#but like this should have been a slam dunk and it just left me feeling neutral

[bulletbilltime]

The fact that this is the most I've thought about Double Exposure in the 4 or so months it has been revealed says a lot about how little hype I've been feeling for the game 😭

[many-gay-magpies]

I have been tagged in “WIP Wunday” by both @babyseraphim and @williamvapespeare! Thank you both for the tag lovelies, these are such fun <33

This is slightly cheating because this fic is basically done except MAYBE some minor edits, and it’ll probably get posted tomorrow. BUT I haven’t shared much of it and I’m very proud of it, so sneak peek time! ‘Tis the fic based off a dream I had in which Charles and Edwin smooch underwater, now titled ‘Take Me Under (Take Me Home)’

A loud crash sounds from somewhere behind Edwin. Charles, he recalls, had stepped into the teleportation circle a mere few seconds after he did. “Charles?” Edwin calls into the darkness. There comes first a groan, nonetheless relieving for having sounded in Charles’s familiar voice. A minute chord of tension releases in Edwin’s chest. “Yeah, mate,” Charles responds eventually. Edwin turns towards the sound of Charles’s voice, reaching blindly out with one hand while the other seeks the wall to his left. It, like the floor, is partially corporeal under his palm, putting up a vaguely tingly resistance and releasing a hollow echoing sound when he knocks into it. Every step is accompanied by the same. Their enclosure is metal, then—with just enough iron content to keep a ghost from passing through. Edwin hums. “It appears we have been transported into some sort of spectral holding cell. Or perhaps a shipping crate.” Charles’s hand reaches back from the dark, finding Edwin’s forearm and clamping tight. Another thread of tension uncoils at the refreshing solidity of his touch. Charles, too, seems to exhale in relief, drawing Edwin minutely closer. “Brills,” he says, with no small amount of sarcasm. “Figures the old bugger would have his place booby-trapped to hell and back. Should I get us a light, then?” “Yes, that would be helpful.”

And in a more WIP-y vein, here is this, a paragraph from the beginning of (yet again) more smut lmao (though much more on the soft/tender intimacy side this time). Idk when this one will be done because I have also just been absolutely slam-dunked into a shitton of new inspiration for my post-canon casefic (which finally has a name!) and that will take priority as soon as I can actually sit down to write it, but HERE enjoy:

It is new still—not the feeling, but the freedom of its expression. Only a month has passed since Charles sat Edwin down and confessed he didn’t quite need forever to figure out the rest, after all. It laces Edwin’s breath up tight, like drawstrings pulled around the meeting between his lungs and esophagus (or what phantoms of them still remain), to feel the love he has so great for this boy as close to sleeping as ghosts can get in his lap. It makes him want to kiss Charles, and though he can do so freely now, he does not.

I will be no-pressure tagging @blusandbirds, @wordsinhaled, and anyone who sees this and wants to do it! like almost all the people I would have tagged in this have already been tagged LMAO

[enigmatist17]

Just felt like writing some Fox love <3

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

Fox doesn't remember how he ended up in the Jedi temple at 3am, blinking when he realized someone was helping him sit down. It was very hard to sneak up on the commander, but he finds that his normally sharp senses are dulled, as if he had just been dunked into a sensory deprivation tank.

"Are you alright Fox?" It was strange, hearing his name out of someone who wasn't a vod. It takes a second, one that seemed to span hours before Fox's eyes find that of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and it's just so hard to concentrate why was it so hard? He wants to say something, anything, but words just seem to have become nothing more than blockages in his throat. Obi-Wan looked concerned, and when he places the tips of his fingers on Fox's forehead, the world goes dark.

He's not on Coruscant when Fox comes to, bleary eyes looking up at the ceiling above him. The thrum of the ship around him indicated he was most likely on a Venorator, but which one he couldn't even begin to try and think of. As the man slowly sits up, muscles screaming in exhaustion at the slightest move, it slowly begins to come to him. The Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan helping him sit down in the middle of the hallway, and then nothing, it's such a jumble and Fox runs a hand over his face. He should get up, he should get dressed, and figure out where he is, but Fox just couldn't be damned, and so he settles for staring at the adjacent wall until someone enters the room.

"Fox?" The Guard leader doesn't move his head, and only blinks when Cody kneels in his direct line of vision. For a moment they just stare, and Cody's infamous expressionless mask caves with concern and anger. "How are you feeling?" "Tired." Fox had been used to the neverending cycle of work, sleep, work, sleep, getting fewer and fewer hours of sleep as time had worn on. But lately, it had been so much worse, and Fox just wanted to sleep for an eternity at this point. "What happened?"

"You..." Cody struggled for the words but ended up shaking his head with a frown. "Obi-Wan can explain better than I can ori'vod." The term is soothing, and for a moment Fox closes his eyes to focus on a brother he had missed dearly. He feels Cody move to sit beside him, and the calm feeling of the Jedi entering the room soon washed over the clones.

"Commander..." Obi-Wan looked tired, and the commander wonders how long he's been asleep exactly. Fox waits for him to speak, to say something, but instead, Kenobi raises one hand and closes his eyes, and Fox gives him a minute before something...wiggles in the back of his mind.

Safe, you are safe, he cannot reach you

Cody jerks when Fox suddenly gets to his feet, eyes flashing as he barrels towards Obi-Wan to lift him clear off the ground, slamming the general against the wall behind them.

"Fox let him go!" Cody jumped up to stop him, but paused when Obi-Wan shook his head. Fox didn't appear to even see the Jedi he was holding up by the neck, body locked and tense as if awaiting an order.

"Commander, it's alright." Despite being slowly choked, the Jedi kept his voice calm, watching hazel eyes dart back and forth in a sheer panic until he comes back to himself. The air that rushes down his throat when Fox releases him is sweet relief, Obi-Wan coughing as Fox stumbled back in panic.

"General I...I..." Fox didn't know what to say, hands shaking as he felt Cody grip his shoulder to keep the man upright.

"You reacted just as I feared you would." Obi-Wan got to his feet, giving a sad smile. "Tell me, have you been tired more often? Are migraines happening more and more often? Have you been missing time here and there?"

"I...how did you?" He was a Jedi, of course, he would know.

"You...you're mind has been constantly searched by someone using the Dark side of the Force." Obi-Wan just went for it, and his heart aches when Fox doesn't seem surprised. "They have left damage, the kind where they have been doing this nigh-daily. That leads me to only one person I know that you are always around."

The name doesn't need to be said, and for the first time since he was assigned to Coursant, Fox feels like all of his thoughts were finally being laid bare. He can't help but start to laugh, the sound more of a pained thing than one of joy, but Fox can't help himself.

He wasn't crazy!

Obi-Wan eventually steps out to give Fox and Cody some time, and the two commanders end up sitting on the floor against the bed. Fox had felt alone for so long, being stuck in that horrible city working for a man that had always made him feel so worthless as a living being. Sitting in this ship, leaning into Cody's side and taking in his warmth, it was the first time he had felt alive since being sent away from Kamino.

Cody doesn't move when he feels Fox fall asleep, he merely helps him lie down so his head is in Cody's lap, just sleeping like a rock. He's not sure how he hid the pure rage he felt at learning what Palpatine had been doing to his brother, but rest assured it would be the last thing he ever did. For now, he pulls the blanket off the bed and drapes it over Fox, and settles in for some sleep of his own.

[edgeofpanic]

the obligatory 2022 anime roundup

2022 has been one of the strongest years for anime that I can remember. Nearly every season had its one Big Show with Fall slam-dunking its way into the history books with 4 or 5 hits airing at once. You couldn't ask for a better slate of shows to distract you from...everything.

I've watched a ton of anime this year, both new and old. There are 5 that left a big impression on me that I want to talk about, but here are some honorable mentions:

Birdie Wing: how can you say no to underground mafia golf tournaments with a heavy dollop of lesbianism

Kaguya-sama: Love is War -Ultra Romantic-: it should be illegal to be this consistently good after three seasons and I can't wait for the movie

The Executioner and Her Way of Life: this show is good, yall are just mean

Cyberpunk Edgerunners: what I wish the video game had been in every way

Do it Yourself!!: how can you say no to cute girls doing cute DIY projects with a heavy dollop of lesbianism

Urusei Yatsura All Stars: now I know why people have been in love with Lum for 40 years

Dirty Pair: Project Eden: the platonic ideal of Dirty Pair

I'm issuing a blanket spoiler warning for any of the anime covered in this. With that out of the way, let's get to it.

King of Braves GaoGaiGar + King of Braves GaoGaiGar Final

GaoGaiGar is the series that doesn't know how to end. There are 3 distinct endings between these two shows: one in episode 33 of GaoGaiGar, another with the finale of GaoGaiGar in episode 49, and yet another with the end of episode 8 of GaoGaiGar Final. The stakes get bigger and bigger with each subsequent ending until the fate of the universe itself is on the line. Remarkably, none of these endings ever feel cheap or unearned. Yes, there's some unexpected turns--episode 49's ending in nearly had me on my feet and yelling at my computer--yet they're firmly rooted in the larger than life personalities of our protagonists at the Gutsy Geoid Guard. There's a warmth to them even when yelling attack names at the top of their lungs. None of them could have possibly known GGG and GGG Final would be the last of the Brave series, but each heartfelt speech about heroism makes you wonder if they were giving their all because they felt it was coming. Particular credit goes to Nobuyuki Hiyama and Tomoe Hanba for getting me invested in Guy and Mikoto's relationship, stop and start as it is. Sometimes hets have rights.

Then again, it's got the room to end more than once. Capping out at 49 TV episodes and 8 OVA episodes, the GGG saga is a beast of a saga. We don't see see these kind of episode counts anymore unless you're a legacy show like the Urusei Yatsura All Stars or whatever that new adaptation of The Legend of Galactic Heroes is called. It's a shame, too, because certain genres really benefit from longer runs. GGG thrives on the ability to simultaneously elicit chest-thumping excitement and slow burn drama week-to-week. As you adjust to the world running on Rule of Cool, you come to expect that the heroes can overcome any odds with the power of Bravery and Friendship. It's always worked before.

Until it doesn't.

As the OVA approaches its end, after over 50 episodes with our heroes, Guy's dad dies. An actual, real death that can't be walked back with Guts and Heroism. Everyone overcomes their grief to defeat the antagonists threatening the fate of the universe, but encounter a greater source of despair: there's only enough time to send one or two people away from the collapsing pocket universe they're currently trapped in. The majority of them can't return to the Earth they fought so hard to save. They will never go home again.

I can't remember exactly what I said when this was revealed, but I'm sure it was something close to, "No! They can't do this now!" No one is supposed to die in GaoGaiGar. No one is supposed to realize they may not be able to reap the rewards of their hard work. No one is supposed to realize that the hardships of this world fall on the shoulders of the next generation despite their best efforts.

Yet that's what happens. In the end, the decision is made to send Mamoru and Kaidou back to Earth in the brief window of time the adults have. Only they are allowed to pick up where the GGG left off and continue on in to the future.

While the OP for both GaoGaiGar and GaoGaiGar Final is this big, bombastic affair on being a hero and shouting attack names--DIVIDING DRIVER! BROKEN PHANTOM! GOLDION HAAAAMMMMMMERRRRRRRR!--the ending is much more subdued song named "Someday, In the Sea of Stars". My friend and I usually skipped it because tone shift was too jarring. There's no time for this boring song! We gotta get to the next episode! When the third and final ending of the series uses a rendition sang by all the VAs...it hits. At the end of oaths of bravery, the people you love are waiting for you. And when they're gone, they aren't forgotten. You'll meet them again. Some day, some where.

Serial Experiments Lain

It's been a weird year.

Objectively, I'm doing well. I got a promotion at work, I'm seeing positive momentum in therapy, my friendships are strong. In return, less time and less motivation make engaging with my hobbies harder than ever. Stress and anxiety are at an all-time high. I've been having full-blown panic attacks that leave me figuratively and literally shaken. Most of my time has been spent wondering if I'm stuck coming to the same conclusion of choosing myself when I can't even define who "myself" is, never fully enjoying my life. For fuck's sake, there's a literal dip in my mattress from where I've been laying in place and feeling sad for the last three years. My therapist and friends keep telling me that I need to live in the now, but how are you supposed to stay in the present when it feels like a kaleidoscope of horror? Why would you ever want to?

And in the midst of a weird year in a series of weird years, nearly every episode of Serial Experiments Lain slapped me in the face with the opening dialogue of, "Present day! Present time!"

I've seen critics use terms like "prescient" and "visionary" for describing the show, and it is. Sort of. I feel that it's too steeped in conspiracy theory for those descriptors to be entirely accurate. It shouldn't surprise you to learn its writer would fall face first into QAnon and have the Digimon Tamers kids fight Cancel Culture so. You know. There's that. (For the record, Perfect Blue is my go-to for "on the cutting edge" anime. It does a far better job of describing the terrifying consequences of having your identity stripped away by the ever-grinding internet content machine without being weird about it.)

What the show does predict is the vibe of the Internet 24 years after its release. The bleak, conspiracy-laden conversations from every corner of the Wired feel like doomscrolling through Twitter or Reddit. It's an arresting experience that is obtuse to the point of being annoying and so painfully topical that I paused several times during some episodes to catch my breath. As Lain loses her sense of self to the constant noise of the Wired, she, and we the audience, are trapped between a nightmare of a present that never came to pass and a paranoid future that's all too real.

SEL wears its thesis statement on its sleeve: all people, no matter who they are and where they go, are connected. These unspoken connections are what make us human. The lyrics to the insert song for episode 13 put it plainly, "I try to be connected by something to someone, anyone/In the wandering night, you keep waiting; a signal of loneliness". All she needs is someone who sees her as more than a tool for their own ends or a god to be praised. At Lain's lowest point, her reality-bending powers aren't what rescue her from a liminal hell. Love is what pulls her up to her feet and so, so much more. I can only hope love saves me, too.

I took notes as I watched SEL. Yes, I know that's not best practice for engaging with a piece of media for the first time, but it felt essential to capture my thoughts as they happened. In total, there are around 10 pages (handwritten!) of them. Here's a selection for your enjoyment:

big emphasis on light and shadow. all shadows have this paint splats texture in them. Sometimes the textures move, but mostly they look like blood. Darkness feels so deep as if the characters will fall into them. in contrast, much of the real world is blank white.

that shit where Lain sees the faces of people (willingly?) trapped in the Wired that are constantly cycling through terror and ecstasy is kinda fucked up! is she seeing them? is she hallucinating them?

"we saw someone die and we can't take it seriously. i think there's something wrong with us." prescient.

it's striking how barren Lain's real life is. washed out, barely real. sterile. but the Wired is color, noise. cacophony. the madness and chaos of the human existence. constant connectedness. Instrumentality-esque.

Alice feels like the only person who knows what kind of show this is.

holy fuck Lain's room isn't even a room anymore. at least it isn't one where humans live. but it is one perfectly made for the new God of the Wired.

now THERE'S the anime bullshit!

oh god, everyone staring at you. primal fear unlocked.

"I'm the only me." said while under shifting lights in the dark

Lain is doing NORMAL and FINE

it's all men who say they love Lain. older men, too. 2. it's an abstract kind of love. love of the ideal of normalcy, love from a follower to a god, love from a god to a follower. it's all big concept "love." intangible. contractual in the case of the last two. but not "I called to see how you were" or "left you some food" or "saw this funny picture and thought of you" love. destructive vs transformative. one-sided.

…also score some of the more traumatic moments to this jazzy [music] piece.

Alice is real. and because Alice can remember Lain, Alice who is kind and good and is loved by Lain, this makes Lain real, too. FUCK.

ALL RESET. RETURN.

Gay people truly do it all!

Sonny Boy

Full disclosure, I haven't finished this anime yet and I'm not sure when I will. Binging it is an option, but that feels...wrong. This isn't a show you sit through and then dump from your brain.

Honestly, Sonny Boy is intimidating. It's the only anime I've ever seen that doesn't have an OP or ED sequence nor an eyecatch to break the ever mounting tension. What should be a run of the mill coming of age story becomes a supernatural thriller as the students leap from one confusing dimension to the next. The influence of the manga The Drifting Classroom is obvious in nearly every way.

If you're able to keep up with the emotional toll it demands, you're rewarded with one of the most beautiful shows you've ever seen. Bright colors and incredible layouts ease you into its complex visual allegories. I already know there'll be plenty of new visual clues I'll notice in future viewings. This includes watching how each character reacts to the weird situations their thrown into. The cast is an entire graduating class worth of students, yet every one of them feels like a distinct and unique person. The core cast especially stand out as they're all, and I say this lovingly, weirdos. Now that their school is hopping between realities, these ostracized, lonely kids must now choose between groups of classmates who now violently demand their loyalty. In these unprecedented, unforeseen, extraordinary times, who do you trust? Why?

I've got 6 episodes left of Sonny Boy. I can't wait to see where it goes.

Mobile Police Patlabor 2 the Movie

I'm a self-proclaimed oldhead when it comes to anime. Yes, there are many excellent current anime (more on that in a bit) and yes, I'm grateful new generations of animators willing to push the boundaries of the medium. However, the feeling that most anime created post-2010 are created by committee is impossible to shake. Look at how many isekai and light novel adaptations are pumped out every year. There aren't many shows that where directors' intents and philosophies are blatant anymore.

Mamoru Oshii has a reputation for using a well-established series to explore whatever topic is on his mind. Urusei Yatsura: Beautiful Dreamer swaps out its usual zany humor for reflections on the march of time and nature of reality. Fans of the time were not pleased their hot alien wife was nearly non-existent in the movie. Regardless of how fan criticism then and now, it's an uncompromising Oshii production. You'd think the fan letters with razor blades he received after Beautiful Dreamer would deter him from experimenting with the formula of a well-loved franchise, but he would do it again with Patlabor. Originally an OVA and manga started in 1988, the show is generally a light-hearted affair following a police squadron of goofballs who shouldn't be trusted with giant robots armed with giant-robot sized magnums but they are anyway. Their cases run the gamut from defusing a bomb set by eco-terrorsists to solving a Scooby-Doo mystery to stopping a potential coup by the JGSDF. They'll always get the job done--even if a few buildings and roads get blown away in the process.

None of that fun atmosphere can be found in Patlabor the Movie. Instead of a fun romp, it's a quiet, moody reflection on how those in power abandon those who need the most help in the dogged pursuit of capital and the fluid nature of our reality. With the first signs of the fragility of the economy by the time of the movie's release in July 1989, it's a poignant look at a country on the edge.

Patlabor the Movie 2 is about what happens after the music stops.

You can practically feel Oshii shaking you by the shoulders with each new development, demanding that you ask yourself who must be subjugated by state violence to keep your streets safe and prosperous. Just watch this sequence and tell me you don't feel his righteous fury:

Or watch this sequence and say you don't notice Oshii's contempt for a nation and military willing to oppress their neighbors to ensure "safety":

Neither of these moments have left my head since I first watched it. I doubt they ever will.

This movie is so incredibly Oshii that it would not be the same without him. Hell, I doubt it would even exist. No one else has the skill to make a movie so staunchly anti-capitalist and anti-military while making its cop protagonists relatable.

It is a movie suited not just for 1993, but for every moment spent living under capitalism. This isn't one of my favorite anime movies, it's one of my favorite movies, period. Whether or not you have any prior knowledge of Patlabor, I cannot recommend it enough.

Bocchi the Rock!

Fall 2022 was a barn burner of an anime season. Chainsaw Man. Gundam: Witch from Mercury. Mob Psycho 100 season 3. Spy x Family cour 2. MOTHERFUCKIN' BLEACH. Any of these could easily be anime of the season or anime of the year. For me, the clear winner of both these accolades is….

An anime where a girl gets beat up by birds because she's so pathetic and is left in a Yamcha-style crater in the ground.

You've likely seen 6 videos and 4 essays by now on how BTR is an underappreciated gem. Seeing how it's set the anime world on fire, this status is distinctly untrue by now. Still, it's hard to understate how much of a surprise Bocchi is. My friend threw it on during a session of our longstanding anime nights for fun and both of us were blown away by its quality. Every joke is funny. Every shot is composed for maximum effectiveness. Every VA is giving it their all. Bocchi's VA is learning how to play guitar! Everyone on the animation staff sounds thrilled to be working on this. It is the epitome of a show firing on all cylinders with the creative energy to match.

What elevates a run of the mill "girls make a band" premise is our titular protagonist Hitori "Bocchi" "My Daughter With Every Disease" Gotoh. Her social anxiety isn't a small, cute part of her personality but a disability that constantly gets in the way of her life. Entering a public space becomes an all-consuming fear she'll be perceived as weird or unlikable by total strangers. Asking her friends if they want to hang out becomes a months-long ordeal that's only resolved when they realize what she's been too afraid to ask on the last day of summer vacation.

And yet, she allows herself to try even when at rock bottom. Yes, she plays the entirety of Kessoku Band's first show from inside a cardboard box, but she still gets on stage. The people in her life are happy to help her move forward in any way they can. Bocchi learns--slowly and with many setbacks--that her gloomy personality is accepted by those who care about her. She may not easily make friends, but for those who stick around, they'll be friends for life. She has no enemies.

Personally, that's a hard pill to swallow. As someone with social anxiety, depression, and general anxiety, I've had the same spiraling "god, what if everyone decides they hate me" thoughts before entering a restaurant or grocery store. It's a constant voice that makes it difficult to take walks, message my friends. My life can be a shitty place to be multiple months out of the year. I'd like to say I've made progress, but the Serial Experiments Lain section should tell you everything about how that's going. Each week spent with Bocchi as she strives toward her goals only reiterated what I already knew: the only way forward is through.

And Bocchi does, indeed, go through it. Hell, she literally climbs into a trashcan in the third to last episode. You've seen the tumblr post by now. However, she allows herself space to grow and be a comfort to others, if need be. Everyone in Kessoku Band benefits, as well: Ryo gains a place to belong although she's a loner by choice; Kita fully devotes herself to developing a skill rather than going after several half-heartedly; Nijika finds others she can share her dream of hitting the big time with. They make each other a better band and even better people. While the band finds some success after two successful public gigs, their anxieties don't disappear. Rather, it gets easier for each of them to bear. However long it may take and how many trash cans Bocchi may climb into, they'll be able to shoulder those burdens together.

"This show deserves a second season" is such a cliche at this point, but I mean it for this one. Bocchi the Rock deserves that and more. The anime world, and myself, is made better with Bocchi's uncompromising rock.

[chuya-chuya-blog]

This didn't exactly fit with my previous post but I've gotta mention it.

With the ending of MHA, there is yet another gap in Shonen Jump. I'm sure it'll be filled, but we need to talk, guys.

There's no new big three. There hasn't been for a long time. There are big series, but no definitive trio. Nobody was debating if Bleach, Naruto, or One Piece were the big three. They just were. They all debuted around the same time, had distinctive themes and settings, and were knocking it out of the park on the sales charts. In fact, their era DEFINED the big three. Nobody was talking about a big three in the 90s. Because of them, we're having debates on what should be considered the previous big three.

Personally, I say it was Yu Yu Hakusho, Rurouni Kenshin before it was disgraced, and DragonBall Z. But I also feel like DBZ is in a category of its own, as it debuted almost a decade before the others and was already well established. I consider DBZ the grandfather of shonen manga, and to that I say Slam Dunk probably fits in as part of the big three of the 90s. In terms of Shonen Jump manga, anyway.

Yes, Shonen Jump. Stop putting Sailor Moon and Pokémon in there, the big three are a Shonen Jump thing. I really would give Sailor Moon, Pokémon and DragonBall Z legendary status, if we're being honest. They're the grand marshal trio that helped introduce anime and manga to the west. There was a time when people thought every anime was Sailor Moon. Yes, really.

There's actually a ton of legendary anime and manga, but we westerners don't know of them all. That's a discussion for another day, anyway.

But in the new generation, the only "big three" type series we really had was MHA. Knocking it out of the park with battles, arcs, several movies and musicals, sales, etc., only MHA was reaching those heights on a consistent basis. Demon Slayer was popular, but it debuted later, finished earlier, and has an older audience. Jujitsu Kaisen also debuted much later than MHA and has darker tones. In fact, I'd say Demon Slayer and JJK are actually more similar to each other in scale and tone, than they are to MHA (and I'd include Kagurabachi in with this too, they all feel darker in tone to me). MHA was more lighthearted and was more suitable for a younger audience like the previous big three were.

When there are discussions about what the new big three series for Shonen Jump are, My Hero Academia is almost ALWAYS included. Even by people who don't like it. And that is the type of standing I'm talking about.

We don't have that right now. And with MHA gone, we REALLY don't have that. There is no current undeniable big three in Shonen Jump. One Piece is too old, Kagurabachi is too new, JJK is constantly killing off favorites, and Demon Slayer is over. We just don't have a trio like we did back in the day. We don't have a new series where people go, "Do you REALLY watch anime, or is it only Naruto?"

To be honest, I doubt we're gonna get a new trio. Today's demographics are very different. A whole host of issues plague the comics industry across the globe. Tastes vary widely with the selection of online comics available, and you can get your needs met virtually anywhere. The Shonen Jump battle manga formula is beginning to feel a bit stale to me, anyway, and honestly kinda forced, too. Lately, I've only found myself liking things like Shiba Inu Rooms and Psych House. Both just seem to be chill and at their own pace, not trying to set up that first big battle arc that they do to see if a series can hold interest. Maybe it's just me, but that formula is tired. When I detect that that's where a series is going, my eyes just glaze over.

Maybe the gap left by MHA will lead to a new big three, like the ending of DBZ did. They both ended at 42 volumes, too! Or maybe we just have to stop trying to force it like y'all are doing with Kagurabachi. It may just have to develop naturally, instead.

I really want to see a new trio, though. I'm just tired of the Shonen Jump formula they keep regurgitating. I guess we will have to wait and see.

[visiblexela]

Anyone want some small town drama? How about Confederate Toilets?

There's a suburb near Cincinnati, Ohio called Harrison - I'm not from there, but I do live in the area and have been absorbing this story through osmosis. Take everything I say with a grain of salt!

Apparently, this guy owns some residential property in the area, and he's getting older and is ready to retire. He's looking to sell it, but as we all know zoning laws are quite the bitch. This plot of land is surrounded on 4 sides by commercial land, though, so as residential land it's pretty worthless. Seems like a slam dunk case, though, right? No sense in having a single house bordered by businesses. Reportedly, Harrison has extremely draconian zoning laws.

Well, city council doesn't think so. Apparently he and the mayor have some baggage, too. A coincidence, I'm sure.

That's when our boy here had an idea - see, Harrison was held hostage in the Civil War by Confederate soldiers. In some ways, its still feeling the scars to this day. What better way to greet out-of-towners, then?

Welcome to Harrison, Ohio indeed!

"Why doesn't city council just make him take that eyesore down?" you might ask. Well, you see that fine print? You'll have to take my word for it, but that left part says "for sale." They can't enforce codes on "for sale" signage!

Should go without saying that this plan didn't work, so our intrepid hero increased the pressure, leading us here:

Over time, he began writing things like "MAYOR" and "COUNCILMAN" on the toilets - I'm pretty sure at this point this is a 1st amendment situation where pretty much nobody can tell him to take it down.

Tragedy struck this morning, though:

No clue who did it or why, maybe it was the guy, maybe it was vandals, maybe the Mayor came in the dead of night to vanquish his foes. Either way, something tells me this saga isn't over!

[zombesoup]

Perfect for One Another

“You’re fucking insufferable!” Christopher shouts as he buttons his stonewash blue jeans that looked painted on those muscular thighs. To Sven he looked like a petulant child stomping around the dirty bedroom. Bare chested and barefoot, all golden vanilla skin on display as Sven smiled like his world wasn’t smashing into another planet. The force of his emotions being ripped apart by Christopher’s words left him breathless as if he was dunking his head into a tub of ice water.

“You know what I do. You know how I slit the throats of people who fucking deserve it and you let me… you let me cum inside you like you loved me, just to say my dead wife’s name as I’m telling you how I fucking feel?! Who does that?” Christopher shouted the words. Christopher noted the way his cum ran down the man’s open vagina and even when he was as angry as he was. He still wanted to fuck another load in the waste of human dna that was Sven Petrov.

“Why do you think I did that?” Sven asked sitting up, his own pants looked silly at his hairy ankles and that singular opinion held his tears back. As he spoke, he grabbed Christopher’s button down red flannel shirt and wiped himself dry. He hoped that would be the switch flipped for the serial killer. If he was going to die that day, he would make damn sure he wasn’t the only one.

“Because you want to die!? Is that it?” Christopher roared. Sven watched him, this taller than most man who he himself had witnessed peel the skin from someone’s face weeks ago on a stake out. It had broken his heart the moment he knew the man who had finally taught him to trust and love again was the very murdering psycho he had been hunting for as a private investigator.

“No I did it so we wouldn’t have any more secrets. You know who I am and I know who ,” was all Sven got to say before his nose crumpled against the fist from the man he was talking to.

“You hurt me because you’re angry with me, how fucking pedestrian are you!” Christopher shouts at the top of his lungs as the smaller man rolls around on the bed holding his bleeding nose as his blood fills his cupped hands and runs down his palms and wrists.

Contrary to psychological beliefs psychopaths do in fact feel they just have a capacity for shutting off empathy. Something Christopher learned as his anger gave way to a sense of panic, nausea, and concern in less than ten seconds.

“I’m sorry use my shirt.” Christopher said without thinking and Sven did just that and instantly regretted it as he glared daggers at him. His face was smeared with blood and cum.

“Now I’m really fucking sorry,” Christopher said trying in vain not to smile at the image before him. There was something about the image of the naked man wiping his cum out of of his eyes that was just too much. He lunged on top of the man, one large hand encircling his neck, thumb stabbing deep into his windpipe. The way those doe eyes flew open, the whites around the eyes somewhere between pink and red, was Christopher’s endgame.

For months he had been imagining how he would kill this man, the way he picked up every bread crumb at crime scenes. It was all for this, leaving a severed finger beside his victims. Each with a different surface under their fingernails. It had all been to get him here to this perfectly preserved crime scene, the first he had committed when he had been barely twenty.

Christopher watched the color flush Sven’s face as he caught the fist that moved almost fast enough to catch him on the side of his face. He slammed the hand into the mattress. It would be so good, this death, the climax of two years of work. But as he let up the pressure on the throat he smashed their lips together. He forced his tongue into the mouth of the man who should be dead But as he felt his own breath stolen by the man sucked it out of his mouth. He didn’t understand what about the situation had inspired the shift in direction but he was so happy that the man was kissing him back.

It took two YouTube videos on setting the broken nose for Christopher to get it right. Both men were surprised at how much blood came from second time. But as it slowed and Christopher sprinted off to the bathroom for towels, Sven had time to think. He had decided to take his pants and underwear all the way off, so he stared at his hairy legs and the blood they were sprayed with and tried not to think about when his penis had been bitten off.

“Are you feeling sorry for yourself?” The deep voice of the man who had broken his nose asked, breaking the spell of memory as he looked up the long mainly muscled torso of Christopher. His golden skin covered in his blood only made him look more beautiful. So much so he had to look away.

“Am I that easy to read?” Sven asked and was surprised at his own sadness but what was he sad about? Everything that had led to this moment, or the fact he was in love with this, literal psycho.

“Don’t punch me for saying yes, but yes.” Christopher said who noted the bloody legs but ignored them as he knelt between them and pressed warm, damp white bath towels to the man’s face. Never in all his life had he ever cared to mend a wound. He preferred causing them. Maybe that was why his son had died, no sooner had he had the thought did he shut it down. Romantic feelings was making him lower his mental defenses.

"Now whose having self depreciating thoughts," Sven said as he rose to his feet. Stepping into Christopher's space. He didn't think about the dried blood across his skin, he knew not to pry into Christopher's past even though he wanted too. And he really wanted to, instead he simply ran his hands through the brown hair pulling errant strands from that forehead. The way those brown eyes moved up his bloody legs, over his vagina and up the bloody shirt to Sven's face made fear join the feelings of empathy and rage inside him.

Warning bells were ringing inside his mind as Christopher leaned in and kissed his leg. The chaste kiss turning to something deeper as his hot tongue ran across the dried blood. It was involuntary the way Sven's hands became a fist in that silky hair.

The way the mood shifted from warm and familiar intimacy to a searing Inferno if desire between the men was so instant that Sven felt as if his world were spinning wildly off his axis. When those perfect teeth bit down on his skin instead of that sinful tongue, Sven cried out in surprise. Almost instantly those lips were placed over the abused space on his thigh. Pain and pleasure rode his senses and any self preservation evaporated under the loveliest pleasure Christopher could inflict.

Sven released the hair as his legs gave out and the strong hands on his waist were all that kept him from falling. He hastily wipes at his moist cheeks. He didn't know when he had started crying or even why, but the moment when Christopher’s mouth kissed his vagina his brain lost all reason. If it hadn't he might of noticed those hands had moved. Maybe he would of put up a fight when in one swift move he found himself on the bed, Christopher kissing and biting up his stomach. But the heat building inside his body was growing, making his body arch up as Christopher kissed and sucked him. His thick fingers pushing in and out of Sven, slowly.

[west-haven]

it’s been like twenty four hours and I am still very disgruntled by episode two of tlou hbo omg (warning, complaining an spoilers under the cut)

like why did they have to basically have clickers kiss people

like I am so worried for the rest of the series, I am so afraid they’re gonna continue doing more little weird changes that aren’t just justified changes

cuz I was fine with the first episode, the most egregious thing was the plane crash bit but that was QUICK and inconsequential

but the tendrils and stuff, like it’s just such a big change that the implications are so mystifying. Like are infected gonna sense the bit of infection in Ellie like it’s a spider sense and hunt her out? Since they are all ~*connected*~ and shit?? And they can ~*sense*~ the infection in Tess and just had to fully infect her??

I’m just so peeved omg it’s maddening that more people aren’t weirded out and I keep on seeing people praise the change and it makes me feel like I’m going crazy and just an asshole

Me thinking a straight adaptation of the game by HBO, by the guy who helmed Chernobyl, and I thought it would be a slam dunk. But then they TWEAKED core elements about the infected that just throw things off JUST enough. There was nothing wrong with it being spores omg

Still, I’m hoping that there are no other curve balls that derail shit further. I’m optimistic that Bill will be done very well, and they’ll flesh out his relationship with Frank in a very believable way

I’m still the longtime fan of this series, from fucking 2013, but shit, this hurts. At least I got my long time favorite six hour movie cut of the game on YouTube to soothe my soul

PS so the writers trying to explain things like “what if they’re only violently trying to infect people cuz people struggle, what if you didn’t struggle, this shows that” is JUST esoteric enough that if they wanted to actually mean that, they should have hinted to it. That is too big of a weird thing to introduce in episode TWO, especially without some sort of hint that it’s a viable option vs just blindly fighting back. If they had built up a bit more that it was a tactic, then MAYBE it wouldn’t seem so jarring, but this is so left field it’s not even in the same ballpark. If they set up their weird implications, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. If they wanted to do this, it shouldn’t have happened to a core member of the initial cast, and it shouldn’t have happened in episode two during some of the first interactions with the infected

okay I HAVE to stop complaining omg I’m gonna go play p3p

[yeoldotcom]

the process of love; jaehyun

pairing; jung yoonoh x reader

word count; 2.3k words

genre; fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

summary; jaehyun dunked his way into your heart but you both had chemistry way before that.

a/n; this is just a small lil something something that i really .. idk why i wrote this actually,,,,, its pretty rough too and barely edited but ! hope u enjoy it anyways !!

running. you were running.

wait... running? really? you were... running? what the hell? why?

you did nothing wrong. all you did was say a few words. honestly, he should've ran. that would've been the accurate reaction, right?

but after the words came out he just stood there, staring, like a dead fish for at least thirty seconds. thirty seconds was ample enough time for him to react, you're sure of it.

so you reacted for him.

turning your dominant leg to your left, you pushed yourself out of that situation and started sprinting down the hallway. you were probably 13 feet away from him before he finally figured out what was going on.

"wait, wh— are you running?!" he exclaimed. you said nothing in response, letting your footsteps do the talking but shortly after, you heard his steps start behind you.

so here you were, running through halls, up some stairs, more halls, a lot of halls actually, and he was right behind you. the whole. time.

"y/n! at least slow down! or say something!" he tried. you could hear him huffing. he was a few seconds behind you but he still hadn't caught you yet. if you just ran a little faster you could get to your dorm and have time to lock the door too.

"can we talk about this?" he pleaded, his voice getting farther away. were you a track star or something? where was all this stamina coming from?

you were so close. just one more hall and you were there. a few more steps. a little longer...

as soon as you could, you got your key, shoving it into the door and forcing it open as fast as humanly possible. by the time he caught up the door slammed shut in his face.

he huffed outside your door, catching his breath, "what the fuck?" you could see him through the peephole. your whole entire body was pumping adrenaline, not processing how long you ran for. it was like you drank four cans of red bull back to back.

"why—" breath, "—why would u fucking run away?"

"just go away! i have my answer."

"how?" still catching his breath? god, wasn't he on the basketball team?

"you sat there for thirty seconds! hesitating—"

"i was processing it! let me in unless you want everyone in this hall to know our business!"

"just leave!"

you heard him take a deep breath and then silence. but not for long.

"y/n, you just confessed your feelings to me. im not leaving until we talk." his voice wasn't loud like before but you could still hear it clear as day through your door. it came through bearing truth and responsibility. you couldn't just hide from your feelings.

but you did run from them.

and honestly, you told jaehyun your feelings so you didn't have to carry the burden! you should totally be able to hide from your feelings! what type of fucked up world would this be if you couldn't?

"y/n," oh whoops. you forgot he was out there for a second.

"come on jaehyun. you already rejected me so just go."

"what..?" he let out another breath. this one was because of confusion, not because of the mini marathon from before. "when did i... y/n let me in. i can't tell if you're joking or not."

"why would i be joking? you stood there gaping at me! for thirty seconds—!"

"it wasn't thirty seconds! why would you even be counting that? that doesn't make any sense— and for gods sake! i was processing it!" the neighbors were definitely listening in. it was a sight to see: the star basketball player, jeong jaehyun, outside YOUR dorm room pleading to be let in. you just wished he would leave or something.

"that's an excuse!! if you don't like me you could just say that!"

"we're not doing this out here. let me in," as he spoke those last three words you heard the doorknob jiggle. and then the door opened. and then you were met, face to face, yet again, with jaehyun.

"huh, guess i forgot to lock it," you forced a smile onto your face as he stared you down, "well, hello again."

he turned to close the door before looking back at you, "what were you saying before? if i don't like you then say it?" wow, he opened the door just to reject you to your face. what a jerk— "but what about if i do like you?"

um, what?

i'm sorry, beg your pardon?

what did he just say?

"if you do...?" you were still staring at him, your eyes afraid to break contact. you saw a tiny smile forming on his face and hope started to blossom in your chest. was he serious? did he know he was making you imagine a reality where he reciprocated your feelings? did he know how dangerous that was??

"y/n, why would i chase you down all these halls and wait outside your dorm if i didn't like you back?" by now the smile was fully formed on his face, "you're amazing, how could i not like you? especially with you cheering in the bleachers for me every game."

you rolled your eyes but a smile started to inch it's way onto your face as well. because of your crush on jaehyun you started to go to your school's basketball games with your friends. they would cheer for the team and you would cheer for jaehyun.

one of the games was against a rival school so it was kind of a big deal. everyone showed up and cheered for their respective school by bringing signs and pompoms and so you decided to join the fun. you made a sign with your friends and brought it to the game. for majority of it, the sign sat at your feet while you cheered vocally for jaehyun. but there was a point in the game where it was neck to neck and the rival team had a chance of winning. then jaehyun came out of nowhere, taking control of the game and practically gliding across the court where he dunked the ball into his basket. that was when you reached for your sign and screamed at the top of your lungs.

you didn't think he would notice you but he did. he definitely did. he took a few moments to high five his teammates and smile at the crowd and that was when he saw your sign.

high in the crowd of people, it read: ♡ jeong jaehyun, you dunked your way into my heart! i only come to the basketball games for you!!（╹◡╹）♡

because of your sign, jaehyun made it a point to win the game and at his future games, he would look for you in the crowd before they’d start. you’d always be there, in that same spot in the middle of the left-side bleachers. and he’d always smile because of that. because of you.

a few weeks later, he found out you both had a class together: organic chem.

not being able to sleep the night before, jaehyun showed up to class a little earlier than usual. he was getting his laptop ready to take notes when he heard someone enter the classroom a little loudly. it was you. you tripped. but despite the rough entry, jaehyun was super excited to see you. he found himself thinking about you often after his games so to learn that you shared a class was great news for him.

the first time he approached you in class, you were shocked. you were pretty sure he hadn’t known you were in this class. since he was seated closer to the front, he hadn’t looked back in your direction ever this semester.

wait, actually you were pretty sure he hadn’t even known you existed at all so for him to walk up to you during a lab and ask if you knew the answers for a section he was stuck on was just baffling.

“yeah, give me a sec,” you had said, only to turn to the page he was talking about and realize you did not know the answers. in fact, you had wrote in big letters under each question “WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN??!” and “FUCK THIS” respectively. and he saw. and laughed.

“do you wanna join my study group?” he asked after you shut your book with an unreasonable amount of force. of course you had said yes, you weren’t dumb. this was a prime opportunity to get close to him. you didn’t realize his study group consisted of only him though. can’t even call it a group. jaehyun, come on. basic knowledge says a group is more than two people.

for the study “group”, you both would meet up in the library and go over chemistry questions. and neither of you would understand it. it was a sad sight, really, but to you both? it was the best part of your day. you both got closer to each other by bonding over not understanding the class until you found that jaehyun was becoming a big part of your life and you, his.

it was strange.

but you both became really good friends.

well, that is until your crush basically started to eat at you and you couldn’t take it. sitting next to him in the library while he tried to make sense of a chemistry question, meeting up after his games, sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he drove you both to get milkshakes, it was too much for you. you couldn’t take it.

which leads us back to the present: jaehyun was walking you back to your dorm after your “study session” for your upcoming exams. he left his car parked at your dorm so he could bring it up when you inevitably nagged him saying he didn’t have to walk you back.

you paused in the lobby as he pushed the button for the elevators. when the door opened, he moved to get on but realized you weren’t next to him.

“y/n? what are you doing?” he asked, confused, as he looked back at you, “come on.”

if you didn’t say it right in that moment, you feared you would never say it. nerf or fucking nothing, right?

so you rehearsed for about 10 seconds in your head before taking a deep breath and looking up at him.

“jaehyun, i really like you. like romantically. and it’s been a while. i’ve liked you for a while now,” that wasn’t really how you worded it in your 10 second rehearsal but it wasn’t too bad i guess. but he only stared. now his full body was facing you and the remnants of the smile he wore before were now gone.

you kept going though.

“i like you, jaehyun,” you took a shaky breath, “do you feel anything towards me?”

and then you waited.

and waited.

jaehyun still wore the same expression, his brows had just raised slightly since you started but he was still shocked in place. he hadn’t made any motion to say anything. he didn’t even look like he was thinking of saying anything. he was just taking in the scenario. soaking it in.

but each second that passed made you even more of a mess. you wanted him to do something, anything! twitch his eye, move a finger, blink!

but he didn’t.

and then the thirty seconds passed. and so you ran.

but after all that, after running, getting to your dorm, yelling through the door and in the hallway, after he finally opened your door so you could talk like normal people, he was telling you he liked you back?

“jaehyun, you better not be joking,” you warned as he reached for your hands.

he was smiling when you interlocked them, looking up at you, “I’m not, y/n. i really like you.” he pulled you in closer to him, smiling even more when your breath hitched out of surprise.

“should i prove it?”

you nodded.

so he leaned forward, getting closer to your lips with each passing moment until finally meeting them with his own, making your eyes close in response. it was like magic the way his lips molded with yours. magic was actually the only way how you could explain any of this.

he pulled away slowly, smiling as your eyes opened to look up at him.

“was that enough proof? or should i do it again?” the smirk he was giving you was enough to make you weak at the knees but that on top of the kiss he just gave you? there’s only so much you can handle at once.

“i’ll believe you. i don’t think i’d survive another one of those.” he laughed at you but you were being completely serious.

“i can’t believe you thought i didn’t like you back. i thought i was being obvious this whole time,” he pulled you into a hug, reveling in the moment, “i literally invited you to join my study group. i wasn’t in a study group.”

you pulled away with a gasp, “i knew that was weird! you called it a group but it was only us!”

he laughed at your shock, reaching forward to smooth your hair, “that was definitely a spur of the moment thing. I just wanted to a reason to see you more.”

“you’re a big dork,” you replied.

he smiled, “you like it though.”

thinking back to the events leading you to this moment, you couldn’t believe it was ever real. going to that first basketball game and seeing jaehyun fly across the court all night, seeing his wide smile after his team won the game. becoming his study partner after he randomly came up to you during class. and now confessing to him and having him return your feelings. it was all surreal.

“i do,”

if this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

masterlist.

[knowlesian]

since i haven’t seen anyone else bring it up and i think it’s a key piece of understanding the show as a whole, i wanted to do a quick spotlight on why olu and frenchie’s names themselves are part of the next level commentary on race and colonialism this show is making. 

okay: first, let’s take olu. oluwande boodhari, if you’re absolutely in love with him because the way he says cake sends you to another plane of existence. (i’m not going to get to make a lot of jokes this post without it being ghoulish at absolute fucking best, so that’s me shooting my one shot here because samson truly did do wonders, there.) both his first and last name are african (most modern day oluwandes seem to be from nigeria, unless google has led me astray), and he shares a last name with “a pioneer in the genre of somali love poems” named elmi boodhari from the 1900′s. 

(i’d never heard of him before i did some googling to solidify my facts and make sure i’m not talking out my ass in a few places here so i can’t say more than that, but i plan to immediately track down everything i can.)

we can draw a couple conclusions from this: if olu wasn’t born somewhere in africa himself (which seems likely, but i don’t want to claim it’s a slam dunk), he was abolutely born somewhere his people were still allowed to speak in their own language. 

i used allowed on purpose: one of the very first tricks in the colonizer’s and thus the enslaver’s toolkit is to go for the sacred things first. once the bloody slog of conquest is more or less done, and they’ve settled into the centers of power so they can get to work putting down anyone left alive who has the audacity to think they shouldn’t be grateful for these good works and the god they say demands these things. i don’t just mean replacing any indigenous religions with christianity, although that is a huge part of it. the more pertinent part of it here is that they went for language; names, places, the very structures of how the people they invaded defined their own realities. 

it’s practical, if you’re an absolute fucking demon: when you don’t allow and harshly punish if not just straight up murder people who attempt to speak in a language you don’t understand, it’s harder for them to do what is good and right and try to fucking kill you down to the last stupid asshole still left kicking around. it’s also a form of psychological warfare, and it was done on purpose. we have the receipts! this shit was planned. like izzy said: you don’t get fed when you get invaded, and you live at your invader’s pleasure. (“back to work, you useless fucking fuckers”, he said. this show is just... so fucking good. i’m genuinely blown away.)

which brings us to frenchie. like i said: colonizers and enslavers went for language right away. that meant a bunch of people needed names in a language that was in the process of being shoved down their throats. there were a lot of bible names, of course, because White Colonizer Jesus will have his due, and a lot of family names taken from enslavers, but also a lot of place names. port cities, but also countries.

so we have frenchie, who was “in service”, and in a blink and you miss it moment, tries to tell everybody exactly what the french call the misfortune that follows the demons who follow the crystals what are contained within women. whether or not that means frenchie has been in france himself, it makes it a pretty logical assumption his life (or one of his fairly recent ancestors’) was impacted by france’s involvement in the history/legacy of enslavement.

i’m far from an expert on that so i’ll leave it there at the “these are the history facts i know” angle, but i will say if you’ve never looked into this stuff you should. real fucked up, and real important to know about if you want to be a thoughtful member of the world.

i want to close on this: though this is not my lane, it feels like malpractice to not mention it alongside their names and the different histories they evoke. i would direct people to the many, many black writers out there right now talking about colorism because the fact that olu’s skin is darker than frenchie’s is also important to the commentary at work here. i don’t feel qualified to do more than acknowledge i think it’s necessary to know about if you want to really understand this show and say “the people who live that experience are the ones who should be explaining it, not me” but it’s absolutely there.

[bodycountgame]

Hi, Nell! I'm unsure your current pov re: advice columns, but I figured I could give it a shot and ask you for an unbiased opinion. If I ever make you uncomfortable, I'm so sorry!!!

Okay, here's my dilemma: I've had this major crush on this guy between ages 11-18, which is my literal entire adolescence (I'm 25 now). It was so intense, I literally made it my mission to let everyone know, thinking in some roundabout way the butterfly effect would result in him proposing to me during our high school graduation (it didn't happen). So, fast forward to two days ago, I download Tinder for the first time because FOMO and a good laugh, but I live in a relatively small town, so I figured I might get traumatized seeing someone I grew up asking to fuck (YUCK). So, you can imagine I nearly shitted myself when I'm on the chopping block swiping left like I'm getting paid for it and see my old crush's older fucking brother - and I only recognized this guy because he had his profile as a group pic with my crush in it. So, I'm gagging, pissing, howling because it was an absolute blast to the past since I totally remember his brother being, like, THE guy on campus and all of my friends gushed over him, but I was too gaga for my crush to really see any appeal (and I still don't now tbh he's just not my type). My question is: I think it's a major win, and a petty part of me wants to match to slam dunk that trauma on my crush, because, honestly, he was an absolute ass to me. Of course, it's not great ethics because I'm basically using his older brother, who probably didn't even know I existed before Tinder. My sister, who's a textbook Gemini, thinks I should, and while Gemini isn't my sun, I have four houses in it, so I'm on her wavelength. My mom thinks it's too coincidental, and thinks it's a trap??? My friend thought it was a hoot, and it really should be just that. I just can't shake this feeling of wanting to match (yes I paid for Gold ugh), so what should I do? Match or not? I think it's straight up incest, but it's been a constant war these past two days. Like, imagine the chances out of all the people that live in my town it just HAD to be this guy! So, is this a sign from the universe or a test? Idk!

okay i am not gonna make a habit of answering these but i feel like i have a social responsibility in this case

anon, please hear me on every level: no

it feels v bold to even assume that this guy will match you back (edit: oh okay i reread and assume gold means you can see he matched you?) or that your crush would even care? this is written like you're the main character in these peoples lives and it seems like you're setting yourself up for a big disappointment when you discover that you aren't.

also, don't deliberately use people! don't set out to play with the feelings of others! its a v bad look

i strongly recommend you take a deep breath, pretend you didn't see this guy on tinder and try to genuinely move on with your life

[elysianslove]

euphoria ; itadori yuuji

synopsis; a serene beach date, followed by intimacy at home

pairing; itadori yuuji x fem!reader

genre; fluff, smut 

warnings; smut! unprotected sex, which i do not condone this is fanfiction people. curses i guess? yuuji being cute as fuck <3

note; all characters are 18+ . please don’t read the smut if you’re a minor. there’ll be a page break separating the fluff from the smut! this shit is like over 4k words rip im sorry if there are mistakes

━━ it's not the first time he's seen you in a swimsuit. it's not even a bikini this time, and he's seen you in much more revealing clothing. you've laid bare next to him as the sun seeped through the curtains and woke the two of you up, and taken countless showers with him, soaked in the water inside a bathtub, his revealed chest to your naked back. and yet, yuuji gawks at you like it is the first time.

you only huff out a laugh as you slip the cover up off your shoulders, kneeling down to roughly fold it in your bag. his gaze is piercing, but you like the lingering presence of it. he whistles as you stand to your full height again, before eagerly removing shirt with a grin, reaching for the neck hemline and pulling it off. "so hot," he tells you, earning an eye roll from you. you're not given much warning before his strong arms are wrapping around your waist, picking you up off of the sand.

"yuuji, put me down!" you exclaim, but he only lifts you up higher, tossing you up on his shoulder.

he grips your waist with one arm, the other reaching up to grasp at your thighs as soon as you see the waves of the beach dance over to where your boyfriend stands. he continues inward, the water rising up to his waist, before he whispers out a measly apology, something like, "sorry, babe," before he's throwing you off his shoulder into the salty water.

a scream ripples out of your throat as you flail around, but there's no stopping it. you hit the water suddenly, initially freezing cold, before you move your limbs frantically to push your head out of the water. scowling at your boyfriend, who's cackling as if he were a wizard that's defeated his lifelong enemy, you push your hair out of your face. "what was that for!" you ask, swimming over to where he is.

he sinks below the water before you, his chin hovering over the water as he laughs. "it was out of love," he argues. "i wish i'd recorded it; your scream was hilarious."

instead of wallowing, you paint a mischievous grin on your lips as you plant your feet onto the sand beneath you, and leap up, aiming to dunk your boyfriend's head beneath the water. he's trained though, maybe not exactly for situations like this, but his reflexes are as sharp as ever. he catches your wrists easily, shifting his grasp of them in one hand, before using the other to grab your waist and push you beneath the water again. your eyes sting at the intrusion of salt water, throat burning, but the only true, lingering thought on your mind is just how easy it was for him to deflect you like that. you're terribly aware of yuuji's athleticism and strength, and yet it always manages to catch you off guard.

"no fair, yuuji," you say, pouting up at him as you blink away the residue of salt in your eyes. "that's twice in a row!"

yuuji only laughs again, reaching out for you beneath the water. his hands settle on your waist, but it's a soothing touch this time. no mischievousness behind them, only safety and security. he urges you closer to him until you rest your forearms on his shoulders, and then he leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose. "i promise no more slam dunking in the water," he tells you, lowering his lips to finally meet yours. you kiss him gently, enjoying the taste of salt that linger on your tongue when he opens his mouth for you. maybe it's a little lewd of you, openly making out with your boyfriend in a public beach's waters, but who can blame you really? he's breathtaking.

and you don't hesitate to him so. "you're mesmerizing, yuuji," you confess, lifting a hand to brush through his damp hair. some strands are sticking to his forehead, the pink of them more evident underneath the sunlight. you think that maybe he's left you this way, so mindlessly in love with him, because of the kiss. but really, you always feel this way for him. even if subconsciously.

"maybe i should slam dunk you more often," he teases you, but ultimately, he leans in for another kiss. "i think you're pretty neat."

"pretty neat, hm?" you wonder.

he hums. "yeah. the coolest girlfriend i could ask for, maybe," he continues. "prettiest, too." you humor him, and nod diligently. "by a long run, baby."

you press one last kiss on his lips, a quick peck, before pushing yourself out of his arms' hold, laying back atop the water. "help me float," you ask him, and then you feel his hands settle flat on your back, leaving a trail of heat along your spine. he's clueless of his effects as his face hovers over yours, shielding you from the sun, and you're insistent on keeping it that way, offering him a small smile.

he helps you dance above the waves for a few minutes, occasionally asking you random questions that you, honest to god, weren't sure if anyone had the answers to. and then, inevitably, he pouts down at you, complaining in a low voice, "m'hungry, babe."

thankfully, you'd prepared in advance for this date. rushing out of the water, with yuuji's hand in yours, you race across the sand to where your belongings were, an umbrella propped up for shade. you shiver as a breeze travels past you, painting goosebumps along your skin while your boyfriend urges you to move faster. as soon as you're there, he picks up your towel first, quickly wrapping it around your trembling frame and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm you up.

"all good?" he wonders, and you nod, even if you're still freezing, because he's still yet to dry himself off. finally, the two of you settle on the ground, a cloth beneath you acting as barrier to the sand, and you pull out the snacks you'd packed from your bag. all of his favorites. "you really are the best," he tells you, moaning as he takes a bite into his food. you offer him a sincere smile, shuffling nearer to him for both his body heat and to rest your head on his shoulder while you eat.  

there really is no telling how time will pass when you’re with him. sometimes it’s slow, languid, the universe taking its time to stretch out the moments between you two, allowing you to lose yourself within every little thing. every kiss felt like a hundred, every embrace lasted years, every glance left a lingering tingle at the bottom of your spine. other times it’s quick, breathtakingly fast, but you still feel everything as strongly as you would on the opposing days. your heart just beats a little faster, racing to catch up with the way time speeds around you. his touch is fleeting, but the effect he has on you is always eternal. today, the earth seems to slow down with you, to accommodate with your need and desire to feel every moment to the fullest. it sympathizes with you, makes sure you catch even the tiniest of movements from yuuji, like the way his eyes blink rapidly to rid himself of the intruding salt dripping from his hair, or the way he’s moving closer to you to rest his head above yours.

god, you’re such a sap.

there’s another breeze that flies by, and you shiver again, instinctively pushing yourself closer to him. yuuji takes note, lifting his arm to wrap it around you, encasing you in his warmth.

“if you could be any animal, what would you be?” he asks you. it’s not sudden, the type of question, but his voice so near you is.

you only shiver again as you shrug. “i don’t know. never really gave it much thought,” you admit. “maybe a seal or something. they seem to be doing great.”

“a seal?” he wonders, then cranes his neck to look down at you with an approving grin. “nice one, babe.”

you snort, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, sighing against his collarbones. “what about you?”

his grip tightens around you as he rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly. then, he replies, “maybe an eagle.”

“because it symbolizes freedom?” you ask.

yuuji shrugs softly. “maybe. or just because i’d like to fly. i’d carry you on my back and take you wherever you want,” he fantasizes.

“baby,” you start, sitting up straight to face him. “that’s what planes are for.”

the look on his face emits loud laughter from you, but he pinches the skin of your upper arm with a playful scowl, scoffing, “yeah but planes aren’t free, are they?” you hum, falling back into his embrace. he easily places his arms back around you, fitting you against him perfectly, before he speaks again. “where would you want to go?” he asks.

you sigh, “anywhere with you.”

he freezes for a moment, before he lets out a giggle. “you sap! god, you’re so in love with me.”

you can’t find it within yourself to tease him because, yes, you really are so in love with him. and you had meant it. his laughter fades out into happy sighs, and then he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m so in love with you too.”

maybe you should’ve anticipated that this is where you’d be the moment you arrived back home with yuuji. it’s not that you minded; if anything, this is probably your fault more than his. it was evident in the way even the smallest of his touches, specifically today, lit a familiar fire in the pit of your stomach. inevitably, you figured, you would have found yourself in his lap anyways, knees perched on either side of him, legs spread and a flush traveling from your cheeks down to your chest.

you’d gone home with him with tired eyes and a glow to your skin. showering together hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, either. it was simple, intimate, also hilarious when a wad of shampoo had fallen into one of yuuji’s eyes, prompting screams from him you never thought you’d hear. it’s after the shower that trouble started.

he had lazily leaned against the bed, only a towel wrapped his waist, his head tossed back against the wall. the tired sigh that left his lips mesmerized you, but you knew your thoughts were to remain as that, simple imaginations, because there’s no way either of you have a speck of energy for anything. you’re proven wrong when your boyfriend beckons you over onto the bed, not giving you much chance to even slip off your robe and into something slightly more comfortable. instead of allowing you to sit next to him, he’d lead you over onto his lap, propping you up, before capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.

you’d returned it, of course, because nothing feels better than kissing yuuji. nothing feels better than kissing yuuji with your hands on his neck, on his sturdy chest, down to strong stomach. the kiss turns feverish quickly, his grip on your covered waist tightening considerably before they travel down to your hips. he lifts himself up to sit more upright, guiding you closer to him, closer to where he wants you to be, before pushing you down harder onto him. against his mouth, you moan instinctively, hands traveling to tug lightly at his hair. a breathless gasp escapes his lips when you finally start grinding your lower body against his, his hands enforcing a bruising grip on your hips. you’re still covered, and so is he, but it isn’t long before the adrenaline truly takes over, and yuuji’s lifting his hips up to rid himself of the towel.

you’re about to follow suit, but even beneath you, he takes charge, untying the robe and slipping it off your shoulders hastily. neither of you dares to break the kiss as you’re finally completely bare before each other, and yuuji reaches forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pushing your chest flush against his. the action elicits a moan from the both of you, and you feel your nipples hardening as they brush against the muscle of yuuji’s chest. tiredness is long forgotten as your hips begin to grind aimlessly along his lap, and, in response, yuuji unfastens his left arm from around you, using the right one to steady you on top of him, as he brings one hand down between your legs.

his fingers brush against your folds, and he groans loudly at the first feel of you. he pulls back, breathlessly, to look into your eyes, noticing how hazy they’ve become, your pupils fully blown. then, he says, “wanna make you cum on my fingers, yeah?” a whine tumbles out from your lips and you nod frantically, giving him your answer to his indirect ask for consent. he collects some of your wetness on his fingers, before slowly slipping in his middle finger. although your mind had expected it, the intrusion is sudden to your body, and you lift yourself up reflexively. yuuji’s stronger than you though, and the grip of his right arm doesn’t falter as he sinks his finger deeper into you. he watches you through half lidded eyes as you throw your head back, welcoming easily the feeling that’s slowly beginning to overtake you.

he pulls out his finger to the first knuckle before pushing it back in, repeatedly, until he hears a breathless, “more,” fall from your lips. your wish is his command, and when he pulls his finger out, a second joins, filling you up even before. it’s incredible how easily you’re falling apart right before him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your chest heaving as his fingers speed up their ministrations. he leans forward, clasping his mouth around one of your nipples, earning an even louder moan from you. your chest rises against his mouth, and his teeth clamp down lightly, pulling at your nipple, abusing it, as his fingers continue to drill in and out of you. his thumb reaches up to rub lightly against your clit, strengthening the fire filling your veins.

you’re making a mess of him, you’re sure, and you have half a mind to finally open your eyes and glance down at him. he’s fixated on you and your pleasure, mouth eager on your chest, arm flexing as he pushes two of his fingers in and out relentlessly. “m’gonna cum,” you whine helplessly, trembling in his grasp. he hums against your chest, letting your nipple fall from between his lips as his tongue dances along the perks. “yuuji, i’m gonna cum!”

he laughs, looking back up at you when you throw your head back, uselessly attempting to rock your hips in time to meet the thrust of his fingers. teasingly, he retorts, “nothing’s stopping you, darling.”

you’re already shaking in his grip, gradually losing more control of your body’s reactions. then, his eyes meets yours as he looks up, the same time his fingers are curling inside you and his teeth reach out to tug at your nipple —

you scream when you cum, sobbing helplessly as his fingers work you through your orgasm. your thighs involuntarily flex and you lean forward, unable to hold yourself up. his mouth leaves your nipple to allow him the pleasure of watching you properly. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant in a whisper, head falling onto his shoulder. his fingers don’t stop however, and you have to reach in between you to grip at his wrist in a silent plea.

yuuji laughs again, finally slowing down his hand’s movements until he eventually pulls his fingers out. “feel good baby?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as he feels your breathing slowly steady itself. you’re still slightly trembling atop him, but you know that you’re not even close to finished for the night.

you hum in response, nodding against him. lifting yourself up, yuuji beams up at your state, skin flushed and hair damp — he’s not sure if it’s the sweat or the shower from earlier, but either way, you look too gorgeous for your own good. unexpectedly, he feels you lift up his hand, gripping at his palm, before your mouth falls open, tongue slipping out, and you place his sticky fingers onto the muscle. his breathing halts when you wrap your lips around the digits, and he silently curses when he feels you suck lightly, tongue dancing over, around and in between his fingers.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he admits to you, and you hum again around his fingers diligently. “come on,” he urges you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and placing both hands on your waist. “can’t let you have all the fun.”

you giggle, nodding in agreement as you place your hands atop his. “want me to be on top?” you suggest.

“yeah, if you want me dead,” he jokes, before easily flipping the two of you over. you can’t help the squeal that cuts from your lips, but he swallows it easily with his mouth on yours, replacing it with a throaty moan. you can feel his dick hard against your thigh, leaking precum, smudged along your skin. he lifts himself up further along your body, pressing down against you until his heavy cock is trapped between your lower abdomens.

“yuuji, come on,” you whine up at him. your hand slides down to between you two, gripping the head of his cock, thumbing the slit. his figure falters above you, his arms trembling slightly at the feel of your hand around him.

his hand comes down to yours, swatting it off, before shifting down slightly to line himself up at your entrance. with his other hand, he spreads your legs further apart, hooking one onto his arm. once he’s satisfied, he settles the tip of his cock near your dripping sex, reveling in the noises that are spewing out of you — countless moans and breathless chants of please, please, please. he loves you always, but especially like this, all spread out for him, the heat of you nearly sucking him in as he teases your pussy.

“you look so pretty like this, baby,” he voices. you whine again as he rubs the head of his dick against your clit, throwing your head back and reaching out to grip his arm.

“please, yuuji,” you beg, and maybe if he had an ounce of self control within him at this rate he’d drag this out a little more. he’d tease you endlessly, till the sun came up again. but there’s a hunger within him that’s pleading and begging to be sated, so against all odds, with his fist wrapped around the base of his cock, he slowly enters you.

you muffle a cry at the feel of your walls stretching around him to accommodate him, and he can physically feeling you spasming around him already. he groans as he continues to sink in, his hand reaching out to fist the pillow by your head. your breath is heavy, labored, when he finally bottoms out. you feel so warm around him, it’s dizzying. “fucking tight,” he groans, his jaw tight.

he steadies himself, waiting for you to relax slightly. he doubts he’d be able to move even a little with how tight you felt around him, but slowly, surely, he feels you lift your hips slightly. “more, yuuji,” you mumble, eyes cloudy. he lifts his hand from near your head, gripping your hip instead, and with your leg lifted up on his shoulder, he pulls out, before slamming back in. your back arches as a loud moan rips from your throat, mindlessly cursing, “fuck!” he does it again, encouraged by the noises you’re making and the way your body’s reacting to him. you’re so fucking wet, dripping down onto the bed beneath the two of you, but he can’t even begin to think of anything but the fact that he’s reducing you to this state.

he continues to thrust diligently into you, his hips snapping against yours repeatedly. with the angle he’s fucking you, he continuously hits a specific spot within you, leaving your head cloudy and your spine tingling. he’s splitting you open in half at this point, but all you can do is lay there, muscles tight and exhausted, skin slick with sweat and chest flushed, rising and falling rapidly. your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you’re convinced he’s fucking you stupid as your eyes roll back, your back arching off the bed.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praises you. “so good, pretty.” his voice is breathless, deeper too, and you look up at him for a split second. his eyes are trained down to where your bodies are connected, watching as you take him so well, his gaze never wavering.

when he leans forward, dropping your leg to wrap it around his waist instead, you know he’s getting close. his cock twitches inside of you, his hands coming to rest by your waist on the bed. his fingers, suddenly, come to work at your clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves harshly. “it’s too much! too good!” you wail, and he drinks it at all, his fingers growing slick again with your wetness.

“i wanna feel you cum all over me,” he tells you, thrusts somehow deeper. you let out a broken sob, your nails digging into his shoulders as he works you over to the edge. he’s given no warning other than the relentless squeezing of your pussy around him and your repeated cries of “cumming, cumming, cumming!” before you’re trembling beneath him, struggling to catch your breath as your hips lift up off the bed. the orgasm continues to rock through as yuuji’s thrusts grow sloppier.

“where do you want me?” he shakily asks. despite the overstimulation and the over sensitivity, you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his quiet moans music to your ears so close to you. “darling,” he groans, gripping your waist as he uses your body to bring himself closer to his high.

“inside, yuuji,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple. “please, please, plea—“ a gasp tumbles out as he suddenly stills, your words sending him over the edge. his muscles flex, slightly trembling within your arms, his small pants spreading heat along your skin.

slowly, he fucks into you, riding out his high, pressing chaste kisses along your neck and throat. “love you so much,” he mumbles, finally stilling.

you feel sticky, sweaty, and not at all clean in comparison to when you’d just stepped out of the shower. but you also feel blissful, euphoric, hazy and completely satisfied. yuuji lifts his head up finally, lifting himself up slightly to pull out of you. his cum trickles out slowly, but he pays it no mind as he flops half of his body atop yours, and you let out a pained laugh.

“yuuji!” you whine. “you’re heavy.” he only hums tiredly, his arm slung along your middle, his cheek against your shoulder. you bring a hand up, the one he isn’t immobilizing, to brush away his hair. his eyes are barely kept open, but he still manages to smile dreamily at you. your fingers ghost over his features, admiring them, tracing his soft skin, unknowingly lulling him to sleep. “okay, king of aftercare,” you joke, and he huffs out a laugh.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “aftercare tomorrow.”

you nod, beaming brightly, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. his chest begins rising and falling slowly, telling you he’s already asleep, but when you mumble out, “i love you so much, too,” and press a kiss to his cheek, you swear he smiles.

[wolferine]

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that. 

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore. 

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!” 

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells. 

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you. 

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone. 

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

 She smiles for the first time since the accident.

 “I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

[mmvalentine]

Can I please get a moonstone palace bathtub smut for feysand???

Pleaseeeeeee

Honey I'm sorry this took me soooo long, this was actually the last one on my list before I decided to cut off my prompt intake so I did always mean to write it I've just not been having as much motivation lately! But yes, let's do this, let's get SOAPY!

Moonshine

Rhys was a little drunk.

Feyre had been at the Summer Court with Amren all day, up to their necks in meetings. Rhys had been doing the same at the day court and Helion conducted his official court business... differently. And so it was that Rhys got home just after Feyre, rather worse for wear.

"Feyre!" he called, slurring a little.

"In here," she called back, in the middle of folding some clothes away. Rhys poked his head round the door.

"Oh," he said. "There you are."

"In... our room? Yes, where else would I be?"

Rhys sighed. "I couldn't remember which house I was supposed to be at. I went to the house by the river, but it's all covered up."

"Yes," Feyre agreed, her lips twitching. "Renovations, remember?"

"So then I went to the House of the Wind," Rhys continued. "But Cassian and Nesta were there and kicked me out, so I went to the townhouse, and then remembered that Nyx lives there now- did you know our son is an adult who lives alone?"

"I did know that."

"So then I went to the cabin but you weren't there either... and here you are in the moonshine palace." He shook his head, and corrected himself. "The moonstone palace. Feyre we have so many houses."

"We do," Feyre smiled. "And you have had so much to drink. Moonshine indeed."

"Yes, well, you know Helion's rules. You have to do a shot every time you raise a new point. Or win a point. Or concede a point. Next time, I'm going to see Tarquin and you can deal with Helion."

"Tarquin doesn't like you, and you know I can't get through the agenda with Helion's rules."

Rhys looked outraged for a second. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am half the size of Helion. Maybe less."

"No, why doesn't Tarquin like me? Everybody likes me."

"Darling I have a more pressing question."

"Yes, what is it?"

"What... is all over you?"

Rhys looked down at himself, and appeared to think about it for a second. "It's marmalade," he said eventually.

"It's what?"

"A delegate from the human realm brought it."

"Okay," Feyre said slowly. "But why is it all over you?"

"You know, I have no idea."

"And how did you get it on your wings?"

Rhys turned his head quickly. "My wings are out?"

Feyre laughed. "Okay, never mind. Let's just get you cleaned up and into bed."

Rhys' expression shifted then, and bewilderment became something much more wicked.

"You know," he said, "the marmalade is quite delicious. You should give it a try. You could clean me off with your tongue."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and pushed her mate toward the large bathtub. Around the bathroom, candles flickered to life of their own accord.

"Or I could just clean you off with a sponge like a regular fae."

"Oh so you are going to be doing the cleaning," Rhys said, his eyes lighting. And with that, his orange stained suit disappeared and he pulled her against his naked chest.

Feyre landed with her hands on his skin, and her breath caught at the sudden movement. She made to push him away, but when she looked up at his face Rhys was looking at her with an intensity she did not think he was capable of in his inebriated state.

"You're joining me, yes?" Rhys purred, and already his hands were pulling at the fastenings behind her back.

"Well I-"

"Of course you are," and then faster than she expected he had the dress falling around her feet, and his teeth on her left nipple.

"Woah, okay, down boy," she struggled out. "You have sticky stuff in your hair."

"Marmalade," Rhys reminded her.

"Right." She led Rhys to the tub, and they both climbed in. Feyre bundled her hair on top of her head while Rhys located the aforementioned sponge, and handed it to her. He waved his hand and the tub filled with bubbles, and beneath them Rhys pulled Feyre's legs to circle around his waist. She slid along the smooth bottom of the tub, and when she reached Rhys she found him suddenly hard between her legs.

Her eyes went wide, but she did not acknowledge it. Instead, plunged the sponge into the water and then rubbed it over Rhys' chest and neck where the sticky substance had gotten under his shirt. Rhys, his hands idle, scooped hot water up Feyre's back and shoulders, and let his fingertips follow the line of her spine.

"We haven't had a bath together in ages," he said softly, eyes on her ear where his thumb stroked, as his palm rested against the side of her throat.

"Well," Feyre said, trying to concentrate on cleaning him up, "it's not often you're in need of such thorough cleaning."

Rhys reached forward and pulled Feyre up onto his lap, his cock now pressing insistently against her.

"Maybe I should get dirty more often then," he murmured, and then Feyre was avoiding his gaze as she dunked the sponge again and used it to clean the stuff out of his hair. A sweet orange smell was drifting through the steam as she went.

"You know you don't have to go to such extreme measures for us to spend time together," Feyre said, and then swiped the soapy sponge all the way down one of Rhys' wings.

Rhys shuddered violently in shock and pleasure as Feyre collected more water and rubbed down his other wing.

"Ohhh darling," he groaned. "Do that again."

Feyre bit back a smile and moved the sponge in circles, peering over Rhys' shoulder and carefully wiping away all the marks on the leathery surface. Rhys' hands had left her back and were now gripping the edges of the tub. His forehead was leaning against her chest, and she made sure to get her sponge into the curves of his joints, and around the base of his wing's talon. She lifted a wing back to get the underside, and pretended to not notice the way Rhys' cock twitched beneath her as she wiped rough strokes down the inside edge.

Rhys groaned again, and put his teeth in her shoulder. Feyre was fairly satisfied that she had gotten the muck off him, and was now squeezing water over him to clear the suds off.

"Is that better?" she crooned.

"Mmm it's the most exquisite torture," Rhys replied, and started to move her hips with his hands so that she was sliding up and down in his lap while she swirled more hot water over his wings. His motion stuttered when she ran the sponge over a particularly sensitive spot, and then he had his arms tight around her and then he had his mouth on hers and was leaning forward to kiss her harder.

Feyre dropped the sponge and tangled her hands in his hair. She had always loved how he looked with his hair wet and slicked back. Rhys kissed her greedily, and she had to admit she was also quite fond of fooling around when Rhys was tipsy. There was just something a little looser, a little messy but sexy about him when he was handsy-drunk, and even though Feyre hadn't been drinking, the intoxication seemed to be contagious.

Feyre drank the taste of moonshine off Rhys' lips and got lost in the tingling sensation where his fingers gripped her. And then he lifted her hips and brought her right down on his cock under the water.

It should be so familiar by now. A hundred years together, and one might think this wouldn't surprise Feyre anymore. But every time, every single time the pleasure of Rhys inside her was almost too much to bear. Feyre cried out and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, hanging on tightly as he started to bounce her in his lap.

"Fuuuck Feyre, fuck," Rhys groaned, as his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his hips tilted up to get deeper inside her. His eyes closed but his hands clutched tighter, and then Feyre took a hold of the sides of the tub to get leverage as they quickened their pace. "Gods you could kill a male fucking like this."

Rhys sat up suddenly, water sloshing noisily as closed his mouth over one of her breasts. His hand came up to massage the other, and his free hand squeezed her backside. Feyre moaned as his teeth touched her nipple, and changed her motion so that she was grinding into his lap instead of moving up and down. Rhys' tongue flicked over her peaked nipple and it seemed to echo in her clit, over and over until she was clawing at his neck and pushing back her orgasm, trying to stretch the feeling out.

Rhys saw it coming, dragged her mouth back to his and then kissed her with her tongue sucked into his mouth as he got his hands back on her hips and slammed into her exactly how he wanted it and not letting her hold anything back. And then she was screaming as she climaxed, head tipped back and sweat and steam and bubbles plastering the stray strands to her face as she came apart in the bathtub. Rhys was not far behind, and Feyre reveled in the unguarded, unrestrained sounds that he made, too.

When they had stopped moving, they sat for minutes just curled together like that. Eventually, Rhys yawned and Feyre kissed his head before whispering "Let's go to bed."

"I'll just sleep here," Rhys mumbled.

"You can't sleep in the bathtub," Feyre argued.

"Sure I can," Rhys said. "I'm doing it right now."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and disentangled herself from Rhys' arms. He growled in protest, but she managed to climb out of the tub and wrap a towel around herself.

"Alright your turn, come on."

Rhys slid down in the bath.

"Come on you big baby." Feyre reached in and hauled her giant, heavy mate out of the water with some difficulty, and decided it would be easier to magic him dry.

Rhys practically fell into bed and was asleep within seconds- but not before he managed to grab a hold of Feyre, pull her tight into his body, and kiss the back of her neck while his arms wound round her middle.

"Good night my love," Feyre said quietly, and then used magic again to send their clothes to the laundry and snuff the candles out, since once Rhys was unconscious and wrapped around her like this, there was no getting up until morning.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27

[separatist-apologist]

You should do a one shot of Elain letting her inner fire out and yelling at the IC about using Elain to control Lucien AND going on and on about Lucien failing Feyre in Spring. (I mean we all know Tamlin abused Lucien both mentally and physically and its a bit hard to take care of someone else when you are being abused yourself. Ya feel me? HA)

This will be done more elegantly if you're reading I Know Places. I also can't help but feel like my Elucien reputation is becoming Night Court slander. This is my preface by saying I LIKE (most) of the IC, so this isn't dunking on any one person or being an anti.

Anyway don't send me hate if you don't like this (Send me Eris X Elain brotp prompts instead!!!)

Elain stomped through the city streets of Velaris, furious. Lucien was back in the city again, and yet he hadn’t come to visit. Things had been rocky, sure, but she thought they were doing better. They’d been exchanging letters weekly, she’d made him dinner—granted, at his apartment—and they’d even had that sweet kiss she still daydreamed about to the exclusion of all else. Yet, for the fourth time in six months, Lucien had come to Velaris, met with Rhysand, with Azriel, with Feyre, but not her. She’d been quietly polite about it the first time. He was a busy man, after all and probably had somewhere to be in the morning. She’d been quiet but less polite the second and third time, allowing her self-doubt and insecurity to creep in but now she was just mad.

If he didn’t want to see her, he should just say so.After four years of yearning and avoidance to get to where they were, which was practically no where given how far away he chose to occupy his time, he at least owed her an explanation.

She pounded on the blue front door that comprised his little town house. She heard scuffling and a muffled crash before the door flung open.

“Elain,” he breathed, clearly not prepared to see her, given how disheveled he looked. “To what do I—”

“Why are you avoiding me?” She demanded, crossing her arms over the silver cloak she wore. Frigid wind whistled around them, biting at her cheeks though she hardly felt the chill over her hurt and anger. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Ah…come inside,” he urged, stepping out of the way to let her in. Elain did as he asked, mostly to prevent making a visible scene she knew would work its way back to Rhysand and his inner circle.

“I understand if you’re too busy to spend time but not even a note?” She rounded on him once they were out of the foyer and in his living room. He reached for her cloak, ever the gentleman but Elain swatted his hand away.

“I do want to see you,” he replied softly, palms raised upwards in defense. Both eyes, one gold, one russet, watched her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb that might explode at any moment. She certainly felt like one.

“Then why don’t you?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

Lucien licked his lips. “It’s…complicated.”

Her stomach dropped. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“What?!” He panicked, taking a hasty step towards her. “No, just you. Only you, I swear.”

“Then explain. I’m not stupid, I can follow whatever is keeping you. I don’t want secrets between us I want—” She stopped herself before she could admit that what she wanted was to be in the same place for longer than a night.

“I need permission to visit with you,” he told her, dropping his hands with a sigh. Elain looked at him sharply.

“What do you mean…permission?” She demanded.

Lucien gestured for her to sit but Elain shook her head, her mind whirring. Why would Lucien need permission to see her? He’d been nothing but polite, he’d give her distance…they always had a chaperone, she realized. Save for once, right before he left to find Vassa, Lucien and Elain always had an audience unless she snuck out of the house. It was why she’d begun writing him letters in the first place. That was the only way she could speak to him without someone else in the room.

Lucien was watching her shrewdly, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Do they think you’ll…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. He laughed dryly.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then why? No one cared about how much time Cassian spent with Nesta.”

“Well…I imagine it’s different when the High Lord trusts the mate in question.”

That didn’t make sense. She bit her bottom lip. “They trust you…you’re their Emissary…”

Lucien laughed again, plopping onto his cream-colored couch. “Emissary I may be, but trust me they do not.”

Elain frowned. “Because you’ll betray them?”

“Because I don’t want to be here,” he replied honestly, his every word condemnation. She could put it together now. Lucien was in Velaris for her, he’d left Spring for her, and he’d continue to be the Emissary on behalf of the Night Court for as long as Elain lived in Velaris.

“You don’t have to stay for me,” she assured him, crossing the wood floor to sit beside him. She took his hand and squeezed, looking up into his tanned, beautiful face. Lucien smiled at her sadly.

“If I quit, I’d never see you again.”

“Of course you would, we’re—”

“Do you imagine Rhysand or Feyre would just hand you over with my resignation? If that were the case, I would have taken you from here when we first met.”

“So I’m what? Bait?” She asked breathlessly. He didn’t respond but the steely look in his russet eye was answer enough. “Something to keep you in line?”

He shrugged but Elain was angry again. “I thought you were avoiding me,” she told him, pulling her hand from his. “I’ve been mad at you and all this time you were trying?”

“Elain—”

She spun on her heel and tore out of his apartment, well aware he was right behind her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t an object or a tool to be weaponized against her own mate, for cauldrons sake. She was tired of being treated like a pretty piece of furniture that couldn’t think for herself. She wanted the Nesta treatment, she decided, storming into the river house.

“You had no right!” She shrieked, storming into Rhys’ study. She’d meant to find Feyre first, but Rhys was there, sitting at his desk staring down at parchment. On the couch beside the fireplace, Azriel looked up, hazel eyes wide at the outburst.

“Hey Elain…Lucien…everything okay?” Cassian asked from a chair in the corner.

“No!” She continued, her chest heaving. If she didn’t say everything now, she’d chicken out; Elain hated confrontation. Rhys stood, his violet eyes glittering with emotion. A moment later Feyre skidded into the room, practically slamming into Lucien’s back.

“What’s wrong, Elain?” Feyre asked breathlessly, shoving past Lucien to touch Elain’s shoulder. “Did something happen, did—”

“Why does Lucien need permission to visit me?” She demanded, stepping out of Feyre’s grasp only to slam into the sold chest of her mate. “No one had a problem with Cassian breathing down Nesta’s neck, but Lucien needs advance written notice?”

“Whoa, that’s not how it went,” Cassian complained. “If anything, she was breathing down my neck—”

“Cassian,” Azriel murmured quietly, silencing his friend.

“You and Nesta are different,” Feyre tried but Elain didn’t want to hear it.

“So? I think Nesta could have healed perfectly fine without being…fucked—” she whispered the word, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Up against a wall.”

The mood of the room became immediately tense. Cassian stood; arm crossed over his broad chest.

“Elain,” Rhys warned. Lucien put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing his support. She didn’t have to do this. She could walk away, could tell them to shove it. She had to. Lucien didn’t understand, was good at sticking up for himself but she wasn’t. They needed to know.

“It’s shameful,” she told Rhys, looking him dead in the face.

“We just wanted to keep you safe,” Rhys told her, his voice very much implying she was on dangerous ground.

“From what? I thought Lucien was Feyre’s friend,” she challenged. “I thought he was your Emissary. How can you trust him with your politics but not his own mate? Why is it okay for Azriel to see me but not Lucien?”

Rhys’ took two steps forward, darkness rippling off his back. She’d overstepped, she’d openly challenged Rhys and, perhaps most damning, she’d done the one thing he’d ever asked her not to; discuss the almost events of Solstice. Azriel’s face paled for a moment as Cassian, Feyre, and Lucien all turned to look at him. “I’m not your political pawn,” she whispered, stepping closer to Lucien.

“You are my subject and you will sit down and stop talking.”

She felt the metallic tang of magic slam into her face, attempting to make her obey. Elain knew what Rhys didn’t, what she’d kept a careful secret until that moment. He couldn’t compel her; his magic had no effect. He wasn’t her subject. She never had been.

“Sit down,” he said again, his every word dripping in authority. She straightened her spine even as her hands trembled. “You can’t make me,” she replied, pressed as close to Lucien as she could get.

“Rhys,” Lucien warned, his own voice rich with that same magic. She shivered at the sound. Rhys glanced towards Feyre, exchanging some conversation silently between them.

“I want to leave,” she told them, her voice wobbling nervously.

“Elain…can we talk? Just me and you?” Feyre murmured, holding out her hand. “Please?”

Elain looked over her shoulder but Lucien was still staring at Azriel with a clenched jaw. “Fine.”

Feyre grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the room. In the hall, Nesta had her back pressed to the wall. She followed behind Elain silently, spine straight, eyes cold. The three practically ran down marble floors, up the stairs, all the way to Feyre’s room. She locked the door behind her, as if that would keep anyone out.

“What happened with Azriel?” Nesta asked the second the door was shut.

“There are things you don’t understand,” Feyre interrupted, ignoring Nesta’s question. “You can’t leave.”

“Are you saying that as my sister, or High Lady?” Elain whispered.

“Where will you go, Elain?” Feyre prodded. “Spring—”

Her laughter was practically a shriek. “Did you know the last time Lucien came home from Spring he had bruises all over his ribs? Couldn’t look me in the eyes when I asked what happened? What do you think happened?” Elain demanded. Feyre flinched.

“How can you send him back there and stand here and tell me I don’t understand the situation?” Elain pressed. “He’s your friend.”

“I know, Elain, I’m sorry,” Feyre interrupted breathlessly. “I care about Lucien, too but he’s cunning and—”

“And what is Rhys?” Nesta interrupted with an imperious smile.

“You suddenly like Lucien?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips. Nesta scoffed.

“No, but I like watching Elain tell Rhys to fuck himself. And…and it meant a lot what you said about…”

Elain nodded.

“Don’t leave,” Feyre pressed, ignoring Nesta completely. “Move in with Lucien if you want just…just don’t go.”

“I want to do more than garden,” Elain whispered. “We’d still see each other…he’d still help you, if you asked because you’re his friend…and I’m your sister.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes glassy. Elain knew she was still talking to Rhys, trying to strike some sort of balance between the fight they’d just had and not making things worse. “Rhys is asking if Lucien will go to Day Court on his behalf…they have a lot of libraries…Vassa still is spelled and we haven’t been able to figure it out. Maybe you could go with him? If you want, I mean?”

Elain nodded her head. “I’d like to see the other Courts.”

“But you’ll come back?” Feyre asked, her voice small and Elain knew she needed to apologize to her sister. Feyre was trying…Feyre had been good for all those years, selfless even when she didn’t have to be. Guilt gnawed at Elain. She’d let her temper get the better of her. She crossed the room and hugged Feyre tightly.

“Of course I will. I’m sorry…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Wrong again,” Nesta said dryly. “You should yell more often. Tell Helion if he tries anything—”

“Helion won’t try anything,” Feyre assured Nesta. “Trust me.”

Nesta frowned. “He’ll take one look at her face and fall in love just like everyone else. How can you say—” “Rhys is going to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Elain cajoled. “I can handleone High Lord calling me pretty.”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “It…it’s not appropriate, you have a mate—”

“I can handle it,” Elain said firmly, determined to do something for herself. “Promise.”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Rhys and Lucien in the archway. They looked tense; neither looked at the other. Elain wondered what had been said. Rhys looked from his mate to Elain before raising his palms.

“We…we worked it out,” Rhys assured her. “Don’t kill me.”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she told him, not sorry at all. She suspected he knew.

“Day Court?” Lucien asked, brows raised, his face very much. She smiled.

“Day Court.”

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Donnie's Bad Day (It All Goes Wrong And Everything Is Terrible):

sfw yep 💫 word count: 1.9k. Summary: Donnie has a bad day.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon, way past when Donnie should have been going to sleep. But one of his computers was giving him issues, probably about to go kaput at one of the most unideal moments. He tapped away at his keyboard and squinted his eyes, and his glasses slid down his beak as he glanced at the mess of cables by his feet. He really should have detangled them sooner. They were a total mess. 

Grumbling, he pushed his frames back up to his eyes. There was a twinge of agitation in the way he resumed his work, having to undo previous mods and redo other things to the point where he considered just trashing the scrap and building a whole new computer. 

 He tossed an empty can of cola behind himself, barely missed the trash can. It bounced off the rim and the following  clang against the metal prompted an irritated sigh from him, so he paused his work to rub his temples. Damn the literal trash-tech. 

Peppy footsteps came up to the entrance to his lab, undoubtedly his youngest brother judging by the short strides. He suppressed a groan and before he could even hear the incoming question that would invariably come, and said plainly, "Busy here."

"I was just wondering if—" started Mikey from the doorway. 

"Busy," he reiterated without sparing his brother a glance. He wouldn't draw attention to the minor roll of his eye at Mikey's presence. What was he doing up, anyway? Donnie swore to the fact that he could never be alone, not with his home being a completely open plan with no doors. After a quick back-and-forth with Mikey (because it didn't matter if Donnie said he was busy or not), he finally left with his answer, satisfied, and he could get back to work. 

Turning back to his monitor, he normally would have the drive to finish the last of what needed to be done for the sake of getting it done at once, but tonight was just not doing it for him. The interruptions, his loose glasses which needed to be tightened, the always breaking of his stuff and the perpetual struggle to find new parts. He sighed and wrapped up for the night. 

Before his slab of a mattress he tugged off his suspenders and ditched his glasses to the small desk next to him. It was too firm, too hard on his joints, shell; there was no give, and he lay up for two hours straight tossing and turning trying to sleep. He was tired, but so much needed to be done! And the bed was driving him nuts.

This was the sixth time he'd switched shoulders when the mattress squeaked under his weight below him again. He paused and narrowed his tired eyes. All night he'd been hearing that same annoying creak. And just nearby, Raph was snoring like a freight train, too. He looked over at his phone on the desk with temptation. It would have been so easy to scroll for exorbitant amounts of time. But the blue light's just going to keep me up even more! Do the smart thing, Donnie. Just go...to sleep. 

He reached over and grabbed the phone. 

If that mattress creaked one more time—

A few minutes can't hurt.

"Come on, that was a foul!" he whispered to himself a half-hour later, somehow having fallen into a black hole of sports clips on YouTube. He was a basketball fan when it came to sports, thinking to himself bittersweetly that he would be amazing on a team. He didn't have to be six and a half feet tall for nothing. But no, that too was spoiled because of his green scales and the shell on his back, so after judging he'd be way better at slam-dunking than all of those men, he looked at the clock. Four hours till moon-up! 

"You're kidding," he snorted quietly, rolling over onto his shell. He even had to prop pillows behind him at an angle so that wouldn't be too uncomfortable. 

Suddenly, he was out like a light. Sleeping like the dead. And the kicker was that he wouldn't wake up feeling rested, not even after passing out as hard as he had. 

Oh, waking up was going to be terrible. 

Just as predicted, waking up in the morning was awful. Donnie was roused by racket in the kitchen conjured by the combined efforts of his three brothers, the breakfast rush of every morning. All three scrounged for whatever they had, which was already limited, and then there was the bickering over who gets what, mostly between Raphael and Mikey. Donnie himself wasn't much of a breakfast person, but coffee in the morning always did him good. And that, so far, was all he had going for him. 

Blearily cracking open his eyes, he was stuck there for a moment in exhaustion, only taking the energy to stretch out in undirected irritation. He'd felt an underlying tone of exasperation over the last twenty four hours, all the small things adding up to amount to his current mood. Donnie was nowhere near as explosive as Raph, but his own anger tended to crawl under his skin in an incessant way. He figured that it would be easier to let out his anger in spontaneous bursts like his fiery brother, but that wasn't how Donnie functioned, and so it was persistent in the background as he went through his morning ritual. Get dressed, make coffee if they had any, get ready to head out for patrol. 

He slowly shuffled into the kitchen. He knew they would have no mercy on him for his "morning mood" as usual, Mikey instantly turning around to comment on how tired Donnie looked. Here we go. 

"Bro, did you sleep at all last night?" he chuckled. Donnie shook his head and made a beeline for his coffee station. "You look dead, like actually a zombie," Mikey added.

"Don't provoke him right now," said Leo dismissively, knowing Donnie's moods well. As usual, he'd already made his tea for the morning before everyone else was even up, and he took a shallow drink. 

Donnie stopped at the counter. He scanned the mess along its length. They had no coffee. 

For a few seconds he stood there staring at where the grounds would normally be in sour disappointment, his hairless brows stitching. Of course they would be out. It was just his luck. Who had drank it? Who? They all knew that it unofficially had Donnie's name on it with Splinter's in subscript because Donnie had been the one to go through the trouble of finding the stuff. He huffed and sped out of the kitchen, deciding that his appetite was shot. I wonder what else is going to go wrong today. 

It was only a little later on their scavenge night (accompanied with the feeling that he was forgetting something) that his day had really taken a nosedive. 

Rooting around in whatever tech waste he could find, he sifted through a pike of computer parts, but none of it was what he needed. Donnie called out to his brothers, "See anything I can use?" 

"Nada," Mikey replied. He kicked a metal plate down the slope he stood on, which scraped an ugly sound out to grate on Donnie's nerves. 

Raph wasn't even searching, but he still responded from the top of a heap, "It's a nope." 

"What are we looking for?" questioned Leo in confusion, inspecting two completely irrelevant items to his brother's cause. Out of the four of them, he was the worst with technology and anything having to do with it. 

Throwing up his hands, Donnie sighed and stood up. "Useless," he muttered, dejected, and tapped a piece of scrap with his boot in lieu of kicking it across the yard. Not quite explosive enough, indeed. 

His eyes darted up to Raph when heard him say, "Go ahead, wallop it," and motion towards the thing he'd barely touched.

Donnie looked down at it. Physical vents of anger weren't standard of Donnie's practice, but the longer he looked at it, the more tempting it was. "Not like anyone's using it. Let's see what you got." 

"Alright, I'll bite," Donnie agreed, lining up a good shot. And thanks to his steel toe boots, he'd be hard pressed to somehow hurt himself. "We'll see, then," he said, gauging his distance. Shooting straight for the other end of the yard. Raph and Mikey parted out of the way and he was offended momentarily that they thought he'd miss that horribly. And one hard swing next, the piece of scrap did go flying—slightly off target and right into a junk car. A beam of light shone from the entrance and all four instantly scrammed, peeling out through heaps of rubbish practically empty handed. Whoever had come to investigate the clamor found nothing but their dust, but that didn't stop the sharp flick to Donnie's temple by Raph, jostling his glasses loose once again. 

"Really, Don?" he groused. "Great, now we have to haul ass to another spot and hope we find something good." 

"Let's not do that next time," rebuked Leo. He expected it from Mikey, but his genius brother should have been more sensible. Like him. "Come on, only so much time left."

Deadpanned, Donnie pursed his lips, glasses crooked on his face, and exhaled deeply through his nose. 

Of course he was getting hungry.

The family gathered at their kitchen bar and started to divide the pizza they'd managed to get (somehow without issue, Donnie snorted) amongst themselves. Splinter was actually there, meaning no free-for-all-ing for slices, Donnie settling with two before getting himself comfortable to finally eat. It turned out that skipping breakfast and then going to the surface had done him no favors, unsurprisingly, so he started to tuck in. Their diet being severely unvaried was one of his silent gripes, but no matter how greasy, a good slice had his mouth watering for the first time since the day before. A decent meal after a long series of unfortunate events. He felt he could at least try to fix the grouch he'd worked up over the last twenty four hours. 

Everyone definitely knew about Donnie's grumpiness ever since the coffee incident in the morning, and since moodiness wasn't exactly part of Donnie's brand, they were all curious to a mild degree. What had their usually fine brother all wound up? 

One bite into his pizza and already, Mikey was testing the waters and was piping up about their trip out. Not only was his miss with his frustration-induced, possibly immature decision at the junkyard a little embarrassing, but also an inconvenience; he wasn't too fond of bringing that up. 

"Donnie, he was mad and kicked this piece of metal right into some car and some guy came out with a flashlight, so we had to dip! And…" 

"Do we have to do this now, Mikey?" Donnie spat.

He couldn't even eat in peace! 

Beyond tired of his luck, when they all closed out dinner and were dispersing through the lair to do their own things, Donnie found Leo in his reading nook near his bed reading a book that he didn't recognize. Must have found it while we were out. Perceptive as Leo was, nothing much missed him, though Donnie wasn't at his peak of subtlety. Leo inquired knowingly as Donnie padded by, not looking up from his book, "Bad day?"

"You have no idea."