#but then again she has created this attachment to them so I think it would almost be worse for her even if they all mutually decided it

[itspileofgoodthings]

my least favorite thing is a controversial pop culture sensation of one kind or another where the conversation surrounding it falls into only two camps and every time the issue/person/couple comes up you hear EXACTLY one (1) of two (2) arguments about it and nothing else and it’s so stale you know exactly what will be said before it’s said and deviation from the script on either side simply never happens.

[random0lover]

Me when I got to the last part

Dead Disco / Chapter 8

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.7k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit sex. Top Simon Riley. Bottom Johnny MacTavish. Barebacking, oral sex - fem receiving, anal fingering, rimming. Anxiety, crying. Caretaking. Comfort. Relationship issues. Established throuple. Angst. Darling is her/your own tag and warning. The guys get back.

“Two weeks?”

Simon steps closer to where you’re stalking around in the kitchen, working a circular pattern into the floor with your pacing. “It’s not ideal-“ 

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” your voice squeaks with disbelief, misery, heart squeezing in your chest uncomfortably. “You just got home.” The idea of facing two more long, cold weeks in the dead of winter makes your bones rattle inside your body, worsened by the fact that you’ll most likely be alone for the holidays. 

“Ah know, we know, love. But we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” The words strike true, and instantly deflate you. You do know. 

You know too well. 

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” Simon vows, but you shake it off. It sounds, it feels, like too much of a promise. Too much like the bitter pill of disappointment.

You shove it down as far as you can. Try to patch over the rip in your soul that’s turned into a pit, devolved into a galaxy ending black hole in your heart. 

“It’s fine.” 

“Darling.” He reaches for you, fingers moving into your line of sight, but you duck it, opting to turn back towards the cabinets, picking up the clean glassware that you were in the middle of putting away. 

“I’m fine.” Your tears lie in wait, stinging up your nose, forcing you to swallow against a shallow breath. 

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” He tries, and Johnny sidles up next to you, watching with concern. You ignore them both, counting your breaths, arranging the glassware one by one, opting to focus on the task instead of the storm that’s brewing in your head. 

“I know. It’s fine.” You huff, last glass going up inside the cabinet with a rattle. Your hands are shaking, everything overwhelmed by trying to keep yourself together. 

“Darling.” Simon says again, and you brush him off, pulling the silverware caddy from the machine. The utensils jangle together, loudly, and Simon tries to get your attention again. 

You pull the drawer with a jerk, hard and fast. Smooth. 

Too smooth.

 It jumps the track and flies towards the ground, silverware and odds and ends falling to the floor, both you and Johnny lunging to catch it without success. 

It crashes across the kitchen, like thunder cracking across a night sky, a firework in the dark. 

Johnny flinches, jolting from where he crouches with a hand outstretched for the runaway drawer. Simon doesn’t startle as bad, but he squints, before relaxing. 

And then you burst into tears. 

“Fuck!” you blubber. “Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You turn with blurred vision into a thick wall of mass, Simon, who’s arms go around you immediately, strong hand on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” He’s soft with his words, lips pressing to the top of your head. He holds you there, murmuring in your ear, coaxing your breaths slower, promising that everything’s okay. “Bedroom lights.” He instructs Johnny, still holding you tight. 

“Rog.” Johnny replies automatically, and you shake your head in teary denial. 

“The mess.” He rebukes your protest. 

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

You hear the helicopter before you see it.

The blades whirl, cutting through the air effectively, and you try not to bounce on your tiptoes as the figures in the far distance disembark from the giant machine.

You can’t help it. You’re really excited.

There’s been something about being here waiting for them, being one of the first faces they see after they land, that absolutely delights you. It sings in your heart, making you smile and sigh, drawing you to the hangar to wait for them to come through the big, wide opening.

Johnny is first. He’s walking beside Simon, but actively looking, searching the faces that are milling about, some who are more stationary, like you, obviously waiting for something.

When he finds you, his mouth moves, body jostling into Simon’s side, and then he’s running. Sprinting.

He’s on you before you can blink, scooping you up, arms like steel curling around your thighs and hoisting you in the air hard enough that your hands come crashing down on his shoulders and his face is buried in your cleavage.

“Put me down!” You shriek with a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fake outrage.

He drops you a bit, but he doesn’t let go. Just keeps his grip around your waist, pulling your body into his, chasing your mouth with his own.

“Missed ye, darling.”

“It was only three days.” You chide, but your heart glows.

“Three days too long. Wonder if the boss‘ll let me retire. Take care o’ ye instead of doing this.”

“Oh, stop.” The protest is halfhearted, the smile that graces your face too much of a giveaway.

You half push him off playfully, still holding onto his jacket, and peek around, looking for the other piece of the puzzle.

He’s standing there, watching. The grey skull that’s pulled over his face sobers your glee, and you move to step forward, but Johnny holds you tight, mouth above your ear.

“Wait, darling. We’ll all go back tae the room, aye?” Simon nods, like he knows what Johnny is saying, even though you’re sure he cannot hear him.

“Okay.” You stay tucked up under his arm, Simon walking in lock step behind you both.

“This was suppose’ tae be a nice dinner.” Johnny grunts, and you gurgle a response around his cock, length stuffed deep in your throat. The edge of the table pinches against your skin, reminding you of exactly where you are, laid across the dinner table on your belly, bent at the waist with Johnny in front of you, Simon on his knees behind you, thumb spreading you wide for his tongue. 

“It was.” Simon assures him. His breath heats the skin of your backs of your thighs, a wet finger swirling around the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. There are mashed potatoes on the floor next to his knees, splattered on the hard wood near the spot where the gravy is slowly trickling over the edge of the table. You feel… a little bad about it. A little guilty. Johnny worked hard on this dinner, and you truly did appreciate it, you just didn’t anticipate being the dessert. 

 “Until someone called me a liar.” 

You try to protest, but your mouth is too full. 

That’s not what you meant. You weren’t calling him a liar. You just… don’t know how to process this. How to believe. 

“We,” Simon presses a kiss to the swell of your ass, “want to keep you, darling.” Another drag of his lips, this time on the crease of your hip. “We want to take care of you.” Teeth graze along your inner thigh, tongue slicking along your skin. “We want to know you.” Fear cuts through the lovestruck, lustful haze that’s penetrated your mind, and you curl your fingers into your palms until the pressure sears with a bite. You focus on that feeling, and not the wariness that’s spreading through your body, the overthinking, the worry that grows from that one sentence: we want to know you. 

A part of you wants to float away, wants to drown in the feeling of them, disappear into the toe-curling pleasure, dip beneath the surface and never come back. 

But something winds you too tightly to let go. Something lurks in the back of your mind, whispering half-truths, half lies. 

It’s not real. They don’t want you. They don’t mean it. 

“Why don’t you believe us?” He knows you can’t answer, he must. You groan around Johnny’s cock, hot length pressed against the back of your tongue, and he blows a breath from his nose. 

Simon pushes a thick finger against your rim, feeling how you flutter for him, before going deeper, up past his knuckle, and you choke on a gasp, throat constricting around Johnny’s cock. It’s good, sinfully delicious, and you relax to allow him more, a second finger joining the first, stretching you with a sting. 

“Johnny.” Simon says his name like a command, and then Johnny’s pulling away, sinking to his knees in front of your face and cradling your jaw with a gentle hand. 

“Tell Johnny how it feels.” Simon coaches, and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue dipping inside of you with unrivaled skill. You melt into a heap of buttery sweetness, bones nearly liquid, legs trembling. 

“Oh, is it good? Tell me darling, use your words.” It’s a little bit mocking, a little bit sincere, with a heaping amount of adoration and lust, and he rubs a thumb across your cheekbone, soft eyes watching yours. 

“Ye-eah.” You stretch the vowels, tongue leaden between your teeth. Simon is feasting on you, like he didn’t just eat an entire dinner, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, big hand spreading one of your cheeks wide so that his entire face is buried in you. “Fuck.” 

“Can ye come like this?” You garble out the word yes, then no, then there’s nothing, just your slack jaw, Johnny disappearing from your line of sight. 

His mouth is on your cunt a second later. You pant, twisting to try to look, catching a glimpse of him under the table, opposite Simon, bent at an odd angle, tongue lapping at your clit, and his hand inside Simon’s jeans working his cock in long strokes. 

It’s circuit overload. Every connection surges to full power, lighting up your muscles, your bones, every hair on your body. You practically vibrate with it, and your knees wobble. 

“I- I… can’t!” you cry, a thumb pressing down on your clit, applying pressure in a circular motion, stroking the swollen bud in rhythm with the tongue that dips into your hole. 

“Yes, you can.” Simon pulls away, kneading your cheeks with thick fingers. “You can, darling.” 

“I can’t-t stand. My-“ You don’t get to finish before you’re being pulled from the dinner table and heaved into someone’s arms, jostling against a chest before your back hits the bed. 

Your knees are pushed back, up towards your ears, and heat crawls through your belly when you glance up at where they both stare at your fully exposed cunt. 

“Better?” The Scottish accent rasps, and you nod desperately. “Words, love.” 

“Yes! Yes, please.” You’re asking for them both, desperate for them both. You’re frantic with it, your need, your desire to be ruined by them. Possessed by them. Loved by them. 

You don’t know how to say it, can’t get the words out. They get stuck, hung up on your anxiety, your fear. 

“Darling.” Simon reads it, reads you like he always does, pulling you back towards them, grounding you. 

Your lungs shudder with a deep breath. 

“Please.”

Johnny hits the overhead light off in the room as soon as the three of you get inside.

He sits you on the bed, gently. Kissing your forehead, your temple, before pulling away and flicking the bedside light on, casting warm yellow tones around the concrete blocks.

Simon keeps his back turned, things on his body shifting, being shed, being moved, until the grey skull is being placed on the little table, and the balaclava is being shucked to reveal a scruff of hair and his wide neck.

“Simon?” You whisper, but he still doesn’t turn to you. Johnny strips his gear off as well, but watches, eyes keen. Observant. “Simon…” His shoulders loosen, tension deflating from his muscles but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t move towards you until; “I need you.”

It’s fluid, the steps, the bend, the grace of such a large body sinking to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around your hips and then his face, smashing into your belly.

“Missed you too.” He murmurs into your skin, and you stroke your fingers through his hair delicately, careful to be slow and deliberate with your movements. You know, Simon is different for work. The grey skull. The ghost.

It can be hard on him. Hard on Johnny. Difficult for them both. For you.

The bed dips, and Johnny’s sitting at your side, leaning you into his chest. A bridge, between two. A web, connecting three.

Yours. Your family.

Hope blooms across your heart, gardens of flowers thriving under the sun of their affection, their care, their love.

Your nose, your eyes begin to burn with the promise of tears. Fuck. 

You blink them away, sniffling. The sound causes Simon to jerk, leaning back to peer at you, but your hide your face, and he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

“We’re here, darling.” You nod into him silently, basking in the overload of it all. The sweet. The bitter. The two, together.

“Ah love ye both. So much.” Johnny hums, and it makes the burn worse, the emotions rising inside of you like a tidal flood, waiting to burst through the dam.

“I love you too.” You choke, and Simon grumbles something in response, something that sounds like the three words, before he’s up on his feet, notching his mouth against yours fiercely. He clutches the back of your skull, touching his forehead to yours before moving to Johnny, kissing him sweetly and then pulling away.

“Gotta shower.” He grunts, and you flop onto your back without preamble.

Johnny sighs, curling up next to you, tugging your body into his.

“We’re gon’ to a pub tonight, Kyle, and Price. The three of us tae, ‘course.”

“M-me?” you stutter, eyebrows raised, and he smiles.

“Yes, darling. Ye too.”

The pub is extremely dark. It’s dark enough that Simon seems to be comfortable in just the black mask and hoodie, and Johnny is relaxed, nonchalant with a shoulder leaning against you, head occasionally dipping to whisper something in your ear.

You however, are not relaxed.

Your body is tight, muscles practically iron against the straight-backed chair, mouth dry. You’re out of place, out of your depth. You feel like an ornament of some sort, an adornment. It’s selfish, but you wish you still in the room with the guys, just the three of you. Together, still in that sweet, hazy in-between, floating on admissions of love and adoration.

Conversation flows around you like water, ebbing and flowing as you sip your drink, and Simon’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb stroking a semi-circle into your skin, nodding to something Kyle is saying.

“- and I just don’t want one, but she does. So, I guess we’re getting a dog.” He sighs into his beer, and Johnny snorts.

“Better than a bairn, ah suppose.” He quips. Simon tenses on your other side and then shakes his shoulders out, turning to look at Johnny before leaning in and pressing clothed covered lips to your forehead.

“Alright?” You hum, nodding your response. You’re a little anxious, sure. But otherwise, fine, besides probably needing to use the restroom. You don’t want to take away from this time they have with their friends, their coworkers.

They carry on, talking about something that sounds like work, going back and forth about some finer detail that you can't distinguish, and you drain the rest of the drink, hopping down from the bar seat to go to the bathroom.

Johnny pulls you into him, mouth bumping along your temple to whisper in your ear. “Dinnae take too long, or Ah’ll come lookin’ for ye.”

“Hey, do we still want to do-“ your sentence dies in your throat when you turn corner into the bedroom, where Simon’s got Johnny beneath him on a pillow, an ankle thrown on his shoulder, the lines of both of their bodies, flex of their muscles making your mouth water. “mussels for dinner.” They both turn to look at you, blissed out euphoria on Johnny’s face, while Simon gives you the teeniest smirk, before reaching for you with beckoning fingers. 

“How was work?” 

“Simon… fucking hell.” Johnny blurts, brow furrowed. Simon hasn’t stopped his ministrations, still slowly dragging his cock in and out of his hole, a teasing pace that has Johnny panting.

A tendril of worry snakes through you. They rarely start without you, why did they start without you? Are you interrupting? Is this- 

“Darling.” Simon breaks through your distracted thoughts, hand still outstretched, waiting for yours. When you look up into his eyes, he nods to encourage you, and pulls you closer, thumb stroking over your knuckles, hips still sawing back and forth. You bend a knee onto the bed, pressing your fully clothed body into Simon’s side, the heat of his naked skin warming you through your shirt, and Johnny’s mouth snaps shut, eyes falling dreamily on yours, sly smile scrawling across his face. 

“It was good.” You finally answer, never looking away from Johnny, glancing from where Simon’s cock is sliding inside him, to where his gaze is glassy with pleasure. Your own body responds in kind, the view of your partners loving each other making your knees feel kind of weak. 

“Someone,” Simon thrusts a little sharper, a little harder, a soft moan sounding from Johnny in response. “wanted to wait for you to get home, but couldn’t.” He speaks perfectly clear, the vocal control something you’ve always been envious of, the fact that he can carry on a conversation while he’s fucking you or Johnny deep something you’ve never understood. 

Two sides of your brain war against one another, unsettled fear and insecurity pushing to the forefront even though your body begs you to just get undressed already. You feel out of sorts, and it gnaws away inside your heart, a shadow of yourself slipping away while you watch the way Simon’s hand grips onto Johnny’s thigh. 

You shove it down. You’re being ridiculous. You’re reading too much into things, like always. You’ve had this conversation dozens of times. Sex is not exclusive to the three of you at once. Why are you getting so out of sorts? 

Simon’s mouth finds your cheek. “Where are you, darling?” He’s stopped moving, fingers stroking along the nape of your neck, the pressure soothing your raw edges, and Johnny props himself up on his elbows, face creased with mild concern. 

“I- I’m here.” You try to assure them both, desperate to keep the mood intact, but it comes out a little squeaky, a little off pitch. 

Everything grinds to a halt immediately. Simon pulls out slowly, and Johnny reaches for you without a word. You go without complaint, falling into his arms with closed eyes, trying to beat back the nonsense that’s brewing in your mind. 

Guilt roars inside your head. You ruined it. Ruined their fun. Ruined the moment. 

“I’m fine.” You protest, cuddling in close, nosing along his skin, sticky summer sweat dotting his skin like dew. “Swear.” Simon arranges you so that you’re laying flush with Johnny on your side, and then the comforter is being brought overtop the three of your bodies, soft cocoon of down feathers being tucked around your shoulders. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

They’re not at the bar when you come out.

You catch sight of Simon's out front through the only window in the entire pub, his boss, Price, holding a cigar between his lips, nodding his head thoughtfully at whatever is being said. Your jacket is gone, along with your little purse, tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, half of him visible through the same window. He’s closer to the parking lot, laughing at something with Kyle, face full and happy, so handsome it winds you, tugs a little smile onto your lips.

You’re still smiling when you slip out the front door, making your way towards the side of the pub where the four of them are loitering, no doubt waiting for you to be finished.

When you hear Simon’s voice, you stop dead in your tracks.

“It’s just hard on her, takes a toll.” Simon is talking to Price, who’s got his arms crossed and head cocked, listening intently. “And it’s hard on us too, bein’ away from her for too long. It starts to chafe us. We miss her, and she misses us, and sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing.” Your stomach drops out.

The right thing? The air suddenly feels like ice against your skin, and you hold your breath. Your relationship? He worries if it’s the right thing? 

“You’ve made it this long, it’s clear three of you love one another.” Price counters, and you can hear the depressurization of Simon’s lungs, long sigh whistling free.

“She suffers for it, for us. It doesn’t feel fair.” Your eyes go as round as globes, mouth pooling with saliva from the nausea that swamps your stomach.

You should go back inside. You shouldn’t be listening to this, eavesdropping.

You shouldn’t be doing any of this.

You shouldn’t be here.

You turn away, heel crunching against the little rocks that are scattered across the asphalt, and you swear it’s louder than a gunshot.

Simon tenses, shoulders flexing as he turns, eyes wild when they land on you.

“Darling-“ He takes a step forward, and for the first time in so long, you feel like you can’t trust him. As if doesn’t truly see you, like he always has before.

Fair? Fair? Nothing about this was ever fair. 

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to run.

“Darling, listen.” He’s closer now, voice sharp, insistent with command, and you glance past him to where Johnny is practically jogging to your side, confusion rippling across his face.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, not sure if he hears it. Not caring if he does.

You can feel a gaping hole ripping wide in your chest, in your heart. It’s tearing apart all the repairs you’ve made, destroying the effort and love that’s been painstakingly built up, and the hope that’s been fostered inside of you slowly starts to die when you look up at the two of them.

Simon’s eyes are hard with something you cannot name, Johnny’s expression rife with concern, with worry.

“Take me home.”  

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[moonlightcycle571]

Marvel making familiars for his loved ones

So I was thinking about Tawky Tawny (again). The thing about him is that he got so many different backstories or explanations on what he might be, but a common enough theme that we see is that he is a stuffed toy when he wants to be.

So here me out.

Tawky Tawny is Billy’s familiar and helps him adjust to his magic when he wants to use it in his small form. He was originally a toy given to Billy by his parents and later given life by The Wizard.

It came with more benefits. Tawny would eat his nightmares, be able to teleport to Billy’s location so that he could never get stolen or lost, protect Billy by going into his tiger form and all around be a constant warmth on his life.

So imagine Billy doing the same as The Wizard.

A lot of his friends aren’t magic users and don’t have the same magical protection he does, so maybe he gives them some enchanted clothing or pendants. A semi familiar (because without magic you can’t make a magical familiar pact with a living animal) where he just makes them familiars.

He would create stuffed animals, and weave in some magic to make them sentient. Maybe it would start with younger heroes, but when he realises his coworkers in the JL need the help as well, he absolutely would make some for them. They, like Tawny prefer to stay in stuffed toy mode, but will sometimes would want to stretch their paws and go into animal form once they feel like they are in a suitable environment.

Just picture it.

It all started with Raven, and the constant stress she might feel with having to constantly guard over Trigon. She can’t have a familiar because most creatures would suffer if give a link to her because her magic is not compatible like that. Captain Marvel decided to make her a companion. He makes her a little leopard wearing an elegant pink suit with a little top hat.

Raven: Is that a plush?

Cap: I heard you have trouble sleeping, so I got you a friend. I haven’t given them a name or pronouns, so that’s up to you.

Raven: … why

Cap: Trust me, they are for nightmares! Tawny *holds up his tiger plush* tells me they are fun to hunt and makes quite the sweet treat.

Raven: *holding the handmade gift* thank you 🥺

Cue shenanigans where she thinks he’s just trying to be a great den mother, and is a tad naive thinking stuffed animals actually work. Not that she isn’t holding little Ebony Darkness every night and is getting the best sleep she has in years.

Another thing to add is that insomnia and PTSD is a common sight within the caped community. And of course Billy notices that. So, after seeing more and more positive results of his plushies, he makes more and more. It becomes a trend. Younger heroes receive a small teddy of an animal and proceed to get attached to it almost immediately.

Nightwing almost cried when he got an elephant wearing a bow tie . Cap said that he seemed like the type to like them. Now Dick has given Zitka a little sibling to sleep at night with. But then that plush becomes fond of Zitka and gave the og elephant plush sentience.

Starfire absolutely adores her shrimp plush. Said something about being able to see colours together. Wally doesn’t know what to think about getting a turtle, but quickly gets attached, even putting little designs in the shell.

Jason also likes to put in patterns in his sting-ray, which Roy doesn’t get cause he thinks his jelly fish is perfect just the way she is. Lian gets a smaller jellyfish, which makes her happy because all the Outlaws get a sea animal.

All the members of YJ, even the retired ones, get a reindeer. They suspect he knows.

It gets back to the JL that Caps giving stuffed toys to their protoges.

Flash: Hey, Cap, how come we don’t get any stuffed animals?

Captain, exited his work is wanted: You want one!!!

Flash, can’t say no to that face: … yes I do

He gets all exited and makes plushies for all of his coworkers, that he pours a bit of extra magic in his work.

CM, fidgeting infringe if the door:

Batman: what is it Captain

CM: I made you something but then I realised that you wouldn’t really want it but then it could be cool if you did and I didn’t want to overthink-

Batman, stopping Billy’s rant: go ahead

CM, hands him a plush snake wearing spectacles: I thought you would like them. I haven’t named them so that’s up to you

Batman, not knowing where to go from here: … is the name important

CM, offended: It’s the MOST important

Batman sighs and keeps the snake. Naturally he does a billion different tests but finds it’s a snake plush. One that’s handmade. That must have taken a lot of time and effort. Batman keeps George Snaking. No he will not admit that having the snake wrapped around his shoulders is soothing.

And it just spirals from there. Hal gets a Sparrow in a poncho, Plastic man gets a kangaroo wearing the nicest boots, Wonder Woman gets a duck in a fancy dress, Aquaman gets a penguin in swim shorts, J’onn gets a lion in a toga … Guy gets a clown fish.

It has no rhyme or reason. The only common thread is that it’s an animal with some sort of clothing. Cap just says that of course they have clothing, they are distinguished and perfectly civilised individuals.

It all come to a head when the League faces some threat, and they are weakened, only for their plushies to fucking teleport and turn into massive version of their respective animals and saves the day.

Hawkwoman, starring at her bear: I- Mrs Snuggles?

Mrs Snuggles: *shrugs*

Shayera: … I could have been getting bear hugs this whole time

Guy: *looks down* Flippers?

Flippers: *flops on the floor*

Guy: ….

Guy: how come the others get bigger version of their animals

The League of Superpets aren’t that worried about competition. They tried to recruit the plush’s, but turns out they are just lazy. Like, they will beat a butch if necessary, but won’t actively go looking for crime to solve. They act more of a home défense.

The only ones who knew about the sentient plushies where Ma and Pa Kent (their Octopus is extent helpful around the farm), Alfred Pennyworth (he’s the one who actually requested hamsters to help keep the manor clean and keep an eye on his family) and Damian who’s instinct immediacy told him his fennec fox is alive.

Oracle got a capybara. The Capybara is the most powerful one Billy has made, second to Tawny. I don’t make the rules.

Constantine is the only one who never got one. Billy is still salty about him trying to steal his powers. Plus he would prolly sell it.

[floweycidal]

i keep thinking about how flowey had to construct the very concept of cruelty from the ground up.

not from watching anyone else, not by osmosis, but by cobbling it together himself in the garden where he woke up. alone.

this was a child who fell asleep to his mother's stories, who knew every inflection of his father's laugh. who spent endless golden afternoons with his sibling, both of them doubled over with giggles as they filmed their silly videos, messing up on purpose just to hear each other laugh. again. and again. and again.

so warm. so safe. where the gravest offense imaginable was maybe tracking mud on the carpet.

the worst fear, disappointing people who would love you anyway.

where could he even begin?

save. say these words that once meant comfort, but twist them just so. watch their eyes dim as something inside them breaks. load.

save. make a promise—you remember those, how snug they once made you feel—then shatter it. document exactly how hope crumbles. load.

save. try another combination. another betrayal. watch what splinters differently this time. load.

the world's loneliest science experiment.

look at the cruelty he creates, it's all so personal, specific. so devastatingly asriel.

watch how often he comes back to the idea of being replaced. of being forgotten. how he taunts you with the possibility that none of your relationships matter, that everyone will move on without you. that none of your choices mean anything in the end.

your fault. your responsibility.

if only he you hadn't made anyone love him you. If only he you hadn't loved them back.

of course he'd fixate on all that. how could he not? his mother, who used to speak his name like it was sacred, those tender words she reserved for him—for THEM—are now handed out indiscriminately, like candy to anyone who asks.

all he can do is take note: see how easily love transfers? see how simple it is to fade away?

so, he sneers. taunts you with the thought that it's all dust. you're just another passing face in the crowd. nothing lasts. nothing is worth the weight of caring. but even as he pushes that narrative, as his voice drips with contempt, he is still out there. in the ruins. checking on her.

observing from a distance, like maybe if he watches long enough, his past will solidify into something he can hold again.

flowey develops his cruelty like he's trying to solve an equation. if this word plus this action equals pain, then surely there must be some formula that yields not caring anymore.

if he'd just gotten it right. if he'd just kept everyone at a distance. if he could just be flowey. save. load. the answer has to be here somewhere.

but how do you quantify the sting of hearing her say "my child" to someone else? how do you account for the absence left in the places where joy once thrived? how do you document, in clinical terms, why you keep watching over people you swear don't matter anymore?

you don't devote yourself to perfecting devastation unless you remember, with searing clarity, what it felt like to be whole.

you don't give so much of yourself mastering the art of ridiculing attachment unless you're terrified of how much you still have left to give.

unless every attempt to prove love meaningless just confirms how much meaning it still has for you.

...point IS! flowey did an interesting job creating his own idea of a bully. it's all pathological. so crudely stemmed from his own sorrows and fears. he's created his own textbook definition of meanness...but then every chapter's just him screaming in a mirror.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cowboy!141 x Noble's Daughter!Reader (My Version of the AU)

(How you meet them)

Synopsis: Being the daughter of a noble is a jarring task as you must be always able to keep up appearances, so what exactly happens when your family hires 4 men? Men who seem dangerous yet you know nothing about, all happening to be part of the same group of people. What happens if they take an interest in you? Someone unattainable, forbidden yet also undoubtedly tempting..

Hi lovelies! Lia here again, apologies for the delay and inactivity, I had exams, projects and the recent release of part one of Bridgerton season 3. Speaking of the series, this was inspired by that and RDR2 (none of the elements are historically accurate, I think?), I genuinely hope this does well because this account has not been doing well as of late. With my mutuals leaving Tumblr and some friends are currently ignoring me, I genuinely don't know what to do anymore. From what I know, @ghouljams was the first one who created content in the cowboy!CoD AU but mine is a lot different? So please don't kill me 😭

This will result in headcanons for the next few posts because my brain is attached to this AU so you will be seeing more Cowboy!Outlaw!141.

(Really FEM!Reader, maybe also Plus-size!(Chubby??)Reader?? I don't even know anymore)

More content: My CoD Masterlist

Bless your noble mother's heart, although your was seen as this very respectable and intellectual man of nobility, your mother had this heart of gold having no idea that these rugged men he has newly hired were outlaws, criminals.. murderers?

Yet your father did, something about him felt sinister, well all noble money comes from not so noble cause.

Although your mother wanted you to get to know and be familiar with the newest staff members who would do all the gnarly, energy consuming and physically challenging tasks, she did not want her daughter interacting with men who would be considered improper like seemingly mysterious men who happened to be from a far town looking for a living.

Well without your father's or mother's knowledge, that rule was thrown out the window the moment you saw one of them carrying over some of the crates that contain given by some men to your father for his services and connections, particularly drawn to the one who never seemed to take off the cloth on his face.

Something about the way he stared at you, not seeing the rest of his face, depriving you of clues as to how he felt upon seeing the only lady of the house. You gave him a warm smile, for a moment you thought you saw his lips through the mask perk up, before walking off to the lounging hall for your tutoring on language.

It was odd, you observed them from afar a lot, your personal garden was your sanctuary and you can't help but do so when they talked so loudly, no sign of inside voices.

They called each other names.. Price, Gaz, Soap and Ghost. The man you encountered was named Ghost? Surely it's some alias. Well that wasn't something you should fixate on anyway so you leave for your tasks.

You find yourself feeling a little out of it after your lessons, hoping that a little stroll through the stables behind your family's estate would either help the information sink in or keep it shun out of your mind. Either way you'd find yourself in tranquil, you heard a thud behind you and turn to find so called "Ghost" behind you.

He had dropped a crate, one filled with weapons and uncharacteristically hastily picked up all of them without paying much attention. Such an action caused him to unknowingly cut his finger on one of the blades that fell out of it's sheath.

Your eyes filled with concern as you rush over to take his hand in yours before he tried to brush off the cut and get back to his duties. You knew it was dumb to be worried over something so small that the grown man doesn't even flinch and yet there you were, practically cradling his hand in yours.

A white handkerchief that was embroidered with your favorite flowers by your own mother, something you held dear and kept pristine.. using it on his finger to keep the blood from further gushing and wipe off whatever of the red residue was left on his hand.

As the blood stopped to your relief, you brought his finger and spontaneously pressed a feather-like kiss on the wound. You were so used to doing that for your little cousins, nieces and nephews that it was just a force of habit, your face flushed the very moment you looked up to meet his gaze, what possessed you to do that?

You placed the handkerchief in his hand and composed yourself, you told him to keep it and to bring the wound to the physician to get some antiseptics before running off to god knows where.

A few days after that incident, you meet another one of them except..

You couldn't help but rush, you were late for this supposedly short promenade your family has spontaneously planned. Your favourite gloves are no where to be found and with the three sisters you have, you checked room to room, seeing who might've borrowed the lacey white fabric with the sewn in bows.

Without looking your body slams into a wall, is it a wall? You softly groan, your delicate fingers brushing on your forehead that felt like it would bruise later on. Your eyes remained closed for a few seconds as the impact caused you to feel shaken, light headed.

You open your eyes to one of the outlaws, you blink up as your vision adjusted a bit, his dark skin against the light from the window really did something..

"Are you hurt, my lady?" He asked, his deep voice was smooth and rich, almost velvety. He held you up from falling.

"N-no.. Thank you, uhh..."

"Kyle, her ladyship can call me Kyle. Although I hope it's not too informal to your status, my lady." You smiled at his words, certainly a respectful fellow despite him and his group's reputation.

You felt warmth on your sides, his palms against the fabric that separates his skin on yours, he was only being kind for steadying you after you almost fell from the earlier impact but his touch felt addicting, too much as it continued to linger.

"Kyle, it is then" You said softly, suddenly a bit more aware of your surroundings.

Fuck. He was sure he felt something just by hearing the way his name fell from your lips. Normally he'd give people, employers only and only his last name. He was so used to having been called by "Garrick", he had no idea his name would sound different, so sweet coming from a pretty maiden's lips.

He stutters for a moment, realizing that his hands are touching a lady inappropriately, something only someone she's married to would have the privilege of doing. He swiftly removed his hands from your waist and formally excused himself from your presence with the excuse of his duties.

The next time you met one of them was through your mother's ball, she was always the first to throw one to bless the upcoming season of hopes that you, your sisters and brothers shall wed soon.

You had no taste for it after having a lord step on your feet at least 20 times and not even bother to apologize with how high of a pedestal he puts himself in, you found yourself escaping through the back of your estate to the gazebo in the center of your beloved garden.

You took your tight, restricting shoes off and felt the grass on your feet as you walked toward the gazebo, now close enough to see that you weren't alone but you still continued, your feet against the cooling marble platform. You sigh as you prop yourself to sit on the stone railing next to the stranger who was currently taking a puff of his cigar.

You turned your head away, you were thrown into a fit of coughs from the strong scent of the smoke while you swatch some of it away. You tried not to heave for actual air to breathe while the man next to you chuckles, making you feel irritable.

"M'sorry love.." his gruff voice whispers which make you turn towards him, the man offering you a comforting smile.

"Shouldn't you be in there with your family, miss?" Price asked. To which you hum, "I wanted some "fresh air" and silence" you answered. Moments of silence have passed, nothing but the sound of wind that rattled the trees a bit and each other's breaths.

You look towards the light of windows of your home, the ballroom filled with laughter and talk of celebration. You sighed, knowing you must return as your parents would come looking for you, also not wanting for them to punish you for sticking around unchaperoned with their new hires.

He knew you were about to leave, it would be rude for a gentleman to leave a lady without help, hmm? He wasn't a gentleman though, an outlaw, one of the worst titles one can ever bestow a man. He was considered to be of low honor but who cares?

He kneels down on one knee in front of you, gently taking your leg in his huge hand using his thigh as leverage so he can gently slip on you shoes. For a moment you felt his forehead on your knee before he pulls away and offers you his hand..

You took it hesitantly as he helped you off the railing, you look up at him meeting his eyes. Something about them burned, making your stomach churn but not in a manner of discomfort.

You watched his back as he walked away, his footsteps on the cold marble the only thing to be heard as the noise died down..

The morning after, you've barely had enough sleep, was it the events of the previous night? Nevermind, at least you had a day or two for yourself after conducting a proposition to your parents. Free time was worth it for the sore feet you had to endure.

Not really in the mood to change into anything tight or itchy, you remain in your night clothes. Finally, some well deserved time alone, comfortable and flipping pages of a book was your type of thing.

Sure, socializing has it's benefits however nothing beats your time alone or so you thought you were alone..

A table and a few chairs were set up by the servants to your request at the gazebo, giving you the perfect view of the greenery that you have planted the seeds of.

You had your head comfortably leaned onto lounge as you continued reading. Buts something was just so distracting, a few minutes of the constant snipping and twigs breaking, you look up wanting to see who was there tending to the garden.

Your eyes widened a bit, it was improper for a lady to stare a man who has very less clothing. Nothing but his jeans, belt and hat keeping his face shielded from the heat is toned, muscular and tanned torso and arms exposed.

A little later, you hear a grunt coming from the man, Soap was it? You can't quite remember much from the night you eavesdropped on them. You heard his footsteps on the grass nearing the gazebo but you didn't bother to look up, not until..

"Ma'am? May I stay 'ere a moment? Afraid the heat is getting to me" You look up from your book and sit up to see the same man breathless. You nodded and watched as he sat on the stairs, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"Excuse me.." You said, loud enough to hear and catch his attention, he looks back from his position. You moved one of the chairs to face your lounge, "Please invite yourself here, I can only think of how uncomfortable the floor might be, especially when you are working at a weather like this one" Signaling him to take a seat on the chair you adjusted.

He gets up yet reluctantly makes himself comfortable on the seat, you pick a drinking glass on display from the silver tray and poured some of the cold lemonade into it, you place it down on the table and slide it to him, offering a warm smile. Your fingers on the base of the drinking glass slightly brushing against his as he takes it.

He thanks you for it and you both enjoyed the tranquil and peace.. yet you can't go back to your book, asking questions and being further interested by the man each minute passes.

The way he talked was something else, it was alluring, comforting and oddly lively, he's told you about his "past" and how he used to be a child.

"Was quite the troublemaker you see, though my family was poor and food was scarce, I found a way to feed the street animals I adore—"

You look at him, so invested on what he was about to say next, it was refreshing to have someone to converse with who isn't interrogating you and practically forcing their ideals of how many babies they want you to birth for them, practically wanting you to die for them.

"I used to steal bread from my neighbor, not a very nice man, selfish really. So I'd often sneak into his shack, leftovers, scraps and anything light enough for me to carry. I'd bring it to Lassie, my favorite stray dog. You remind me a lot of her Bonnie" He said.

"I remind you of a dog?" You weren't so sure if that's a compliment, then again he just called you "Bonnie", what exactly does that mean?

"Home, you remind me of home. Can't say I have felt this comfortable in years, friends and I are usually reserved yet you bring this side out of me, Bonnie. So what spell or witchcraft did you use?" He joked raising a brow at you, for a moment his attention falters as he looks down at the soft mounds of skin exposed on your chest.

"Eyes up here, Johnny."

You warned as you laugh at his question, you notice one of the servants coming out from the estate and into the garden, Johnny smiles and tips his hat to you to excuse himself so that he could get back to work.

Well this is interesting.. isn't it?

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @snowdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Four

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 5.5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, mentions of food, angst, smut, cursing

Summary: You've finally confessed your feelings to Wanda. Will she reciprocate them? If so, what happens next? And what'll happen if she rejects you? Anything could happen.

A/n: Fourth and FINAL part is here! (I lowkey wrote most of this today so I hope it's good lol!) Anywho, I'd just like to thank y'all for loving this story as much as I have. And, if you're sad that it's over, never fear! Because of all your love and support, I've decided to do something special that you can check out here. Happy reading!

“Well, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you and time has completely stopped. You hold your breath and your heart beats so rapidly in your chest that you’re certain Wanda can hear it. 

Your instincts tell you to run, to avoid what you fear most.

Rejection. 

But for once, you’re brave. You stay put and hold eye contact with Wanda. It’s her that breaks first. 

“My simple answer is yes.”

All of the air rushes back into your lungs and you dispel a long sigh of relief.

“But,” she adds, “I’m hesitant to say anything else because we both know that nothing about this situation is simple.”

You nod, and this time your sigh is a little more dejected. 

“Yeah, I know.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, “It sucks. This whole situation is shitty. If only you weren’t my best friends’ mom, and I wasn’t in college, and we didn’t have to hide.”

The silence is thick, weighty with the words left unsaid- the words that neither of you want to vocalize. To vocalize them would be to admit to reality, and the small glimmer of hope still left would be shattered. To put it all into words would also force you to call this thing between you and Wanda what it is- a fling. A word that, right now, disgusts you to your core. A fling- the concept and word itself so casual when nothing about what’s happened between you two has been casual at all. You and Wanda had not casually fucked, casually cuddled, or casually made out. In every interaction with Wanda, there was always something deeper simmering just below the surface. There was an understanding of each other’s lives and struggles, tenderness, only found in a familiarity by association, and a deep love for each other, not even in the romantic sense, though you guess a hint of that existed as well, but in a sense of gratitude. Your shared compassion for the twins, and the undoubted affect you’d each had on them brought you two together in an indescribable way. Though you hadn’t known it yet, you and Wanda’s souls had been intertwined by destiny, forever attached by the two who brought you together in the first place. 

Therefore, to treat this connection between you two as so much less than it deserves makes you not just just angry or sad but bitter. Nothing about it is fair. You deserve more, sure, but it’s Wanda that deserves everything good. After all that she’s been through, she’s maintained a heart of gold, and your heart aches to know the pain she’s being put through yet again.

But you can’t hide forever, and Wanda finally admits what you can’t. Won’t. 

“I think,” Wanda says, hesitating, “that we have to accept that this is as good as it gets.”

It stings, Wanda’s confession, the truth smacking you square in the face. Housed within these walls is a beautiful utopia that you and Wanda have escaped to. It’s been sweet, and raw, and vulnerable, and now it’s all crumbling down. In no world would you and Wanda ever have been able to be together in the way you both wanted. There were the boys to think of, and your future, and the life Wanda had created for herself. Neither of you wanted to risk the happiness of the other for a potential shared happiness. 

“I’m afraid that if we tried to continue what we have going now, everything would fall apart, and I’d come to resent you. And I don’t want that, Detka. For me, or you, or Billy and Tommy,” Wanda adds softly, “So let’s just enjoy this while we have it, and make the most of our time left.”

Tears sting your eyes and so much pressure has built in your throat that you can’t speak. You only nod at Wanda and her gaze, somehow, softens even more. 

“Baby,” she whispers hoarsely. In seconds she’s pulled you into her arms, wrapping you so tightly in her warm embrace that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You nuzzle your face into her neck and try to take deep breaths, hoping that her scent will calm the raging storm in your head. She rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, and you can’t tell if it’s more for her or for you. 

“Wanda,” you call out, and your voice cracks pitifully.

“Shhh, don’t” the redhead answers, her voice similarly thick with emotion. 

You bury your hands in her shirt and grip it tightly, trying to hold on to something when everything else around you is slipping away. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the sob that racks your body. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything, she just presses a tender kiss to your head. And when you feel a few teardrops fall onto your hair, you don’t mention it. 

“I know it’d be hard, but what do you think about pretending, for just a little longer? I mean, we’ve been doing it this long, so what’s one more day?” she murmurs into your hair. 

You pull away a little, craning your neck up towards Wanda with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, “Yeah, yes. Please. I’d really like that.”

She smiles fondly at you, “Good. Now let’s wipe away these tears.”

She ever so gently untangles an arm from around you and thumbs away the residual wetness on your cheeks, “There we go, all better.”

Her hand traces down your cheek and cups your jaw. She pulls you in and places a tender kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and tastes a little of the salty tears you’d both just shed. Instead of the hot spark that usually shoots through your body when you kiss Wanda, an overall warmth spreads through your body from your head all the way down to your toes. It makes your stomach ache, not with sadness but rather an all consuming happiness. You’re sure that any moment you’ll burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

*****

The last day and a half of your spring break trip is bittersweet. Though you try to stay present, any time Wanda is around you can’t help but think about how each interaction with her may be your last- your last kiss, your last secret glance, or your last inside joke. To know that the end of something is coming before it ever actually happens is maddening, and you swear that you can hear a clock slowly ticking down to zero as each minute passes. Around the boys especially you don a mask of joviality even though internally you’re floundering. As you go about your day there’s a perpetual ache in your chest and a lump that never seems to leave your throat. 

Maybe it’s because you’re desperate to slow down, or maybe it’s because you’re so caught up in your head that it passes quickly, but before you know it, time has slipped through your fingers and it’s already Friday evening. It’s late, and the boys are off in their room packing their bags. Desperate to hold on to the last little bit of your trip left, you decide to leave the packing for tomorrow morning and instead lay on the couch listlessly scrolling through channels on tv. You can’t help wondering where Wanda has wandered off to, but you know that if you go looking for her, you’ll only end up in a puddle of tears. 

At some point in your scrolling you end up on an old sitcom- The Dick Van Dyke Show. You’ve never really watched it before, but something about it instantly catches your attention. The simplicity and domesticity of it all soothes you and your brain finally begins to quiet down. 

“Did you know that was my favorite show as a kid?” 

You look up at Wanda in her long gray tee shirt and leggings, hair pulled back into a low pony, “Really?”

She joins you, sitting on the arm of the couch, “Mhmm. When things would get bad back home in Sokovia, my mom and dad would always put on old sitcom tapes to distract my brother and I. I liked all the ones they showed me, but The Dick Van Dyke Show was always my favorite. Still is.”

A warm smile graces Wanda’s pretty features as she reminisces to you about her childhood and your heart feels so full that she’s chosen to share parts of herself with you. 

“I’ve actually never seen it,” you say, “but I just came across it now, and I instantly felt…”

“Calmer?”

“Mhmm.”

You both silently watch the show for a few minutes, and though you’re tempted, you don’t once glance at Wanda. It’s a true demonstration of your willpower because Wanda is so, so tempting. You desperately wish to pull her closer, to hold her, touch her, and kiss her. But if you let yourself give in, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop. Being around Wanda is addicting and you long to taste her over and over again, to get drunk on her, even if you’re bound to waste away after. 

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Wanda slowly slipping off the arm of the couch onto the seat next to you. It’s only when she basically crawls into your lap that you look away from the tv, startled. She’s on her knees, legs tucked beneath her, and she rests her hands on your thighs. Her face is so incredibly close to yours that with even the slightest movement, your lips would touch.

Her green eyes search yours intently, “Detka, I was thinking…”

She pauses, and you can’t help but quickly peck her lips to encourage her to keep talking. The embarrassed smile that forms on her face also makes you scream internally. 

“I’d really like to take you out on a date, baby. Just one. Before everything… ends.”

You squeal quietly and jump onto her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. You pepper kisses all over her face and she grabs your hips, giggling quietly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Oh my god Wanda, duh!”

And then more quietly and seriously you say, “I’d really, really like that.”

A hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and she guides you to her lips, kissing you sweetly. You suck gently on her bottom lip and try to ingrain into your mind the pretty little sighs she releases. When you pull away, you watch as her long eyelashes flutter open and admire the soft look in her green eyes. 

She squeezes your side playfully, “let’s go Detka, we have a date to go on.”

You sit back on your heels to give Wanda room to sit up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes.”

You obey her immediately, plopping down onto the hardwood and slipping on your tennis shoes. When you’re ready to go, she grabs her keys off the kitchen table and quietly ushers you out to her small black sedan. You’ve yet to ride in Wanda’s car, the boys usually driving, and it’s nice. With black leather seats and wood trimming, you feel like you’re living in luxury. The car, somehow, smells like her too, and you feel blissfully pampered and mindless strapped into the passenger seat of her car. 

She starts the car and rolls down the windows. You pull out of the driveway and speed off down the coastal highway, the radio softly playing in the background. The air is warm, but the wind is cool on your skin and you can smell the salt in the air. Your hair whips around wildly in the breeze, and you know that it’ll look a mess the rest of the night, but you can’t find it in you to care. Though you still have no idea where Wanda is taking you, by the direction you’re going you can at least guess that it’ll be somewhere in town.

While you’d be happy to go anywhere with Wanda, you’re extra thrilled when she pulls up to the local ice cream shop. Your sweet tooth aches with excitement and you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. You go to open your door but Wanda reaches out to stop you, “Wait! I wanna get it for you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you’re so awestruck by how sweet and wonderful she is. She hops out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. When you climb out you give her a peck on the cheek, “what a lady you are, Wanda. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

The redhead wraps her arm around your waist and tucks you into her side. It’s the most public you two have ever been and the thrill secretly excites you. 

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, “You deserve only the best, Detka. I hope you always know that.”

She’s being too sweet to you, and it’s making you all shy, so you tuck your head further into her side to hide your face. She chuckles lightly and squeezes your waist, guiding you two over to the counter to order. 

Wanda orders two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a cup and you do the same, though with chocolate ice cream. All of the seating at the shop is outdoors, so you two find a table off to the side in a secluded corner. You cuddle up on one bench, legs tangled together and shoulders touching. The treat is sweet on your tongue and you moan softly at the taste.

“Good?” Wanda asks in between bites of her own ice cream.

You nod, “Very. Yours?”

She scoops a bit of the ice cream onto her spoon and lifts it towards you, “try?”

You eagerly accept her invitation and wrap your lips around the spoon. It’s tangier than your chocolate, but still good. You swirl it around your tongue, savoring the flavor as Wanda watches you with curious eyes.

“Mhmm, I like that too. Still prefer mine though,” you say with a small smile. 

“Well good, because you’re not getting any more of mine anyways,” the redhead answers with a wink. 

You roll your eyes teasingly and happily take another bite of your own ice cream.

“Oh, wait? Do you want to try mine?”

Before you can offer Wanda a spoonful of the chocolate, she reaches out and swipes her thumb across your lips. When she pulls away there’s a little chocolate on her skin and she slowly sucks it off, “Mhmm, tastes good, baby.”

This alone causes your brain to turn to mush and so you just stare at her, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed. 

Wanda doesn’t attempt to hide her smirk at your dumbfounded expression, “love when you get all dazed and pretty like this, Detka.”

Your gaze drops to your ice cream and you mumble about how she’s a tease. 

She lifts your chin so that you look at her again, “You know you love it.”

“Not when we’re in public!”

Wanda hesitates for a moment, the wheels in her brain turning, before she asks, “wanna go make strawberry-chocolate ice cream in the car?”

*****

You're outside the door to the house and you and Wanda are giggling like schoolgirls as she fumbles with the keys. 

“Shhh, Wanda, be careful. We don’t want to get caught!”

“Sorry, I just can’t get my hands to work,” she answers, giggling again. 

You grab her hands and still them, looking at her gently, “here, let me do it.”

You take the keys from her and easily insert it into the lock. It clicks open softly and you motion for Wanda to go inside first, you following close behind her. Wanda stands by the door slipping off her shoes and grabs your shoulder as she nearly falls over. You grab her waist, steadying her, “careful, love.”

She smiles at you sheepishly while she casts her other shoe aside and you take a moment to admire her windblown cheeks and messy hair. You brush a strand behind her ear and her eyes flutter close at your touch.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You and Wanda freeze, and a rock settles in your stomach. When you turn around, there stands Billy and Tommy in the living room, mixed expressions of confusion, anger, disbelief and betrayal written all over their faces. 

“Guys, it’s-” you begin, your voice shaking.

“Not what it looks like?” Billy scoffs, “because it looks like you can’t keep your hands off my mom.”

“Billy, wait,”

“Tell us what the fuck is going on right now,” Tommy interrupts. 

You barely spare Wanda a glance as you make your way into the living room. She hesitantly follows behind you. 

“Uhm me and Wan- your mom- we’ve been…” 

What are you supposed to call this thing you and Wanda have been doing?

“Seeing each other,” she finishes. 

Billy eyes you two’s disheveled appearances with disgust, “seems more like you’ve been fucking each other!”

“Billy!” Wanda says sharply.

“What, Mom? I’m gonna call it as I see it, since you two don’t seem inclined to tell the truth.”

You can already feel your lip beginning to quiver but you ignore it, “That’s not fair. Please, just listen for a second.”

“Not fair?!” Tommy protests, “What I think is unfair is that my mom and best friend have been lying to my face so that they can sneak around and fuck. I mean, god. That’s disgusting. Mom- she’s our best friend and you,” he points his finger aggressively towards you, “going after our mom? That’s really fucking shitty.”

A tear unwillingly escapes your eye, “But it wasn’t- it’s not like that. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.”

“So you just fell into each other’s beds?” Billy asks, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“That’s not what she means, Billy,” Wanda answers solemnly. 

“What she means is that it all just happened so suddenly, so organically. We were just drawn to each other, and that’s not in our control.”

“But your actions are. You could’ve resisted. Instead, you were selfish.” 

You’re entirely sympathetic to the twins’ pain and anger. This comment, however, riles you from your sorrowful stupor. 

“Selfish? You’re calling us selfish? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Billy! Wanda and I have done nothing but think about you both the entire time. You want to know what we did yesterday? We decided to completely end things after this trip because we wanted to protect you two from our dumb decisions. Wanda and I agreed that even though we both have feelings for each other, your lives and feelings are far more important. This is one of the first really good things that’s happened to both of us in a really long time, and we gave it up for you. So you can sit here and call us stupid, or liars, or traitors, but don’t sit here and call us selfish.”

After your outburst, the room goes completely and utterly silent. Your panting hard and your hands are shaking as you watch so many emotions play out on your best friends’ faces. You glance at Wanda and the sight before you breaks your heart. At this moment, she looks so totally and utterly miserable. Silent tears are streaming down her face and her eyes dart anxiously between her two boys. Guilt pools in your stomach and you can’t help but feel that everything is your fault. Had you never been a part of their lives, nothing would be ruined and Wanda, Billy, and Tommy could’ve been a perfect, happy little family.

You sigh heavily and look at the three people you care about most, “Look, I’m sorry. I-”

“Just, stop talking,” Tommy says, interrupting you again, though this time his voice is a little less harsh.

“You, you said that you have feelings for my mom?”

“Yeah, yeah” you answer, vigorously nodding, “I care about her so much.”

Billy looks at Wanda hesitantly, “And you feel the same way?”

Although she’d just confessed her feelings yesterday, a small part of you fears that she’s changed her mind, or maybe even lied. You chew on your lip anxiously, awaiting her response with bated breath. 

Instead of answering Billy and Tommy directly, she turns and looks straight at you, “Yes. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

You know your eyes are shining thick with tears and you give her a great big wobbly smile. 

Billy sighs, rubbing his face roughly, “And you make each other happy?”

Simultaneously you and Wanda answer yes. 

“Then who are we to get in your way?” Tommy replies, shaking his head.

You gasp quietly and turn towards the twins, hope bubbling up in your chest. They still don’t look totally okay, but the small, tired smiles on each of their faces tells you that they will be in time.

Wanda makes the first move, walking towards them both and cupping each of their faces, “You really mean it moya lubov? Because I stand by what I said, the happiness of you two will always be the most important thing to me.”

Any residual tension in the faces of your two friends fade under their mother’s touch.

“Yeah, mom. We mean it. We just want you to be happy.”

Tommy looks at you then and raises his eyebrows sternly, “And I swear to god, if you hurt her.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I won’t. I promise.”

“And you,” Billy says, looking to his mom, “if you hurt her?”

Wanda turns and looks at you softly, “I could never.”

Then at the same time Billy and Tommy say, “okay.”

*****

When everything has settled, you and Wanda find yourselves alone yet again. Though there’s still so much new ground to navigate between you, Wanda, and the boys, you can’t ignore the unbridled happiness overwhelming your senses. You and Wanda look at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on your faces and you jump into her arms.

Reminded once again how strong she is, Wanda catches you easily and you wrap your legs around her waist. She presses a heated kiss to your lips and you encourage her, arms circling her neck. Somehow while still kissing you, she makes her way down the hall to her room. When she steps inside she kicks the door closed and carries you to the bed. Wanda throws you down on your back gently and then climbs on top of you. She kisses you a few times on the lips, and then the neck, before trailing her hands lower to the hem of your shirt. She makes eye contact with you, seemingly asking if she can take it off, and you nod aggressively. She chuckles lowly and grabs your shirt. You stick your arms out as she pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You shiver, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air, Wanda’s gaze, or her burning touch across your stomach- probably all three. 

“So beautiful, baby,” she mumbles, placing kisses at your collarbone and then slowly trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

You moan at her featherlight touches, but you still need more. Wanda seems to read your mind as she slides her hands underneath you and unclips your bra. Your nipples are hard from arousal and the cold air and Wanda moans at the sight. She surges forward and takes your left nipple into her mouth, sucking softly at the bud and letting her tongue roll casually over it. Her hand stimulates your other tit, groping and pinching it lightly. She alternates, so that both get their fair share. When she pulls away she plants a kiss on your panting lips before moving downward to the lower half of your body. She pushes your knees up, so that your feet lay flat on the bed, and your legs spread for her. You look down at her, her eyes full of lust and cleavage on display as she bends towards your pussy, and you moan. She places kisses and bites across your calves and then thighs before tugging off your shorts and then grabbing your underwear, pulling it tantalizingly slow down your legs. 

All of it’s painfully hot, and you're desperate to tell Wanda to move faster- but you know better than to rush her.

Wanda gasps as she throws your panties aside and eyes your pink, glistening folds, “such a pretty pussy, and all for me.”

You hum, “yes, only you Wanda.”

“Good,” she answers, patting your thigh. She moves back up your body and kisses you, though  one hand travels down between your thighs. Lightly, she places pressure on your clit and rubs slow, soft circles. The only way to describe the sensation is white, hot pleasure and you cry out- luckily into her mouth. As her mouth migrates down your body, so do her fingers. They dip into your outer folds and tease your hole with your gathered wetness. As she sucks on your nipple yet again, one finger slides slowly into you and you let out a loud moan, “Oh Wanda, that- that feels so good. Please.”

“You’re doing so good for me Detka”, Wanda praises, “So tight and warm.”

“Th- thank you Wanda. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat as she thrusts her finger in and out of you slowly. 

Wanda then inserts a second finger, stretching you wider. It’s a little painful, but it feels so good you don’t mind.

As you writhe in pleasure, you watch Wanda. Her long, red hair falls over her shoulder as she bends down to suck a hickey onto your neck. Her face is flushed and her green eyes are lust-blown. As Wanda’s hand continues to pound into you, you reach out and pull Wanda away from your neck. 

“Wanna touch you Wanda,” you say breathlessly. You pull her in and kiss her lips roughly again. One hand stays in her hair and tugs at her red locks while the other wanders down to grope her tits. She moans into your mouth and her fingers falter for a second at your touch. As you continue your ministrations on her clothed breasts, Wanda adds a third finger and you nearly see stars. Desperate for her own release, she begins to hump your thigh as she fingers you. Observing her pleasure nearly sends you over the edge. 

You beg Wanda to stop for just a moment so that you can slip off her shirt. You unclasp her bra and grunt at the sight of her naked tits. Wanda continues to pound into you and your legs tighten around her hand. As she humps your leg, you watch her beautiful tits bounce and the way her head is thrown back in a fit of pleasure. The image of Wanda before you sends you over the edge, finally, and your stomach muscles clench. You cry out loudly and moan Wanda’s name over and over as you finally come. Your body shakes with pleasure and you really do see stars this time. When you come down from your high, you are panting heavily. Wanda is still chasing her own, and you can tell she’s getting close. You grip her hips and stop her, “Don’t want you to cum on my thigh, Wanda.”

Suddenly, you flip her onto her back and straddle her.

“Drawer, Detka, look in my drawer,” Wanda breathes out desperately. You reach over her and open the top drawer on the left. Inside is a pink strap-on.

“You want me to use this, Wanda?” You ask seriously. 

“Please, please fuck me baby,” she answers huskily. 

You stand from the bed, Wanda groaning at the loss of your touch, as you step into the harness and tighten it against your skin so that it bumps your clit a little. When you crawl back onto the bed, you grab the hem of Wanda’s pants and yank them down. Then, you grab her lacy black underwear and pull that down too, revealing her pussy to you. You moan loudly and instantly surge forward, licking a line up her slit. She tastes so sweet, and you want to eat her out so badly, but you decide to save that for later. 

“Please, Detka. Don’t tease me,” Wanda orders. 

You nod and do as she says. You line the tip of the dildo up to her entrance and tease her folds. She moans softly and grabs your waist. Then, slowly, you slide inside her. She’s wet enough that there’s not much resistance, and when your hips meet hers you pause. 

Wanda sighs out, “So big. Feels so good, baby. So full of you.”

“Anything for you Wanda. Your pretty pussy deserves everything,” you whisper in her ear as you thrust your hips for the first time. The squeal she lets out sends you into a frenzy, and quickly you are pounding into Wanda at a rapid pace. She’s only letting out a series of moans, whines and squeals and it’s so incredibly hot. You suck on one of her nipples and play with the other till she is writhing underneath you. When you get her close, you move down a little and throw her legs over your shoulders, allowing you to lift her hips off the bed and drill into her at a deeper angle. You know you’ve found her g-spot by the way she lets out long, loud moans, and you muffle her mouth with your lips so that Billy and Tommy don’t hear. With one final thrust, Wanda’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her back arches into you, tits touching. The moans of your name light a fire in your stomach, and the added stimulation of the strap on your throbbing clit sends you over the edge a second time. You both cum together before slowly coming down from your high. You’re left panting as you collapse on top of her, the dildo still inside.

As you start to recover, Wanda slowly starts stroking your sweaty hair away from your face. You smile against her chest and place a soft kiss there. 

“That was really good, Wanda. Thank you.”

Wanda only lifts your chin and smiles at you before she locks your lips in another kiss- this time more sweet and tender. 

*****

The time you’d been dreading the entire week- saying goodbye- has finally arrived. While it once left you sick with dread, now it doesn’t seem so bad. The fact that you and Wanda aren’t saying goodbye forever certainly helps. Wanda’s in the kitchen sweeping out the sand and you and the twins are packing up their car with your bags. You were nervous this morning that they’d act weird around you now that you’re with Wanda, but they’ve been fairly normal besides the occasional dark jokes here or there. 

When the last of your stuff is loaded into the car, the three of you make your way back into the house. 

“Mom? Want us to take your bags out to your car?” Tommy asks, swiping a banana off the counter. 

She smiles sweetly at him, “yes, please. Thank you.”

You give Wanda a wink and begin to follow after the boys when she calls out, “wait, Detka. I need your help.”

Billy mockingly gags and you roll your eyes at him before trotting obediently back to Wanda. 

“What’d you need help with?” You ask her eagerly.

She peers over your shoulder, making sure the boys aren’t in sight, and then grabs you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss. 

You can’t help but smile against her lips, and when you pull away you chuckle.

“Was that it?”

She hums contentedly, “though I think I need one more for good measure.”

“I’m here to serve,” you tell her teasingly, kissing her again. 

“Nope! No! Okay, that’s enough you two,” Tommy declares as he comes back into the kitchen, “Jesus, I’m gonna throw up.”

You both have the decency to look sheepish and say, “sorry!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on, we gotta get back to school.”

Billy joins you all in the kitchen, “Yep, we gotta go, so no more public indecency, please.”

You snort a little and slap his arm lightly, “shut up.”

He gives you a pointed look and then goes up to hug Wanda, “Bye Mom. I’ll call you next week, okay?”

She hugs him tightly and kisses him tenderly on the forehead before taking Tommy into her arms, “Goodbye, moya lubov.”

Then she says to both of them, “You let me know when you get back safe. I love you!”

“Love you too,” they both say at the same time, heading towards the door.

Tommy looks at you, “you coming?”

You nod, “Yep, be right out in a second.”

When they’re gone you don’t say anything to Wanda, you just pull her into a tight embrace. 

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?” she tells you.

You pull away and admire her pretty features one final time before you have to say goodbye.

“Okay, Wanda. I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles warmly at you and kisses goodbye, but not, you happily note, for forever.

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

Tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy @chickenlittlsblog @lizzieolsen89 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @wandasdove @unity-rae @traveler-at-heart @wandasreallover

[coquettepascal]

felicitas and her general

summary: general acacius has caught your attention after being the first mortal to worship you in decades. you only face one challenge: don't get too attached.

warnings: rated g, contains spoilers for gladiator ii, follows the timeline of the movie somewhat, reader is the goddess felicitas (who is the goddess of good luck,) this fic is basically just an add on to the movie.

tags: goddess!reader x general acacius, emotional infidelity, lots of roman mythology stuff, writer is basing all her knowledge out of what she remembers from PJO and HoO, worship, complicated feelings, marcus does not cheat on lucilla physically, yearning, pining, grieving, guilt, major character death(s), stalking (kind of), a lot of obsession/dedication, angst, hurt no comfort but also hurt with comfort.

a/n: i watched gladiator ii and then was too emotionally devastated to finish this fic the way i planned. i really hope you all like this!! also, this fic is also dedicated to my dear friend @pascalssbabyy because she is my biggest cheerleader and i love her <33

wc: 7.2k (not beta read)

It was he who woke you.

A quiet sacrifice in the evening that felt like the freshest breath of air you could have, more intense than what you could have atop any mountain, near any spring. The scent of burning meat and smokey vegetables grasped at your lungs, and you almost choked on it. How long had it been since someone had offered you something so kind? Real food, not just scraps of something they didn’t wish for. 

You’d never complain about how difficult it is to be a minor Goddess, you know that you could be a mortal, but most don’t think of how Gods can fade. It’s a physical process, one where you’d notice how your fingertips passed through things like chalices and bowls, how a spoon slid through your hand once. The clatter of gold on the table was embarrassing, even though you were alone. Nothing about being forgotten, or fading, physically hurt. It was only mentally taxing, knowing that you weren’t as important as you once were, that mortals found you insignificant.

Generals used to come and offer things frequently sometime ago, but you couldn’t even begin to understand how long ago that was. When you’re immortal, or supposed to be, mortal lives seem fleeting. You had taken them for granted, and regret it now, for all you have now are the empty clouds above your temple. 

The last offering you can gather was from a young boy, who wanted to win a board game against his sister the next day. He had given you half a bun with strips of meat. Sure, it was thoughtful, but this was something rich. 

You finish inhaling the offering, and then hear the offerer's voice. But it’s muffled, and you want to see who it is anyways, so you swipe through the clouds and create a window to see. Then you can hear him clearly.

Someone who is clearly a general kneels at your altar, which is chipped and dirty. The ashes of the food are in front of him, smoking still, and you can taste the wealth in his meal. It can’t distract you from him though, he is striking.

Broad shoulders support a heavy, curly, grey, head of hair, which is bowed in honor of you. His body is widely built, sturdy for battle, and his voice is just as powerful. You’re so focused on hearing his voice you only catch the tail end of his request.

“... Allow me to come home safely, if not for Rome, then for my wife.”

Your heart squeezes, and you swear you can feel the ichor gushing through your veins. Scarcely when a General came to give you an offering all those years ago would he mention a wife, only ever wishing for luck in the upcoming battle or war. But here, now, you’ve been given a respectful request and offering. It isn’t a thought in your mind to not favor him now, your eyes closing and your mouth murmuring a blessing to him. It feels intoxicating to use some of your power again, especially on someone who asked for it. It also feels intoxicating to watch this General leave.

He looks around before he goes, seeming to note how degraded your small temple has become. The statue of you that lies ahead of your altar is yellowing, and ironically, multiple fingers have broken off. The General seems displeased by this, sighing as he exits the temple.

His gait is heavy, sandaled steps weighted as he walks down them and into the torch-lit night. You find yourself looking for him even after he’s disappeared from your sight, the warmth of gratefulness hugging around you. Part of you knows better than to play around with the thought, but still you wish to know more about him.

—

It worsens when he comes back. A few times a week he returns, offering rich foods. It’s been a month now, and you are coming back to life.

Fading didn’t feel like anything, but coming back feels like so much more. The first few offerings had your body feeling alight again, like the ichor in you was flowing again, but within the last two weeks you’ve gotten your fingertips back. They were tingling for a day and then the next you were able to properly grasp things again, nothing was slipping through you.

In that time you had also learned his name. A guard had come looking for him one night, and stood behind him whilst he prayed. You had found yourself smiling when he didn’t interrupt himself, instead acting aggravated once he had finished. The guard had apologized for interrupting and let him know that “Your wife wishes to speak to you, General Acacius.”

Acacius. 

You still don’t know his first name, but it is enough. You can think of it when you feel lonely, when you are bored. Something to associate with the offerings, with the blessings. The fact he has been so consistent hints at a desperation, which would usually repel you from blessing him, but he is the only one who seems to recognize you. His efforts are not going to go unseen by you, not when you have so little to do.

You can feel yourself conceding to your need to know him more, but just as you begin to fight yourself again, he shows up.

Tonight he’s dressed a little nicer. Usually he arrives in a plain tunic but this one has golden trim on it, and his hair is a little more tousled. He stumbles into your altar holding something in a cloth, but he’s walking like he’s… drunk? 

Acacius meanders to your altar, grabbing a torch along the way, and then empties the contents of the cloth. It produces a small dessert bun, a Libum, or honey cheesecake, and your mouth waters. So much of the food that is given to you is savory meats, masculine foods that are heavy on the senses, but this is sweet and delicate. You can, of course, eat whatever you’d like. You’re a Goddess, and though you aren’t major, you are still very fortunate.

But this feels thoughtful.

The General drops to his knees after lighting the bun ablaze, swaying slightly, and now you know he must be drunk.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he begins as normal, “I am sorry I am later than usual. Though I don’t know if Goddesses sleep. I was… caught up in other affairs, but I made it in time.”

He is less eloquent than usual and seems particularly focused on how it is nearly past midnight.

“I brought you this though,” he gestures to the half burnt bun. “I wanted to bring you something different than meat and… things. I thought a dessert would be fitting for that task.”

Acacius pauses now. His thoughts are probably muddled from whatever he drank, and you find yourself smiling. Foolery has never been so endearing to you.

“You have been listening to me, I suppose. My requests for luck in battle have been answered, as well as my safety being ensured. Your blessings have brought my wife peace of mind, something I could not previously afford to her.”

He looks so small in your temple tonight. Normally he is not so vulnerable, but his shoulders sag as he mentions his wife. Some sort of shame runs over him at the idea that he could not ease his wife’s worries, but it makes you feel better that you could help. 

“Goddess Felicitas, I come here tonight bearing no requests, just gratitude. Your blessings have soothed wounds I could not see, and I feel like a young soldier again. You invigor me.” 

Then, he leaves. 

You watch helplessly as he stumbles back down the steps and away from your temple, and more than ever you wish to chase him. The love he has for his wife is clear, and you hold no jealousy of that, but you wish it were you. Something in you is deeply attached to this General now. He has awoken you so much more than rekindling your power as a goddess, more than releasing you from the grief that comes with fading. Yes, Acacius has made your heart beat again, your mind curious again, and you feel seen. Being worshipped is not the same as being loved, if that were true you’d have had many children by now, 

But after so long being forgotten, this feels like what you remember being loved as.

—

You try not to interact with the other Gods for the most part. They tend to meddle in things they don’t need to, and are sensitive. You are not exempt from this stereotype, but that’s only more reason for the distance. 

But today, you venture to meet another deity.

Morpheus is not hard to find. He is pretty stationery where he is, usually lounging on a rock or bench near his temple, or above it in the clouds. He is a bit…dramatic, from what you remember, but wise. 

Today he is stretched out on a cloud above his temple, eyes shut. His pale skin stretches taut on his bones as his lean frame breathes deeply. But, he is not asleep. 

“Morpheus,” you speak. 

His body rolls toward your direction, eyes still shut, but a small smile on his face.

“O young goddess Felicitas, what brings you to me?” He questions.

It’s hard not to feel embarrassed. You’ve spoken to Morpheus on very rare occasions, but he’s always been somewhat helpful, though nosy. Dreams tell a lot about people, and when he’s the one giving them to people, it’s hard to hide anything at all.

You don’t want him to know of your true affection for General Acacius, just that he is… worthy of a visit. 

And so you begin to describe it to Morpheus, your need to visit Acacius. He doesn’t open his eyes at all, but he raises his eyebrows a lot and seems bemused at your situation. You’re only halfway through your rambling before he raises a gangly limb and waves at your words.

“Felicitas, you think you are the only Goddess wishing to visit her admirer? You need no explanation,” he says jovially. 

Morpheus reaches into the air and pulls 6 black berries into existence, then drops them into your open palm.

“When you know he is asleep, bite down on one of these and think of him,” he describes to you.

The berries smell like nothing, but a powdery residue is left on your skin as you roll them in your palm. It doesn’t repel you at all.

Tonight, you will visit him and express the same gratitude he did to you. 

—

Marcus lays next to his wife, Lucilla, with her hand in his. She fell asleep sometime ago, leaving him to lie awake by himself.

He didn’t make it to her temple tonight and the guilt is festering in his body. Marcus knows that she is a Goddess, that he probably isn’t a thought in her mind. He knows that he is just another whiney mortal, giving her food that isn’t nearly as good as whatever Gods eat. His insignificance grows as he feeds into his guilt. 

Stress has permeated his life for much of it, from his time as a young soldier up until now, as a General. Battles, politics, and his family, have created a breeding ground for him to be wracked with anxieties, but he stays strong. Thanks to his time in Felicitas temple, it’s been better.

Which is why failing to make it to her temple tonight is making him feel so bad.

He grabs at the linen sheets of his bed, stressing and trying to reassure himself until he falls asleep finally.

—

Being in a dream is weird. It feels much the same as it does when you disguise yourself as a mortal, the out of body experience is semi-familiar, but it’s weird because someone else is there.

You’ve been watching the General enjoy the lake in front of him for a few minutes now. He hasn’t slipped into it, but just walks along the waterline. It seems like he is looking for something. Surely his dreams usually contain more action, or perhaps are memories, so you assume it may be strangely understimulating for him.

The appearance you’ve chosen is one of modesty, but elegance. A seafoam green peplos hangs off your frame delicately, with golden clasps at the wrists and waist. You did your hair so it would be tucked out of your face. There is no guarantee that Acacius will recognize you like this, but you look much like your statue that’s within your temple.

Swallowing your nerves, you shimmer yourself into visibility. The grassy field is odd beneath your feet, and you walk toward him with uncertainty in each step. You’ve never met with a mortal before, and you haven’t stepped on anything earthy in a long while. His broad stature only becomes more daunting as you get closer, especially since he seems so focused.

You will have to speak first. You’re much too quiet in this environment, and you must act fast lest he wake before you get his attention.

“General Acacius,” you speak firmly, though your hands shake. 

This is so unfamiliar to you. You’ve barely even seen his face, as he’s usually bowed at your altar. It is the first time you’ll see him at an equal level, the first time you’ll have brought yourself to him rather than him to you. 

He turns quickly, an instinctual aggressiveness toward the unknown. You stand about 10 feet from him, eyes widening.

Acacius is striking. His nose is what you focus on first, strong in shape and line, but behind it are his eyes which look to you with wide acknowledgement. His hair curls around his head in greying ringlets, like a permanent laurel crowning him. The wide expanse of his back was once impressive, but now you can see the solid wall which he becomes when facing you. Nothing could push him over it seems, a man built to stand.

Your heart squeezes the way it did the first time he gave you a request, a tender rush tingling your whole body. No words come out of either of your mouths, and the General drops to one knee instantly. 

He recognizes you.

“Goddess Felicitas,” he rushes out in a breath. His chest is heaving as he bows his head and no, no this isn’t how you want this.

Your feet are moving before you can focus on your anxiety, bringing you so close to him that you can kneel too. Maybe a goddess should not kneel before a mortal general, but you are just on your knees rather than putting yourself below him. Your peplos billows a little as air rushes through it when you hit the grass.

He is above you like this, and you tilt your head to see his face again. His strong brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like he is afraid of you. 

“Acacius,” you say softly, “I am not here for… for ill reason. Please relax yourself.”

You lean back as he relaxes, head tipping upwards as he kneels in front of you as well. Now you can meet his eyes, see the crinkles that are beside them, and really take him in.

An energy of anxiety is shared wordlessly, with him stiff from the sight of a literal goddess, and you with the fear of… something. 

The identity of your anxieties isn’t something that you can figure out. Maybe it’s too much to see such a handsome mortal, or maybe it’s that you’re going to thank him for his offerings so personally. Maybe it’s humiliation from this act. What would other Gods think of this? Is it not degrading to become so attached to a mortal? Are you no better than Zeus or Hermes, the gods who interact too intimately with mortals? 

The sound of his labored breathing alerts you, calls your attention back to the present moment. 

“I wanted to thank you,” you admit meekly, “for your offerings. You have been very generous and… devoted.”

His eyes are shifty, and you can see the terror in him still. You don’t want him to fear you, but you can understand why. Visits from Gods or other deities can mean trouble, but you aren’t significant like that.

“General Acacius you are the first mortal who has acknowledged me in a long time,” you offer a vulnerability, perhaps trying to soothe him.

It feels so backwards for you to be kneeling in front of him, speaking. He has done so in front of your altar for many weeks now, but now the spots are switched, yet you are still in power. You avert your gaze as you speak up, wanting to request something of him.

“You’ve been so generous to me, General, I was hoping to know more about you.”

And now, rather than scared, he seems suspicious. 

“To know me?” He clarifies. 

You nod.

“I only know your last name. I think I could offer more luck and splendor if we were more… personal.” 

Gods that felt awful to say. You’re no better than the whorish brutes on their thrones, offering petty glories for intimacy. Everything feels flirtatious but that’s not what you’re looking for. Acacius has a wife he clearly loves, you would never want to interrupt that. 

He seems to hesitate, but he knows he cannot refuse you. So far your blessings have brought ease to his life, he wouldn’t want to lose that.

“Then… yes, I suppose I can offer myself if it would please you.” He responds stoically. 

And it does please you, to know his name. Marcus Acacius, the one who woke you, the one who has saved you from being a fragmented memory within the temples. 

Marcus Acacius, who you are too fond of.

—

You visit him 3 more times. In an attempt to space out the usage of the berries Morpheus gave you, you only visit him once a week. The bleak tasting berries are sour on your tongue, a rotten sour which lingers once you wake up, but it’s worth it.

The two of you have grown closer, with Marcus opening up more. He tells you about the stresses in his life, how much anxiety is buried in him. But, he’s confident for the sake of his wife. You’ve learned that her name is Lucilla, and much more about her. Marcus talks about her a lot, in passing or retelling something she told him. In the small amount of time you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve gotten to know her as well.

It burns you with a strange warmth, a desire and envy which makes your stomach growl. You are hungry for him to admire you in the same way, to speak of you, but doesn’t he already? Shame grips your throat when you think of it. You are a Goddess who he sacrifices to, who he wishes to have blessings from. What more do you need? A mortal couldn't offer you what another deity could. 

After the fourth meeting, you found yourself lonely. Lazing back in the clouds above your temple, you woke with a deep hunger. Marcus is beautiful, an admirable man, and he loves passionately. You are already being such a glutton for even speaking with him, meeting with him repeatedly, so why must you yearn for him too? 

Worship isn’t enough, you want what you will never let yourself to have.

Nothing hints that he might feel similarly. His starry gaze which lands on you is not due to your beauty, your personality, or anything more. You have blessed him, and that is why his eyes glitter. Goddess status has never made you feel so low and isolated. Still, you are happy to help him achieve what he wishes, even as it cripples your heart.

Tonight you plan on visiting him. That fourth visit was a week and a half ago, he may be wondering where you are. He still comes to your altar each night, but the prayers are less personal. Marcus saves his stories and ramblings for when the two of you are in the field, or near the lake, when the two of you are really alone.

—

You bite into the berry at around midnight. Its tangy yet death-tasting juice floods your mouth, clinging to the crevices between your teeth and staining your gums. Closing your eyes, you think of Marcus, and his curls, and his eyes, and his nose, and his strong hands.

And then you are there, and he is waiting. 

It seems like his subconsciousness has picked to be at the lake today, and he’s sat in the sand at the edge of the water. You walk over to him, but notice how… down he appears to be.

“She is not happy with me,” Marcus confesses before you even sit down.

You stand a few feet back from him, looking at how his curls fall around his bowed head.

“Lucilla?” You ask softly.

He nods.

A wicked feeling begins to steep in your heart. She is upset with him, he is in need of you for something more than a blessing. 

And so you listen. 

It’s one of the longer meetings the two of you have had. Marcus doesn’t cry, but he seems truly upset. He’s been called to go off somewhere far again, to fight and kill. Reassurances that you will protect him as best you can only soothe him so much. 

He doesn't care if he dies, he cares that his beloved is distraught over this. 

The more the two of you talk, the closer you get. There are marks on the sand from where you originally sat, but now you kneel in front of him, with creased brows and worried eyes. This isn’t something you can fix, you aren’t familiar with love and its intricacies. 

His knees were tucked closer to his chest before, but they’ve loosened now and his fists rest atop them, clenching. Frustration sits on his face like a mask, one you wish to take off him.

Touching is not… something either of you partake in. Sometimes your shoulders will brush when you sit together, but nothing more has ever been initiated. 

That is why it doesn’t surprise you when he flinches as your hand reaches out to rest on top of his right clenched fist. 

“Marcus,” you say softly, wanting to offer comfort, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he replies swiftly.

At first it hurts, watching as he waves off your hand from his own, but then you look at his face rather than where your hands were joined. The frustrated look on his face is gone, replaced with something worse, something guilty. His eyes aren’t glittering at you like usual, nor are they hardened with anger.

They’re soft pools of conflict that mirror your own.

It doesn’t soothe your burn, satiate your envy. You can see in his eyes that maybe you aren’t alone in these feelings of admiration, of want, but maybe this is not what you want.

Maybe you want a different universe, one where he doesn’t have to be a mortal and you, a Goddess. So you wouldn’t have to worry about him dying, and have this friendship survive off death flavored berries. Maybe you want a universe where he isn’t married, where he could be yours and you wouldn’t feel like a spectator to his heart.

Maybe you want that, but you won’t get it.

Instead the flames of jealousy die in your chest and are replaced with tumors of guilt. Your whole body feels bloated, embarrassed, and ugly. 

The pair of you stare at each other, a stupid realization between the both of you as you realize that your secrets have been spilled, even though it’s the same one.

His eyes don’t move from yours, so you move from his.

The sandy edge of the lake does not look so bright now, even though there are no clouds in Marcus’s dream. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly. 

You will not follow him into whatever battle he’ll win. Don’t embarrass yourself, Goddess.

He tells you two weeks. You say you’ll see him before then.

Then you wake on a cloud again, with a cavity of guilt in your chest.

—

Marcus wakes alone. 

Lucilla had not wanted to sleep with him that night, choosing to stay elsewhere. She didn’t tell him where, she left in a quiet flurry of tears and anguish.

It’s easier for him to feel guilt over his Goddess than it is to hurt his beloved, even if it is the same.

In a moment of frustration he grasps at the sheets, turning over and biting at his pillow. The bed is so cold, and the room smells like stale air even though the window is open, the night breezy. 

He knows she is beautiful because she is a Goddess. All Goddesses are beautiful, ethereal beings that mortals cannot even comprehend at times. Marcus knows he is lucky to even perceive her, for her to have chosen to visit him.

Yet through all her blessings, he feels cursed.

A plague of emotional infidelity is crawling through his body, sticking to his bones and making him stiff. Everything he does has felt flat for so long, from pretending he is grateful to the Emperors, to now pretending nothing is wrong in his marriage. He’s scared, and exhausted.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face after rolling over and sitting up in bed, groaning into his palm. 

At first he tried to blame her for it. What would a Goddess want from a successful General other than a demigod hero son? What could truly be so special about him? He assumed she was manipulating him, using some sort of power to morph his heart, but now he knows it is not true.

If she had wanted to, she would have had him by now, and he knows this. If she had wanted to, her hand would have stayed where it was tonight, and pushed him further. It isn’t unlike the Gods to force themselves on a mortal, but she didn’t.

Instead, his hand feels hot where hers rested, and his mind is spinning. 

Marcus doesn’t fall asleep again, afraid that he’ll see her. 

—

You wait for a full two weeks before you visit him again. He had been coming to your temple less, and you had assumed he was busy with preparations for the coming battle. 

The stubbornness you felt that night has not left you. At first you did not leave your temple in fear that you would grow attached, now you remain there because you have grown attached. 

“Enough is enough,” you had thought to yourself. 

But it is hard not to miss him, and his soothing prayers. The way his offerings tasted of smoke and sweet, and how he’d always burn such a large portion. Marcus never gave you scraps, he seemed to refuse to. 

However, you can only distance yourself so far. 

It is quiet when you approach him. He is sitting in the field this time, the lake a distant glitter in your eyes. He does not face you, but his head isn’t bowed like before.

“Marcus,” you greet, your voice muted.

He raises his head, turning over his shoulder and nodding, as if to direct you to come closer, and so you do.

Tonight’s visit isn’t vulnerable, or even pleasant. Marcus seems so distant as he dryly tells you about how he’s preparing, and his wishes to return safely. His eyes barely meet your own as he talks, and he continuously twists the ring on his finger.

It grows tiring, watching him ramble about politics you could care less about, listening to him say things that have nothing to do with him. He’s so far from the friend you thought you had made. When the air between you goes quiet, you don’t fill it for a while. You listen to the sound of the wind in the grass as his eyes still will not meet yours. It’s breaking you apart.

This is the last night you’re able to visit him, unless you visit Morpheus again. You will not waste it like this.

“What is ailing you, General?” You ask, deciding to prod more than you usually do.

To your surprise, he scoffs in light laughter.

“You,” he responds quietly.

His words don’t hurt, at least not yet. You have the option to walk away now, wake yourself and leave him with his final blessings, but of course you don’t.

“Me?” You ask, “what have I done?”

Marcus rolls his shoulders back, lifting his head to look into the everblue sky above the both of you.

“You have made my life difficult, Goddess.”

Difficult? You have made his life difficult?

You have half a mind to tear him to pieces, curse him with something awful like snakes for toes, or spoons for teeth. After all that you’ve done for him, all the safety you’ve provided, he is telling you that you make things difficult? How dare he? Be outraged, Goddess, for he disrespects the holy luck which you bestowed to him.

That’s what you should think, that’s how most of you should feel.

But instead you feel small, and hurt. Yes, he is disrespecting all that you’ve given, but also you feel like a failure. Your physical existence is because of him, because he did not let you fade. All you wanted to do was make his life easier, help him to have an eased mind and a safer life.

But instead, he’s telling you you’re difficult.

It feels like your body is shrinking in the white peplos you’ve worn, the sheer fabrics swallowing you. Shame is flooding in the form of tears behind your eyes, wetting your orbs with an unexpected outburst of emotion.

“I am sorry,” you manage weakly.

Marcus does not look at you while you cry, and you want to believe it is because he cares too much to watch, but you cannot verify that.

The wind picks up again, but it does nothing to hide the soft cries you can’t hold back. Once you were a fading Goddess, now you are just a failing one.

There is no luck involved with love.

Eventually he speaks again, with his head turned away from you.

“I am sorry too,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that makes you ache.

So much is said in such little words. He is sorry to you, for you, and with you. A sorrow is shared between the two of you, knowing that your hearts ache for one another as they are worlds apart yet on earth together. 

This last berry was only supposed to mark the end of your visits, not the end of everything. It feels like this is all there is for the two of you, since it’s too complicated to continue on like this.

That’s why he doesn’t move away when you move closer and rest your head on his shoulder as tears leak down your cheeks, or at least that’s what you’ll believe. 

—

Time moves weirdly when you’re immortal, but it all happens so quickly.

Marcus stopped coming to offer things for you, and so you were blessing him less. Admittedly you had kept an eye on him, but not a keen one. It didn’t feel right, not when you and him weren’t… friends anymore.

But this feels too soon, too fast, too unfamiliar. Has your sadness caused you to be blind?

You watch as a man kneels in front of Marcus, panting and bloody with a sword beside him on the ground.

The only reason you are here was because you had felt the roar of a crowd all the way at your own temple, a wide distance away. It had drawn you in, and instead you had found this.

That roaring which you had heard crescendos to a new height around you as you shimmer into existence, cloaking yourself to the mortal eyes in the stands of the coliseum, but existing enough to touch him.

Arrows stick out of his front, more crushed beneath his back, as he is slumped on the white, gravel, ground. His hair is curled with tacky blood streaking through it, and he is so, so, still.

You drag your hand across his forehead, feeling the remaining heat, and in the echo of the crowd you begin to sob. 

Everything around you is moving, changing, fighting, and screaming, but you sit invisible in the center of the coliseum, running your hands over the now dead General Acacius. There is nothing you can do to bring him back, to ease Lucilla, to save him and apologize. He is dead beneath your fingers, with arrows lodged deep in his irreparable, mortal, flesh. 

You were supposed to keep him safe.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you keep grasping at his armor, unable to move him or yourself. The last visit felt official, but this feels final. There is nothing more for you here, no friendship in a corpse.

Thoughts are running through your mind at the rate that your breath is puffing from your chest. The question of where he will end up in the afterlife is overwhelming you, and the chance for him to go to Elysium feels reasonable. It’s where he should be, where he deserves to go, especially after all he had done for Rome. You don’t even care why he’s here, or why he seems to have been brutally killed, but after the time you spent with him, Elysium seems right for him.

—

It’s where he should be. Elysium is where he should be.

And it’s where you find him.

His place there is somewhat similar to his and Lucilla’s home back in the mortal world, with lush greenery and airy drapes that flutter in various colours. It seems like he has left space for Lucilla here too, with space left in the chests for her things, and a permanently made half of the bed.

Elysium offers a true celebration of life for heroes, demigodly or not, and you’re sure Marcus has been enjoying that. Anything that he had been shackled to in his mortal life was gone now, and it seems that all he would have to miss is his wife. 

Most of your time is spent there, in his afterlife home. You peer from behind curtains when he comes back, hidden in drapes and keeping yourself small. 

He is already dead, but after the last time you abandoned him, you cannot bear to leave him alone again.

The vision of him, bloodied and murdered on the coliseum floor, flickers into your mind every time you see him lying in his bed. It’s an obsession to be near him, to be looking after him. Pluto might not even know you’re down here anymore, but what does it matter?

Marcus Acacius was the last living mortal to worship you. In the underworld, you are beginning to fade. Your fingers are slipping from you again, which is making it easier to lurk near him, but it is a painful process.

You want to speak to him. No longer do you yearn for his love, not after being in his home and seeing how dedicated his heart truly is to Lucilla, but you yearn to speak to him again. A panicked emotion runs through you at the thought of fading alone, of being entirely forgotten. 

It didn’t matter before he died, fading was just something bound to happen, but now it’s more. Is he forgetting you?

—

You’ve lost most of your arms by the time you work up the courage to speak up. Lucilla arrived sometime ago, joining Marcus in the afterlife. Watching them together brought some warmth to you, some kind of happiness that you couldn’t have for yourself, but seeing it for him was enough.

You sit on the terrace of their home, invisible to their eyes, and somewhat to your own. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbows, you are a specter. Grey shadow fills where your limbs used to be, and they pass through all objects. You couldn’t tap his shoulder if you tried.

Oftentimes you sit, hidden, and ponder by yourself about more than Marcus. There were so many things you were adamant about when he was alive, and you regret it all now. Your determination to avoid your feelings, or at least not show them, and your need to not become attached… it bites at you now, a stinging, grieving, venom, that won’t leave. Your status as a Goddess blinded you to how tender that friendship could have been, and now you sit as a ghost spectator to his afterlife, obsessed with a mortal as a fading immortal. 

The tips of your fingers pass through the glass you try to grab as you think of this on the terrace. You’re glad that you’re such a minor deity, so at least you do not have to feel so humiliated about fading. A smile has just graced your face as you feel blessed for being so unimportant you can essentially stalk this mortal, when suddenly his voice cuts through the humid air of the space.

“Felicitas?” Marcus’ voice asks.

It’s so hesitant that you think you’re imagining it. You thought you had their home to yourself right now, thinking they had gone to do… whatever souls do in Elysium, but when you turn your face, he is there.

Marcus has not worn fancy clothing in a long while now, and right now is no different. He stands before you in a plain looking tunic, which just graces his knees. To see him at ease has been so nice, but he looks distressed at your sudden appearance.

You cannot find your voice as you awkwardly stand up, trying to think quickly. There is no good way to explain what you’re doing here, hidden away in him and his wife’s home. You could just vanish into thin air, but that feels wrong. He has seen you already, any attempts at pretending you aren’t here would be ridiculous.

His eyes scroll from your face down to your arms, and the smoking shadows that used to be there. Concern pinches onto his face with knitted brows and pressed together lips.

Something in you wants him to turn away, so you don’t have to think about why he is worried for you, even after all the trouble you caused, but he doesn’t.

His sandaled steps are heavy as he comes to you, reaching for your hands but finding the gesture fruitless as his own slip right through yours.

“Dulcissima,” he speaks weakly, shock woven in his words.

You had told him about fading a little while ago, when the two of you were in that field. Now it seems the severity of it has hit him.

What is hitting you is the name. Dulcissima, or sweetest. How long had it been since you had been referred to so fondly? All at once you are being remembered, recognized, and shown some affection. It feels like too much and tears are falling out of your control.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, “I was supposed to– to keep you safe.”

Marcus is shaking his head already, refusing your apology.

“No, no. You did keep me safe, you did. I pushed you away, I couldn’t control myself and I caused this,” he argues. 

It does not comfort you that you both blame yourselves. You wish to reach out to him and touch his face like you should have when he was warm and alive. You want to know if he is cold now, and it’s as if he hears you.

Marcus places a hand on your cheek, a softness in his eyes and hold that says that he missed you.

“I saw you,” he claims, “when I was on the ground. You were the last thing I saw.”

Somewhere between life and death for mortals, there are moments of godly clarity. Some see the light, others see their families and memories, but in that tiny glimpse of time, some see Gods. 

He was able to see you as you knelt over him, sobbing as you were cloaked to any mortal's naked eye.  You were the last thing he saw, and the last thing he truly regretted. 

All you can do is stiltedly nod at him, feeling like you were in trouble even though it seems he’s not upset.

For a moment, his eyes flick away, contemplative, but then he meets your gaze again.

“I told Lucilla of you, before I died. Not– not of my feelings which I struggled with, but that you were a close friend, a blessing in many ways.”

A blessing in many ways.

Another choked sob is wracked from your chest, your bottom lip curling out embarrassingly as your face contorts. He almost coos at you, the thumb on your cheek rubbing away your tears.

“Goddess, I have missed you,” he admits. 

Stupid nods are all you can offer, your voice imprisoned in your ever tightening throat which cries. When he was alive he was never this tender, too confused and insecure to ever touch you, but it seems he has been regretting things too.

“Felicitas,” he says quietly, “do you come here for ill reason?”

You shake your head this time, rather than nodding. You have no reason to be here, other than the fact that guilt has taken over your mind and heart since he died.

“Then relax, dulcissima. I have an offering for you.”

Marcus relaxes his stature, eyes still gazing over you. He looks at your fading palms and you watch him swallow nervously.

“I will worship you again, lending you offerings here, and all I ask in return is for our friendship again.”

It’s the opposite of how you met, almost completely, but it’s everything you need. You will not fade, he will not struggle in marriage, and you will have one another again. 

Again, you are nodding stupidly, but soon you’re embraced by him and nodding into his chest. His hands grasp at your back as he tells you how much he missed you in his final weeks, how he regrets losing you entirely, how he requires you as a friend. 

You are satiated in his arms as he comforts you, awakening you again there on the terrace. Unbeknownst to you, Marcus has let tears slip down too as he holds you close. 

“You will keep me safe here?” he asks jokingly.

It makes you smile, the idea of offering luck to a man who already died.

“Yes, General. I will keep you safe here, from all the horrifying glory and splendor,” you assure.

The two of you laugh, breaking the embrace but staying close. A passionate connection is still between the two of you, but in a different way now. Maybe when he was alive it was romantic because it is all you could think of, but through his death the two of you have come to understand it more. 

You require one another in a unique way, and leaning on one another does not have to be intimate the way he is with his wife. Marcus does need you, just as you need him, and now that you are both immortal in a way, you will never be separated again.

please leave a comment, like, reblog, askbox, or ANYTHING. i'd love to hear thoughts on this <33

tags (people who seemed excited for this) (sorry if these dont work)

@pascalssbabyy , @moonshapedflan , @gossipgirl-03 , @kyloispunk , @frannyzooey , @coocoolahh , @bug-boy32 , @honeymarvel , @magicalmorg , @1deakybass , @tuquoquebrute , @harryshousewhore , @teeagain, @chewie-bars , @vampyyweek , @queenslandlover-93 , @amijenn , @aquanatalie

[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.” Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

[altf4d3lete]

My Thoughts on the Wednesday Novelization:

Okay so I have no clue how long this post is going to be, so bear with me. This is coming from someone who has been hyperfixated on the show for over a year and has watched it through multiple times, written fanfiction about it, and debated the characters and their motivations tirelessly.

1. Characterization

First up is the big hitter. The characterization of Wednesday specifically, since the book is written in her voice. I’ve seen a lot of controversy surrounding this. A lot of people have been saying that Wednesday was too emotional, that she was too sympathetic and cared too much about what other people think. To this, I heartily disagree.

We see throughout the book how she gradually begins caring more about the others around her. At first, she sees them only as allies; which is a very Wednesday thing to do. She only compromises because people like Enid or Tyler offer her loyalty, and she feels the need to offer something in return. And of course, the more they offer her their loyalty, the more she feels as though she can open up to them. She’s still human, after all, Addams or not. While most people would assume (wrongly) that Wednesday operated on a strictly “take, not give” mentality, it’s clear in the show itself that this isn’t the case. She still compromises in the show. The only reason people don’t agree now is because they created their own perceptions on why Wednesday was compromising, while it was clear to others all along that this was because she wanted to keep her allies close in case she needed help.

Wednesday, in the novelization, approaches everything from a strategical standpoint. Which is exactly how I’d expect her to approach things. She keeps a careful catalogue of her enemies and suspects, of who she can or can’t trust with evidence. Which, again, is what I had gathered from Jenna’s acting in the show.

Concerning the care she felt for Enid, among others:

I do not think the way she felt about Enid or the way their relationship developed was out of character at all. Wednesday said it herself, it felt to her as though Enid was the only one who accepted her up front no matter who she was or what she said or did. Enid was the only one who didn’t expect her to be someone else or a simple projection of what she wanted. Wednesday appreciated Enid’s willingness to be an ally even knowing that Wednesday wasn’t a good person. And it caused her to grow attached to the one person who accepted her no matter what. Even when Wednesday put her in danger, Enid still came back. And Wednesday appreciated that more than anything. I really think it’s incorrect to say that it’s out of character how much Wednesday cared about Enid. Enid was Wednesday’s first real friend, and put her life on the line for Wednesday. Of course they’re going to be inseparable, in Wednesday’s words, after something like that.

2. Theme

I’ve read a lot of books and done a lot of English classes and writing in my time. I usually look for themes in books, and it’s pretty clear to me that the theme of this book is friendship and navigating it, as corny as that sounds.

The entire book follows Wednesday learning what it means to be a true friend. What it means to open up and be vulnerable with others, what it means to put trust and confidence in them, and what it means to rely on others. Towards the end, there’s a passage where she realizes she’s never been alone.

In this book, Wednesday learned what it means to grow and foster a community of people who care about you. People who you can rely on. She comes to care about Enid, Eugene, even Bianca. All of them help her in some way, and all of them give her a shoulder to rely on at some point. She learns that having allies are nice, but having friends, people who are truly in your corner, is even better. And that there are specific ways to treat friends, and specific ways to keep them. She learned that sometimes compromises are important, and that it’s okay to not agree with some things, but it doesn’t mean that has to be the end of the friendship. And she learned just how deeply her care for her friends, as well as their care for her, truly goes.

One could say that this book is corny. One could say that it’s cringe, or that it’s not canon to them. All of that is completely fine. But in my eyes, this book has absolutely done Wednesday’s character justice and proven what I already knew: she’s not a psychopath like so many people paint her out to be. Maybe she was in previous iterations, but this is a new iteration, a new character. And she most definitely cares deeply about those who show their loyalty to her, about those who prove to her that they can trust her. Enid, Thing, Eugene, even Bianca. They created a sense of community to battle a common enemy and won. And Wednesday learned that she couldn’t have done it on her own.

I’m excited to see how her character continues to develop in season 2 and further. I’m excited to see how those around her affect her in new ways, and who she’ll ultimately grow to be. I loved this novelization of season one, and I loved the insight it gave us into Wednesday’s thoughts and her character arcs.

Anyway! That’s all, thanks for reading 🫶

Edit: my bad this turned into an essay. If I missed anything or you want my opinion on anything, let me know :)

[hibiscusseaart]

huge ass post with MadaTobi Babies

its finally done, its almost 1 am, I started at 7 pm

OK SO HERE THEY ARE

So a little lore and then I'm gonna introduce them.

As you may remember from my earlier post, Tobirama (they married when he was 19) after the marriage, decided to create a child to tie Madara to him and the village stronger just in case Madara would try to leave the village. He couldn't destroy the village if there's his kid running around, right?

So Tobirama started learning biology pretty early in their marriage + Itama (@oh-no-its-bird 's one) helped a lot too. Mito helped with the seals to make an incubator. Tobirama didn't want a surrogate mother just because he was afraid that Madara would get attached to the mother of his children and he didn’t want that (plus he's jealous but doesn't realise it 🤭).

He created some sort of very real transformation jutsu that would trick his body to think that he has ovaries and he'd get the eggs that way! But he couldn't keep uterus and ect for 9 months, plus this jutsu is HARD to keep on for very long periods of time. It's easier to make a few organs from chakra that could produce real eggs than a whole new system. Plus Tobirama really didn't want to get pregnant and he wasn't sure he wouldn't fuck up his own body. Tobirama, with as gray morale as his, could just scrap failed embryo and start anew. He can't do that with his own body.

Anyway, incubator it is!

At first he did all of that in secret, stealing Madara's sperm (that's... a thing now) for his first experiments while they had sex. (Tobirama fucking Madara real hard that he’d pass out after and then take samples) ANYWAY

So he announced about his plans when the first stable and pretty healthy embryo was ready.

The first baby, Motoko! The melanin quee. She got all of it. Nothing left for her brother or sister. Ofc she's not THAT dark skinned, but she is for an Uchiha who are mostly white as a paper in canon.

(Tobirama is 21 for reference)

Her name literally means "Experiment seed first". Tobirama named this project this way for secrecy if someone would overhear his talks with Itama and Mito. It’d be Uchiha clan head’s child so hush-hush.

The name meanings + kanji! Hope I got them right, I have no japanese knowledge

oh and there is flirting with past and time in general in this name so it might be Tobirama reminiscing his first timeline. Like Motoko didn't even EXIST before.

So when he presented the embryo to Madara and Hashirama, they were ecstatic of course.

Madara almost cried. Hashirama became a river of tears.

Madara never really hoped for his own children since he married Tobirama cuz, well, they're both men. Doesn't really work that way. But Tobirama made it work and Madara is in love all over again.

Madara refuses to leave their future baby for a long time, just looking at them in the incubator. But the baby doesn’t need much there so Tobirama makes him leave and live a life while they’re waiting when the kid is ready.

Oh and Madara was SO against the name that basically means “experiment seed 1”. But when Tobirama asked if he got smth better, he ran away to his compound and tried to find the PERFECT names. He got lost in so many variations and never really decided. So when the kid was “born” (Tobirama just… took her out of the incubator*) and medics checked her, Madara took her in his hands, started crying and while he was having “A moment” Tobirama wrote her name as Motoko, cuz they needed it for administration and Uchiha clan.

*come to think about it, wouldn’t it fuck up a kid a bit? i mean, children develop under pressure of their mother’s organs and they’re in tight position. maybe test tube kids don’t really like to be wrapped in cloth? as i know ppl do that with newborns to imitate feelings like they’re in the womb.

But this name also can be read as “Festival child” so its kinda cute? Madara def told her that that’s exactly what her name means. No seed 1.

Interesting thing, when Tobirama made the baby, he thought he’d make a boy first, a heir. But something went wrong and the kid developed to be a girl. Tobirama was confused why. But technically, the kid is a boy with XY chromosomes but bc of their development and being a genetic experiment something went wrong and they developed as a female (its a real thing btw).

In the long run it didn’t really matter except that Motoko can’t have her own kids bc of all hormonal weirdness. And I don’t think that Tobirama would figure all of that out. He’d think he made some mistake when choosing gender, but kid was born healthy after all. Ofc when they found out that Motoko can’t have kids Tobirama will blame himself, that he ruined his daughter’s life. But she’s would be ok, she had her little siblings growing up and other clan kids so she’s done babysitting.

Okay for her personality! I think she’s kinda like Shisui? Very happy kid, spoiled rotten by her uncles (Hashirama and Izuna compete who is THE BEST uncle) and Tou-san (Madara). Btw Tobirama refuses to be called Kaa-san or any motherly terms. He’s barely holding a kunai in his pockets when Madara calls him wife.

But she’s also very Uchiha with temper and protectiveness. She was trained to be very much Uchiha cuz she’s the future clan head so her jutsu’s are strongly fire natured. Oh and her secondary nature is eath! She took it from the Senju side :)

Good sensor, but not as strong as her other siblings. Have really good chakra reserves and vicious on the battlefield.

Surprisingly looks really like Madara and Izuna’s mom. Her face is all that. Has soft dark hair and soft features. Considered to be very beautiful among Uchihas.

Oh and as you can see, I wrote that she has the Mangekyo. She got it when she was around 14. She was already really strong and cuz of her family, she got cocky. So, you ask me, who died? I think it’d be her female teammate (maybe from Hatake clan? idk I take suggestions) who she was in love with.

So yeah, she got a reality check. Because she got Mangekyo, Tobirama didn’t want her baby to lose her sight, so he improved his own seals that helped him with his albinism. Seals improve his sight and protect from the sun. So he drew Motoko tattoos on her face, like his. Years later it’d be a new feature of the main line.

But before that, when Motoko is 12 and Tobirama is 29, after 8 years of research (and possibly sealing/killing Black Zetsu in the meantime) he decided to try to make another kid. He still wanted a boy.

And he was successful. Meet Akemori! The Music King

The name was suggested by Hashirama. It means “red forest”. Red eyes, plus he sensed that the kid has a bit of mokuton!

But on the downside, Akemori was born an albino. Tobirama himself was really lucky, cuz he had a strong health and I hc that he still has healing abilities, but not as strong as Hashirama’s. But it still helped him in his childhood.

Not for Akemori tho. He was a sickly child, almost blind and burned on the sun easily. Tobirama had to put seals on him when he was about 3 years old. But even then his eyesight was still poor. Seals can’t fix everything.

Tobirama, once again, feels guilty that he didn’t notice any mistakes when he was creating the child.

And being born almost blind in Uchiha clan of all people wasn’t really nice. Though he is still clan head’s child and has a whole bunch of very powerful adults to protect him. Plus his older sister who loves him very much and wants to protect him from any harm.

But because of health issues Akemori was never really trained in shinobi arts. Well, he was trained (his fathers are literally… them) just that he could protect himself, but no one expected him to go on missions or even become a shinobi at all. Uchiha elders treated him as a potential political marriage pawn (even though Madara and Tobirama would never let them do that). Akemori caught on that and never had the motivation to become a shinobi at all. He was offended and said that he’d NEVER become a shinobi.

Madara was a little mad at that, cuz they’re SHINOBI clan, what the hell. But he shut up the second Tobirama sent him The Look. Tobirama was ok with Akemori’s wishes, like his twin and himself are shinobi by necessity, but they finds more joy in research.

Akemori was trained in Mokuton by Hashirama of course, even though Senju elders bitched about him selling clan secrets to Uchiha. But Hokage does what he wants.

Akemori’s mokuton isn’t as strong as Hashirama’s, plus he never really wanted to fight. But he was good with plants so he joined Itama-oji in his research a lot! Especially since Hashirama is busy with Hokage stuff, Itama was delighted to get a new helper.

Akemori is also a really good sensor because, like Tobirama, he had to compensate his bad eyesight. Basically, Akemori is a very Tobirama’s kid.

Surprisingly, he awakened the Sharingan! He was 6 and some foreign ninja (prob Kumo) thought it’d be cool to steal a kid with the Sharingan. Because of his naturally red eyes Akemori got stolen. Ofc when Tobirama felt his kid out of Konoha bonds, he sounded the alarm in the whole Uchiha clan to check on their kids whereabouts and was first to chase the kidnappers.

Kumo nin were killed by a very mad Tobirama and bc of the stress Akemori awakened the Sharingan. It wasn’t much of a use for him, since he’s not a shinobi. But at least Uchihas acknowledge him as a fellow Uchiha and not just Tobirama’s carbon copy.

(btw noone outside immediate family actually KNOWS where the kids coming from. They don't see any pregnant women in the main line house or anyone in the clan with the same time who gave birth these days. Tobirama himself or god forbid Madara aren't ever seen pregnant. Where the fuck kids are coming from? Do they just spawn in the house or what)

(they basically do spawn)

Sharingan helps Akemori to actually see! At least he could see something and could read. But stll, its not really strong, cuz not trained enough.

Basically Akemori is a perfect mix between Senju and Uchiha with Sharingan and Mokuton, but he was nerfed by albinism.

Being almost blind boy who can navigate only with his sensing, doesn’t gives him much hobbies. Ofc he helps Itama and he studies plants and medicine a lot with him, but he still needs a hobby. Books don’t work for him, any type of handicrafts too cuz he can’t just use Sharingan all the time, his head hurts and sometimes he doesn't want to remember a whole book perfectly. He’s also not very interested in training as a hobby.

So in his tweens while Itama and he were traveling (with Uchiha escort (prob Motoko) just in case) to the near town for some medicine and plants, he noticed (heard) a group of musicians and he fell in love.

Itama immediately bought him an instrument (maybe Biwa?).

And now the second son of Uchiha Madara became a musician! Isn’t it fun. Elders are furious.

Madara was baffled but “You do you, son. When you learn, show us? Oh and maybe you can copy someone else’s playing, but be discreet. They may not like that you’d try to copy their music. Shinobi don’t really like when we copy their jutsus too”

With age he learned to play several instruments (I take suggestions on which ones). Some people even thought that he’s trained to become geisha (he's not, he's just a pretty boy who plays music for fun).

When he grow old enough, Itama started to give him weed for inspiration and to relax. Akemori is prone to quiet anxiety attacks after he was kidnapped.

Okay, the final kid. She was born 4 years later after Akemori.

Nari! The pout queen

Madara finally got to name his kid. Her name means “Calm, harmonic village”. Yeah he decided to name his kid after a village. It's still better than Konohamaru

And she’s the final kid, because Tobirama finally got it and produced a “normal” healthy kid. Plus he's not sure how many kids (3) and students (another 4 and Kagami) he can actually handle.

She has very Uchiha coloring, but Tobirama’s facial features. She also inherited his stare.

She’s the baby of the family, but she grew up slightly strict and serious cuz she stayed a lot with Tobirama, cuz he decided he won’t spend another maternity leave out of the Tower. The first two times were a disaster when he came back.

Tobirama left on maternity leaves just cuz he needed to monitor his kids health, especially Akemori’s. Idk about Konoha maternity leaves, but they should be really short, since well shinobi are needed all year long and they can’t wait for mother-shinobi to spend a whole year on that. Though on the other side, mothers need time to recover or they won’t be able to perform good on their missions (plus they probably have a milk smell lol). Who knows, maybe Tobirama was the one who drafted a law about at least one year maternity leave. He got very popular among kunoichi (can you believe that I just remembered that this word exists)

Nari is really like Izuna, but got her temper under control. Maybe think of teen Kakashi but without dead fathers and angst. But also brat.

Her chakra is water nature and she has 0 affinity with fire. Still she did produce great fireball as their traditions dictated, even though it took her many trials and errors. After that she decided that she hates traditions like that. Got really rebellious in her teens, about 13 and even tried to challenge her sister (25) for the clan head position. She didn’t win ofc and was bitter about it.

Also because her sister and brother both have seals, she always dreamed of the same, cuz as a baby she thought that it’s something special for their family. But Tobirama doesn’t think she needs them cuz her sight is perfect and her skin is pale, but it doesn’t burn like Akemori’s.

It triggered interest for seals in general cuz “FINE if you won’t give me seals, I’ll just make them myself!”

Tobirama was completely okay with it. He always strives to encourage kids when they want to learn something new. So he sicked her at Mito. Though his aunt was quite happy to teach her niece sealing art.

also idk why i write evil near her. she's just a brat. though she has the potential to become Azula ish

And that’s it!

I will write more about them later cuz im tired. I have some other ideas I wanna expand. Like Tobirama introducing his pups to his Hatake aunt (did i tell you that i LOVE Hatakes?),

Oh and fun little sketches close ups for a treat

i love this Hashirama with the kids, ugh he's so father

if you have any questions you can send them to my ask box!

[gffa]

Disney, hire me as your Attachment Advisor, I will shove so many George Lucas quotes at your producers and writers, I will shove so many context-laden clips from the movies and TCW at your creatives, I will make powerpoint essays about how it's more Buddhist-aligned, not Attachment Theory-aligned, I will cite literally every time attachment has ever been discussed by Lucas AND in the show itself and show you that it's always aligned with fear, possessive feelings, and selfishness, I will do this work for you for free, I can even literally just point you to my Jedi Citations collection, DISNEY, HIRE ME AS YOUR ATTACHMENT ADVISOR, I CAN HELP YOU.

Everything I saw in the show aligned perfectly with my view of what the Jedi mean by attachment from the movies (especially with Episode II). You fail to understand that George Lucas words outside of the movies mean shit. You cane have the largest collection of words that has come out of Lucas's ass and it still does not change the movies. Look at the poster for AOTC. A Jedi shall not know love. Obi-Wan speaks beautifully about the undercurrent of remorse he feels for not being able to have an attachment with Satine because he lives by the Jedi Code which forbids it.

You people are so delusional.

Hi! You are so right bestie it has been way too long since I've talked about my love for Mace Windu! You are so right to have brought this up and I will meet your challenge! He is the Force's strongest soldier because the absolute nonsense he has to put up with every day, as someone who deals with the rest of the Council being hilarious assholes, who deals with Kenobi and Skywalker's nonsense, who has Yoda as a friend, and yet he seems to genuinely like all of these people?? Even when they're bonkers?? My man is stronger than I could ever be.

Not to mention, he goes on a whole ass mission with Jar-Jar, has to watch him make out with his girlfriend, the queen of the planet who told falsehoods about your family, and you have nothing but patience and kind words to say about them, and you only roll your eyes a little at Jar-Jar's antics, something even Padme does and she's worked with him even longer than you have, and by the end, you're friends with him, you like him and would probably hang out with him again if the chance arose???? Mace Windu is on ANOTHER LEVEL from what I would have done in his position!

And he's a former theater nerd! "The Council's gain was the theater's loss." Jocasta Nu says about how he didn't have time for it anymore after he got so busy with the Council, like can you IMAGINE Mace Windu doing plays? I want to know sooooooo bad how Jedi plays are different from non-Force-sensitive people's plays, I want to know what kind of cool effects they create with the Force, I want to know if they use their psychic empath abilities to literally connect with their audience! I want to know DOES MACE WINDU HELP THE YOUNGLINGS STAGE CUTE LITTLE PLAYS IN THE CRECHE? BECAUSE I BET HE DOES.

Because that man is so good with kids! Remember that Star Wars Adventures comic where he was so gentle and sweet with the little Twi'lek girl? Reaching down to help her up, smiling openly at her, walking with her back to her village to make sure she was safe, talking with her to make sure she understood how important and valuable she was in the galaxy? Because I'm still not over that!

His relationship with Anakin in canon is pretty great, too, like, yeah, Anakin should take a seat and stop borderline pitching a fit about getting a rank he didn't earn, and Mace still offered to believe him, despite that Anakin had accepted Palpatine's forcing the Council to put him on it. He still trusted Anakin to help him in that fight against Palpatine! Plus, oh, man, their banter on the Endurance when they're teaching the cadets? That was such good-natured teasing, that was exactly the kind of banter Anakin would have had with Obi-Wan, and by the end of that whole fiasco (do you ever think about when Anakin was in danger and Mace yelled, "Anakin!" and desperately yanked him to safety, because he was worried about him? because I think about that a lot), Mace complimented Artoo by saying he saw what Anakin saw in him, that he was complimenting Anakin at the same time? Or pretty much EVERY interaction between Mace and Yoda is absolute hilarity, the side-eye they give each other, the teasing Yoda does when Mace is on a mission with Jar-Jar, the way Mace holds his hand out in the comics for Yoda to springboard off of into the middle of a fight? ICONIC FRIENDSHIP, I WOULD TAKE A WHOLE NOVEL ABOUT IT, DISNEY.

Or that time even AT THE END OF THE CLONE WARS, like they are just a MONTH out from Revenge of the Sith, if that, and Mace is STILL trying to get the droids to stand down, that he's destroyed thousands of them, none of them have listened, but he's still trying, offering them a better life away from the war, a purpose again, even if he knows it probably won't work, that man still believed in compassion for anyone and everyone. Like, baby Boba Fett TRIED TO KILL HIM and Mace STILL argued for leniency and rehabilitation, rather than jail, because he saw a young child who was hurting and he wanted better for him. He was direct with Boba, he didn't try to befriend him, Boba would never have accepted that, but he told him, you're going to have to get over your hatred for me, he says this for Boba's sake, not his own, because he knows what poison the desire for revenge is, look at the path it's already leading Boba down.

Or EVERYTHING WITH THE ZILLO BEAST, he tried so hard to rescue that poor creature, he fought the Senate so hard, he was so gentle with the hand he carefully pressed to its face, even when the Zillo beast was dangerous, even when it had attacked them and could so easily kill more, he wanted leniency for it, he wanted to save it because he understood where it was coming from.

Or EVERYTHING WITH PROSSET DIBS, that guy tried to murder him, was ranting about how he would dance on their graves or whatever, and Mace looks at him and says, we need to help him, it's our duty to help him find the light again. And his big punishment is literally just library duty, because when Mace can decide the outcome, that guy always goes for helping people, always goes for the option that would bring them back to the light.

Even as a young Padawan, his greatest struggle was to temper his anger, which was sparked because PEOPLE WERE BEING HURT by the false prophet on Mathas, he was angry because he saw how many people were suffering and the people in charge just let it happen, his heart hangs heavy when he witnesses people in pain, because Mace Windu deeply, deeply cares about the people in the galaxy.

He cared about civilians, he cared about clones, he cared about his fellow Jedi, he didn't have to be bouncy or super smiley to show that, either. It was in every action he took. He cared so much.

And, okay, yeah, he was COOL AS HELL AND WOULD HAVE BEATEN PALPATINE'S WRINKLED ASS IN A FAIR FIGHT.

OR THAT TIME ON RYLOTH THAT WAS LITTERALLY THE COOLEST SCENE THEY EVER ANIMATED, THE SOUND DROP? THE ABSOLUTE BANGER PHYSICAL STUNTS MACE WAS CAPABLE OF? GODDAMN HE WAS SO GOOD.

AND LEST WE FORGET--CUTEST BB YOUNGLING EVER!!!!

[starlostlix]

ARCANE S2 ACT 1 SPOILERS BELOW as I analyse the scene between Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn and Isha, what it means for them, and the link to Caitlyn's 3-point plan for the strike team.

I don't usually post about Arcane here but I need a place to talk about it without word limits so here we are. Also my comparison between MTP's telling of A scandal in Bohemia and the og will be done at some point I have just been very distracted.

So the scene I'm focusing on starts here when Isha runs up to where Jinx and Vi are fighting, lying between them a pointing a gun at Vi to protect Jinx.

Now Isha is a kid that has accidentally wandered into Jinx's life and gotten attached to her enough to wish to try and save her from danger - a new found family for Jinx alongside Sevika (who gives aunt vibes to me). But not just any kid is going to run into the line of fire like this. If we know anything about Isha now it's that she's brave - really brave - but also shouldn't have to be in this position.

Taking at look at her face, Isha's expressions seem to flick between anger and fear quite quickly. There's the facial muscles around her nose often flaring for that anger, but also a deep fear you can see too.

I think it's how she maintains focus on Jinx whilst the gun is turned away to Vi that's interesting. It's clear that she's afraid of what Vi is doing and is focused mostly on protecting Jinx - so that gun isn't something she necessarily wants to fire. She occasionally kept trying to press the trigger, but her hesitation isn't necessarily that she can't, but that she doesn't want to. She had ample time to take a very clear shot but she doesn't (this is interesting when we think about Caitlyn nearby who is desperate to take a shot even if it's not completely clear - Isha's motive is protection whereas Caitlyn's is revengeful action). And once she is unarmed all she can do is cling to Jinx. Perhaps both for her protection of Jinx or for Jinx to protect her. Like how a child would cling to a mother or father or even a bigger sister. Isha is supposed to play the role of a younger sibling to, in my eyes, mimic that of Vi and Powder that Jinx is desperate to protect.

I wanted to move on to Vi because I think her reactions/expressions are the most interesting. You get to see her face a lot, and once Isha has the gun to her face the main expression is one of fear. Not fear for her own safety, but a fear for Isha's safety, AND a fear of what she's been doing as an enforcer.

When Isha has the gun, all Vi can focus on is this mystery child - who she's never seen before might I add- suddenly appearing to protect Jinx. Even if Isha is scared she's still trying to protect her, trying to help even. Perhaps Vi sees herself here, a kid just trying to protect her loved ones from the enforcers that oppressed them. Perhaps she sees Powder, a kid throwing themselves in harms way just to try to help. Either way, she sees an innocent kid putting themselves in the line of fire to protect their loved ones. Except this time Vi is the dangerous one, rather than the protector role she used to fill.

When the gun is knocked away we see Vi again, frozen in place as she stares at Isha clinging to Jinx. This one feels so much more like a face of realisation - that Jinx still has loved ones left and that Vi has become the problem she swore to destroy. She's become the enforcer who enters Zaun to 'clear stuff up' with no regard for how it affects the people of Zaun. Instead of a protecter, she has become an aggressor.

If you will, remember Caitlyn's 3 goals - 'Locate Jinx, Dismantle Shimmer, and neutralise any agents still loyal to Silco'. I feel that this is where Vi realises that those goals only truly help the people of Piltover rather than anyone in Zaun.

1 - 'Locate Jinx' - this is basically corporate speak for Caitlyn wanting to k!ll Jinx. Originally, Vi was fine with this, seeing Jinx as a 'monster she created' and who 'taints the memory of her sister' Powder. But in doing so, she now realises that she will leave people behind who care for Jinx - Isha in particular. She's seen in her life so many kids left behind after enforcers k!lled their parents/families who then turn to rebellion (INCLUDING HERSELF AND POWDER!!) that she knows if she k!lls Jinx here with Isha as witness that the cycle will only continue - more kids who turn to violence as a result of trauma. If she were to go through with it she'd have become a direct parallel to those enforcers who killed her own parents, and she's already become a parallel to the ones who terrorised her and her family in her childhood with her activities in the Zaun strike team (especially with their usage of the Grey).

2 - 'Dismantle Shimmer' - whilst the removal of this drug is a good thing for pretty much anyone, the way the team go about it creates huge problems. The team are specifically shown to simply burn large quantities of the stuff (in the opening montage to 'Hellfire') - not only does this add more dangerous gasses to the underground areas (which they've already been releasing the Grey into), but it also creates issues for addicts. With access to it simply cut off, a decent portion of the population who are addicted to it will experience pretty dangerous withdrawal symptoms which could even lead to d3ath. With no system in place, addicts are left entirely on their own, so the destruction of Shimmer like this only helps those in Piltover remove a threat to them without actually helping the people. Meanwhile higher-ups in Piltover like Salo can use it recreationally (for his tattoos, even if frowned upon as implied by Mel's conversation with Lest).

3 - 'Neutralise any agents still loyal to Silco' - I'm pretty sure the Chembarons are considered Silco loyalists due to the Zaun strike team's attack on one of Margot's brothels in episode 2. The Chembarons, now down to 3 of them, were heralded as the only leadership of Zaun besides Silco. Their infighting has caused major issues in Zaun, but their elimination will not necessarily help Zaun in the long run. The removal of the Chembarons will leave a power vacuum, much like the one already left by Silco, that others will only step into over time. The removal of leadership in Zaun will only cause more issues as up-and-comers will try to fill the power vacuum and build their own forces, eventually becoming a new threat but not without a long period of chaos as people try to build resources to fill the vacuum. Piltover needs the removal of those with current power and forces to remove any possible threats of attack like the attack on the councillor memorial. It is, again, only for the benefit of Piltover.

Vi had seen becoming an Enforcer as the only way to bring down Jinx (reinforced by Caitlyn's insistence of doing things together and also partly by Maddie talking about what Caitlyn did to get her the job) AND as a way of protecting Caitlyn, but now I feel that she has been able to see the negative affect she's been having on the people of Zaun - her own people. I think this is why Vi switches into doing anything she can to protect Isha and Jinx, her protective side for Powder kicking back in specifically.

Looking back at Jinx, she was so ready to d!e at Vi's hands until Isha appears. Her expression here is the clearest look at her emotions we really see in the sequence - concern and fear. We know she's not afraid of dying or k!lling (especially when she said earlier before the fight that she's not remorseful of orphaning kids as she's 'done it to herself enough'), but she's so visibly afraid of Isha being hurt, and afraid that Vi would be the one to k!ll Isha. She's grown attached to Isha more than she'd like to admit, perhaps even seeing similarities to her and Powder (especially in their desire to help their family).

Once Isha's gun is shot away she clings to Jinx. Jinx at first is trying to claw her off - get her away from the danger, telling her to 'scram', referring to her simply by 'kid' so she leaves and doesn't get hurt. But when Vi is just sitting there looking rather than attacking she brings Isha in closer as a form of protection and looks at Vi. The way she looks at Vi. That's fear. She's afraid of her own sister again. She's afraid her sister will hurt an innocent kid, who's just trying to help, with a punch again. All her face says is 'Don't hurt this kid'.

And it's devastating. Devastating for both Jinx and Vi. Jinx sees her sister as a threat, whereas Vi begins to see a bit of Powder in Jinx again. She sees herself about to repeat a mistake that previously cost her everything - leaving a child alone with no support. This is also part of what turns Vi to protect Jinx and Isha from Caitlyn.

Last but not least, Caitlyn.

Caitlyn's effect on this scene can sometimes be forgotten (I almost didn't include her in this analysis at all) but it's actually bigger than one may think. I mentioned before how her desperation to k!ll Jinx causes her to shoot even when her shot is not clear (and how it contrasts Isha's reluctance to shoot even with a clear shot), but there's also so much more. For one, she shoots at the gun Isha is holding almost without a second thought. She tries to shoot Jinx whilst Isha is clinging on to her almost without a second thought. She shoots Vi's gauntlets when she tries to stop her. She frankly is unhinged at this point, tunnel vision on k!lling Jinx with no regard for anyone else in this situation, not just Isha but Vi also.

Grief is a strange thing. It can create many reactions from people depending on their situation. In Caitlyn's case, her grief has morphed into a desire for revenge and a thirst for violence, strengthening her pre-established prejudices towards Zaunites that she was so adamant in reversing in season 1. In her grief there is one constant - blame for Jinx - that morphs into further prejudices towards Zaunites as a whole to justify her actions in her own mind. She similarly justified her tunnel vision in this fight with the idea that 'she wasn't going to miss' despite missing her shot multiple times already (specifically when she shoots to k!ll Jinx and only hits her middle finger).

Her actions here are what happens when grief takes control and her usual logic and reasoning is not able to intervene as much as usual. Her insistence on not harming innocents (seen early in episode one), her understanding of how Zaunites were treated unfairly (s1 episode 7) - it's all overshadowed by her grief. However, her grief doesn't excuse her actions - she's still making decisions based on her own internalised prejudices that with her grief are projected outwards and drive her actions.

This has all culminated here, where her tunnel vision has led to her hurting Vi and almost caused her to hurt an innocent child. She's this looming threat to the scene, her hextech rifle being probably the most powerful weapon here - and it's in the hands of someone who is vengeful and seemingly trigger-happy and in a position of power she was not ready for. If Vi was a big danger in Jinx and Isha's eyes at first, there's a bigger danger in Caitlyn, one that even Vi notices. And she's only going to get worse next arc.

[There could be more to say but I think this is a great place to end it! I may make more arcane posts as s2 releases but i'll have to see, I just really wanted to talk about this scene in particular it's just so interesting.]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

might be an unrelated ask with how things are going on right now, but the only way i ever see traitor ace theory coming into fruition is if he destroys yuu's way back home because of how his feelings will boil over (since he thinks being vulnerable is uncool). i've always tried to convince myself that his silly tsundere moments are yume bait, though i really can't deny the fact that yuu is literally everything that his ex-girlfriend is not. they've watched a horror movie together from idia's lab sr (and sending grim all alone to get snacks???) in playful stage, they ride a roller coaster, and if you tell him you like it, he suggests going again again (just the two of them without grim???) bro is not slick with how attached he is to mc.

I have my own thoughts on Ace traitor theory (which you can read here)! To summarize, I don’t believe in it. If Ace betrays us at all, I think it will be in a trivial capacity (like he does something stupid that the rest of the group disagrees with, like taunting Malleus to attack him) and without malicious intent.

He may think being vulnerable is uncool, but I don’t think he’d take an action as drastic as destroying Yuu’s route home no matter how emotional he got. (That feels more like the stuff I see in angst and/or yandere fan works.) Ace gets mad and acts out, yes—but it tends to be in situations where he feels like being has been wronged, not to hinder the people he cares about. His character and his actions the entire story have done nothing but demonstrate that he values his friends and will be there for them until the bitter end, even if he whines about it the entire time.

And well 💦 when it comes to “is this platonic or romantic”, I always default to “it’s up to individual interpretation”. TWST will never give a “canon” ship for Yuu because that would impede the self-insert mass appeal design of the blank slate character. Not everyone wants to perceive X (in this case, Ace) as a love interest. Not everyone wants to perceive X (again, Ace in this case) as a friend. Therefore, there’s always going to baity lines to feed the yume crowd (Michard voice: give me your ur wallets) but lines are also kept plausibly deniable (framed as “jokes”/nor serious) or ambiguous enough to be interpreted either way.

In Ace’s Suitor Suit vignettes, he says this about his ex: “She said the thrill rides were too scary for her […] She vetoed all the action and horror flicks. Hanging out was just plain boring, so I stopped contacting her as time went on.” And indeed, Ace engages in the activities his ex refused with Yuu. They’re watching a horror movie together in Idia’s Labwear vignettes, as well as riding roller coasters and other thrill rides in Stage in Playful Land. Yes, you can interpret these as romantic since they sent Grim off by himself to get popcorn and want to ride again by themselves.

However, that’s not the only possible interpretation, and nor should it be. It could just as easily be argued that Ace and Yuu were just hanging out as friends in a “kicking back with your bros” kind of way (regardless of whatever gender Yuu identifies as). Watching horror movies and going on exciting rides are normal things that friends could do together. There is nothing inherently romantic about those acts by themselves. It could also be said that Ace is lazy and constantly trying to get out of work, so of course he’d pass off the job of getting more snacks onto someone else. The ride thing is innocuous too—maybe the others just aren’t feeling another round, while Ace and Yuu are still on that adrenaline high and want another hit of it. And again, it’s probably framed as wanting to do activities with Yuu specifically to help foster that parasocial relationship and create a sense of bonding with the player.

Of course Ace is attached to us and likes to hang out. We’re his friend, and that much has been established since the prologue. We are naturally a lot closer with him by default compared to several of the other guys (with maybe a few exceptions, like Deuce). Whether you see Ace and Yuu’s relationship as anything more than that is up to the individual!

That being said, I’d rather not talk in terms that imply one ship is “better”, “absolute”, or “more supported by canon” than others 😅 Not just for Ace x Yuu, but any ship, really. It unintentionally frames the discussion like a competition and leaves some people out of the talk if they don’t vibe with it or have different preferences, y’know?

[stvrlightgirl]

✧˖°. So caught up in you ✧˖°.

part one

part two ←

summary: Running into your new daughter’s teacher in the school hallway was a real surprise, and you can't help but feel certain feelings towards him. It’s a good thing, that you two seem to feel the same way about your little meeting.

pairing: primary school teacher!remus lupin x single mom f!reader

warnings: Reader’s daughter has her own name (Molly), fluff

wc:1,2k

a/n: I don’t know if it’ll be a series, but seeing how my previous post blewed up, it gave me motivation to finish this small shot.

Reblogs and comments are always welcome!

Enjoy!

„There will be a new teacher in school, mommy and he’s going to replace Mrs. Smith!” Molly told you one day when you were picking her up from school. Her little tiny hand swayed in yours as you made your way through the crowded hallway.

You smiled, sensing excitement in her voice. She always loved to meet new people. It was something she inherited certainly not from you.

„Oh, yeah, I remember. are you excited, bug?” You squeezed her hand affectionately, pushing the exit door with your other hand. The gentle wind blew against your face as you fished out the car keys from your trench coat.

„Yeah!” She nodded eagerly „I will miss Mrs. Smith tho, she was my favourite” her voice suddenly saddened. You smiled down at her, feeling a tug at your heart. Molly's attachment to her teacher was something that you were well aware of. She was just great with kids, always happy to see them. It was sad that she retired so soon.

“I know,” you replied softly as you unlocked the car and helped Molly into the backseat. “You'll miss her, but it's okay to feel that way.” You buckled her seat and reached with your hand to gently caress her little cheekbone. “I think that the new teacher will be super cool too.” You gave her forehead little kiss, and she giggled when your lips touched her face.

You walked around to the driver's side, settling into your seat and starting the car. The heater kicked in, chasing away the chill of the cool autumn afternoon. You took off your leather gloves to rub your hands together, seeking some warmth.

“What do you hope your new teacher will be like?” You spoke again after a moment of silence.

Molly pondered this for a moment, her tiny brow furrowed in thought. “I hope he’s nice like Mrs. Smith.” She said finally. “And funny. And smart.” She started counting on her fingers.

You chuckled softly, pulling out of the parking spot and making your way down the street. “Yeah, these are some good traits.” you agreed.

Molly continued to chatter away in the backseat, her voice still full of excitement. "What do you think he will look like, mommy?" she asked, her head popping up from the backseat.

You couldn't help but smile. Clearly, she was getting excited about the new situation. "Well, I can't say for sure, honey. We'll have to wait and find out." You gave her another smile from the rear view.

And he turned out great. Even better than you thought he would. A week later, when you were waiting for her in the school hallway, you watched in anticipation as the classroom door opened, and Molly came running out with a huge grin plastered on her face. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she made her way to you. As she got closer, you could see that her little cheeks were flushed pink, and her breathing was a bit ragged with the exertion of her run. When she finally reached you, she wrapped her tiny arms around your legs in a tight hug.

"Mom! You won't believe how great Mr. Lupin is!” she exclaimed, looking up at you with big, shining eyes. Her little hand found yours, and squeezed, while jumping around.

The hallway became full within a seconds, creating a chaotic scene, filled with bustling parents and swarms of excited children hurrying towards the school entrance.

You turned around, still holding Molly's hand, when the sound of the door closing behind you caught your attention. As you glanced over, you saw someone who you assumed was Mr. Lupin standing there, locking up the classroom. His eyes suddenly met yours and your breath hitched. There was an intensity in his gaze that drew you in, making you feel a strange pull.

Before you could react further, Molly's voice shattered the moment. "Mom, that's him!" she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement. "That's Mr. Lupin!"

He looked down at Molly, a smile lighting up his face as he recognized her. "Ah, if it isn't our little chatterbox," he said, his voice warm and friendly, and as he took step closer, you could now see him better.

"You even got a sticker, did you show your mommy?" He pointed to her jean jacket, before his eyes slowly traveled up to you, meeting your gaze once again.

And you felt a strange, almost electric connection. It was as if a thousand tiny lightning bolts had passed through your body in that moment, leaving you feeling both startled and yet strangely drawn to him. He was a handsome man, you couldn’t deny it even if you wanted. His hair was slightly messy, falling in soft, brown locks across his forehead. Those intense chocolate eyes framed by thick eyelashes stared right into yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the sharp, yet boyish, cut of his jaw. Even his outfit, a simple blue sweater and jeans, seemed to look better on him than on anyone else.

The strange connection between you and him was snapped out of by Molly, who with all the enthusiasm a child can have, showed off a sticker that was proudly attached to her denim jacket. The words "Rock Star" were written on it, and she looked up at you with a huge smile on her face, clearly proud of her accomplishment.

The atmosphere felt charged, filled with a magnetic energy, but you managed to collect yourself, plastering a smile on your face as you responded to her.

"That is indeed very cool, sweetheart," you said, ruffling her hair affectionately. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled looking back at him. “She can be a lot on a daily basis. I can’t imagine a classroom full of little kids like her.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving yours. "It's alright. To be honest, she's an absolute angel compared to the others, but don’t tell them that.” He winked at you, a playful smile danced on his lips.

“That’s good to hear then.” You offered him a slight smile as you held Molly close, sensing that she was growing weary and more clingy. She always become like that when she was tired. A school bell saved you from the awkwardness between two of you, because when it ranged, Mr. Lupin gave you an apologetic smile, glancing up at the source of the noise.

As the hallway cleared out, leaving behind only two of you, he broke the silence with a gentle cough, his voice a soft whisper. "Duty calls," he said, a hint of regret in his tone. "I must prepare for my next class," he continued, his smile tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "And I'd hate to keep you any longer."

She clearly knew the bell was an excuse for him to get away from the slight tension that had hung in the air between you two, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that your conversation was being cut short.

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. "Yeah, I'd better get going as well," you said as you held onto Molly's shoulder, feeling her weight leaning into you due to her increasing tiredness. "I need to feed this gremlin before she falls asleep on me." You ruffled her blonde hair.

He smiled warmly, casting a glance down at Molly who was clinging to you. "Yeah, I can see," he said, his voice soft and pleasant. "It was nice to meet you. By the way, don't forget to attend the class meeting this week!”

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” You giggled nervously. “I’ll be there.”

He gave you a final nod, taking another step away. Then, with a small wave, he turned and walked away, his figure slowly disappearing from sight as he rounded the corner.

And you saw that before he disappeared from the view, how he casted one final glance over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours. A subtle, gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of you and Molly last time.

You let out a sigh, feeling the tension finally starting to melt away from your shoulders. It took you a few moments to calm down and regain your composure, but when you were back in the game mentally, you felt that warm blush still coloring your cheeks.

What a strange conversation.

“I told you, he’s awesome” Molly whispered, looking up at you, with her big, but tired eyes, while you still couldn’t move your legs from a slight shock.

Oh, you were so fucked.

part two ←

[hurtspideyparker]

Peter meets baby Morgan

Tony meets him in the hospital lobby.

"Hey kid, nice to see you," he greets him with a quick hug, Peter barely having time to raise his arms around the older before it was over.

"Uh, hi. How are you guys?"

Tony's eyes are unsteady with heavy bags underneath, his hair falling from its usual quiff down onto his forehead in soft waves. His Black Sabbath long sleeve is rumpled with sweat stains, and he has the biggest, most persisting grin splitting his face.

"Great, perfect, amazing, beautiful. Here, sanitize."

Peter nearly drops the bag in his hand as he fumbles to put his palms out as Tony squirts hand sanitizer on them.

"Follow me!" Tony twirls around and Peter is quick to catch up.

Peter's stomach does leaps and whirls, nerves and excitement creating a nauseating combination in his stomach. Tony leads him down white-tiled hallways to a large postpartum suite.

"Knock knock, we're back," Tony taps on the door.

Peter follows him in shyly, peaking around the large room. There aren't any windows, there's a TV attached to the wall, and a little tub beside the hospital bed on wheels. It reminds Peter of incubating chicks. He doesn't see the baby yet, only Pepper laying in the hospital bed under piles of pastel blankets.

"H-hi Mrs. Potts. I hope you're feeling well."

She smiles at him, warm and motherly. He wonders if he always thought that of her, or if it's only started since her pregnancy.

"Hi Peter. I'm doing much better now, thank you. All went well."

He smiles back, then remembers the bag he brought when he fidgets with it in his hands. He walks closer to her so he can show the contents.

"Oh, I uh, brought you some food. May says the hospital food is terrible, and you guys would probably be hungry. I wasn't sure what you were feeling so I brought spring rolls, Cuban sandwiches, and pepperoni pizza, also some chocolate bars and a bag of skittles. Oh and an orange, for like... health, but I can always go and get something else-"

"Peter?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"I'd like you to meet Morgan Stark."

She shuffles the blanket on top of her and Peter realizes that her newborn baby is resting on her chest, cuddled under the baby blanket and resting her tiny head on Pepper's freckled skin.

Peter's breath catches.

"Oh."

He's frozen, staring at the small creature. Tony pushes his back gently, encouraging him to get closer.

His steps are slow and gentle, as if the quiet echoes of sneakers on linoleum would be enough to wake the baby. He bends down awkwardly, watching the way her eyes scrunch but remain closed.

"Oh wow, she's. She's so small," he speaks in a hushed tone.

Pepper grumbles good naturedly at the comment, "she didn't feel small at the time."

"7 pounds 10 ounces," Tony says with pride.

Peter isn't sure what that means in terms of babies, but he can't help but feel proud too.

Her face is bright red and speckled, her skin looking impossibly soft. Her fingers are so tiny, like a genuine doll, and she wears a yellow hat. Peter reaches for her instinctually before dropping the movement.

"It's okay," Pepper says and grabs his hand, bringing it up towards Morgan.

Peter decides to run his finger against the back of her hand. Her skin is so soft that the boy gasps at the feeling. Morgan's fingers curl against her mother's skin before stretching out again, and Peter stops moving, stops breathing, until she settles.

"I've never met a baby this small before. I mean sometimes toddlers, or moms holding their baby that want Spider-Man to take a picture with them. But this, this is so different. She's like an adorable alien. I think I'd die for her."

Pepper and Tony share a giggle.

"Me too kid. Us and every other Avenger. Even Happy cracked a few tears when he saw her."

Peter smiles at that. Happy is really just a big softie. They all know it, they just aren't allowed to say it out loud.

"Would you like to hold her?" Pepper asks.

Peter looks up at her in surprise. She's giving him an encouraging smile, sitting up in the bed.

"Oh I don't know if, I don't know how to do... that."

Tony steps up to the bed. He grabs the sky blue blanket that was resting on top of the newborn's naked body and starts to swaddle her in it so she doesn't get cold away from her mother's body heat. Once she is wrapped snugly he picks her up and turns to Peter.

"It's like a football, Pete. Just make sure to support her head, here," panicked, Peter drops the bag and quickly mimicks the way Tony's arms fold around the child as Morgan is placed in them, making sure his hand cradles her head.

She fits perfectly in his arms. All the movement makes her fussy, wiggling slightly, and Peter pulls her closer to his chest to protect her. Her eyebrows scrunch and her mouth bobs opens and closed like a fish.

Unable to resist, Peter lifts a gentle hand to brush against her face with the pad of his thumb. He goes down the bridge of her nose, pausing for a moment on the tip in awe of the sweet button shape. Then he brushes against her cheeks, red and bumpy with acne but so extremely delicate under his feather-light touches.

Morgan settles in his arms, wiggling stopping as she falls back asleep.

"I can't believe she's real. She's so adorable I wanna eat her," he mumbles, unable to wipe the smile off his lips.

"Please don't, we were kind of planning on keeping her for a while," Pepper chimes.

Peter glances up to share his joy with the parents only to find Tony has tears in his eyes, unable to look away from the sight of the pair.

"Mr. Stark! Are you crying?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm obviously allergic to babies. She must have inside-mom pollen on her still, Pep they didn't clean all your goo off her."

"You're totally crying! That's so sweet of you sir."

Tony quickly wipes the stray tear from his eye, "fine, I admit it. I've been such a good father and husband that all your," he waves a hand in Pepper's direction, "hormones rubbed off on me. I'd never express my emotions so openly otherwise."

Despite his dismissive tone Peter shares a genuine smile with the man, his love for the pair of kids so revering it bathes the room in warmth.

Pepper rolls her eyes but soaks in the warmth just as much.

The teen looks back down at the baby in his arms with his brown eyes shining in awe.

Tony's hand finds Pepper's on the hospital bed, interlacing their fingers and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss.

"God I have so much energy in my heart. I need to punch a wall or cause an explosion," Tony says, squeezing Pepper's hand with a gentle touch.

"How's it feel to be a big brother Peter?" Pepper asks.

He looks up at her in shock, "big brother? Really?" but not without hope.

"Of course."

Peter laughs in disbelief, looking between Tony, Pepper, and Morgan.

"I- this. I'm, yeah. I'll be the best brother ever. I promise. I'll buy her the annoying toys you won't, and take her for ice cream, and I'll babysit whenever you want!"

Tony cradles the back of Peter's neck with a sweet softness, "don't worry about it Pete. This is enough."

Peter relaxes under his touch, and stares down at the unbelievable life that warms his arms and chest and entire being.

Yeah, this is enough.