if you'd always been that way, with a body of a cis person and with everyone referring to you like that, would you press it?

-Do you believe that everyone of your your AGAB probably wants to be a different gender, at least a little bit? Are you baffled when people of your AGAB don't agree with this sentiment?

-Did you ever wonder if or secretly hope that you were intersex? Did you ever get tested by medical professionals for an intersex condition? If so, how did the results make you feel? Were you happy to learn that you're intersex, or dissappointed to learn that you aren't?

-Does it seem difficult for you to be your AGAB, like it doesn't really come naturally to you, and you have to learn how to do it and actively try to be it? Have you felt like you've needed to construct and maintain an identity for yourself as your AGAB? Do you think being a different gender would feel more natural to you, and you wouldn't have to work at it?

-Do you find yourself thinking thoughts like "Well, I don't hate being my AGAB, but I would prefer to be a different gender/would be happier as a different gender"? (I'll give you a hint--you don't need to hate being your AGAB in order to justify being a different gender! You can just be a different gender if that makes you happier.)

-Do your genitals or reproductive organs upset you? Do you wish you didn't have them? Do you think you'd be happier having the opposite set of genitals/reproductive organs? What about having no genitals/reproductive organs? What about having a mix between the two?

-Do your genitals or reproductive organs not really feel like they're a part of you? Do they feel like a seperate entity that's just attached to you or inside of you, but they aren't really you? Do you dissociate when you look at or think about your genitals/reproductive organs? Do you try to avoid looking at or thinking about them?

-Regarding the above two points--ask yourself these same questions about your secondary sex characteristics (i.e. breasts, body hair, hips, the pitch of your voice, etc.)

-Do you only feel these feelings sometimes? If so, when you don't feel these feelings, do you actually feel good about these aspects of yourself, or do you just feel less bad?

-What if I told you right now that you are absolutely, definitely, 100% a cis person, and that you're not trans at all? How does that make you feel? What if I told you that you're definitely, 100% for-sure a trans person? How does that make you feel?

-Were you a particularly androgynous child or present yourself in a gender non-conforming way when you were younger? Did you ever have a "phase" of presenting in this way?

-Alternatively, did you ever present yourself as a very gender conforming person when you were younger (i.e. hyperfeminine if AFAB or hypermasculine if AMAB)? Did you ever have a "phase" of presenting in this way?

-According to the last two points--did you ever alternate between these two modes of presentation? How did these types of presentation make you feel?

-Are you afraid of the idea of this "trans phase" or "questioning phase" being over? Are you afraid of going back to identifying as the gender you were born as?

-Do you like the idea of being a crossdressing or GNC person of the gender you were assigned at birth, or does the thought of being a different gender make you feel happier? (i.e. if you're AMAB, are you happiest when you think of yourself as a crossdressing boy/drag queen, or do you think you would be happier if you were a girl instead? Or perhaps some other gender?)

-Have you ever taken a "guess your gender/am I trans" quiz online, even just for fun? What were the results? How did the results make you feel? Did you intentionally try to skew your answers toward or away from a particular result? Did you go back and take the quiz again, wanting to get a different result?

-What sorts of gendered terms are you happiest and most comfortable being called by? Do you like the idea of being "mom" or "dad" better? What about "brother" or "sister"? "Girlfriend" or "boyfriend"? Or do you dislike both gendered options, and prefer gender-neutral terms like "parent" or "sibling" or "partner"?

Questions to Ask When You’re Questioning Your Gender

So I’m trans myself and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking on this subject and talking to other trans people, as well as people who are questioning their genders. I’ve learned a lot over the past couple of years about what gender is, what it means to me, what it means to others, what it means to society, and most relevant to this post–how to figure out what your gender actuallly is. Cuz this shit ain’t always easy. In fact, most of the time it’s pretty hard. So I’m putting together a list of questions you can ask yourself if you’re questioning your gender.

Please keep in mind: you probably won’t relate to everything on this list! There are trans people who don’t relate to this stuff and there are cis people that do relate to this stuff. Not every single thing on this list is a 100% surefire sign you’re definitely trans, and you don’t need to agree with every single point on the list in order to be trans. I am merely making this list in order to get you thinking in a more helpful and productive way to figure out your gender. Additionally: You do not have to figure out your gender if you don’t want to! If you’re perfectly content just to call yourself by a big umbrella term like “nonbinary” or “genderqueer”, or if you just don’t want to put a label to your gender at all, that is absolutely fine. This list doesn’t need to be for you.

Highly reccommended reading, btw: The Null HypotheCis–https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/

Keep reading

#questioning

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omegastation · 22 hours ago

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Brooks tried to be funny but the entire DLC is just... sad when it comes to her and the clone. And I know I'm not the only one who appreciates Brooks and the clone as characters. Replaying the Citadel DLC is showing quite clearly the tragedy of the road not taken.

The clone is the lonely figure who doesn't have what Shepard has and what makes them special: a team, a "we", a "us". No "we face our enemy together".

And Brooks who is not really Brooks plays a role with Shepard and with the clone. She watched from the sidelines as she put together dossiers for Shepard: everyone joined him, but not her. Never her. When she does join him, she plays a role. Not even the best version of herself, as she tries to be as clumsy and awkward as she can be as Staff Analyst Maya Brooks. Still. She gets respected, accepted and her advice is taken into account by Shepard and the Normandy crew. I think it did something to Brooks, and she will realize what exactly months or years later. But that acceptance is for Maya Brooks. It's not really for the person inside, the real one, lurking in the shadows, who I think, is longing, like the clone, to be loved.

Both Brooks and the clone have been rejected by the Illusive Man, probably one of the worst father figures in Mass Effect. Brooks is also compared to Miranda, as the clone puts it "mine has more bite". But not really when it comes to loyalty as we know. The two father figures for Shepard are David Anderson, who has a true love for Shepard, and Hackett, who is mentioned twice showing support - defending Shepard a Spectre candidate as we've seen in the archives and as someone who would understand immediately that the clone is not Shepard. Meaning the people we love understand our essence, and can't be fooled.

Unlike Shepard, the clone and Brooks are alone, playing roles, with fractured identities, and so much of the DLC is about their suffering: the clone especially. Brooks believes the clone would not have let them live, and the clone finds out that they're not going to be saved by Brooks. The look as she walks away is not one of triumph. That's sadness. And I think it's because she believes, among many things, that her and the clone are one and the same and therefore, not worthy of love and safety.

The moment the clone realizes Brooks will not save them makes me want to cry:

It is normal to want to be a part of a "we" and to despair when you realize you are alone in this world. The tragedy is that they could have been a "we", Brooks and the clone, but they didn't believe in each other enough. The person who believes in them the most is a Paragon Shepard, pleading for Brooks' life, telling the clone to live. Someone they both must see as an enemy, someone they tried to hurt badly, but someone they desperately wish to be friends with.

A lot of "what if" situations come to mind with those two. I know they've done terrible things, they are who they are. Still, in an alternate universe, I hope they're happy, safe and loved.

#debmeleplaythrough #clone shepard #maya brooks #clone shepard & brooks #i could add more about loving yourself #and what it means in this context #but that's a long post already #those two makes me sad #i'll look for fics later

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 12 hours ago

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Laundry Room Mystery | Thunderbolts | Oneshot - 1k

Thunderbolts spoilers!

Bucky can't seem to keep his wardrobe full, so begins his laundry room mystery. His empty wardrobe is the clear victim, but who's the perp?

Warnings: Language and nonsense.

Notes: For @avengers-assemble-bingo AASpring Bingo - "Stop stealing my clothes!" Divider by @saradika-graphics ⚡ I was thinking about a ship while I wrote this but it didn't feel like enough to justify putting it in the description. Will probably write for it in the future, let me know what you think

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes | Spring Bingo

Bucky closed and then opened his wardrobe doors, half hoping the rail would magically fill itself with black t-shirts and jeans if he just wished hard enough.

But they were still starkly empty.

He'd been wearing the same t-shirt for two days, despite putting a load of laundry on, it just never seemed to make it back to his wardrobe before it disappeared. Almost everything was gone, t-shirts, jeans and combat trousers, most of his hoodies, even his socks and boxer briefs had gone!

He continued his search out into the corridor, hoping he'd perhaps just dropped the basket somewhere and forgotten about it during a call, but it was as empty as his wardrobe, still in the same white paint and tiled floor the contractors had chosen.

"Oh, hi Bucky, have you lost something?"

Bucky looked round to find Ava stood, leaning against the wall. There was something familiar about her jeans — he squinted at them, really really familiar.

"Just looking for my laundry." He looked towards the end of the corridor too, just the window out onto the New York skyline, but no laundry.

"I think I saw some of your things in the laundry room." Ava shrugged and turned to go back into her room. There, on the back pocket, was a frayed rip. Those were his jeans!

"Hey wait!"

"See you later, Bucky." He can't stop her phasing through the wall and her bedroom door remains firmly closed as well.

"God damn it." He sighed, he's torn between hating Ava for being able to run away so easily, and being consumed with jealousy that he can't just disappear through walls sometimes.

At least he has some sort of clue, maybe he had just left everything in the laundry room this time. He strode his way through the living room towards the elevator, coming to a stop when he spots his hoodie on the sofa tangled up with a pile of blankets and throw cushions. As he reached down to pick it up the pile moved, revealling a sleeping Bob underneath.

"Hey," Bucky stage whispered, he didn't really have the heart to wake the man. "Hey," he tries again, but Bob just rolled over, snuggling deeper into the neckline and Bucky gave up.

Laundry room, there must be something in the laundry room.

The elevator dinged open far too quickly, revealling a very warm and ruffled looking Yelena in her favourite oversized workout shirt and little black shorts

"Bucky," she smiled looking at his own compression shirt and the sweat pants he wears in the evening, the only clothes he had left in his wardrobe. "You are going to the gym? I could go another round." She laughs and Bucky smiles too, it's nice having Yelena here, someone who reflects some of the darker parts of his own history but with a dry wit and a newfound enjoyment for life.

"Not today, 'Lena, looking for my clean laundry."

"Ahh…" she looked around knowingly and then sniffs, a tell, he's noticed. She knows something.

"Would you know anything about it?"

Yelena shrugged and they danced around each other as she leaves the elevator and he steps inside. "Not a clue, Bucky." She smiles one last time, then lifts a corner of her shirt to wipe sweat from her brow and — for christ's sake those are his boxer briefs. His underwear.

"Yelena you can't just take —"

"Byeee Bucky!" She shouts and the doors click shut, whooshing down to the laundry room.

There's nothing in the laundry room.

Not his clothes. Not anyones clothes, which is somewhat concerning when he thinks about how many people live in the tower now and how much laundry they must surely generate.

With a resigned sigh he stepped back into the elevator, scrolling his phone to order some new clothes. It'll bankrupt him, at this rate, maybe he can bulk by those t-shirts he likes from the supplier.

The living space is busier when he returns, everyone's sat around on the couches, even Bob's awake and gives him a little wave, hands half covered by Bucky's hoody.

"Ahhh Mr Winter, returned from…" Alexei pauses, trying to figure out where Bucky might have been in his mismatched outfit.

"The laundry room." Yelena supplies and John snorts a laugh.

"It's not funny, Walker, I know Ava and Yelena have been stealing my clothes." Bucky puts his hands on his hips, attempting his scariest stare in an effort to retrieve his jeans and underwear.

"Not guilty," Ava says, waving a hand in the air.

"I know you're lying." He glares back and she simply sticks her middle finger up and goes back to her flipping through a magazine.

"I would never take your things, Bucky." Yelena said very seriously despite the fact it was quite clear her little shorts are actually underwear.

"That's gross, Belova."

"Bite me, Walker."

"Wait a minute." Bucky looks John over again. "That's my t-shirt isn't it?" He scrunches his face up and covers it with both hands to stop himself from leaping over the coffee table and wrestling the shirt back. "I don't know which of you is worse!"

"Pretty sure this is mine." John doesn't even look, just leans back and sips from his mug. Bucky could hit him, but his ridiculous banter is making Bob and Yelena laugh.

"Mr Winter, this is very disrespectful, what are you going to do?"

From between his fingers Bucky sighs again, "Nothing, Alexei, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Forget it, join us." Alexei's voice was loud, but welcoming, and Bucky really can't be bothered internet shopping right now when he could be lazing around and reading his new book with a hot coffee instead. Alexei's buoyant company keeping them from falling into a real argument.

"Only if everyone promises to stop stealing my clothes and return them all by this evening."

The team go quiet, but eventually everyone nods in agreement.

"Good, then I'll join you."

Alexei shifts up, kicking his boots off and planting his feet on the coffee table as the volume starts to rise from everyone talking at once.

Bucky looks from Alexei's beaming face to his socks, one has a little Captain America shield, the other Joaquin's new Falcon logo.

"Are those my fucking socks?"

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darkclouds-rainsounds · 1 day ago

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Recently in trying to come to a logical comprehension of the abstractness and esoteric narrative of ENA, I eventually came to speculate that all episodes' Enas are different ones. I even mention this in the tags of this post that I chose to not add and instead screenshotted them to preserve them.

The reason I came to speculate this is simply because I'm the sort of person who tries to make the incomprehensible, comprehensible. If something appears to have at least enough sense and continuity to it to not be complete 'nonsense', then I will persistently attempt to break it down into something that makes logical sense and unearth a "true/concrete understanding" (much to my own chagrin and annoyance. Motifs and patterns and connections-making brain is too used to doing this that I can't really "turn it off"). I am also aware that that's not what ENA is about— at least not initially, given the hourglass dog unlockables in DBBQ make mention of "lore" within the ENA universe (but even I'm skeptical as to how the word "lore" is being used, because I'm doubtful it's used to mean 'a canon' of sorts).

But ENA as a narrative is more akin to Hylics than something like your standard JRPG: there's a world and a relatively understood comprehension of how the laws of it work (to an extent) and things like entities and recurring people, but there's no real overarching plot to them— though Hylics doesn't exactly fit 1:1 with this description as both games do have a sort of plot, but the first game's is a lot more mere happenstance and not something like a "god-given quest".

Or in short, things really happen just to happen. DBBQ is to ENA what Hylics 2 is to Hylics.

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Anyway, why exactly I speculated that all the episodes' Ena's are different ones has to do with my having attempted to understand when Power of Potluck takes place.

I've already theorized how PoP possibly fits chronologically into the ENA series as a whole in two instances, but temporarily gave up out of acquiescing to the highly probable case that ENA just isn't something that a comprehensive timeline is necessary for or was even considered in the making of it.

To summarize my tags in the first link, based on a post someone made about how Ena in PoP is missing the middle strap of her suspenders which matches how she looked in Auction Day (where for Extinction Party and Temptation Stairway she has the middle strap), the op theorized that PoP chronologically occurs before Auction Day. I misremembered when they said PoP possibly chronologically occurs as before Extinction Party.

This time placement still matches up if PoP is placed in the gap between the two since Ena only has the middle strap in her design from specifically Extinction Party forward, so reasonably, any time before then she could have not had it yet.

(And as an aside, due to the possible achronological nature of Ena, it's also reasonable to speculate that the episodes in the order they were released also didn't chronologically occur in that order.)

But that's not my point of discussing this, just that I misremembered and that in my tags, were Auction Day to be put in place of my mention of Extinction Party, my point would still stand.

As you can see, I tried to come to a logical understanding of how PoP fits in with the rest of the series— not just because of that post pointing out the possible timeline placement— but because it doesn't make sense what with the ending of Temptation Stairway.

Sure, maybe one could offer the argument that the Great Runas' wish fulfillment wouldn't be permanent for one reason or another (ala "you can't just wish away your sadness; as an emotion, it will inevitably come back and this wish will only offer temporary solace at best"), but Ulysses literally tells Ena that she's trapped within the Divine Door until it next opens, which won't be for a long time, so how is she in Power of Potluck?

Maybe she really did just wait out the whole time and is still alive (how one would even figure out a life expectancy for a functionally immortal and achronological entity like Ena, I don't know), but this feels like a stretch.

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That was then that I considered "what if it's not just PoP Ena that is a different Ena, and Auction Day; Extinction Party; and Temptation Stairway are all one Ena, and DBBQ is yet another Ena, but that all of the episodes have different Enas?"

This is actually implied within the series itself with Rubik in Extinction Party and Shepherd in Temptation Stairway addressing Ena as though there existed multiple of her.

Some people have taken this to mean that Ena is a species rather than that there are multiple of specifically her. Put another way, multiple of the same entity (as is shown in the Holy Code with multiple blue/yellow Enas frozen in place and intermittently glitching into mannequins).

If it's already established that in some form there are multiple Enas (regardless of if being a species or just multiple of one person), then why not take it a step further and speculate that the Ena in each episode is also a different one? Why assume that the Ena we watch through all the episodes is the exact same one?

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What really made me seriously consider this was that, going based on this theory, it makes what was going on with Ena in Temptation Stairway make sense.

In Temptation Stairway, the whole way through, Ena's voices don't match the side they're typically assigned to (male voice coming from sad and female voice coming from happy). Sometimes they match, others they don't. Sometimes for one sentence from sad, it's the female voice but for the immediate subsequent sentence it's the male voice, creating this weird dissonance.

In Auction Day, Extinction Party, and later Power of Potluck, this mixing of the voices never happens. For those episodes, happy is always the male voice and sad is always the female voice.

Going into Temptation Stairway with the belief that its Ena is the exact same as the Enas in the prior two episodes creates dissonance and confusion because she never had this 'issue' before, so why are her voices so mismatched now? But if one goes into Temptation Stairway with the belief that each episodes' Ena is a different one, then that clears any possible dissonance and confusion because then it'd just be this one instance of Ena in particular that's all weird.

This also in turn, makes Power of Potluck's events even happening make sense since Ena shouldn't have been able to leave the Divine Door until it next opened (is it possible for her to transfer herself to a different mannequin on command? Like, without dying first? And if she were to be transferred to a different mannequin, would the Great Runas' wish fulfillment still be in effect or would it be null since she's technically a different entity (mannequin, not Ena) than the one who made the wish?). If the Ena in Power of Potluck is a different Ena, then that could mean that Temptation Stairway's Ena could still exist simultaneously.

Though, that's if one's interpretation of "multiple of the same entity" is the straightforward "clones"-type understanding. It's possible that while there are multiple Enas, there is still actually only one of her.

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That's where the theorized achronological aspect of her comes in. Many different timelines/chonologies overlapping each other at different points to create the 'illusion' of there being multiple of her, but there is still only one of her in the strictest sense.

But then there's also the "one person can be in two places at once" thing.

To explain it as simply as I can and how I understand it, Ena basically functions like Celebi from pokemon, but like, a bit more convoluted.

This understanding of "Ena is multiple of the same entity" contradicts how Power of Potluck works— depending on when it occurs.

On one hand, if Power of Potluck chronologically occurs after Temptation Stairway, then it doesn't make sense since all Enas are actually just one entity ever but there's some timey-wimey shenanigans going on with her thus making her "multiple", and if Ena is trapped behind the Divine Door and possibly can't get out even by using a different mannequin because it'd possibly nullify her wish, then how and why does Power of Potluck occur?

Her wish was fulfilled, and while Ulysses says "desires are never fulfilled nor quenched", given the many Enas floating motionless in the Holy Code, glitching, the rest of the events of Temptation Stairway implies that this Ena actually succeeded whereas all the others failed.

(And this also makes the events of Temptation Stairway very interesting when viewed with the belief that there is only truly one Ena but there's time overlap going on. Because, as Shepherd implies, she has met Ena before. Ena has entered the Divine Door before. she has tried to make her wish to the Great Runas before— and as the many instances of her in the Holy Code show, she's tried this many times. And it was only during the events of Temptation Stairway itself that she (seemingly) succeeds.)

So if Ena is stuck within the Divine Door and wouldn't have been able to leave for a very long time and her wish was fulfilled (for a literal god, I find the idea of the Great Runas' wish fulfillment not being able to stick disappointing and portrays the genies as not all they're cracked up to be. That they don't deserve the reputation they have if their powers are naturally impermanent and there's nothing they can do about it), then why does Power of Potluck even happen? Why is Sad back?

And of course, I have to address the elephant in the room that is Moony having reverted back to her normal form than the cursed humanoid form she got as per her wish in Temptation Stairway.

Again, this is only really a snag if one views Power of Potluck occurring chronologically after Temptation Stairway, if it's viewed as having occurred prior to T.S, then there's no issue.

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But that then leads me to what I theorized about the nature of PoP in relation to the rest of the series: Power of Potluck is an alternate timeline of Ena where she failed in having her wish granted by way of not making it to the Divine Door in time.

It can't be her having failed some time after having entered it because remember, the Door closes right after she and Moony enter it and she can't exit it until a long time later.

And as I stated in my tags above, I find Power of Potluck chronologically occurring after Temptation Stairway— just in general— rendering T.S redundant since... what was the point of all of that and Ena having her wish fulfilled in having her sadness removed if it just comes back in the next episode?

People try to logically explain it as "the Great Runas' powers probably aren't permanent or weren't permanent with the nature of Ena's wish in particular (and Moony's, I guess)", but that feels like a stretch since for all how glorified and praised the Great Runas is, I've no reason to reasonably believe that it was exaggeration— or that the nature of Ena's wish was incompatible with permanence (the Great Runas is literally "Run As". As in "run as administrator". I kind of doubt something with that level of power could be so easily undone. It's literally a metaphysical rewrite).

But if Power of Potluck is a different timeline altogether where Ena failed to even reach the Divine Door— and Moony is still a moon rather than humanoid, meaning she also failed to reach it— then PoP makes sense, as its existence doesn't conflict with Temptation Stairway.

If one ascribes to the flavor of "Ena is multiple of the same entity" theory where she's all just one entity ever but there's achonological overlap, how Power of Potluck occurs would alter the nature of this take on Ena into something even more convoluted. That being, each Ena, rather than assumably all being from one timeline and occurring in the past or future from when they're supposed to be— creating the illusion of there being multiple Enas— is actually "every 'instance' of Ena is an Ena from a different timeline".

And that with each Ena being from a different timeline but they're able to cross over to other timelines and also have the same aforementioned achronological format, then shit gets really confusing.

Basically then, only Ena would be able to "jump" timelines but not any of the other characters. That way it's still only one Ena but it's Ena from different timelines.

(Technically, this is also the same take as how I explained "each episode's Ena is a different one, which explains what was up with the voice dissonance with T.S' Ena", as each episodes' Ena actually being from a single timeline is literally just the same as the take that the Ena in all episodes is the same exact one.)

If one ascribes to there literally being multiple Enas (not a species, just multiple of the same entity ala "clones"), then Power of Potluck almost makes sense. Because, while this does account for the conflicting existences of PoP's Ena and T.S' Ena, it doesn't account for Moony still being a moon rather than humanoid— and we don't have any reason to realistically believe that there are also multiples of Moony (and possibly every other character).

So, in the end, the most sensible explanation for Power of Potluck occurring without being in conflict with Temptation Stairway is that PoP occurs in a timeline where Ena and Moony failed to reach the Divine Door (which in itself is inherent to believing that each episodes' Ena is a different one).

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Now, having established that every Ena seen is a different instance, how does Dream BBQ's Ena fit into this?

My first theory was that she too, was a different Ena but still originally was blue/yellow Ena that somehow became how she is now, and while I still think this, there's now more to it.

While I did reblog and found much of the theorizing in this post agreeable, when it came to DBBQ Ena being implied as being Temptation Stairway's Ena, that... sort of didn't register properly in my brain...

It's like "water is wet, yeah." then going "OHHHH. Water is wet!" like, ?????? it didn't??? click right??? in my brain??????

Understanding but not true understanding?

It wasn't until I started doing this theorizing completely separate from that post that I organically came to the same conclusion.

As per my tags from different DBBQ analyses:

With things from the series literally being referenced in-universe, I don't think it's meant to just be a "wink wink, nudge nudge" for the player, but is actually something that has occurred in-universe. Emphasis on "occurred", past tense.

And with Worker Ena during the end of chapter one having technical difficulties in loading into the mannequin at the hub where she blips through her "hangover form" and even blue/yellow Ena for a single frame, I think it has actual bearing in-universe. That it's not just an easter egg, it means something.

I phrase it in the first post's tags that "she has been blue/yellow", but that was postulation for the sake of fitting within tag and tag character limits. It has not been proven that Worker Ena once was blue/yellow Ena, but evidence throughout DBBQ heavily implies this to be the case.

And even Worker Ena's 'bugging out' at the end of chapter one is just my interpretation of what was going on: that she was being loaded as past states (like... a computer. Save states, system restore, etc) before she was properly loaded back as Worker Ena.

I interpreted it this way based on the appearance of Hangover Ena being a completely unique state of Ena (as opposed to the emotional extremes which aren't unique states since they're just emotions from a blue/yellow or cream white+blue-grey/red Ena) and viewing the single frame appearance of blue/yellow Ena with knowledge that the events of the series have already happened (because I've seen some people speculate that DBBQ is a prequel?? No???), it lead to me thinking that the appearance of blue/yellow Ena during the 'technical difficulties' alongside Hangover Ena was that these two states of being have something in common.

She has been Hangover Ena. She has been blue/yellow Ena.

So, how does this tie into Worker Ena potentially being Temptation Stairway's Ena?

Since I have established my belief in the theory that Worker Ena isn't a completely separate "type" of Ena (along the lines of the "Ena is a species" theory) and instead formerly was blue/yellow, I can properly start explaining.

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Referring back to this analysis, this is the only analysis I've seen that makes any mention of the wish option Ena could make to Theodora about "punishing the moon".

Things like aspiring for a blissful life or eternal happiness can be understood within only the context of Worker Ena as we know her in DBBQ (completely divorced from her being series Ena) given how overworked she is and how much she hates her job and outright states she no longer has personal agency.

Aspiring for Frank's forgiveness on his behalf is also understandable— especially since he's 1. one of the few characters (as of chapter 1) that is genuinely kind to Ena with no backhanded compliments or remarks about her and 2. pronounces and spells her name correctly as ∃NA.

He is the most respectful character thus far to Worker Ena, so her aspiring for his forgiveness on his behalf being because of his genuine respect for her makes sense.

Then there's of course the aspiration to get rid of the smoke, the entire reason Ena even came to have an audience with Theodora.

But then there's the option at the bottom.

"Aspire for the punishment of the moon." The heck does that mean?

Well, as this analysis theorizes, Worker Ena isn't just any random instance of Ena, but is specifically Temptation Stairway's Ena.

To quote said analysis,

"But if Runas was in fact the murdered Genie, then there is one suspect in particular that pops into my mind. Someone who has met Runas. Someone who was... unimpressed. Dissatisfied. And found herself trapped inside his domain for a long, long time."

This aspiration only makes sense in the context of Worker Ena being the same Ena as in Temptation Stairway.

Why? Why would it specifically have to be Temptation Stairway's Ena and not a different one? Aspiring for the punishment of the moon doesn't really convey a form of specificity to the events of Temptation Stairway, theory that the Great Runas was killed and Ena was blamed for it/being punished on behalf of Moony or whoever did it or not.

Well, there's several reasons.

The first being the constant mention of God that Worker Ena has ("bless you for your business", "worry not, you're still a child of GOD", "GOD knows the rest") makes the most sense with Temptation Stairway's Ena— though this can come across as confirmation bias.

Another reason is that DBBQ Ena is overworked, stressed, and one of her sides is literally anger and anxiety, and that Worker Ena was formerly blue/yellow but Something Happened. That one of her aspirations to a GOD is to "punish the moon"; Moony would have had to have done something absolutely horrific to Ena to have led to series Ena becoming the way she is now and first chance she gets at reaching a wish-granting god is to punish Moony.

Yeah, I think the reverence of God despite Meanie remarking she "doesn't believe in anything" and upon Worker Ena meeting a wish-granting god like Runas who doesn't grant wishes without limit unlike him, is to aspire for the punishment of "the moon", I think they're connected.

Basically god/genie-based trauma about what was unfairly taken from her (after so many instances of her failed).

Also, "punishment" as a concept has only been spoken of in some form by only four characters thus far across the series and DBBQ combined.

Moony in Temptation Stairway

Ulysses in Temptation Stairway

Taski Maiden in Chapter 1 of Dream BBQ

Theodora in Chapter 1 of Dream BBQ

What's interesting is that the instances of punishment being mentioned in the webseries are in Temptation Stairway.

But Moony's mention of punishment when viewed under the lens of her having done something to Ena— whether directly or indirectly— that eventually caused her to become Worker Ena is... extremely worrying.

The full context is:

"Pay the debts of the loser." "Rude entities like you get punished for the sins of others." "Aspire for the punishment of the moon." and Theodora's response.

.......

Anyway.

Postulating this to be the case, that would mean that for "Full Happiness" Ena to have become Worker Ena, then the Great Runas' wish wasn't impermanent (again, like it naturally faded over time or that it was incompatible with the nature of series Ena's wish), but was, well... more akin to the type of wish fulfillment loophole trickery that genies in other media are known for (not that I think the Great Runas tricked Ena, but that he fulfilled her wish exactly and other negative emotions eventually arising was just a consequence of lack of foresight on Ena's part in not specifying she only ever wanted to be happy).

Yes, Ena's sadness was removed, but there was nothing that specified a different emotion couldn't take its place.

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This reminds me of my analysis on someone's post about Worker Ena regarding how Meanie is specifically cream white/very pale yellow. How, with the way Anxiety is displayed on Meanie by default looks like shading and given how abstract and wacky the characters in ENA are, the shading peculiarly being completely absent on Salesperson's side isn't that odd.

It's not until the Purge Event that during the phone call with Froggy, Ena's sprite during the call visibly shows the "shading" creeping down her face, revealing that it wasn't just weird shading that only applied to the Meanie side, but was actually a whole third color.

And if Anxiety, as a third color, was cleverly disguised as being weird shading that isn't out of place for something as bizarre as ENA, then Meanie being cream white/very pale yellow rather than a stark white could be along the same lines. That Meanie being yellow-tinted isn't "just lighting", but is also something more that's cleverly disguised.

I stopped thinking this to be the case, but now upon theorizing that Worker Ena is Temptation Stairway's Ena and that the Great Runas' wish fulfillment is strictly still in effect, that perhaps there is merit after all in Meanie being comprised of formerly Happy and Sad (I'm still holding out on it out of residual skepticism, though).

Though, it wouldn't really be "Sad" since that side of Ena was removed.

Anxiety is blue-grey rather than a pure grey. It is not a pure blue like Sad was. Anxiety is not the same emotion as Sad.

Like I said, the Great Runas' wish fulfillment is still in effect: Ena is still rid of her Sad side.

But if Worker Ena really is Temptation Stairway's Ena, that informs the specificity of what T.S' Ena wished for. That it did not include her always and only being Happy, just that she wished to be rid of her sadness.

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But wait! There's more! This also ties into how Worker Ena being Temptation Stairway's Ena affects how Power of Potluck exists as it does.

Temptation Stairway was stated by Joel G. to be a "season finale". This on its own means that Power of Potluck is the first episode of the second season. Joel G. also says Temptation Stairway was "the end and the beginning of something".

There are several comments he replied to and two in particular caught my interest.

Given that Dream BBQ's trailers exist before Power of Potluck, and PoP Ena is along the lines of how she's already been depicted in season one, it's safe to say that he was referring to Worker Ena here.

And then... this.

"One of these characters will stay with the new look on [sic] the future".

Obviously this doesn't apply to Worker Ena since she looks completely different from Full Happiness Ena.

But we haven't seen Moony yet in Dream BBQ.

He said one of them will "stay with the new look", so there's little reason to believe he changed his mind— especially since we have not seen Moony yet to confirm whether that is the case or not.

Regardless, until more episodes and chapters come out, I'll still just view Worker Ena as "connected to blue/yellow Ena" but that's the extent of it. I'm not banking on this being The Singular Truth and then it warp my perception of Worker Ena into "oh poor Temptation Stairway Ena" when that hasn't been confirmed despite there being a lot that supports that theory.

It's too early to be making calls like this when there literally are only four episodes (three episodes in season one and one episode in season two thus far) and a single chapter of the game. Still think it's worth speculating on, though.

#【𝙿 𝚁 𝙸 𝚂 𝙼】#ena #ena joel g #∃NA #ena dream bbq #ena theory

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