#but they miss the point by a long shot and instead end up generalizing a whole group who in turn retaliate and unintentionally create a safe

[rickyyysaurus]

The more im on the internet the more I realize people don't care what words actually mean and they will simply misuse them to manipulate their audience and push their own personal agenda, and unfortunately it sometimes becomes mainstream and not only ruins the meaning of the words for everyone else, but also takes away the importance and weight behind other words by replacing them with watered down versions that became popular. Censorship also causes this fuck censorship

[evermoreness]

wingman | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader!

summary: james definitely has a crush on you, but he won't admit it. so his best friend sirius steps up to be his wingman.

masterlist

If Sirius Black had one true passion in life—aside from pranks, Quidditch, and being generally insufferable—it was meddling. Specifically, meddling in James Potter’s disastrous love life.

The problem wasn’t that James lacked charm. No, James was overflowing with charm, much to the dismay of every professor at Hogwarts. The problem was that James refused to acknowledge that he had feelings for you—his best friend, his ultimate rival, his favorite person to annoy.

And, as Sirius often pointed out (loudly, in the middle of breakfast), you were just as bad.

Which is why, after months of watching you and James dance around each other with an infuriating amount of tension, Sirius decided enough was enough.

It was time for some intervention

Step number one

It started in Transfiguration.

You strolled into class, fully expecting to take your usual seat next to Lily, but before you could sit, a strong arm slung around your shoulders.

“Ah-ah,” Sirius drawled, spinning you around and gently shoving you into the seat next to James instead. “New seating chart, love. Professor's orders.”

You frowned. “Professor McGonagall never changes the seating chart.”

“She does now,” Sirius said, smirking before plopping down beside Lily, effectively blocking your escape route.

You turned to James, who was lounging in his chair, grinning like the cocky little git he was. “Look at that. You’re stuck with me.”

You groaned, turning to Sirius. "You look suspicious"

"When do i not?" Sirius said, grinning like he was planning something.

"Fair point." You said, before turning to James. “Merlin help me,”

James gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “How dare you? I am an absolute delight to sit next to.”

“You poke people with your quill and hum off-key when you’re bored,” you shot back.

“I serenade,” he corrected.

“You butcher perfectly good songs.”

James leaned in, his face just a little too close, and smirked. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart did a stupid little flip. “Sure, Potter. I’d be devastated.”

“You could just admit you love spending time with me,” James offered.

You scoffed. “Or I could stab you with my quill.”

James leaned in, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper. “Kinky.”

McGonagall just ignored them all, she had learned a long time ago she couldn't keep up with the Marauders antics. So she just let them. It was best for her mental health. But she still could hear you and James bickering every time she turned to write something on the black board.

James, completely unbothered, leaned closer to you, elbow on the desk, chin resting on his hand. “Well, you heard the professor. We’re partners now. Best get used to staring at me all class.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking his forehead with your quill. “Merlin, you wish I stared at you.”

James grinned. “You’re staring at me right now.”

You huffed. “Because I’m contemplating how best to Transfigure you into a ferret.”

Sirius cackled from behind you. "Oh, young love" he said, making you and James glare at him.

"Don't you have a boyfriend to annoy or something?" James asked, rolling his eyes.

"Remus is recovering from the full moon, idiot" Sirius said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was about to say something more but McGonagall glared at the three of them.

McGonagall sighed again. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

At least, step one of Sirius' plan was definitely a success.

Step number two

The next part of Sirius’s plan required a little more... creativity.

Which is how you and James ended up in detention, standing outside McGonagall's office, glaring at a very pleased Sirius Black.

“Explain. Now,” you demanded.

Sirius shrugged. “Professor McGonagall may have received an anonymous tip that you two were planning to sneak into the kitchens after hours.”

“We weren’t,” you said flatly.

“Well, you should’ve been,” Sirius said, looking entirely unbothered. “Really, it’s your own fault for being so predictable.”

James groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Padfoot.”

“Oh, don’t act so ungrateful,” Sirius scoffed, draping an arm around James’s shoulder. “I’m simply giving you both what you want. Quality time. Candlelit settings. Romance.”

“You’re sending us to detention,” you deadpanned.

“Exactly.” Sirius grinned. “Do you know how many legendary couples started with forced proximity? This is the perfect setup.”

James scoffed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re delusional.”

“And you are hopeless.” Sirius turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows.

You crossed your arms. “And what exactly do you gain from this?”

“An evening of uninterrupted flirting, obviously.”

James scoffed. “We don’t flirt.”

Sirius blinked. “Right. And I’m the Minister of Magic.”

Soon enough, Sirius was gone, and McGonagall assigned the two of you to polish the entire trophy room. Without magic. Which was, quite frankly, a crime against wizardkind.

“I think I’ve inhaled enough dust to choke a hippogriff,” you muttered, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge.

James, sprawled dramatically on the floor, groaned. “This is actual torture.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve been lying there for twenty minutes. I’m doing all the work.”

James grinned lazily. “I’m providing emotional support.”

“Oh, how noble.”

“I try.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked a damp rag at him. He yelped as it smacked him in the face.

“Oi! That’s rude.”

“I’m so sorry, did I offend the Great James Potter?” you said, smirking.

James leaned on his elbow, smirking right back. “Oh, love, you offend me constantly.”

“And yet, you keep coming back.”

James’s smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough for you to notice.

His hazel eyes flickered over your face, something softer in them now. Something that made your heart do a completely unnecessary little flip.

Before you could overthink it, James groaned and rolled onto his back dramatically. “I cannot polish one more bloody trophy.”

“You’ve polished one,” you pointed out.

“Exactly!”

You snorted. “Oh, poor baby, suffering through a whole hour of detention.”

James gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me.”

“Oh, shut up and hand me the polish.”

But James didn’t move. He was staring up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“Oi. Potter. Earth to James.”

James blinked and turned his head to look at you.

“Have you ever thought about it?” he asked suddenly.

You frowned. “Thought about what?”

He hesitated. Then smirked. “How gorgeous I am.”

You groaned. “Oh, for the love of Merlin—”

“I mean, really,” James continued, grinning now. “It must be exhausting for you, being constantly exposed to this level of handsomeness.”

“Exhausting, yes,” you said dryly. “Mostly because of your ego.”

James laughed, and it was so genuine, so warm, that you almost forgot why you were annoyed in the first place.

Almost.

By the time detention ended, you were both covered in dust, exhausted, and slightly delirious.

You both stumbled out of the trophy room, stretching like freed prisoners.

“Well, that was awful,” James said cheerfully.

You sighed dramatically. “If I never see another trophy again, it’ll be too soon.”

James turned to you, smirking. “You know, we should really thank Sirius for this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpanned. “Maybe hex him as a thank-you.”

James grinned. “You do have the best ideas.”

You smirked up at him. “I know.”

James’s smirk softened slightly. His hazel eyes flickered down to your lips—just for a second.

Your heart definitely did not stutter. Absolutely not.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then James cleared his throat. “So.”

“So,” you echoed.

James shifted on his feet, then suddenly grinned. “Race you to the common room?”

You snorted. “Please. You’d lose.”

James gasped. “Oh, is that a challenge?”

You smirked. “You tell me.”

James took a step closer. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

You took a step closer. “Loser has to buy Butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip.”

James grinned. “Deal.”

He started running before even counting to three, and you really tried to get into his pace but he was much faster than you. James got in front of the painting that guarded the Gryffindor common room, breathless, you got there second, just by some seconds of different.

James grinned, looking far too smug. “I win.”

You gaped at him. “That’s cheating!”

“Strategic advantage, love.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable—”

James laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the common room. “Come on, loser. You owe me a Butterbeer.”

You groaned, but you were smiling. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

James squeezed your hand. “You love it.”

And, Merlin help you, maybe you did.

Step number— Intervention!

By the end of the week, you had reached your limit.

You slammed your hands down on the Gryffindor table, glaring at Sirius. “I know what you’re doing.”

Sirius, mid-bite of toast, blinked innocently. “Doing what?”

“Every time I turn around, James is right there. Transfiguration. Potions. Detention.”

Sirius smirked. “Weird how that keeps happening, huh?”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Admit it.”

Sirius leaned back lazily. “Admit what? That my best mate is tragically in love with you and needs a little push?”

James, who had just sat down, immediately choked on his pumpkin juice. “SIRIUS!”

You and James turned bright red at the same time.

“I—You—” You spluttered, words failing you for the first time in your entire life. “He is not—”

Sirius just grinned wider.

James, still coughing, thumped his chest and pointed an accusatory finger at Sirius. “Mate. What the hell.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius scoffed. “We all see it. You two are basically a couple already.”

Remus, sipping his tea across the table, nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

Sirius put an arm around his boyfriend. "Thank you, Moony, at least one person on this table actually supports me"

Remus gave him a look "I never said that"

Sirius gasped in mock horror "Hey! I told you all my plans to make those two," He pointed at you both "Start dating and you actually said it was a good idea"

Remus just swallowed a piece of bread "You have no actual proof i said that"

James buried his face in his hands. “Merlin, kill me now.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “We are not dating.”

Sirius waved a hand. “Yet.”

You and James simultaneously threw a piece of toast at him.

It bounced off his head. He didn’t even flinch.

Sirius just grinned. “Give it a week.”

Step number... five?

The Gryffindor common room was unusually peaceful that evening. No firework explosions, no magical pranks, no Sirius Black laughing maniacally while being chased by McGonagall. Just a cozy fire, the occasional page-turning of a textbook, and the low murmur of students finishing their homework.

It was exactly the kind of peace Sirius Black found unacceptable.

He leaned over to Remus, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s time.”

Remus, who had been this close to finishing his Transfiguration essay, sighed. “Time for what?”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “Operation: Get James Potter a Girlfriend.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sirius, for the love of Merlin—”

But Sirius was already in motion, zeroing in on James and you, who were currently seated across from each other at the Gryffindor table, mid-banter as usual.

James leaned back in his chair, twirling his quill between his fingers. “You keep looking at me like that, love. Starting to think you fancy me.”

You scoffed, flipping a page in your textbook. “Oh, absolutely, James. Nothing gets my heart racing like watching you struggle with fourth-year level Charms.”

James gasped dramatically. “You wound me! I am excellent at Charms.”

You smirked. “Oh, of course. Remind me again, how many times did you accidentally set your own tie on fire last week?”

“Once,” James muttered. “And in my defense, the spell was successful. Just...with extra flair.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

Sirius plopped himself down between you two, grinning like a madman. “Wow, the flirty tension in this room is suffocating.”

Both you and James immediately groaned in unison.

“Sirius—”

“Nope,” he cut you off, slamming a hand down on the table. “I refuse to sit idly by while you two idiots continue this will-they-won’t-they nonsense. So, I’ve decided to help.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Help how?”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, just making sure you two spend as much time together as possible.”

Before either of you could protest, he waved his wand.

Suddenly, the two of you lurched forward, an invisible force yanking you towards each other until your noses were barely an inch apart.

You blinked. James blinked.

“What. The. Hell.”

James tried to lean back, but something—no, Sirius—kept you stuck together.

“Black, if you don’t undo this spell right now, I swear to Merlin—” you started, your face rapidly heating.

Sirius just beamed. “Ah, young love.”

“Padfoot,” James hissed through gritted teeth. “If I hex you right now, will you undo it?”

Sirius shrugged. “Dunno. You could try, but you are currently nose-to-nose with your one true love, so any sudden movements might result in an accidental kiss.”

You and James immediately went rigid.

“You're so dead, Black.” you shouted.

Remus, watching from the sidelines, sighed deeply. “You do realize McGonagall is going to kill you for this.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, this is romantic. I’ll probably get an award.”

James turned back to you, his lips twitching despite himself. “So… reckon we just stay like this forever? Seems like Sirius has finally found a way to actually make you stare at me all day.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable. I’d rather kiss a Dementor.”

“Ouch,” James said, dramatically clutching his heart. “That’s cruel. I’d at least make a handsome Dementor.”

You huffed, crossing your arms—which was a bad idea, because now your hands were even closer to James’s chest.

Sirius gasped. “Oh, Merlin! Are you about to hold hands? Is this a moment?”

“I will kill you,” James said.

Remus, who was now actively ignoring the situation, muttered, “I’ll alert the authorities.”

Lily, walking past with a book, glanced at the scene, sighed, and kept walking. “You two deserve this.”

James grinned at you. “C’mon, admit it. This is the best day of your life.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hm. Ask me again when I’m not glued to your face.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll undo it. But only if you both admit you like each other.”

James and you both froze.

Silence.

You turned to James. James turned to you.

And then, at the exact same time, you both blurted out:

"Absolutely not.”

Sirius groaned. “Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.”

And with that, he flicked his wand, releasing the spell.

The moment you were free, you shoved James off of you, and he—completely unprepared—toppled off the bench and onto the floor with a very undignified yelp, making everyone laugh at him.

Step number 10? (Sirius has definitely lost counting)

It was pouring outside.

The Quidditch pitch was soaked, the thunder rumbled, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. You both had just gotten out of the game, and everything would’ve been fine, except you and James were currently locked in the Gryffindor locker room.

Courtesy of Sirius Black.

James banged on the door. “Pads, you absolute menace, open this door right now!”

Sirius’s laughter echoed from the other side. “Not until you both admit you’re in love with each other!”

You groaned. “You child!”

“Nope, just a genius. Have fun, lovebirds!”

And then—silence.

James sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair. “He’s never letting this go, is he?”

“Nope.”

You both stood there, dripping wet, silence stretching between you.

And then James said, “We could just… do it.”

You turned to him. “Do what?”

James shrugged. “Kiss. Just to get him off our backs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So now you’re willing to waste your first kiss on me?”

James laughed softly. “I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

Oh.

The air between you shifted. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with something softer, something almost shy.

Your heart hammered. “Well… if we have to.”

James took a step closer. “Right. Just to get Sirius to shut up.”

Another step.

“Obviously.”

His hand brushed yours.

“No other reason.”

You swallowed. “None at all.”

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative. But then you grabbed the front of his stupid Quidditch jersey, pulling him closer, and suddenly—it wasn’t just to get Sirius to shut up anymore.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, James just grinned.

“So,” he said, “how mad would you be if I told you Sirius left five minutes ago?”

You blinked.

And then you shoved him.

“POTTER!”

James stumbled back, laughing as you shoved him again, harder this time. “You knew?” you accused, hands on your hips, still breathless from the kiss.

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Well, I suspected.”

“You absolute menace!”

James only laughed harder, dodging as you lunged for him. “Come on, love, don’t be mad—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘love’ me, Potter! You tricked me into—” You stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing what you were saying.

James smirked. “Into what?”

You scowled. “Into… into…”

His grin widened, and he leaned in. “Into kissing me?”

Your face burned. Damn him.

James stepped even closer, so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin. His voice was lower now, teasing but softer. “You did kiss me back, you know.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Only because you kissed me first.”

He nodded solemnly. “And you’re saying you hated it?”

You opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “That is not the point.”

James just laughed, and before you could shove him again, he caught your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just playful anymore.

You swallowed. “Potter—”

He leaned in again, close enough that your noses nearly brushed. “I think,” he murmured, “we might have to do that again. You know, just to be sure.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Oh, for research purposes?”

“Exactly.”

And then he kissed you again—this time slower, sweeter. No tricks, no games. Just you and him.

Outside, the storm raged on, but in that moment, all you could feel was warmth.

[natsaffection]

Heyyy :) So I've been thinking - Nat and R don't really like each other, there's no hate but occasionally fights and yeah they just avoid each other most of the time... R has been out drinking alone after one of those fights bc she realized that she actually fell for Nat some time ago and just denies it? And R gets in a fight on her way home with someone, ends up pretty badly hurt but doesn't call someone instead just tries to get to her room on the compound and fix herself but instead she ends up in Nats room somehow and Nat takes care of her? + some fluffy cuddles and kisses perhaps?

Fury and Friction. | N.R

Warnings: Fighting, arguing, description of injury

Word Count: 2,4k

A/N: I hope Y/n doesn't come across as too harsh, but that makes the end more..I don’t want to spoil. 🫂

It was another exhausting day of training. The Team had gathered to improve their skills, each focused on pushing their limits. Natasha and you were paired together, much to both of your displeasure. Your sparring sessions often ended with bruises and frayed nerves.

As you circled each other, the tension in the air was palpable. Natasha's movements were fluid and precise, each step carefully calculated. You, on the other hand, were aggressive and relentless, your strikes driven by a mix of frustration and determination.

"You need to control your anger," Natasha said as she dodged a particularly fierce blow. "It makes you predictable."

"And you need to stop underestimating me." you retorted, your eyes sparkling with defiance. Her words were as sharp as her movements, each sentence a deliberate jab meant to wound. It wasn't just about the fight, it was about proving a point, about not backing down. "Maybe you'd cause fewer problems if you learned to follow orders, Y/n."

"And maybe people would actually want to work with you if you weren't such a control freak." you shot back, your frustration evident. Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I'm just trying to keep you from getting yourself killed. You need to think clearly, not just charge ahead blindly."

"Stop treating me like I don't know what I'm doing!" you snapped and Natasha's patience was wearing thin. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "I want you to be careful. You're too valuable to be lost to reckless decisions."

But you weren't listening. You were convinced that Natasha saw you as a project, someone in need of constant correction. This belief only fueled your anger and made you more stubborn. The room fell silent, the others exchanging uneasy glances. They knew better than to intervene. The hostility between you and Natasha was a storm best weathered from a safe distance.

Six months ago:

The sun was setting over the ruins of Sokovia, casting long shadows across the devastated landscape. The air was thick with smoke and the echoes of distant explosions. Natasha was in the midst of coordinating the evacuation, her mind focused on the task at hand.

That's when she first met you.

You were a lone operative, sent by SHIELD to assist with the evacuation and gather intelligence. Your introduction was abrupt, almost confrontational. Natasha had seen you from afar, a solitary figure moving through the debris with near reckless determination.

"Who the hell are you?" Natasha demanded as she approached, "Agent L/N, here to help from SHIELD." Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't informed about additional operatives."

"Looks like you missed the memo.." You replied challengingly.

From that, the dynamic was tense. Natasha saw you as an impulsive rookie, someone who hadn't yet earned their place. You saw Natasha as overly cautious and controlling, a relic of an older generation out of touch with the times. Your approaches clashed immediately, setting the stage for the hostility that would follow.

Later that evening, the Team gathered in the common area for a rare moment of relaxation. Natasha, ever the social butterfly, laughed and chatted with some of the newer recruits. Her effortless charm and magnetic presence drew people in, and you noticed.

You watched from a distance, your eyes narrowing as Natasha casually flirted with a young agent. Jealousy stirred within you, a feeling unfamiliar. You tried to ignore it, but the more you watched, the harder it became.

"Everything okay?" Clint's voice broke through your thoughts, his concern evident. You forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired." Clint glanced at Natasha and then back at you, a knowing look in his eyes. "You know, she's not as bad as you think." Your smile faded. "She's insufferable."

"Or maybe you just don't see the whole picture.." Clint suggested gently before walking away, leaving you alone with your conflicting feelings.

The next mission briefing was tense again. The team was set to infiltrate another HYDRA facility, and the stakes were high. Tony outlined the plan, but it wasn't long before you and Natasha were at odds again. "This is a delicate operation," Natasha said, her tone brooking no argument. "We need to proceed with caution."

"And while we're sneaking around, HYDRA gets stronger," you snapped. "We need to hit them hard.."

"You're too reckless, Y/N." Natasha said. "You think you can solve everything with brute force."

"And you're a control freak.." your frustration boiling over. "You don't trust anyone but yourself." The room fell silent as your argument escalated. Your face was flushed with anger, your fists clenched at your sides. Natasha's eyes were cold, her jaw tightly set.

"You know nothing about trust," Natasha said quietly, but her words hit deep. "You're too busy trying to prove you're better than everyone else." Your eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Maybe I have to because people like you will never see me as anything but a liability."

Natasha, who usually tried to stay calm, finally lost her patience. She turned directly to Tony, effectively ending the argument by shutting you out. The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the deep-seated issues between you.

Back in the cold corridors of the HYDRA base, you and Natasha moved through the shadows, your movements silent and coordinated despite the underlying tensions. You reached a large room lined with computer servers.

As you worked to disable the security systems, a HYDRA agent emerged from a hidden passage, weapon raised. The agent fired, the bullet grazing your arm. You winced, a sharp intake of breath the only sign of pain.

"You're hit!" Natasha hissed, her eyes wide with concern as she swiftly took out the agent. "It's just a graze," you said, downplaying it. "I'm fine."

Natasha grabbed your arm, examining the wound. "You need to take this seriously. You could have been killed." You pulled your arm away, glaring at Natasha. "I said I'm fine. We have a mission to complete."

Natasha's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and worry. "You need to stop pretending you're invincible. This isn't just about you." Your expression softened for a moment, but your pride wouldn't let you concede. "I know that. But I can't afford to be cautious. Not now."

Natasha's grip on your arm tightened for a moment before she let go. "Just be... careful, damnet.." she said, her voice gentler. "We can't afford to lose anyone." You nodded, a fleeting understanding passing between you. Despite your differences, there was mutual respect buried beneath the layers of conflict and stubbornness.

That night, you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You hated how Natasha got under your skin, how she made you feel vulnerable and inadequate. But there was something else, something deeper that you didn't want to acknowledge.

As you lay in the dark, memories of your mission in Siberia came to mind. Natasha's concern when you were grazed by the bullet, the way her eyes filled with worry . Just be...careful. It stirred something in you, something you desperately tried to suppress.

You got up and paced the room, your thoughts racing. "This is ridiculous.." you muttered to yourself. But the more you denied it, the stronger the feelings became. You couldn't ignore how your heart raced whenever Natasha was near, how your anger was tinged with something unsettlingly like longing.

The next day, you found yourself in the gym, trying to burn off your frustration of last night. You were in the middle of a rigorous workout when Natasha walked in. You exchanged a tense glance, but the atmosphere had shifted, a subtle change in how you moved around each other.

Natasha watched you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she approached cautiously. "Everything okay?" You paused, surprised by the question. "Why do you care?"

"Because despite everything, you're part of this team," Natasha said simply. "And I do care." Your eyes searched Natasha's, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was genuine concern. It confused you, made your defenses waver.

"I'm fine," you said, your voice softer than before. "Just trying to clear my head." Natasha nodded, her gaze lingering on you. "If you ever want to talk... I'm here."

It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot. In the weeks that followed, your relationship with Natasha began to improve. The sharp edges of your hostility softened, replaced by a cautious respect. You still argued, but the intensity had lessened, and there were moments of genuine camaraderie.

Natasha made an effort to give you more space and trust your instincts, while you tried to temper your impulsiveness with more strategic thinking. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.

But the peace was short lived. One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, making a snack. Natasha entered the room, looking distracted. She opened the fridge and stared at the contents for a moment before closing it with a sigh.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light. "Just tired." Natasha replied curtly. You could feel the tension and, against your better judgment, pushed a little further. "You seem upset. What's going on?"

Natasha's eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "It's nothing. Just drop it." Your frustration boiled over. "Why do you always act like everything's fine when it's not? You can talk to me, you know.."

Natasha snapped. "And why do you always have to push? Not everything has to be a confrontation, Y/N!" You were stunned, your own anger rising. "I was just trying to offer help! Maybe I push because you never let anyone in! Do you think you're the only one who feels anything?"

Natasha, recognizing the futility of the exchange, finally threw up her hands in exasperation. "You know what? Do whatever you want," she said coldly. "I'm done arguing with you. It's pointless."

With that, Natasha turned and left, leaving you standing there, angry and confused. You didn't understand why Natasha kept shutting you out, but it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You grabbed your jacket and stormed out of the Tower, heading to a downtown bar. The neon lights and pulsing music were a stark contrast to the sterile environment of the Tower. You ordered a drink, then another, trying to drown your anger and confusion.

The bar was crowded, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat. You found yourself the center of attention, a group of admirers drawn to your magnetic presence. You flirted and laughed, trying to distract yourself from thoughts of Natasha.

But the alcohol only amplified your feelings. The more you drank, the more your suppressed emotions surfaced. You couldn't stop thinking about Natasha, about your fights and the strange, confusing connection you kinda shared.

It wasn't long before one admirer decided to make a move. He grabbed your arm, his intentions clear. You yanked your arm free "Back off."

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. Just a bit of fun.." he slurred and stepping closer. You shoved him hard, sending him crashing into a table. The bar fell silent for a moment, then chaos erupted as a brawl broke out.

You ducked as a bottle flew past your head and shattered against the wall. You landed a quick punch to the man's chin, sending him to the floor. Another patron charged at you, but you dodged and used his momentum to send him into a nearby chair. The fight was quick and brutal, you held your own despite the numbers.

But you didn't escape unscathed. A punch landed on your forehead, splitting the skin, blood trickling down your face. Another kick hit your ribs, leaving you gasping in pain. Finally, the bouncers intervened, pulling you and the other fighters apart. You were escorted out of the bar, your adrenaline still pumping.

You made your way back to the Tower, your thoughts a jumbled mess. You replayed the fight in your head, the raw emotions and physical release of your pent-up frustration. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake thoughts of Natasha. God..

When you entered the Tower, your feet moved almost on their own, leading you through familiar corridors. Your hand hovered over your door. You tried to gather your thoughts. All the anger, the confusion, the feelings you'd been suppressing came rushing back.

Before you could open the door, it opened on its own. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. "What happened to you?" she asked, her eyes scanning the bruises and cuts from the fight. You blinked, confusion washing over you. "I... thought this was my room..“

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Well, I see you've had a bit to drink. Come in, I can help you with that." You wanted to refuse, but the throbbing pain in your ribs and the blood dripping from your brow convinced you otherwise. You followed Natasha into the room.

Natasha led you to her bed and fetched a first aid kit from her dresser. She began cleaning your wounds with gentle hands, her touch surprisingly tender. You winced as the antiseptic stung, but you didn't pull away.

"Why did you get into a fight?" Natasha asked softly, her eyes focused on her work. You sighed, the alcohol and exhaustion making you more honest than usual. "I was angry. Frustrated. I needed to blow off steam.."

Natasha paused, her gaze meeting yours. "Was it because of our argument?" You looked away, feeling the weight of Natasha's gaze. "Partly. But it's more than that. I don't know how to handle...everything."

“I need to tell you something.” You turned to her, meeting her gaze. The vulnerability in her eyes was striking, a stark contrast to the fierce determination one had been used to seeing over the months.

“I’ve been unfair to you,” Natasha admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been treating you like you needed constant watching, and it’s because I was.. scared. Scared that your stubbornness would get you hurt, or worse.”

You felt a lump in your throat as her words sank in. “Nat, I know I can be reckless. But I never meant to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”

“I just want you to be safe. I push you because I care about you, more than I’ve let on..” Her words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. You saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes and felt your own start to well up, “..And god, your stubbornne-“

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. Natasha’s arms encircled you, pulling you close. She held you tightly, as if afraid to let go. “I’m sorry, Y/n..” she whispered into your hair. “I’m sorry for being so hard on you. I just didn’t know how else to keep you safe.”

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet light. The embrace was a balm to your frayed nerves, letting everything forget what has accumulated with you, "I-I care about you too, Nat..“ The room was silent. For the first time, you both allowed yourselves to be vulnerable. You looked up and into Natasha's eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the fear and..the hope.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's in a tentative kiss. For a moment, Natasha froze, then she kissed you back, her hand gently cradling your cheek. The kiss was slow, filled with all the unspoken emotions you both had been holding back.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. "I'm sorry." you both said at the same time, laughing softly at the coincidence.

The mood lightened, the weight of your previous arguments lifted. You talked quietly through the night, sharing your fears and hopes, finally letting out what had been weighing on your hearts. As dawn broke, you were still curled up together, a newfound understanding and affection blossoming between you.

[myerssimp21]

Batcave Meeting (YAN!Pt.3)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam Part 3. Part 1, Part 2 here (context: Tim Drake purposefully got aphrodisiac'd when fighting Ivy and then went over to Darling's apartment to smash. This is a batfamily meeting about that and how to move forward.).

As you obliviously drifted to sleep, the live feed of you doing so was being projected onto a big screen in the BatCave while members joined together at a table, casually watching you as you yawned and readjusted against your pillow. The imposing man situated at the end of the table clasped his hands together, regarding the young men in front of him. Once everyone was seated, the imposing man began speaking to them, noticing how many of them had their eyes glued to the screen.

"We're going to discuss what happened the other day and plan for next week," he announced, and the pouty brunette who had had a frown on his face now crossed his arms.

"Allow me to explain it from my perspective first, Father," he said, sporting a moody expression, "You and Drake were unexpectedly out of commission during your patrol, which, while not typical, is understandable given our line of work."

His eyes flicker over to Tim and Jason, narrowing in contempt and disgust.

"Todd and Drake both know how important our duty to Gotham is," Damian continued while making eye contact with Jason, "But instead of prioritizing that, they let their impulses get the better of them. Drake especially for instigating the situation. Using Ivy's aphrodisiac to... indulge with our darling? It's selfish, reckless, and disrespectful."

"Damian, hold on a second," Jason interjected, "I had no idea about the aphrodisiac. It was my night off so I was sleeping in and missed Bruce's calls when he and Tim got doused in it. I only woke up because the audio feed from her apartment was turned up and I heard them together. I blew up Tim's phone and went over when he left because I was pissed, and I didn't realize that was why she couldn't get enough. I feel really bad about it now that I know."

Damian's expression softened subtly as he absorbed Jason's explanation. Despite his composed demeanor, the tension still lingered in his features.

"I appreciate your honesty, Todd," Damian conceded, his tone slightly softer, "It's still not acceptable that she was acting strangely and this was not analyzed, but I understand that the situation was...unconventional."

As Jason and Damian had a moment of newfound comradery, Tim finally spoke up, "I understand your frustrations, but you need to know that I researched Ivy's aphrodisiac extensively before I ever considered using it. I made sure it wouldn't have any adverse health effects on anybody and appropriately calculated the risks."

Damian's expression darkened further, his negative feelings towards Drake beginning to truly show. "This isn't just about general safety or the safety of some substance!" he exclaimed, "It's about respect and her consent. You had no right to manipulate her like that, whether or not it posed a physical risk."

"Come on, Damian," Tim retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "She didn't find out about the aphrodisiac, did she? So what's the big deal? It's not like we hurt her or anything. She's fine, and she doesn't even know what happened. In fact, she likes us even more because I made a move for us. Why are you making a big deal out of nothing?"

Jason scoffed, his distaste in Tim at this point evident. "Seriously, Tim? You're gonna act like a douchebag just because she didn't find out? That's messed up, even for you."

"It's not just about the immediate consequences," Damian shot back, his voice angrier. "It's about the long-term impact on her. I bet you didn't even stop to consider how your actions could affect her, or how they could undermine the trust she has in us. And what about the ripple effect it could have on her relationships with all of us? He's playing with fire, Father, and he needs to be held accountable."

"Let's not overlook the bigger issue here," Tim said, his voice defensive, "What I did was perverted, I admit that. But let's not pretend that bugging and wiring her apartment is any less invasive. That's hardly consensual either."

"Don't you dare deflect the issue!" Damian's voice rose, and he was now yelling, "We implemented those measures for her safety, not for our own entertainment! It's a gross violation of her privacy, but at least we did it to protect her!"

"Oh? And having two separate cameras staring at her bed is going to what, protect her from bad dreams?"

"Dami, Tim, let's try to keep our cool here," Dick interjected gently, easing in to defuse the tension, "We're all on the same team, remember? We need to work together to figure this out."

Damian turned to Dick with a measured gaze, "I want to hear your perspective on this matter, Grayson."

Dick sighed, solemnly addressing Drake. “Tim, what you did wasn't just a mistake. It was a deliberate breach of trust. She relies on us to keep her safe and instead of focusing on that, you exploited her vulnerability.”

"Also," and Dick seemed more pained at this part, "You betrayed our trust. We all care about her and you influenced her desires for your own gain."

Tim sat in silence, his expression filled with shame as he began to realize the gravity of his actions. He knew he had acted irresponsibly, and the weight of their words hung heavy in the air. Jason and Dick exchanged silent glances, their disappointment evident in their expressions.

Damian took a deep centering breath before focusing his attention back on Tim.

"This isn't about whether she found out or not, Drake. If you still don't understand that, then we need to take more drastic measures to address and punish this behavior. Father, I appeal to you to implement anything you deem necessary to prevent such behavior in the future. We cannot allow such indecent actions against her to to be repeated."

Bruce, understanding the severity of the situation and having now heard everyone's perspective, nodded solemnly at Damian.

"Tim, in light of your actions, there are going to be some consequences," Bruce stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to schedule therapy with Dr. Thompkins to address the troubling attitude that led to this situation. While we have taken invasive measures to monitor her, as Damian pointed out, your actions went beyond that."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. "Until you've attended and Dr. Thompkins deems it appropriate, you will be restricted from having any contact with _____."

Finally, Bruce's gaze softened slightly as he looked at both Damian and Tim. "And Tim, it's imperative that you and Damian eventually reconcile. We're a team, and we need to remain united in our goals and overall behavior. I expect both of you to work towards rebuilding your relationship for the sake of the team and our darling."

"Damian," Bruce addressed his son, "since Tim will no longer be able to have contact with her, I'm assigning you a new responsibility. You will substitute him as her school friend and be someone she can rely on for assistance with homework and company. I want you to pick a class of hers that sounds interesting to you and make sure you're there to support her. It's important that she has someone she can trust and rely on, especially now. It's an opportunity for you to show her that she can count on us."

As the meeting continued, Damian spoke up, "I'll join her art class. It will allow me to assist her with her assignments and ensure she receives the academic support she needs."

Bruce nodded in approval. "Good choice, Damian. Make sure to approach this responsibility with care and dedication."

Turning to Jason, Bruce's expression grew serious. "Jason, I need you to be especially understanding and supportive towards her. If she feels troubled or has any lingering negative thoughts about what happened, I expect you to be there for her."

"Of course, Bruce," Jason says, eyes fixated on the now-sleeping figure of their darling on the cameras, "I'll do whatever it takes."

Dick now spoke up, "Can we talk about introducing me as Jason's roommate?"

Bruce shook his head, "Not yet; I want to make sure Damian successfully integrates first. You can still frequent around her job but no more interactions than that."

"Except for as a vigilante?" Dick replies hopefully, and Bruce gives him a measured gaze similar to his son's.

"Yes, although I expect you to exercise patience and primarily work in Blüdhaven for now."

Damian cuts in, "And don't be like Drake and fabricate a reason for her to need you."

"Damian," Bruce says in a tired voice, "I've made myself clear."

Damian looks down with an expression like he's biting his tongue and contempt is bright in his eyes, "Sorry, Father."

With that, the meeting concluded, each member of the Batfamily knowing the roles they had to play in ensuring their darling's well-being and trust remained intact.

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter One: The Omen

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Two ☆ Series Masterlist

Series Description: Being friends with Lily Evans was difficult when you were head over heels for her ex-boyfriend James. Your problems are only made worse when you begin receiving ominous omens that point to a less than desirable future.

General Fic Warnings & Tags: Marauders era seventh year, female reader (she/her/miss/etc.), use of Y/N and L/N, readers appearance is not described other than her generally being able-bodied and larger than a house elf, at some point the reader smokes cigarettes/weed/drinks alcohol (don't smoke, kids), swearing typical of an 18 year old in the UK, canon-typical violence, dueling, and first wizarding war stuff, mentions of the readers mother and father, mentions of characters getting sick after drinking but no descriptions.

Notes: hey! so just a fair warning that this is a slow burn and the first couple of chapters in are particularly plot heavy. Also, this is cross posted on my ao3 if you want to give it a read there instead :)

Word Count: 4.3k

The near silence of the library was a welcomed escape from the busy corridors and lively Common Room, which was always packed just after classes ended. Tomorrow was Friday and Gryffindor was playing a quidditch match this weekend, meaning your chance to have any amount of free time in the coming days relied heavily on some Thursday night cramming. At the heavy wooden table tucked between tall rows of books, you and Remus worked quietly. It was one of the rare times you were alone together, and his aura of calm placidity was exactly what you needed at the moment. 

Despite your intentions of studying, the papers strewn out in front of you were beginning to give you a headache. If you were somewhere with a more lenient volume policy, you would’ve groaned rather dramatically in utter frustration or banged your head against the table top. It had been a long time since you’ve been this lost on an assignment, a Divination assignment, no less. Your eyes kept pulling away from the three different books laid before you, running instead along the dark shelves and bumpy leather spines. It was a treat when one of them flew from its place, skirting out of your nook and down the aisle in a blur of solid color. 

You both had gotten one and a half lovely, serene hours of uninterrupted study time before your mutual friend came around the corner, plopping down suddenly in the seat beside you. Your daydreams were interrupted, replaced by an even better distraction. James smiled brightly at you, curly brown hair in a heap on top of his head. You couldn’t help but grin back, his pleasantness infectious even when you were in a sour mood. 

“Hello,” you said, forgetting your work completely. 

He returned your greeting before frowning at Remus over his complete lack of acknowledgment upon his arrival. 

“What's got you so focused?” he whispered, glancing down at the parchment that Remus was writing on. 

“Transfiguration,” he answered, still engrossed and only half listening. James shot him a funny look which caused you to stifle a laugh, though Remus was unamused. 

“I can see you, you know,” he drawled. 

James snickered quietly, attempting to keep up a his newfound facade as a serious student, lest he ruin his impeccable reputation. 

“Why’re you slumming it here with us?” you asked James, your head coming to rest in your hand as you turned to face him. His wire-rimmed glasses began to fall, so he pushed them back up onto the bridge of his nose.

“He should be here to study,” Remus added, finally smirking to himself. James rolled his eyes, throwing his arms over the back of his chair. 

“Can’t even pay your friends a visit anymore, I see.” He tipped his chair back on two legs, dangerously close to falling. After a moment of careful balancing, he returned all four legs to the floor where they belonged, his head lulling onto his shoulder. “Sirius ditched me to run off with Seraphina, and Peter and Marlene are joining forces on Herbology.”

Seraphina was Sirius’s most recent belle, but no one thought it would last much longer. She didn’t like that he smoked and he detested her revulsion to it. Before his date with her last weekend, he had to wash his hair twice and use far too much cologne, which gave everyone around him an awful headache. This may be the couple's last hoorah, as you had been with Sirius not three hours ago, each of you puffing smoke out of the window of an empty classroom. 

“Why don’t you help?” you asked, referring to Peter and Marlene.

“Peter says I’m mean when I help,” answered James with a shrug. 

“How awful,” you teased, watching as a large green book shot out of the shelf over Remus’ head, whipping left down the aisle. It was true that sometimes James couldn’t understand that things didn’t come so easy to everyone. Once, you had stupidly asked him for his help in DADA. Never again. 

“That's all right,” James began again, “With those gits ditching me, you’re my new favorite. Not Remus, of course. He won’t give me enough attention.”

You hated when he did that: made you feel special. He couldn’t possibly be serious, as it was simply the perfect opportunity to take a dig at his friend. But Godric, did you want it to be true. Until now you had done a very good job at projecting a casual air about yourself, protecting your feelings behind a mask of mild indifference. You tried your best to regain what was left of your resolve, cracked by his stupid joke and the way he was looking so handsome today. It was criminal, really, an Azkaban level offense. You wanted to slap that lovely, teasing smile from his face and throw him under the invisibility cloak. Begrudgingly, you laughed, Remus snorting as he continued to scratch away with his quill. 

“Oh, and I wasn’t before?” you said, hopefully hiding your fancy. 

James rolled his eyes again, thankfully not having noticed anything out of the ordinary. You must’ve been an excellent actress, or James was an extraordinary friend, because he never seemed to catch on no matter how badly you slipped up. You weren’t sure if things were easier or harder when Lily was always hanging off his arm. Godric, had that been a tough eight months. 

James then changed the subject to something less threatening to your long-held secret, much to your relief, “I’ve been running over some new maneuvers with the team. It’s taking some of the younger ones a bit to get the hang of, but we’re looking good. I don’t think Hufflepuff has a chance on Saturday.” 

“That's great,” you whispered.

“Sirius came up with some of it, worked on it all day last Sunday with me. We’re calling it the Grumblesnad–” 

James went on to explain, or attempt to explain, the rather complicated plays he and Sirius had invented. Half of the technical jargon you did not understand, though you were able to catch the gist. He seemed so eager to tell you that you refrained from stopping him too often, wanting to watch his eyes light up and hands wave mindlessly. You enjoyed when he was like this, entranced by his own excitement, unburdened and utterly content. 

Soon after James had finished his animated explanation of the Grumblesnad, it was just about time for dinner. The sun had gone down around an hour ago, leaving the library to be lit only by the large lamps hanging upon the walls. Although the room was warm and glowing, begging you to stay just a while longer, your hunger was beginning to get to you. You and Remus packed up your things, throwing all three of your Divination books into your bag. Remus held a thick, wide tome, the cover decorated with tangled vines and pale purple flowers. 

“You guys go on without me,” he said, propping up the book in the crook of his elbow like the pose of a marble statue. “I’ve got to check this out.”

Remus walked past you and James to head down the labyrinthine aisles with another word, you and James following behind. You each left the library together, Remus promising again that he’d catch up. 

Your journey was in silence for a while, James’s shoes clicking against the stone floor like a metronome. There were many other students heading your same direction, a few first or second years whizzing past in a fit of laughter. You smiled at the memory of your first few years at Hogwarts, remembering for the first time in a while that you’d be leaving here for good in a matter of months. You had been so shy at first, clinging to Lily like she was a buoy out in the ocean. Severus had done the same, though as the years went on he seemed to shrivel a bit, slinking back into the shadows while Lily moved farther into the light. She had dragged you along with her, practically forcing you to be friends with those who had remained acquaintances for the better part of five years. For this, you would always be eternally grateful. 

You were pulled from your shameless reminiscing when James reached out for the strap of your bag, taking it from you before you could do anything about it. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked as he threw it over his shoulder, adjusting the strap a bit.  

“Godric, this thing is heavy,” he said, making a show if it dragging him down towards the floor. You laughed, soon beginning to play with your tie, not knowing what else to do with your hands. 

“You don’t have to carry it for me,” you said softly, feeling rather bad. Now, each of his shoulders was carrying its own load, yours unburdened.  

He shook his head immediately, curls flopping against his forehead. 

“I don’t mind,” he said, brushing it off as if it were nothing at all. “Besides, you’ll end up falling to the dungeons carrying this thing.”

You bit your tongue so that you wouldn’t tell him how kind he was, how much he made you into someone rather witless. You dropped your hands, swinging them a few times before they met behind your back. It was getting worse. You could tell by the way you had to keep on reminding yourself to act like a normal person, constantly having to make sure you weren't letting anything on. It was difficult to pinpoint when this change occurred, though knowing the exact date and time wouldn't really do you much good in the end. Something in you was breaking, and it scared you shitless. 

“But really," James said, holding onto the strap of your bag, "what do you have in this?”

You shrugged. “Just some books, a few boulders thrown in for good measure.”

He shoved you lightly on the shoulder, throwing you slightly off kilter. You giggled, cringing at yourself as you did. Soon you could see the large doors to the Great Hall up ahead, and you ran over to them. You then made a show of opening one for him, waiting patiently for him to catch up. He smiled, and you were glad to have put it there.

“Just trying to return the favor,” you said, laughing when he passed you, feigning displeasure. 

He handed you back your bag as you parted ways, you heading over to your side of the table near Lily, him with the other Marauders. Walking down the aisle, you let out a silent sigh of blissful relief, having mostly rid yourself of him for the time being. No matter how much you enjoyed his company, it was an awful amount of work acting nonchalant, particularly when he kept being so nice. It was always better when you were in a group and he was forced to split his attention between multiple parties. Currently, mealtimes were becoming your new favorite. 

As you sat down in your usual spot between Lily and Marlene, you plopped your bag down on floor behind you, which landed with a heavy thud. Lily glanced over her shoulder to look at it. 

“Godric, what’s in that thing?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The fire in the Common Room popped, sending a flurry of orange sparks into the alcove of the stone hearth. Most had settled in for the night, filling the room with a steady stream chatter and scratching quills. James and Sirius sat across from each other at one of the small tables in the back doing schoolwork, Lily and Peter beside them playing a game of wizards chess. You and Remus were reading in two of the large armchairs, you with a muggle novel borrowed from Lily. 

Sirius's elbows were resting on the table, his head in his hands and mouth slightly agape. He shook his head a bit, eyes wide as he started down at his papers. 

“Do you think Professor Vector dreams in Arithmancy, or it’s just a hobby?”

You looked up from your book, noticing Sirius’s paper covered with exed out numbers and messily written notes. He still wore his uniform, though his tie was undone and the top two buttons of his shirt, which was growing wrinkled, had been opened. Lily's head popped up from where it was turned down towards her game, which she was currently winning. She leaned over to peer at his paper the best she could.

“What’s the matter?” she asked kindly. Sirius only gave her a glance before looking at James, who was stifling a laugh. 

“It’s your fault,” said Sirius, scoffing at his friend’s continued chortling. “You forced me to take it third year. Should’ve been like Wormtail and gone the easy route.”

You all knew he was lying, for despite all his bitching and moaning, Sirius was just as bright as James. He’d complain endlessly about Arithmancy just as he had done last year when he convinced himself he’d flunk the O.W.L, in which he ultimately scored an O. Once and a while he might even brood over such fears, tucking himself away in a dark corner of the library to study, fighting off a great deal of unnecessary anxiety. 

“Hey!” Peter piped up at the mention of his name, especially due to its use in such an offending fashion. Lily made an excellent move, snagging one of his knights. Peter groaned in frustration, momentarily distracted. 

“Divination is a valuable subject, one that is often overlooked by certain individuals,” you defended, glaring at Sirius before offering Peter a much needed smile. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, flicking his head to get the hair out of his eyes. You shrugged, turning back to your book. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re good at it,” he grumbled, looking back down at his papers to concentrate on the confusing array of seemingly nonsensical numbers. 

“Doesn’t take much,” said Remus from his armchair, legs curled up like a pretzel. Now you were grumbling, mumbling something about his “Stupid E in Ancient Runes.”

James began screwing the cap back on his inkwell, gathering his parchment into a neat pile before him. Lily and Peter had turned back to their game, Peter taking an awfully long while contemplating his next move. He finally made one, taking out one of her rooks. 

“How’d your fish thing go?” James asked, looking between you and Peter. Your most recent Divinations project, which you had been working on in the library, involved Ichthyomancy, or the helpful power of fish in the prediction of one's fortune. You were to carefully observe the fish of the Great Lake for a few hours during a “completely and utterly random time of day!” and attempt to read your fortune for the coming weeks. 

Peter sighed heavily at the mention of the project, sinking further into his chair. Lily was still glancing at the game board, twirling a lock of auburn hair between her fingers. 

“Well…” said Peter, somewhat sniveling. 

“Not having any luck?” you asked. “No pun intended.”

Peter sighed again, shaking his head. “Just when I think I’ve got something, they all seem to swim away. I think I’m repelling them or something.” 

“Not surprising,” said Sirius, still focused on his own work.

“You should be studying,” Remus reminded him, to which Sirius surprisingly obeyed. If anyone could get Sirius to do something, it was Remus. It was if he possessed an ancient form of magic no one else knew.

“How about you,” James asked. “You said you were coming along swimmingly the other day.” You could tell he was rather proud of himself for that one from the look on his face, eyes glancing between the others as if to see if anyone else noticed. Any other time you would have readily appeased him and laughed, but all your willingness to jest had drained from you the moment he asked the question. 

“Well…” you began, echoing Peter. You weren’t sure if you wanted to bring it up just yet, though you didn’t want to lie either. Your head fell back against the chair as you let out a small, crippled noise. “I thought I was, but then today in the library I was trying to cross reference the meaning, but I’m getting all these odd readings.”

“Like what?” Lily inquired, moving a piece on the board. Peter let out a breath of relief when all of his pieces remained safe. 

“The first thing I saw right when I got out there was a school of eight orange fish heading with the current, due north. So, that's obviously unbridled joy. ”

“ Obviously ,” mumbled Remus. 

You rolled your eyes and continued, “Then, there were twelve pink ones heading across, due west, not with or against the current. However, another joined in–”

“Oh,” said Lily, catching the meaning. Peter nodded in acknowledgment as well. 

“Yeah, so heartache. But, that's not even the worst of it. After a few hours with nothing much happening, I spotted a red and purple fish amongst a school of white,” you trailed off, watching Lily’s face contort in confusion, her hands coming up to the arms of her chair. 

“You’re kidding!” 

James perked up, glancing between each of you, who like Peter didn’t seem to have a clue what any of it meant. Remus and Sirius had now been fully roused, book and schoolwork forgotten. 

“What? What?” James asked, though neither you nor Lily replied soon enough for his liking. “Come on, what is it? What's so bad about a red and purple fish?” 

Lily swallowed, turning to James. “Red and purple is bad. ”

“Really bad,” you added. 

“Did you catch how many white ones were in the school?” Lily inquired. 

“No, I’d guess around ten, but I can’t be sure.” You shot her a pained, slightly terrified expression, knowing the less white fish the better. Ten or so was not a good sign. 

Lily sighed and all fell silent for a beat, the once easy atmosphere becoming tense and suffocating. You heard Peter picking at a loose thread on his seat. 

“What does it mean?” James asked.

Lily answered, speaking slowly and with great purpose, “Well, in isolation, it can predict a discovery of sorts, though accompanied by so many of the white-” she faltered, eyes dancing to yours. 

“It would seem to indicate a total loss of innocence,” you finished. Sirius perked, casting you an impish smirk.

“A loss of innocence?” he repeated, slow and so bloody irritating . “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Not that kind of innocence,” Lily corrected. 

“It’s more like a complete change in worldview, like witnessing the death of a loved one,” you explained. Again came silence, Peter pursing his lips and lowering his head like a vigil for your fate.

“But, uh–” James stammered, “you said you also got signs of ‘unbridled joy.’ How can you have that and the death of a loved one?”

“I said like the death of a loved one.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” The intensity of his worry was blinding. You figured he had a lot of practice between Remus and Sirius. 

“I don’t know how they’re supposed to connect. That’s why I’m so confused over it.” You turned to Lily. “Do you have any clue? Any at all?” 

Lily sat deep in thought, a hand coming to her face. She rubbed down her cheek, her foot beginning to tap on the carpet. “No,” she said sadly, “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

Before you had told anyone, you were easily able to brush it off as no big deal. Now, with your friend’s tensed jaws and pitying glances, your fears had been confirmed. You began to loathe yourself for drawing so much attention towards your problems, wishing that Lily would do something to hide her increasing concern. You didn't like seeing her like this, nor any of the others for that matter. Remus shifted around so he could sit properly in his chair, slipping a bookmark into the pages of his novel and tossing it aside.

“Does it have to be bad, per se?” he asked. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw James running a finger along the neck of his sweater. 

“I don’t think so," you said finally, "but I’m not sure what sort of prediction I could make based on what I’ve been able to gather. I have joy, heartache, and a loss of innocence. When I just had the joy and heartache, I thought that maybe something bad would happen that turned out to be good in the end, or that something good would turn out to be bad. There’s a million options for that, I could have easily come up with a reading to turn in for class. But that bloody red and purple fish had to come along and spoil the whole thing.” You let out an exasperated sigh, guilty once again for your rant, although no one seemed annoyed with you. On the contrary, all appeared genuinely saddened by your strange omen. 

“It can’t be that bad, whatever it is," said Lily. "You know how Divination can be sometimes. You get this awful omen and it turns out that you just break a quill or get the flu.” She leaned over towards you, face full of a profound compassion that she had worn for so many before. It reminded you of the way she used to look at Severus years ago before their falling out, when he appeared to her a small, shy kid in need of a friend. For a brief moment, your worries switched from the omen to the acute possibility you would one day be like him, mourning the loss of her friendship caused by your own betrayal towards her. 

"She's right," Peter offered, giving what he could. You smiled, trying to match his and Lily's enthusiasm. 

“I ought to owl my parents, make sure the house hasn’t collapsed,” you joked, though no one seemed to find it very funny. 

James said your name, downtrodden and caring. “It’ll be all right, I’m sure of it.” 

“You could always ask Professor Quattlebaum,” Peter suggested, voice lifting a bit.

After a moment you nodded slowly, taking a short breath through your nose. “I probably should, though it might take from my grade.”

“Or you could go fishing just kill the slimy thing,” Sirius said, making a much better attempt at brightening the mood than yours was. “That has to have some sort of effect.”

“Not really how it works, Sirius,” said Lily solemnly. 

“James is right,” you began, your tone as brave as you could bear, “it’ll be fine. It’s probably like you said, Lily. It’ll turn out to be so silly, then we’ll have a good laugh over worrying about it so much.”

After brushing off a few more comments of concern, you all went back to working quietly, Remus devouring his book once more. You tried to do the same, but your eyes seemed to gloss over the words without reading them. Eventually, Lily won the game with Peter, though didn’t gloat over her victory. As the evening lengthened, students meandered out of the Common Room and to their dormitories. Sirius was the only one left with schoolwork to do, excusing himself to his room so he could “focus on the dumbest subject in history…besides Divination.”  

“How studious!” James called out to him, watching as he ascended the staircase. Sirius threw up his middle finger, not looking back.

It wasn’t long after that you checked your wristwatch, noticing it getting late. You excused yourself to your room, the others likely heading to bed themselves sooner rather than later.

When you entered your dormitory, Marlene and Dorcas were laid out on their beds chatting. Dorcas had an impressive pile of candy in front of her: Chocolate Frogs, Dolly Beads, Caramel Cobwebs, Fizzing Whizbees, and various forms of glimmering marshmallows. Marlene reached across the space between their beds and grabbed a pink, rose shaped one, taking a large bite out of it. 

“Oi!” Dorcas protested, though Marlene only laughed maniacally, leaning back against her headboard. 

“Having yourselves a feast, I see,” you said to them, kicking off your shoes beside your bed. 

“ Dorcas is having a feast,” Marlene drawled, “and being rather stingy, too.” 

“You’re aware it’s a Thursday?” you said with a smile, glancing over your shoulder to see Dorcas open up a Chocolate Frog package. 

“I’m aware,” she said, grabbing the leaping frog in record time. It squirmed a bit in an attempt to hop away before growing still. Dorcas took a bite of it, pulling out the collectable card from the box. "Ugh, Artemisia Lufkin again?"

When you emerged from the lavatory ready for bed, Lily had just walked into the room, untying her shoes by the door. You climbed into your four-poster, getting ready to draw the curtains when she came up to you, mouth pulled to one side. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” 

You had unwisely hoped that nothing more would be said about your omen, now wishing more than ever you hadn't even brought it up to begin with. You couldn't think of a way she could help you any more than she already had, hating that she was likely racking her brain for solutions. 

You nodded, smiling softly in an effort to ease her. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s like you said, it’ll turn out to be nothing.”

She nodded, her eyes drifting across your face before she gave you a small smile, turning to retrieve her own pajamas and leaving you to cocoon yourself in for the night. You pulled your curtains closed to the sound of Lily's footsteps creaking on an ancient floorboard.

End Notes: at any point in this series, if you notice something that should go under the warnings/tags, please let me know! The same goes for grammatical errors. this gal is dyslexic, so as Nick from New Girl so aptly put it, I'm not even sure if I know how to read, I've only just memorized a lot of words. Misspellings don't even look wrong to me lol

Chapter Two

[nephilimeq]

Stuck in the Middle With You

Prompt: Clingy Boyfriend

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/160733068

Buck was annoyed.

No, scratch that—he was pissed.

It had been over seventy-two hours—and he still hadn’t seen his boyfriend. Hell, he had been forced to go back to his apartment because there was no point in going over to Tommy’s house because he wouldn't even be there for another forty-eight hours. Somehow—he had no idea how—the end of Bucks forty-eight had overlapped with the beginning of Tommy’s seventy-two, and the only thing he wanted to do was pull his hair out by the roots and scream into the void.

…But he couldn’t, so instead he was doing the next best thing: drinking with Eddie and complaining about his life.

“Dude, you’ll be fine,” his friend reassured him as he sat next to him at the bar at a quarter past eight. “it’s not like you guys haven’t gone five days without seeing each other since you two started dating…”

Buck didn’t look up at him, casting his eyes down towards his glass.

“Seriously?!”

He let out a whine as he stretched out almost flat against the bar and reluctantly admitted, “Yeah, we’ve kinda been attached at the hip—”

“Or other body parts,” Eddie muttered before taking a swig of his beer and Buck glared at him and said, “Hey! No interrupting!” and threw a rogue peanut shell at him, and then added, “I mean, we still text, call, and video chat, but…god, it’s just not the same, you know?” and then took a long drag of his own beer, thinking about the fact that Tommy would reprimand him for choosing such a generic brand instead of going for one of the nicer craft beers with a better flavor.

But he didn’t want a better flavor, he wanted to drown his sorrows and didn’t need something like flavor getting in the way of that. Besides, he wouldn’t have appreciated the taste anyway, far too focused on trying to numb the longing feeling in his chest that felt as though it was turning into a cavernous hole.

Eddie gave him a look and said, “Look, if you miss him so much, then why don’t you swing by the 217?” and Buck shot him a look.

“Because, they’re on standby for the fires and their schedule is all over the place! And-and I don’t wanna just, you know, show up like the clingiest boyfriend in the world! I’m not some, some…tween girl who’s obsessed, you know?”

“You’re not? Coulda fooled me,” his friend drawled as he turned and leaned with his back to the bar and Buck found himself glaring at him all over again, getting slightly annoyed at his friend’s attitude, and threw another peanut at him, thrilled when it hit his chin and then fell into the front pocket of his flannel, and he muttered into the crook of his folded arm, “Ha, three points,” knowing that if Tommy had been there he would have appreciated him making the basketball joke.

Eddie merely shot him an arched eyebrow.

“You’re acting like Christopher, right now, you do know that, right?” he said as he fished out the peanut and popped it into his mouth.

Buck scoffed and slowly sat up, saying, “If you’re telling me that I have the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year-old, you are way off on that mark. According to Dr. Jensen, I have the emotional maturity of a twenty-five year old.”

“Buck, you’re thirty-four.”

“Yeah, I’m still catching up. So?”

Eddie merely shook his head and took another sip from his beer while Buck cast a glance around the bar, noting that it was still a light crowd. Of course, it was the middle of the week, and eight o’clock on a Wednesday evening wasn’t exactly the hip time for people to be out drinking. God, he was pathetic.

--

“Oh, god, just call him!” Sal said, sounding thoroughly annoyed—but Tommy shook his head and said, “I can’t! He’s out with Eddie and I don’t want to bother him while he’s having a good time off shift, you know?”

“If he’s anything like you, he doesn’t know how to have a good time,” muttered Lucy from behind her cards on the other side of the table, her feet propped up on the edge. “I take that bet and raise you two skittles,” she then said, arching an eyebrow at him, and Tommy knew immediately that she was bluffing and said, “I call.”

She smirked.

“Read ‘em and weep, Kinard.”

She laid down her cards with all the confidence of someone twenty years her senior—and Tommy nodded and said, “Nice hand, Donato. Full house…which would be great if I didn’t have a straight flush,” and he laid down his hand with a smirk, and she let out a huff and dropped her legs and said, “God, I hate your poker face. You’re inscrutable.”

“It’s a gift,” he said, pulling the pile of candy towards him, popping a lemon skittle into his mouth…and found his eyes drifting towards his phone, where he had left it on the table, wondering if he should give Evan a call. He hadn’t been able to spend any time with him for two days already, and now he was stuck with another three days without him. God, he had never gone more than three days without him, and now he was going to be away from him for a total of five fucking days.

His hand twitched—and then Sal said, “For fuck’s sake, just call him!”

“Language Deluca!” shouted their captain, but he simply rolled his eyes and moved over to him, shoving his shoulder up against his.

“Look, have the two of you been apart for very long before? Anything longer than two or three days?” he asked…and Tommy reluctantly admitted, “Uh…no. We’ve never spent more than three days apart since we got back together,” and his friend let out a long sigh that lasted so long it almost seemed as though he was deflating.

He then said, “Mierda…you two are grade-a clingers, aren’t you?”

…and Tommy snorted and started to laugh and through his laughter he managed to say, “Okay, yeah, I guess we are. When we’re at home we do almost everything together,” he admitted, giving Sal a sideways glance. “I think we’re both kinda touch starved and we both need a lot of reassurance after what happened to us all those months ago. I think we’re also both a little bit afraid on some sort of subconscious level that the other person is gonna just up and leave …”

His friend turned so they were both facing the same way and said, “You two are good together. So, why don’t you text him?”

--

“…Because if I text him, then he’ll know that I can’t go more than a couple days at a time without him!” Buck explained as he stood on the other side of the pool table, moving the stick between his hands in an agitated manner. “I don’t want him to think that I’m desperate! Don’t you get that?”

Eddie glanced up at him as he lined up his shot and muttered under his breath, “I get that you’re both grade-a clingers…”

Buck shot him a look.

“You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head and walking over to where Eddie was lining up his shot. “If I reach out first then that means I’m the clingier one! And I am not the clingier one! You’ve never seen how Tommy follows me around the apartment when he comes over…or how-how whenever I go to his place, he is constantly calling out to check in on where I am just in case so he can find me if he wants to share something with me because he thinks texting across the house is-is too…impersonal!”

At that, Eddie took his shot, missing it, and then straightened and said, “Je-sus, Buck. I’m thinking you two might be a little codependent,” and at that Buck arched an eyebrow at him as he bent over to line up his own shot and said, “Oh, big word for you. Therapy working?”

His friend shrugged.

“Eh, yeah. I guess. Still feels too much like confession to me,” he said with a pointed look, “But I think it’s working. Still—you and Tommy have a weird relationship.”

“No, we don’t,” Buck stressed, taking his own shot and sinking it without even glancing back down at the table. “We have a healthy relationship. I think the two of us are just trying to make up for lost time, you know? Those few months without him were hell for me, and for him, and now we just…I think maybe we’re just scared that one of us might come up with another reason to walk away from it and so we don’t like being away from each other for too long…”

Letting out a sigh, he went to line up his next shot…and then Eddie said, “So you’re not texting him because…?”

--

“Because if I text him, then he’ll know that I can’t go more than a few days without him,” Tommy said to Sal as they got the injured hiker into the medevac chopper. “And if he knows that, then he’ll know that I’m the clingier one, and I’m not! Do you know that Evan tries to text me across the house? I’ve told him to just let me know where he is and I can come to him, but no. He insists on being allowed to text me across the house, which is just…weird.”

From below them, the woman on the gurney lifted up a feeble hand and said, “You know, you and your husband should just sit down and talk about how to communicate when you’re feeling insecure, because that’s what I’m picking up on here,” and he quickly corrected her.

“He’s my boyfriend, not my husband.”

Sal then interjected, “But you want him to be your husband, don’t you?” and Tommy ducked his eyes and moved back to the pilot’s seat, pulling on his headset.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Sal.”

His friend shot him a look and said, “Uh, you kinda are. So just text him, already! You miss him because you love him, that’s not a bad thing,” he said as Tommy lifted the chopper into the air, heading for the hospital. “Love can make you do stupid things—like break up with someone when they ask you to move in with them,” he jabbed at him, and the airman groaned and repeated, “I am not talking with you about this! Evan and I…we can figure it out. We got back together, didn’t we?”

At that, his friend chuckled and said, “Yeah, sure, like you were the one who figured it out. Isn’t the only reason why you two got back together because Howie pulled some underhanded shit with his wife and kid in order to get you and your boy into the same room again?”

Tommy sighed.

Okay, so yeah, it had been because of Howie and Maddie that he and Evan had gotten back together…but it was because of them talking things out that they had finally decided that it was worth it.

Still, as he angled the chopper towards the direction of the hospital he thought about what Sal had been trying to say to him the entire shift—and he hated to admit it, but the man was right. He missed Evan because he was in love with him, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Hell, it was practically expected at this point in their relationship.

Tommy continued to think on it as they dropped off the injured hiker…

…and then as they landed back at the 217, he reluctantly said to Sal over the headset, “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

His friend shot him a far too smug look, and the airman was already regretting his words, especially when the other man said as they sauntered back to the main hangar, “Oh, I want that put onto a t-shirt! ‘Tommy Kinard says that Sal Deluca was right!’ This is a pretty damn good feeling! So…you’re gonna text him, right?” he prodded, and Tommy nodded and reached for his phone, feeling a small sense of relief as he saw the picture of his boyfriend smiling on his lock screen.

He smiled down at it and then swiped his phone open…where Evan was the background, and he continued to smile.

Sal playfully shoved at his shoulder with his own, saying, “Someone’s in lo-ove,” and Tommy shoved him right back, pleased when the other man stumbled.

Hesitantly, he brought up their texts and then stared at them for a moment or two, trying to get up the courage to message him first, noting that their last conversation had been about the shopping list for the cookies that Tommy had baked for the 118.

He stop midstride and stared at it…and then began to type…

--

“He’s bubbling me!” Buck said, staring at his phone in shock. He had finally caved and reached for his phone to text his boyfriend, only to see those little bubbles telling him that Tommy was texting him first.

“Yipee,” Eddie said dryly from the corner of the pool table, looking at it with a curious expression, as if expecting it to rearrange the balls for him so that he would have a better shot.

Buck ignored him and continued to stare at his screen, waiting for the message to show up—and then grinned when the words that popped up said, Hey, thinking about you. Sorry we have to spend so many days apart, babe, and he couldn’t help but feel lucky to have someone in his life who understood just how hard it was for him to be apart from the people he loved for long amounts of time, and he immediately texted back, Thinking about you, too. Miss you, along with a kissy face emoji.

Feeling reassured, he slid his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention back to the game and teased, “You gonna take your shot or what, Diaz?” and Eddie gave him a bitch-face and leaned against his pool stick and said, “Gimme a minute! Your last shot fucked me up…”

Buck rolled his eyes.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic! Just take the shot!”

“Well, looks like someone’s in a better mood,” his friend muttered as he bent over and took the shot, letting out another curse when the ball bounced off a bumper and went wide, setting it up perfectly for Buck’s next shot, and he grinned and set it…and in three moves he had finished the game.

Eddie pretended to be annoyed with him, but he was smiling as he said, “So, think you can manage a few more days without him?” and Buck shrugged and said, “I guess so, yeah. I just…I sleep better with him next to me, you know?” and his friend tilted his head and remarked, “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. I remember it was hard for a while after I was deployed to sleep without Shannon next to me, so I get it,” and patted his shoulder.

Buck nodded and turned back to the pool table.

“Wanna go again?”

Eddie smirked.

“Bring it on, lover boy.”

Buck scoffed and said, “Oh, c’mon, I’m not that whipped, am I?” and Eddie lifted an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, you kinda are, but that’s okay. By the way,” he said as he moved around to the other side of the table, “Are you even living at your apartment anymore? Why don’t you just move into his place?” and his heart skipped a beat.

Yeah, okay, he’d thought about it, but it was too soon, and he knew it—he had jumped the gun last time, he wasn’t going to do that again.

“Uh, I still have my lease,” he finally replied, avoiding eye contact, focusing on re-racking the balls for their next game. He didn’t have to look up to know that his friend was giving him a side eye…but Eddie said nothing, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Just three more days.

--

It was three days of torture and the shift from hell, and Tommy couldn’t quite believe that he had managed to survive. Letting out a sigh of relief, he dropped his bag as soon as he stepped inside his front door and kicked his shoes off and tossed his jacket to the side, uncaring of where anything landed…

…and then the next thing he knew, he had his arms full of his boyfriend, who immediately buried his head in his neck.

“God, I missed you,” Evan said, his voice slightly muffled from where it was pressed into his collarbone, and the airman chuckled and wrapped his arms tightly around him and said softly, “I missed you, too, babe,” and pressed a kiss to his damp curls, which told him that Evan had just gotten out of the shower. He took a deep breath, smelling his own soap on his skin, a blend of cedarwood and spearmint, and then nuzzled his nose into his hair, letting out a sigh.

Evan practically melted into him, and the feeling of his body pressed up against his was the best thing he had felt in a long time, having been spending far too much time dealing with Lucy and Sal on either side of him, their presence welcome, but not the same as the man he loved.

“As much as I love this, babe, can we move to the couch? I am beat,” Tommy muttered, and his boyfriend nodded.

Not quite letting go of each other, they made their way to the living room and then promptly crashed onto the couch, Buck laying out flat with Tommy on top of him—

—and god was that nice.

With all of his previous ‘relationships’ he had always been the big spoon because of his height and broad build…but with Evan he was able to relax into another broad chest without having to worry that he was going to crush him.

They lay there for a long while, not saying a single thing, Evan’s fingers carding through his hair, the sensation soft and lulling him into an almost sleep…but then through the haze of exhaustion, he heard him ask, “Am I…am I too clingy for you?” and Tommy snorted and said, “Nope, not at all. Actually, Sal and I talked today, and he says that I’m the clingy one of the two of us,” and he felt a chuckle run through his boyfriend’s chest as he said, “Funny enough, Eddie said the same thing about me…”

He grinned and rubbed his hand over Evan’s side, enjoying every single second of being able to touch him, and softly added, “Well, it seems to be working for us, so I say we keep on doing it.”

Buck chuckled a second time.

“I like that idea.”

He then tucked a finger under the airman’s chin and lifted his head just enough to press a kiss to his lips and Tommy moaned into the kiss and then said as they both pulled back from it, “I’ve never been happier to have a clingy boyfriend,” and Evan gave him a look.

“Damn straight.”

“Damn…gay, actually,” he teased, and was thrilled when his boyfriend groaned and rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, god, I forgot how bad your jokes are.”

“Excuse you, but I am hilarious,” Tommy retorted, lifting himself up slightly to rest his hands on Evan’s chest and prop his chin on top of his clasped hands. “You just don’t appreciate my brand of humor, Evan.”

They shared a look, both of them trying to stare down the other—and then they both broke into giggles, both of them sounding almost manic with the way their giggles dissolved into breathless gulps of laughter, neither of them able to contain themselves. Tommy knew that part of the reason why he was acting so ridiculous was because he always acted punch drunk when he was this tired, and he knew that Evan was just naturally that amused at him.

Eventually it subsided and they rested quietly against each other once more…

…and then Evan said, “I like it when you’re clingy,” and Tommy whispered back, “I like when you’re clingy, too…”

A warm silence fell, and as they lay there the stray thought entered the airman’s mind that Evan always felt like home to him, and that he spent more time at his place than back at his own apartment. Even though it felt too soon, he wanted him to move in…but not yet. It could wait a bit longer, he mused as his felt his boyfriend’s fingers tracing along his spine.

Yeah.

It could wait a bit longer.

[lanalosty0uu]

Will there be a second part for Take a chance with me?

Take A Chance With Me II

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

part i | part ii | part iii

summary: why can't you for once, disregard the world and run to what you know is real? take a chance with me, Steve Harrington.

a/n: hey anon! i've also been thinking about part ii cz I CAN'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGIN' WITH THE STEVE HARRINGTON!!!! also cause I LOVE NIKI SOOOO BAADDDD (i missed her buzz tour on feb, so sad :< ) so here it is!

general master list

inspired by the song:

══════════════════════

The next day at school, the air between you and Steve felt different — heavier, like the almost-moment from the night before was still lingering, waiting for one of you to finally acknowledge it. But you didn’t. Neither of you did.

Instead, you fell into your usual rhythm — teasing him at his locker, sharing fries in the cafeteria, pretending like nothing had changed. But it had changed. You could feel it every time his eyes lingered on you a second too long, every time your shoulders brushed and he didn’t move away.

You were walking down the hallway after last period when Steve nudged your arm with his elbow. “So, you doing anything after school?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon,” he said, grinning. “I owe you a milkshake, remember?”

Your heart did that stupid flip thing again, but you kept your cool. “Took you long enough, Harrington,” you teased. “I was starting to think you forgot.”

“As if I’d forget a date with you,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your breath caught, and his words hung in the air between you — heavy, loaded. But just like always, neither of you acknowledged it.

He drove you to Benny’s Diner, a little outside of Hawkins, far enough that no one from school would be around. It was quieter than the usual places you hung out, with cracked leather booths and a jukebox that only half-worked. The air smelled like fries and vanilla, and the lights overhead were dim and warm.

You slid into the booth across from him, your knees brushing his under the table. Neither of you moved away.

“Two chocolate shakes?” the waitress asked when she came by, not even bothering with a menu.

You raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Do we give off strong ‘chocolate shake’ energy or something?”

He grinned. “Guess we’re predictable.”

The shakes arrived in tall glasses, whipped cream piled high, and you took a slow sip through your straw, watching him over the rim. His hair was a little messy from the drive, and the golden light from the diner windows made his eyes look warmer than usual.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking this is a date,” he teased, his voice soft but playful.

You didn’t look away. “And what if it was?”

He froze for a second — just a second — his eyes flicking to yours like he wasn’t sure if you were serious. But before he could say anything, you kicked him lightly under the table, breaking the tension.

“Relax, Romeo. You’re not that lucky.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re the worst.”

“You love it,” you shot back, grinning.

And maybe he did.

But then the conversation shifted — easy, familiar. You talked about school, about the people you both loved to hate, about the future. The milkshakes disappeared slowly, and at some point, you ended up sharing a plate of fries, his fingers brushing yours when you both reached for the same one.

“Okay, serious question,” he said, wiping salt off his fingers with a napkin. “If you could be anywhere — right now — where would you go?”

You thought about it, tapping your straw against your glass. “Maybe… the beach. Somewhere warm. Just laying in the sand, listening to the waves.”

He smiled. “Good answer.”

“What about you?”

He was quiet for a second, his eyes flicking to yours. “Here’s pretty good.”

Your heart stumbled.

But before you could respond, the waitress came back with the check, and the moment slipped away. Again.

Later, when you were walking back to his car, his hand brushed against yours. And for the briefest second, you thought he might take it.

But he didn’t.

And you didn’t reach for his either.

══════════════════════

The push and pull between you and Steve had reached the point where it was starting to drive you a little insane — and the worst part was that you weren’t even sure if he realized it.

It had been building slowly, over weeks and months, in the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long and the way his hand brushed against yours without pulling away. In the lazy way he called you babe like it was second nature, like it didn’t mean anything — even when you knew it did. At least for you. And every time you thought maybe you were imagining it, maybe you were reading into something that wasn’t really there, he’d go and do something like tuck your hair behind your ear or pull you just a little closer when you walked side by side — and you’d be right back at square one.

The worst part was how easy it was to fall into it — the teasing, the lingering touches, the endless back and forth. But the longer it went on, the more you wanted something real. Something that didn’t always stop at almost.

And moments like this weren’t helping.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon when you found yourself in his room, trying to help him study for his history test — a test you were 100% sure he was going to fail if he kept looking at you like that. The room was a mess of papers and notebooks, the bed covered in open textbooks and half-finished worksheets. Sunlight poured through the curtains, making everything warm and golden, and you sat cross-legged on the carpet with flashcards in your lap while Steve lay on his stomach next to you.

Or at least, that’s how it started. Because somewhere along the line, his focus drifted. And now, instead of looking at the flashcards, he was looking at you — his chin propped in his hand, his brown eyes soft and warm and way too distracting.

“You’re not even trying,” you accused, tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper at his head.

He batted it away without flinching, that lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “I am trying,” he said. “It’s just hard to concentrate when my tutor’s so cute.”

Your heart skipped a beat — but you kept your cool, because this was how it worked between you and Steve. Teasing and flirting and getting dangerously close to something real before pulling back at the last second. You were getting kind of tired of it, but you weren’t about to let him know that.

“Flattery’s not gonna help you pass this test, Harrington,” you warned, holding up a flashcard. “Now focus. Who was the first president to live in the White House?”

Steve squinted at you, like he was actually thinking about it. And then, with absolute confidence, he said, “Abraham Lincoln.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Steve.”

“What?” He grinned wider, completely unfazed.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, flopping backward onto the carpet. “You’re hopeless. I’m quitting. You’re on your own.”

“Don’t quit on me, babe,” he said, and your stomach flipped at the ease with which he said it. “I need you. Without you, I’ll fail, and then I’ll never graduate, and I’ll be stuck working at Family Video until I’m, like, seventy-five. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

“You’re already basically stuck there,” you teased, turning your head to look at him — and that was a mistake, because the way the sunlight caught his hair and the softness in his eyes made your chest ache.

“Exactly,” he said, his voice softer now. “So you wouldn’t just abandon me, right?”

Before you could answer, he shifted — leaning in closer until his face was just inches from yours. The teasing faded, replaced by something quieter and heavier. Your breath caught, and his eyes flicked down to your mouth — just for a second.

And for once, you thought… maybe…

But then he sighed and rolled onto his back next to you, one arm thrown over his face. “I’m gonna fail this test so hard,” he groaned.

Just like that, the moment slipped away. Again.

The silence stretched between you — charged and unspoken. You pushed yourself up, hands trembling a little as you reached for the flashcards. “You wouldn’t fail if you actually tried,” you said lightly, trying to cover up the way your heart was still racing. “C’mon, Harrington. Get it together. Next question.”

But when you glanced over, you saw the way his eyes lingered on you — like maybe he was waiting for you to say something else.

Neither of you did.

Later, when studying had long since been abandoned and you were both lying on his bed, your legs tangled together as one of his mixtapes played softly in the background, Steve spoke again — his voice quieter than the music.

“Do you ever think about… what comes next?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

You turned your head toward him. “Next?”

“Yeah. After all this. After high school.”

You swallowed, your throat tight. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just… feel kind of stuck. Like I’m waiting for something, but I don’t even know what I’m waiting for.”

Your chest ached. “Maybe you’re not waiting,” you said softly. “Maybe it’s already here, and you just… haven’t noticed yet.”

Steve turned his head toward you, his eyes meeting yours — and for one long, breathless second, you thought maybe this time… maybe finally…

But then his eyes dropped, and he smiled that same soft, tired smile. “Maybe,” he said.

And it wasn’t enough.

The next day at school, the air between you felt different.

It wasn’t anything obvious — no big declarations, no sudden change. But it was there in the way his hand brushed yours a little longer than necessary when he passed you something in class. In the way his knee pressed against yours under the cafeteria table and didn’t move. In the way his eyes softened when he saw you waiting at his locker.

But still, he didn’t say anything. And you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it.

After the last bell rang, you were walking down the hallway when Steve nudged your arm with his elbow. “You doing anything after school?” he asked, his voice casual.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? You finally gonna take me on that milkshake date you owe me?”

He smirked — but there was something gentler in his eyes this time. “I was thinking more like a drive,” he said. “I… kinda just wanna get outta here for a while.”

Your heart flipped. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound casual even though your pulse was pounding. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The drive took you out of Hawkins — past the places you knew and into quiet back roads lined with trees. The sun dipped lower, painting the windshield in streaks of gold and orange, and the radio played soft and low. You didn’t talk much, but the silence between you was comfortable. Safe.

Eventually, Steve pulled over by an empty field where the grass stretched out endlessly under the sunset sky. You stepped out of the car, arms crossed as a warm breeze tugged at your hair.

“This is nice,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed — and when you turned toward him, the way he was looking at you made your breath catch. His face was soft and open in a way you didn’t see often, and it made something ache inside you.

“Steve…” you started — and maybe this time, maybe finally…

But then he smiled — that same soft, sad smile — and said, “Thanks. For being here.”

And just like that, the almost slipped away.

Again.

══════════════════════

The next few days passed in that same maddening rhythm — the push and pull, the teasing and the softness, the lingering looks that always stopped just short of something real. And maybe it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve said something by now. But every time you worked up the nerve, he’d flash that easy smile and call you “babe” like it was nothing, and you’d get scared. Scared that maybe it really was nothing. Scared of losing what you had — even if it was slowly driving you insane.

So you stayed silent. And you kept reaching for him in all the little ways you could, hoping that maybe one day, he’d finally reach back.

It was late afternoon when Robin cornered you at your locker, her arms crossed and a knowing glint in her eye. “So. You and Steve,” she said, dragging out the words like she was savoring them.

You blinked at her, feigning innocence. “What about me and Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just the fact that you two have been making eyes at each other for weeks now, and yet, shockingly, nothing’s happened.” She arched an eyebrow. “You know he likes you, right?”

Your heart stumbled, but you kept your voice even. “We’re friends, Robin.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” she shot back. “Come on, babe, I see the way he looks at you. Everyone does.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your books into your bag. “Even if he did like me — which he doesn’t — Steve Harrington has a type, and it’s not me.”

Robin scoffed. “You’re right. He definitely doesn’t like funny, smart, beautiful girls who put up with his nonsense. Totally not his type at all.”

“Robin—”

“Just saying.” She raised her hands in surrender, a smirk playing on her lips. “You guys are killing me. Someone’s gotta make a move before I lose my mind.”

Before you could answer, a warm arm slung around your shoulders — and there was that familiar scent of Steve’s cologne, the one that always made your stomach flip. “What’s up, ladies?” he asked, his voice easy and warm as he leaned into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Nothing,” Robin said, the picture of innocence — but the glint in her eye told you she wasn’t done meddling. “So. Party tonight?”

You blinked. “Party?”

“Tommy’s throwing something,” Steve said, his thumb brushing against your shoulder absentmindedly. “You should come.”

You hesitated — because parties weren’t really your thing. But then Steve’s eyes softened, his voice dropping just a little. “Come with me?”

And just like that, you were helpless.

The party was loud and chaotic — the kind of thing you usually avoided, full of people you didn’t really care about and music so loud it shook the walls. But Steve had promised fun and free beer, and despite your better judgment, you’d agreed.

You stuck close to him at first, nursing a drink while he chatted with people you barely knew. But eventually, you’d drifted away, ending up on the back porch with Robin while the two of you mocked the questionable music choices and people-watched through the sliding glass door.

It was fine — until you spotted him across the room, talking to one of the cheerleaders. She was all perfect hair and perfect teeth and that effortless confidence you never quite managed to fake. And even though you knew — you knew — he wasn’t yours, the ache in your chest told you it didn’t really matter.

“Jealous?” Robin teased, and you glared at her, but the heat in your face gave you away.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but your eyes drifted back to him anyway — and God, why did it hurt so much?

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, watching from a distance like some kind of idiot, but then — like he felt you looking — his eyes flicked up. And the second his gaze met yours, the conversation he was having ended. He made his way toward you without hesitation, and when his hand found the small of your back, it was like your whole body tuned into him.

“Dance with me,” he said — low and warm and close enough that his breath brushed your ear.

Your heart stuttered. “Steve—”

But you didn’t get a chance to argue before he was already pulling you toward the living room, where the thump of the music rattled through your chest. The crowd shifted around you, and then his hands were on your waist, steady and warm, and the whole room faded.

You looped your arms around his neck because you didn’t know what else to do, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

“You looked like you needed saving,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple.

“From what?” you asked, trying to sound unaffected even though your skin burned everywhere he touched.

“From having no fun,” he teased — but his voice was softer now, his fingers tightening just slightly on your waist. “And from Robin. She looked ready to start some drama.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “She lives for drama.”

“She’s gonna start some if you don’t put her out of her misery,” he said. “Pretty sure she’s betting on us or something.”

Your stomach flipped. “Us?”

He spun you suddenly, pulling you back in close when you turned to face him — so close that your chest brushed his. The air shifted, thick and charged, and when he looked at you, it wasn’t teasing anymore.

“What about you?” he asked, his voice low. “You live for anything?”

You wanted to say it — you. You wanted to tell him that you lived for his laughter and his touch and the way he looked at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. But you didn’t, because you were too scared of what would happen if you did.

Instead, you smiled like your heart wasn’t breaking. “I live for milkshakes and good music,” you said lightly.

He grinned — but his fingers flexed against your waist, like maybe he knew you weren’t telling the whole truth. “Guess I better keep buying you milkshakes then.”

And maybe you imagined it — the way his eyes flicked down to your lips, the way his head dipped just a little closer. Maybe this time… maybe—

But then someone bumped into you, jostling you out of his arms. And the moment shattered.

Again.

You steadied yourself, your heart pounding, and when you looked back up at him, the softness in his face was already slipping away — hidden behind that same easy, untouchable smile.

“Wanna get outta here?” he asked — and even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything, you nodded.

Because you weren’t ready to stop reaching for him.

The words hung there — heavy and unspoken — as Steve’s hand dropped from your face. The warmth of his touch faded too fast, leaving behind a cold ache that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to grab his hand, pull him back, make him stay in that moment with you just a little longer. But you didn’t. Because that was the way it always went with the two of you — almost, but never quite.

So you followed him out of the car without a word, the cool night air hitting your skin like a wake-up call. Steve was already a few steps ahead, his hands in his pockets as he walked toward the edge of the lookout. The lights of Hawkins twinkled far below, but you barely saw them. Your eyes were on him. They were always on him.

He stopped at the edge of the hill, staring out at the view, and for a second, the quiet stretched too long. It felt like there were a million things you could say — a million things you wanted to say — but none of them felt safe. So you settled for the thing that felt easiest.

“This was a good idea,” you said softly, stepping up beside him. “It’s… peaceful.”

Steve smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “Kinda needed to get away for a bit.”

“From what?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Everything, I guess.” He kicked at a loose rock with the toe of his sneaker, watching it tumble down the hill. “You ever feel like you don’t know what you’re doing? Like everyone else has a plan and you’re just… stuck?”

Your throat tightened. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “All the time.”

He looked at you then — really looked at you — and the way his eyes softened made your heart ache. “You never seem stuck,” he said. “You always seem like you’ve got it together.”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, I’m just really good at faking it.”

He smiled at that — a real one this time — but the space between you still felt so fragile. So you took a breath and forced yourself to say the thing that had been sitting in your chest for weeks. “Steve… why did you ask me to come with you tonight?”

He blinked, startled by the question. “I… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to be with you.” His voice softened on the last part, and your heart skipped so hard it hurt.

“Just as friends?” you asked, and you hated how small your voice sounded.

He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched too long, and when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. “We’re good at being friends, right?”

And that — that almost broke you. Because that wasn’t an answer. That was him avoiding it again, stepping back just when you thought he might finally reach for you.

“Yeah,” you said, and your voice was tight. “We’re great at being friends.”

The words tasted like regret.

For a minute, neither of you spoke. The wind tugged at your hair, and somewhere far off, an owl hooted into the night. You thought maybe that was it — maybe the night would end like this, another almost added to the growing pile.

But then Steve said your name — soft and careful — and when you turned to look at him, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to work up the nerve to say whatever it was he was thinking. But before he could, his hand dropped and his face closed off again. “Never mind.”

“Steve.” Your voice was sharper than you meant it to be, but you couldn’t help it. You were tired — tired of the back and forth, tired of the waiting. “What is it?”

He shook his head, his eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s nothing.”

And that — that was the moment you almost broke. Because it wasn’t nothing. It had never been nothing. And if he wasn’t going to say it, you didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending you didn’t feel it, too.

But instead of pushing, you just swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Okay.”

The quiet stretched again, and then — like he couldn’t stand the tension anymore — Steve reached for your hand. His fingers laced through yours so easily, so naturally, like they belonged there. And your heart did a dangerous little flip because this — this was what kept you holding on.

“Is this nothing, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He froze. You felt it — the way his grip on your hand tightened just a little, the way his breathing changed. But when he finally spoke, his voice was too soft. Too careful.

“I don’t know,” he said.

And that? That almost did break you.

You pulled your hand away, and the loss of his warmth was instant and awful. “I can’t keep doing this, Steve.”

He blinked, surprised. “Doing what?”

“This.” You gestured between you. “The almosts. The waiting. You keep getting so close, and then you pull away, and I—” You broke off, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how much longer I can pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

The look on his face — the shock, the guilt — almost made you regret saying it. But you couldn’t keep holding it in. Not anymore.

“Do you even want me?” you asked, and your voice cracked on the last word. “Or am I just something you keep around because it’s easy?”

“Of course I want you,” he said, and the words were out before he could stop them. But then — like always — he pulled back. “I just… I don’t wanna screw this up, okay? I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You’re gonna lose me anyway if you keep doing this,” you said quietly. And the worst part was, you weren’t sure if it was a threat or the truth.

The silence that followed was deafening.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, even though it didn’t help. “Take me home, Steve.”

He didn’t argue.

The drive back was quiet — the kind of quiet that felt heavy and final. And when he pulled up in front of your house, he didn’t make a move to stop you when you opened the door.

But just before you stepped out, his voice stopped you.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he said again, and this time, his voice broke on it.

You turned back, your heart splintering in your chest. “Then take a chance on me, Steve. Because I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

And then you got out of the car, closing the door behind you before he could say anything else.

This time, you weren’t sure if he’d follow.

a/n: ouch, okay, i might've leave y'all hangin' right there BUT DONT WORRY i'll be making a part iii of it <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

what did you think about wiege miss raven …

It was cute 🥰

BRO 💀 LUKA IS SO HOPELESSLY IN LOVE AND DOWN BAD FOR HYUNA… He’s smiling like a kid in a candy store and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush when a GUN is pointed at his head??? Wanting to run to her and embrace her anyway, with zero regard for his own situation or how she might react negatively to him??? Kissing her missing poster (even though kissing isn’t really a thing in their society?) He’s literally SO mentally ill and obsessed with her… This is toxic and codependent het, I KNOW IT IS 👁️👄👁️

The song this time was admittedly not my favorite, honestly (its tone is sort of haunting)—but I love what it represents… A pure lullaby, holding all the hope for a peaceful and happy future. It’s probably one of the few songs Luka ever sang without intent to manipulate or harm his duet partner.

I loved seeing more gaps in the story being filled in!! Mizi after being rescued and Hyuna trying to calm her down, Hyunwoo’s presence in general, Hyuna competing in Alien Stage, Luka and the other children in Anakt Garden… Ooogh, and those flashes to an alternate universe where everyone is alive, well, and involved in their passions… Luka and Hyuna with their matching rings (not sure if they’re promise bands, engagement rings, or wedding rings)?? It was nice but I feel like I might not be as invested in their relationship if that AU lacks the ✨ spice ✨ of being enemies.

LITTLE LUKA WAS SO PRECIOUS BUT ALSO SUCH A LONER LOSER OTL Laying his head against her… Him sitting under that tree alone and huddled up, counting his fingers to pass the time… Hyuna casually joining him… The pure joy that brings him… Hyuna going in for what seems to be a hug, only for the scene to cut to her body slumping on his AFTER BEING SHOT WHILE PROTECTING HIM 💀 That was absolutely FOUL…

TILL, MY BELOVED SON… He didn’t show up a lot this song, but I loved seeing him having so much freedom and creativity. Spray painting, drawing, just acting like a Normal Human Being and not constantly lashing out and being violently subdued 💦 I always feel like I’ve been punched in the gut myself when he’s harmed. Poor guy… He deserves all the happiness in the world.

dhjsvajFagfDah DONmT yhINK i FORgoT MIZI eiThER. Girliepop is fr going through it??? Still having trauma visions of Sua… LOSING HYUNA NOW… and now she’s left with that fucker whose ass she beat in a fit of rage 😭 which does NOT bode well. THE MURDER IN MIzi’S EYES AT THE ENd, HOLY ShIT. I am half expecting the next installment to just be her wailing on Luka, maybe blaming him for what happened to Hyuna and still holding a grudge for using Sua’s death in such a despicable way.

Hyuna’s final words to Luka were so 👌 It wasn’t too long, it wasn’t too short… It was the perfect length and it conveyed everything she needed to tell him. How important he truly is to her, how she hates him because she loves him; he is and always was her one and only weakness, how all she wishes in her final moments is for Luka to live life to its fullest—even the ugly bits. That he should forgive himself and love himself no matter what…

“Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself… Again and again, endlessly. Because everything… begins from there.”

P.S. I feel like I definitely got lost on some parts of the story 😅 I wasn’t sure how to interpret that scene where Luka was covered in blood and there were a bunch of his dead clones (?) in tanks?? Is the implication supposed to be that the aliens were trying to make the perfect performer and the Luka we know now is the ideal test tube baby…? I see his hand on what appears to be a control panel of some kind?? So did he accidentally kill the clones?? And I’m not sure why the random gunman tried to shoot Luka. Isn’t Hyuna the leader of the resistance? Why didn’t she command them to stop? Why did she throw herself in harm’s way instead? Was it a spur of the moment or adrenaline fueled move? Did the gunman really dislike Luka or what he represents + want to kill him so badly they disregarded orders to let him go?

P.P.S. Sorry to Ivan fans… I do not have much to remark on other than the opinion I have always held, which is “Man has killer eyelashes.”

P.P.P.S. I actually didn’t cry! 👍 vxjsneksksk I live for angst like this, so I was eating it all up like a bag of chips.

Really looking forward to seeing where things will go from here on out! The resistance is lacking a leader now; will Mizi step up?! What’s going to happen to Luka, is he going to be taken as a hostage and slowly come around to join the resistance? How are the aliens going to retaliate? Will the competitor even continue at this rate? So many interesting questions!

[ducktracy]

Do you think a lot of classic animation from the Golden Age is considered low-stimulant? There are a lot of long shots and the color pallete is not as saturated but just the right balance of Technicolor.

FAAAAAAAAAAAAAR FROM IT, MY GOODNESS!!! Bob Clampett is my all time favorite director and cartoonist for a reason, and that's because his shorts--especially within his peak--stimulate and perfectly keep up to pace with my ADHD riddled brain!! Frank Tashlin too!! and Popeye cartoons!! and many Tom and Jerry cartoons!! all of my favorites in animation are largely because they're brash, bold, fast, exciting, stimulating and just plain crazy

i don't think the issue is that golden age cartoons aren't stimulating, but i think animation today is WAAAAAY OVERstimulating. i'm generalizing, of course, but it feels like there is HARDLY ever room for characters to breathe. characters are constantly talking, and they're constantly telling, not showing. there are way too many cuts, hardly any time for anything to breathe. anytime a character moves, it's a cut! i truly think that cartoons have gotten more and more condensed that it makes golden age cartoons seem "slow" in comparison, but that is absolutely untrue. cartoons in the golden age are often more thoughtful and less trigger happy to spoonfeed the audience every bit of information. there's so much more consideration for balance--if everything is a high, nothing is. even Bob Clampett, so renowned for the energy and insanity of his cartoons, is on record as saying such. i don't mean to sound "OLD GOOD NEW BAD", i highly disagree, and i know i'm generalizing, but i've had maaaany conversations about this in my line of work. in fact, my director once told me that he notices i put in little pauses and beats "as if waiting for an audience to laugh", because that's how these golden age cartoons were timed and accounted for and i've accidentally absorbed their pacing through how much i love 'em! so i find myself having to trim a lot of fat--often for good reason, but i do miss the thoughtfulness of GAC pacing. not that shorts aren't paced thoughtfully today, but, yknow.

many of my favorite cartoons of all times are the ones that are so stimulating that they make my heart pound by the end. i genuinely judge how much i enjoy a cartoon by how similarly it mimics my experience to watching Baby Bottleneck for the first time, in which i genuinely thought i was having a heart attack and was genuinely upset and anxious. nothing nothing nothing low stimulant about this

Frank Tashlin was so ahead of the curve in regards to this, too. in fact i sometimes think he cuts between scenes TOO quickly!! but a gag like this, it seems tame now but the sort of speed and manipulation and abstraction of it all... very ahead of its time for 1936 Warners. there's a similar gag from this short i've been meaning to post for a long time with how impressed i am for its kind of impossible streamlining, very much like this--a visual gag that puts drawings first instead of real thought and physics. it's quaint now, but pretty dang transformative.

some more fast Tashlin for you, and this is his early stuff!! you really have to take in for account the speed and domesticity of what his contemporaries were churning out at the same time. i dare say he even had Tex Avery beat at this point in time

as for the lack of saturation, i think that's partially owed to certain restorations bungling up the colors (depending on what you're watching a restoration of), as well as just.. common sense. people like Maurice Noble go into very meticulous detail discussing the reasoning behind the colors and values and contrast--if everything is saturated, nothing is, and it's just going to make your eyes bleed out of your skull. instead, it's best to be strategic, which is why we have stuff like Daffy wearing his garish yellow and white suit in My Little Duckaroo and Nasty Canasta in pink, as they spend much of the cartoon inside an environment with deliberately dull, neutral colors, casting more attention to them. i actually analyzed and broke down the short while i was reading Noble's book, and it was very illuminating to discover the certain color choices and how remarkably thought out they are:

also.. just watch any Tex Avery MGM cartoon!!

or any cartoon with Jim Tyer's animation!

and here are some of my favorite Adrenaline Inducing Clips that i have on hand

WHEW. I DID NOT MEAN TO GO OFF AS LONG AS I DID HAHA but i just love talking about this stuff! so, no, i don't at all think golden age cartoons are low stimulant. i think we are too HIGH stimulant, and that's again coming from my ADHD riddled self who thrives on fast and loud and flashy and stimulating! Daffy Duck isn't my favorite fictional character of all time for no reason!

[agenderduck]

It deeply upsets me that there aren’t a lot of analysis posts off of Lesley, at least ones that don’t completely mischaracterize her. Often times Lesley is watered down to just being “Yellow’s Mom” by the fandom and nothing else. Lesley is tragic. She is not motherly, she’s a prisoner. A prisoner in a prison partially of her own design, but a prisoner nonetheless. matpat, and the david theory in general has rotted people’s brains. It’s fine to have an interpretation of a character, I could care less, but it’s an entirely different thing all together to completely miss the point of a character. Watching the line “you’re one of my favorites….” be brushed aside for what is otherwise a completely unserious line is infuriating. There’s no actual proof that Lesley is Yellow’s mother outside of theories. When she says “you’re not my real son” In my eyes, it’s more so in the way that she is the creator, and he is her creation, not that Lesley is actually an author, she just thinks she is. The trio represent parts of her, almost everything they do is by her hands. They’re miserable because Lesley is miserable. She believes herself to be an author, a creator, but she doesn’t hold any real power, just a small amount. Yellow didn’t scale the staircase on his own, everything was meticulously laid out by Lesley. Because, the truth is, he represents a part of Lesley that she has long since forgotten, the part of her that genuinely wants to change, to progress instead of regress. By giving yellow his batteries and bringing him up stairs, she is checking that she is still alive. That there is still that small part of her that can change.

But, as previously stated, she doesn’t have any real power, and she has no interest in truly changing. She has strings of her own, she can’t change even if she wanted to. Lesley has a tendency of setting up scenarios where the puppets are given a false sense of control. She does it with red in transport, and she does it again in electricity with yellow. In her mind she’s teaching them, teaching them that things cannot stray outside of what she has laid out for them. It’s her own twisted way of helping. Yellow, unlike red, possesses a genuine ability to question things and a natural curiosity. Lesley knows this. That’s precisely why his batteries are denied from him, unless Lesley hands them to him on a silver platter when convenient. Yellow has to pay the price of being constantly disoriented, to be in a constant state of confusion because if he isn’t then that would entail Lesley addressing what is pulling on her strings. The batteries are a threat to this cycle, hence why Lesley gifts him a book of false knowledge. A book of nothing. A red herring. She knows where that book is going, straight into the shredder as it always does. Where it should be. Because ever so slightly out of shot at the end of her room sits a door that creaks open every once in a while and she dare not question it. A door that she ignores as she continues on playing her piano as she always does. As it should be. No questions to be had. Just the keys of a piano echoing emptily in a dilapidated dollhouse, and the ghost of an artist who lost herself eons ago.

[astrids2th]

Crimson Roses

Rose the hat x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you daringly venture into the cursed woods on a challenge from your "friends", you never expect to encounter the supernatural. In a turn of events, you find yourself getting pursued by a clan of what you assumed to be vampires. And just as you're about to meet a grim fate, Rose, a hatted steam vampire, decides to spare your life and brings you back to her "camp" instead.

Warnings: Smut, lots of the stuff, making out, violence, blood, biting (romantic biting of course), manipulation, cursing and yelling, Rose generally being mean, !Minors DNI! !Men DNI! I probably missed some, so please let me know!

A/N: Thank you everyone for voting on my poll! This fic had the most votes so of course, here you go <3 Since everyone was able to vote on my pole, don't forget to vote at the European elections coming up soon as well!! love you <33

Word count: 5k (half of it is sexy stuff so don't panic)

☆═━┈┈━═☆

(Whole sections written in cursive means flashbacks.)

The sun had long since dipped behind the horizon, hiding behind the tall treetops, and leaving you enveloped in deep darkness and wild shrubbery. The sounds of your own ragged breathing echoed through the trees, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. They were right behind you; you could practically feel them breathing down your neck. This was a game to them but to you it was survival. Wind and twigs slapped against your cheeks harshly as you ran, and you could almost feel as one of the creatures caught up to your side in their chase, their eyes on you with not an ounce of exhaustion, no panting, no sweating, none of those natural reactions which you yourself was displaying. Just… Just amusement. Some of her messy and half braided hair covered her face, but she was still recognisable enough that you could easily make out which one of them it was.

☠︎

“Come on, just go in. You’re not scared, are you?” Your friend teased you as he continued to push his palms into your back, trying to get you to pass across the unclear edge defining pavement from the thick forest. You grinned back at the taller boy pushing you, Jonathan, turning to grab his shirt in an attempt to drag him in as well, but your other friends amusedly stopped you. It was a childish game that you were all engaging in which Jonathan had proposed, and he had dared you to go and explore the deep forest which by many had been described as cursed in some way. Your other friends, Oscar, Leo, and Ruby were immediately in on the game and agreed full heartedly that you were going first out of all of them.

“I’m not scared, who do you take me for,” You laughed and swatted Jonathan away and taking a couple steps back into the forest with a smile while looking back at him. “I’ve just read enough books to know going into dark forests at night usually doesn’t end well.” Your hand went out to swat at him again and he shook his head with a laugh. “You read too many books,” He replied, and dodged your playful attack. “And you read none at all.” You quickly shot back. He rolled his eyes at your teasing and reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone which he handed to you.

“Get to the lake on the other side of the forest, take a picture, and come back and show it to us. Prove that you’re not a pussy,” he dared you, and you sceptically took the phone from his hand, a light smirk tugging at your lips. “Fine,” you agreed and stepped backwards into the forest while looking at him. “But when I get back you promise you have to buy me lunch tomorrow. Whatever I want. Deal?” You shouted back at him as you slowly backed in between the lush, green leaves, feeling twigs tickle your bared arms. “Deal,” he shouted back, prompting you to smile and turn around with a laugh, beginning to walk hastily across the crunchy ground. You wanted to get through the forest and to the lake as fast as possible, both to prove your friends wrong and prove a point, but also because you just wanted to get home and to your bed.

☠︎

The woman reached out and grabbed your arm before swinging a booted foot into the back of your knee, making you crumble to the ground with surprise and pain. The crunchy leaves took most of the blow, but no amount of cushioning could conceal the hard, dirt ground which you hit you anyway, and it didn’t buffer the amount of fear which you felt either. You felt yourself panting in a mix of exhaustion and fear as you were shoved around and onto your back, and pushed down on the ground a bit harsher. Your eyes met hers. Your own fearful, fearful but still human eyes met her cruelly glowing eyes which pierced your soul with glee.

“Well, hi there,” the woman mused, and a sadistic looking grin slowly pulled at her pink lips, revealing her teeth in a toothy and hungry smile. Your own eyes were flitting between every feature on her face fearfully and wide eyed, trying to figure out who or what this woman was. The way her eyes had glowed was surreal, but her entire appearance was oddly human and strangely… attractive… attractive in a serial killer kind of way. You shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts; you knew that very well and you clenched your fists trying to restrain your own feelings. And you desperately tried to find excuses. Stokholm Syndrome? Jesus fucking Christ, she wasn’t even holding you captive. Hormones? Hormones. Definitely.

“Snooping around, are we?” The woman chuckled and pinned you down to the leafy and dirt covered ground, the back of your head hurting at the impact, but that pain was overshadowed quickly as she grabbed your arms harder and dug in her nails, piercing your skin, and making you gasp and throw back your head. All words that you’d previously wanted to exclaim were quickly discarded and replaced by a string of courses. “Oh, such language,” the sadistic woman mused, clearly finding joy in your pain. And you swore you could see her eyes shortly flitting across your body as she inflicted that torture upon you. You could hear shuffling around you and a distant murmur as someone else neared you. You didn’t even dare to look who it was, all you could think about right now was the different ways in which this woman could probably kill you.

☠︎

The route through the forest was second nature to you as you walked. You had been at the lake many a time before, the place was a popular spot for adolescent teens like yourself to drink in peace without having to care for adults swarming around you. It was practically blocked off from anybody who hadn’t explicitly been given the directions since there wasn’t any marked path. There were trees, and small rugged shore marked by shiny rocks and a couple tree stumps, sourced from trees that had once stood there but had been thrown around and broken down by the storms which often dragged through their small city and left those trees laying on the ground, now serving as stools for you and your friends.

So, as you absentmindedly made your way through the thick forest, playing around with Jonathan’s phone and taking pictures of yourself on your route towards the lake, you never noticed the eyes which observed you attentively, nor the voices which gradually grew in volume as you got closer to your desire destination. It was only when a strobe of light surprised you that you finally came to a halt and lowered the phone. And now you were met with the cylinder-shaped streaks of light which moved around, originating from some aggressive flashlights most likely being wielded by strangers in the forest. It caused you to come to a halt and furrow your eyebrows, taking a careful step forward and squinting to get a better look. Your eyes weren’t accustomed to the sudden onslaught of bright light sources, and it took you a moment before you could pick out any specific sentences.

“Crow get the shovels. We can’t leave the kid laying out here like this,” A voice sighed, a female voice. The choice of words made you raise an eyebrow and take a step closer. What was she talking about? Leave the kid laying like what? So many unanswered questions and so little answers. And besides, these people were in your spot. You were both confused and annoyed. Until you managed to look into a crack between two large tree trunks, and then all feelings prior to what you witnessed were washed away as if with the lake that these people were standing by and were now replaced with overpowering fear. A child. A child was laying on the ground in a gory mess, a pool of what you assumed to be her own blood collecting beneath her. The kid was a mess, and she wasn’t breathing, definitely not.

Above the poor kid stood two adults, a tall and slender woman with thick brown hair falling down her back, all frizzed up, probably due to what you assumed she must have done before this. What ordeal that must have gone down. She wore an ankle length patterned skirt and a... magician’s hat?... You couldn’t tell, what stuck out most to you was the glow in her eyes. White and bright, yet empty looking as she glared down at the child on the ground, an animalistic hunger in her eyes making you freeze up completely, it just didn’t look human. Far from it. The man besides her didn’t look any more human than the tall woman, he looked like some 70s hippie, his hair was wild and dark as well. He had distinctive native American features and stood only a couple inches shorter than his tall counterpart. Physically he looked imposing, his gaze just as sharp and calculating as the woman’s. Animalistic.

You saw as he passed a shovel to his counterpart, who’s hands were bloodied all the way up to her elbows. How was that much blood even possible. The woman sighed and began digging along with the man, and that’s when you finally broke free of the trance and stumbled backwards with a small gasp, however, in a short moment of reasonability, you reached up with Jonathan’s phone, and you snapped a photo.

Camera flash was on.

You hadn’t realised that.

Both the people’s heads snapped up in an instant reaction, staring in your direction. Another gasp left you and you stumbled back further before finally beginning to run desperately in the opposite direction, back towards Jonathan, back towards Oscar, Leo, and Ruby, back towards safety, you just had to keep running and running, and not trip over the roots on the ground—fuck— Never mind.

You face planted onto the ground as if you were some horror movie characters who couldn’t escape even when their life depended on it, the kind of characters you would scoff at when you were watching a movie and almost laugh when they were killed off first. Maybe you should even laugh now, this was comical. But you didn’t. Instead, you whipped your head around to look behind you and see how many people were after you. It was a lot, and at the sight of all those glowing eyes, you shouted and scrambled to your feet like some newborn deer, before running off again.

☠︎

“Does she have any steam in her?” A male voice called out and you looked up panickily. He stood above you, looking down at you with a small smirk, and as you looked around, you could suddenly see more people collecting curiously, all with the same hungry look you had seen in the eyes of the woman currently pinning you down so painfully.

“Perhaps. But I’m stuffed as it is. And I’m thinking of some other ways we could make use of this little rube,” the woman spoke in a smooth voice laced with an English or Irish sounding accent with only served to confuse you even further. The man who was stood above you was about to speak up in what you assumed to be protest.

“But Rosie-“

“No Crow, I don’t want to hear it,” the woman ordered, and the tall man, oddly enough, did as he was told. The woman whom he had referred to as Rosie, turned back to you and watched as your lips parted to speak, but it was hard to get the words past your lips and you seemed to be unable to speak a word of sense,

“Andy,” The vampiric woman once again spoke in an authoritarian voice, and a blonde, short haired girl leaned towards you.

“You want to sleep.”

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There was a deep, insistent pounding in your head when you slowly felt your eyes fluttering open. And like a little butterfly pushing it’s way out of its cocoon, you slowly regained your vision and tried to look around through the haze which you had been captured in. Without much time needing to pass, memories suddenly began pressing at the back of your head along with the headache and it all settled in a fear which began bubbling at the bottom of your stomach as you realised what had gone down. Your eyes flitted around the small room you were in with a new urgency. Small, decorated in a way which would have seemed so welcoming in any other scenario. But not now.

The space looked earthly, warm browns and greens, muted colours and burnt shades covered every surface and fabric which covered the insides, like rugs and pillows, of which there were many, all woven and decorated with fringes and patterns like stripes and shapes. It all looked homemade, and you found yourself wondering how anyone was able to get all this stuff. Furniture wise, the small room had both low-slung couches and floor cushions all around the space full of colour, a large wooden chest with carvings edged into it, and lots and lots of vintage furniture like rugs and blankets all layered, full of warmth and comfort. There were rugs on the walls as well, like tapestries amongst other wall hangings, beaded curtains over the few windows in the room, lightly obscuring your view to the outside world. And so many plants that you began wondering how all those plants were even still alive. Who watered them? You looked up and noticed a dream catcher above your head, lightly swaying in a breeze coming from an unknown place in the room. Feathers were attached to the thing, soft looking like the bed beneath you with enough pillows and blankets to supply a whole furniture store. The faint flicker of candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls around you, making the place feel even more surreal. You struggled to sit up, heart racing as the memories of the previous night flooded back to you. The chase, the terror, and the image of the tall woman standing over a lifeless child.

A wafting scent of tea hit your nose. And your head whipped around to look at the small kitchenette that you hadn’t noticed beforehand. And there she stood, tall and intimidating with that stupid and scary hat on head, half tilted off like it was entirely defying the laws of gravity. Your own breath caught in the deep part of your throat, like a lump trying to choke you, causing your eyes to widen. “You’re astonishingly unaware of your surroundings, my dear.” Her voice was calm and laced with a laugh which she didn’t let out but clearly wanted to. And she turned to look at you, holding two cups in her hands and with a broad smile on her face which reached from ear to ear. “You should really work on that. Or you might end up getting killed by some scary serial killer. I hear there’s a lot around here.” Oh, how comical. Was she joking? Foreshadowing? What was her play?

You didn’t utter a word as she sat down on the bed, pulling out a cushion to sit on, placing herself in an almost meditative position as she reached out a hand, making you flinch and sit up properly, edging back and away from her in fear that she would strike you. But she simply scoffed. She was holding a simple teacup, offering it to you. The thing was lined with faded gold paint at the rim and steam rose from the hot beverage. But defiantly, you refused to take it. What if the monster had poisoned it? Speaking of, her eyes had stopped glowing. She looked like a regular human, if not a bit behind the modern time, with her 70s like bohemian attire, matching her truck. And speaking of again, where the fuck was your phone. “Oh, I didn’t poison it, rube. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so in the forest,” she stated with a scoff and rolled her eyes, taking the cup herself and placing it on the little bedside table with a small click as the porcelain was placed on wood. “Like you did that little girl. Who was that?” You suddenly croaked out in a hoarse voice. The state of your vocal cords made you wonder how long you had been sleeping for. “Just a simple rube child, Y/N. We needed to eat.” She reached out to touch you. And your eyes widened.

They say there is 4 different types of responses to fear. Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. But as you now sat there on the bed in your own fear, soft cushions a juxtaposition to the true terror which you felt physically running down your back, you felt like there had to be a fifth one too. After all, there were five senses, five fingers on a hand, five stages of grief, and wild Roses who usually carried five petals. And right now, the kind of fear you were experiences, was rage.

“Eat. That was a child, you fucking cannibal!” You shouted loudly and quickly pushed away her hand forcefully and getting off the bed onto your unstable legs. Like shaky twigs they shook as you stood up, but your entire body was rushing with so much adrenaline you could barely feel the pain. “And how do you know my name!? Why did you bring me here, are you gonna eat me too!? What Is happening, who and what are you!?” Your voice cracked as some of that deep rooted fear revealed itself through all that anger. Fiercely, you turned your body towards her and looked on with wide, angry eyes. You were expecting her to get angry as well and rush you, give you the same treatment she had given that little girl, but that was far from the truth. Instead, the woman put down her tea, corrected her hat, and with a cold look stood up as well, looking at you with almost amusement. And affection.

“No, no, no, Y/N. I’m not going to eat you. I’m simply… keeping you safe here.” She assured you with a calm demeanour, like she had all the time and patience in the world. Soundlessly, she edged closer to you, one step feeling and looking like ten steps. And you were backed up into a corner. Like a mouse and cat. You narrowed your eyes, your breathing rapid, chest rising and falling quickly. Hers seemed to not rise or fall at all. “Safe. What do you mean, safe from what? With cannibalistic creatures like you around, nobody is safe! You never told me what you were!” You shouted back and pressed yourself back against a wall as much as you possibly could. This time, the creature grabbed your face roughly, making you cry out in shock. “I’m not a what, I’m a who. I’m Rose the Hat, and it is not me you should be fearing. There are creatures out there who actually want to hurt you and I am not one of them. Yet. So, I demand that you calm yourself, human and for once just listen.” Her voice was firm and her gaze hard and cold and even though you were definitely only more enraged by her commanding around, you were now too stunned to protest, which clearly satisfied her as you could see a smile now pulling at her pretty- no- just lips. Her lips.

“And yes, I know your name. I know many things about you.” Rose spoke calmly and softly, stepping closer with each word and pressing herself against you, making your face heat up, and caused you to lose all trail of thought that you initially had collected in spite of her provocativeness. Yeah. None of that anymore. No thoughts. “I for example know that it was your puny little friends who lured you into the forest. How strange… Do you really think that’s something good friends would do, Y/N? I think maybe they wanted they gone…” Her voice was intoxicating, boring in through your ears and straight into your brain where her words took residence and pressed on. You shook your head while looking at her. “No. No don’t say that, we were just having fun. Stop it.” Her grip softened around your cheeks, and she smiled. “Y/N, those are the people I want to protect you from. All the bad people who want to hurt you.” She soothed and chuckled as she saw your confused and panicked expression. She was right, good friends wouldn’t do that. But they weren’t bad people, and surely, they would never want to get rid of you… was Rose right?... No. She killed a child. She ate a child.

“Just let me show you…” Rose murmured, and she leaned in to gently kiss your neck. You gasped and your hands shot up to grab her shoulders and push her off, but she simply pressed you more firmly against the wall. And as you felt the soft tickling feeling start reaching up your neck, a small whimper left your lips and while you were still grabbing onto her shoulders hard enough to bruise Rose, you stopped pushing. And she took it as a sign to keep going. Harder. More passionately. Her lips made contact with your sensitive skin, and you could hear her kissing it, sighing in contentment. You took a deep breath, mind swirling with questions and doubts. But as you felt Rose's lips, heard her sighs, and thought about her affectionate words, there was a spark of something unexpected inside you. Maybe, just maybe, you could believe in the vampire's promise.

“Get on the bed, rube.” You felt Rose demanding against your neck, and she forced herself off you, and you looked at her with hesitance. Hesitance that Rose didn’t care about. And she gripped your hips, and with strength that you most definitely didn’t expect from the tall and delicate looking woman, pulled you over to the bed you had both been sitting on before. She shoved you back against the soft cushions, and it felt like you were being consumed by a soft cluster of clouds. And with a sigh, you gave in and closed your eyes, letting your head fall back into the pillows in resignation, allowing Rose full access to your already bruised neck. You had initially resisted the tempest vampire and resisted her pull, but she tugged at your heart with such unparalleled ease, it was impossible to not just give in. And Rose’s abyss welcomed you gladly, letting you fall into her embrace as she slowly got more and more bold with you, nipping, and biting at your skin even in spite of her promise not to hurt you. But you no longer cared to confront her. You grabbed the back of her head, messing up her already frizzy hair with your hands and setting her hat askew. At that, you felt her smile into your skin and chuckled, placing both her hands on either side of your body. And with one hand, she grabbed your face, making you open your eyes again, to see her face approaching yours with no warning.

The kiss was rough and passionate as her lips met yours, and it took you a moment of recovery before you reciprocated. Letting your eyes flutter closed again as you kissed the mouth which had probably sucked out the souls of a million humas like you. But at the moment, all you could think about was just Rose herself, and how she felt against you, how her hands and slender fingers trailed up and down your body. It was like she swallowed you whole, body and soul, leaving no ounce of logic behind. You, once sure of your own morals and values, felt yourself unravel before Rose. And Rose pulled her face away from yours, only to travel down your body while you looked down at her and her tipped hat. You let out a whine and bit your bottom lip, reaching down to desperately try and unbutton your own pants while she simply chuckled at your attempts, gazing up at your flushed face while she leaned down towards the bottom hem of shirt. She took it between her teeth and then moved up your body, pulling the shirt up along with her, biting down on the fabric your pants were slipped off and discarded on the floor besides the large bed, and she let go of the shirt which was no longer covering your smooth belly.

“You look pathetic like this, Y/N,” Rose taunted with a smirk, and reached a hand down to grab your heat through your panties, making you jolt and gasp.

“I know...” You whimpered in reply and nodded while slipping your hands beneath her shirt, grabbing her waist, and digging your nails in.

“I could do anything to you in this state,” Rose proclaimed, like she was some high and mighty personality. Which… In a way she was. You nodded again and reached around and into her pants with one arm, the other one slipping around her waist to hold her. The hand in her pants grabbed at her ass, making her smile down at you and moan.

“I know,” you repeated in an airy tone.

And Rose crashed her lips into yours once again, making you whine and throw your head back. Her fingers slipped past the band of your white underwear, pulling them down with her nimble fingers while you kissed her roughly. She bit your bottom lip while her hand now gripped you again, not through your panties, and you moaned, parting your lips, and letting her shove her tongue down your throat. You sucked it gladly, making her moan as well, the sound bringing you great pride. You made her feel good. And that made you proud, even though it shouldn’t. Her fingers quickly found your entrance and all the wetness which had collected there. It caused you to buck your hips in desperation, seeking her touch with a loud moan. But she quickly used her other hand to push down your hips while chuckling against your lips. In between kisses, she managed to speak while she gently ran her fingertips up and down your pussy, barely touching it. It made you gasp and whine in complaint. “You’re so impatient, darling. Relax… Just relax…” She shushed with amusement and grinned while she continued to tease you while leaning in for kiss after kiss. “Just touch me, for god’s sake,” you groaned and nipped her tongue to tease back while using the hand in her jeans to slowly push her pants down and over her ass, exposing it to you while the arm around her waist pulled her closer. She laughed and pressed her fingers against your clit, not pushing in, but just… Just so close. “Oh honey, gods not here,” Rose mused and then pushed in two fingers at a time. You arched your back and dug you fingers into her ass cheek while she brought up a leg to press a knee into your side, her hand beginning to pump into you at an ungodly pace.

She continued to kiss you deeply, tilting her head and swallowing every moan while you jolted with every thrust, all of which came in quick, brutal succession. And it only got faster, while you made more and more sounds, one more pornographic than the other as they came. And Rose took great pleasure in hearing it and feeling the pleasure on you, radiating off your body as it ripped through you. All through your body, like electric shocks, pulling at your strings and leaving you tearful, not thinking of anything and anyone but Rose. Not even the horrors you had witnessed earlier, not the chase, and not the friends that Rose had promised she would protect you from. Just Rose. Just pleasure. She pulled away from your mouth and eagerly moved your face down, free hand coming up to unclasp your bra, tossing it across the room with a scoff, before latching on to your pink and puckered nipple. The move made you scream at the feeling and dig your nails into her skin, scratching it while she sucked and bit. Your eyes were squeezed closed, lips parted swollen and red, your eyebrows furrowed, forming an almost straight line across your face.

And then she flipped you around without difficulty, making you gasp as you were suddenly atop her, panting with her fingers still inside you and your hand still on her ass, slowly slipping beneath her panties. She looked at you, smiling mischievously, and pulled off her hat to place it on your messy hair. “Ride my fingers, princess,” she commanded. And you did as told, leaning your face down to bury it in her neck while your hips began moving up and down. First slowly, but as the pressure in your belly slowly began returning and the pleasure began egging you on, climbing up your body, your pace increased. Your hips began frantically moving, up and down, again and again, your eyes closing again as you began biting Rose’s neck, just wanting to feel and hold onto her in any way possible. And she moaned in unison with you. You sounded desperate and frenzied, your hips starting to move more and more erratically, thrown into disorder as your belly coiled and turned. “Rose, I’m close!” You almost pleaded with her, and she leaned her head back with a contented smile, contented with her success. She snaked a hand around your hips, and helped guide them as she could feel your movements growing sloppy and uncontrolled. “Do it… Cum on my fingers, princess,” she told you, digging her nails into your hips as she helped you bounce on her fingers.

The world crashed down on you, all around you, like a tornado sucking you into it’s insanity. Everything just felt intense, like you could feel the heat of the sun directly on your body, burning you up your skin. You could see it, all the stars. And your eyes rolled back into your head, back arching like a cat as you released on Rose’ slender fingers. She grabbed you roughly and pulled you close, moaning at the sight of you, completely blissed out, quivering and panting, a mess above her. “Oh, good girl… good girl,” Rose praised in a breathy tone pulling your head towards her own and kissing your cheek, her hat tipping off your head as you slowly came back to reality. Slowly but surely. And you look at Rose with exhaustion, causing the vampire to smile. “Oh no, honey. I’m far from done with you,” she chuckled, and you looked at her again, pupils dilating yet again as Rose gently pushed at your head and spread her legs, guiding your face down towards her own heat which had gotten considerably wet at the sight of you and your ecstasy.

☆═━┈┈━═☆

Another A/N lol: Thank you so much for reading, please comment any suggestions and improvements I could make! I've run into a bit of a writers block currently, but I promise I'll still be coming out with fics as regularly as possible <3 Sending requests and suggestions would definitely help and be much appreciated! Anyways, have an amazing night/day wherever you are.

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[2demondogs]

Hey! If you are still accepting requests, could you possibly do some Charles and Lenny friendship headcanons or one shot? An underrated duo

I am :D This was fun to write! A true "we are not enemies but I don't fw your vibes" to "excuse me Charles did not want pickles on his burger" arc.

Everyone does the LENNYYY joke but anytime I read his name I can only hear this one lyric I misheard as "KENNY!" from I Know You're Fucking Someone Else. (Worst discovery ever: it's "hickey.")

Their horses were friends first. Taima can chill with the best of them, and Maggie is much more reserved than her owner. They drift off now and then from the others to eat grass together. And ain't that darnedest thing? Charles thinks Taima is a decent judge of character, and that how well a man takes care of his horse says a lot about him. Otherwise, he'd probably not have entertained Lenny for very long.

It is a struggle to get to know one another. That first wall is always the toughest to tear a hole in with someone as reserved as Charles, so Lenny doesn't stop trying. He sees how the man gets along with Arthur and John, and he wants at least a hello out of him now and then, too. He also prefers to be on good terms with people, and he suspects Charles despises him for some reason he can't grasp. Unfortunately, he just kinda looks like he hates everyone. (Charles also isn't too fond of him, but that's besides the point.)

After the first genuine conversation, things get smoother. It was pure luck catching Charles on a chatty day — meaning he nodded a greeting instead of ignoring him — in which everything seemed to be going wrong within camp. Though he usually remains optimistic and lighthearted, Lenny's serious side is much more Charles' speed. They have a good talk about where things are going and where they've been, why exactly Miss Grimshaw is like that, why Swanson is like that, and where all the money in the world seems to go.

They're more like brothers than friends, and Lenny's age shows often, if you ask Charles. Every time they speak, he's shooting down some big idea or fighting for his life to understand a joke. It's tiring, but, well... it's Lenny. He isn't sure how or when he got to the point of dismissing things as that's just Lenny, but he's starting to feel a little protective of him. Worse, sometimes he feels proud to see him pulling off the stunts he does for the gang.

Lenny's youth does show, truthfully. Fresh off his teenage years, he's done believing that he has his head sorted out. Usually, he ends up talking to Hosea about worries like his future. Charles' general, on-the-surface apathy (read: fear) towards that big question is put in jeopardy any time the subject comes up, whether it's because something's happened or just an occasional nineteen-year-old crisis. After a few awkward trail offs, he finally admits he doesn't know what the Hell he's doing either, and Lenny feels infinitely better that he's not the only one. Without realizing it, he'd started looking up to Charles. Which, of course, he's going to balance out by poking him with a proverbial stick later. Or maybe a real one.

The first time Lenny goes hunting with Charles, the rest of their respect for one another falls into place. He pays attention and does it well, which shocks Charles a little despite his increasingly positive opinions of him. He's a fast learner, and he actually gives a damn about listening to him despite all the teasing he does day-to-day. Lenny finds himself enjoying getting more than a few sentences out of Charles, especially over a skill he takes pride in.

[moonsaver]

can i request for platonic dr ratio with reader who’s very clumsy and their like a magical girl like sayaka and madoka? (it can be yandere or not, i just dont want my request to make you uncomfortable so you choose if it’s going to be yandere or not) their goal is to stop witches and stop them corrupting the world (im sorry but i long forgot shout madoka magica) but

Dr ratio is just like worried seeing reader so clumsy and easily distracted in the battle field so he had to take matters into his own hands

(i want it you to make it a headcanon! im also not sure if the reader should be a child reader or not and im not sure if you allow child reader😭 IM SO SORRY SORRRRRRYYYYYY FOR WASTING UR TIME IM SORRY

Hello anon! Unfortunately despite Madoka Magica being on my watchlist, I have yet to actually watch the series and I'm not very familiar with the mechanics of the magical girl in that world specifically. I have read a small summary into the series and I think I've gotten a bit of a grasp, but this is more generally targeted to magical girls instead of madoka magica magical girls. And I do not write platonic yandere characters for who Im assuming is kind of a child, since it's a magical girl and not woman.

Anyways, this idea is kind of fun! This is more of a crack-fic then, i guess?

Dr Ratio strikes so many poses, I mean.. have you seen those statues of him? He's definitely suggesting you a few poses subtly during your magical girl transformation.

Claims himself as your mentor, telling you how to transition more smoothly in your magical girl transformation, making sure your wand is in excellent working condition, and if possible, makes the effort to increase it's efficiency.

Your clumsiness however is absolutely disdainful to him, he's always shouting in your ear how you're stupidly tripping up on the thousands of ribbons that were haphazardly placed on your frilly outfit, telling you to use your brain with the large bow on it.

He's pulling your ear, cheek, and smacking your head upside down whenever you trip up or miss an important shot at a witch or monster of any sort.

At some point i just imagine he borrows your wand, goes through his own magical girl transformation and fights in your stead. Gives you a thorough dressing down after the fight is over, telling you to learn some basic principles and– ugh, you know what? Just follow him and let him teach you.

If you're not exhausted from battling and trying to not kill yourself with your own wand, you will be after his class on magical girl properties and how to be the best one or something, bits of physics thrown here and there to help you with your fighting senses.

He will not tolerate you getting distracted too easily. If you so much as take your eyes off of your target for something stupid, you'll be conked by a large chalk piece aimed at you before your enemy even lays a hand on you.

Dr Ratio isn't someone who intends to step in frequently – he wants you to learn how to become better instead of relying on him.

At the end of the day, he sighs, and pats your head, giving you 5 points for your fortitude, and to follow him along for your next lesson.

[thankyouforthememoriesworld]

Hey friend,

I cooled off a bit because I really was just mad at that game. Like fuming. This was a winnable game and again, UConn loses. If you look at the shot map and specifically the misses, it really tells the story for this game because if you look at the stats, you would think UConn won (and it annoys me that Geno pointed that out in postgame). UConn had more points from turnovers and fast breaks but they were neck and neck in the paint.

The shot map shows how much UConn missed inside the arc. Like all things considered, they weren't hitting their threes and we weren't hitting our easy buckets in the paint. I'm going to color the goods in green and bads in red (apologies to the color blind folks).

Remember in my pregame I said - I want Sarah in the paint, Paige in the middle, Azzi at the arc.

We we sorta got like halfway there except shots weren't falling for some.

PSA all got three fouls with P and A getting them early. Tennessee chose to attack Azzi because they knew the upside was either they get a bucket or they foul out the best three point threat (not that it mattered since she barely had any looks from there). I honestly don't know why Geno didn't sub her earlier then instead of for 5 minutes in the 4th. This isn't the first time Azzi was in foul trouble. She had 3 in the Texas game too.

Geno played Azzi for far fewer minutes than I predicted because of the three fouls but still played Paige for the expected minutes. I personally think those 5 minutes less cost us at least a few looks beyond the arc. Did we gain anything before she checked in? UConn was 9-8 in those first 5 minutes without her and 13-13 with her on the floor. Did it make THAT much of a difference to take her out for the first 5 minutes? We needed to make up 5 points in the start of the 4th. The first play run should have been a three for Azzi. Instead we had one of the last plays run as a three for her.

Geno has to build PSA's chemistry, otherwise there is no shot. PSA (really PA) underperformed because typically I expect them to get about 65% of the points in a game like this and they got 55% of the points.

A number of these turnovers from Sarah and Azzi is a lack of chemistry in general. All three of Azzi's came in the second Q along with her crazy fouls but she did have 2 steals (one that led to her 3 points). That 2Q was just weird for her but she was shaking out of it before those foul calls and it was just a momentary lapse in judgement from her and yea all my emotions were a roller coaster in those moments because you could see that three lit something in her.

One of Sarah's five turnovers was at the end of the third Q where the play was there to set Azzi up for three in the corner and she would have made it but instead I think Sarah charged? I had been waiting for that play for so long and it ended in a mistake. The one at the end of the 4th from Sarah was an overpass to Paige - maybe due to exhaustion or pressure idk. Just unfortunate timing.

Free Throws (13/14 UConn vs 9/15 Tenn)

Maybe the only positive was that UConn did well at the line

In the paint (21/42 UConn vs 21/31 Tenn)

UConn had 11 more chances in the paint. Some of these are probably rebounds attempts but I still think there are 6 points in there to win a game.

The most daunting for me wasn't Azzi or Paige (both were bad) but Jana because of the stat that doesn't show up - the number of times they passed her the ball inside the paint and she didn't even attempt and just wasted of time and a possession. I think Geno needs to just stop trying at this point. She's not moving well offensively.

Aubrey is slowly coming back and thank god because she looked so good. Sure she had one shot blocked but everything else she was doing off the bench was a breath of fresh air. If we can get Aubrey to peak by March, I'm going to feel a lot better. I mean she drew THREE fouls in 15 minutes and went 3/4 from FT. If she is ramping up 3 minutes more per game, then I expect her at least 24-25 minutes by South Carolina.

KK for me was good in some moments but also needs to stop driving into the paint with no plan. That pace of the game is something Paige is really good at and all the point guards just gotta sit down and talk about it. She did draw two fouls which was crucial.

Azzi - 1/3

Paige - 2/5

Sarah - 7/10 (this kept us in the game)

Jana - 1/4 (if you are 6'5", this should not be happening

Ash - 2/5

KK - 4/7 (good but there were a few moments where drive and kick out to three was the play)

Aubrey - 3/5 (thank god she is coming back but gosh we are going to need her)

Morgan - 1/2

Kaitlyn - 1/1

Outside of the paint but inside the arc (3/10 UConn vs 4/11 Tenn)

This is Paige's bread and butter shot and I expect her to make these. This was just not good.

Ash, for someone who LOVES this shot, you didn't even try.

I think our game changer is the midrange and I need Azzi to get hers back because in her big games, it wasn't just the three that made the difference [like sure yes it was big but], it was the middy that really made her elite because no one had an answer for it. It is the one shot she creates. I thought she was getting it back but she really hasn't until it shows up in a big game. I'll be looking at the SC and Creighton and Marquette games honestly.

Azzi - 0/2

Paige - 1/5

Sarah - 1/1

Jana - none taken

Ash - 0/1

KK - none taken

Aubrey - none taken

Morgan - none taken

Kaitlyn - 0/1

Outside of the arc (5/20 UConn vs 7/28 Tenn)

Both were 25% with Tennessee attempting 8 more shots beyond the arc. UConn allows 39.1%. attempts from three on average from their opponents and Tennessee had 40% of their shots in this game when they average around 43%. They typically make 33% of them so that is a significant drop. But even allowing Tennessee to have a look....NOT GOOD.

They made 2 more threes than UConn AND took 2 less shots overall, which is literally the difference between a win or loss here. It actually could have been far worse if they shot well.

Azzi was 50%, which is great but what is not great is only having 4 attempts. In her big games she had at least 7 to 14 looks beyond the arc. Like Texas and Louisville was 4/7, NC State was 6/14, Iowa was 4/10. I think we really missed Ice today because she does set Azzi up a few times when no one else does. Azzi's one attempt was because she stole the ball and got it back in transition. We needed more transition threes for her so I loved that she created this for herself. Her second was an actual play: Sarah setting a screen I believe and Paige assisting Azzi. A proper PSA three. Now she could have been 3/5 today but one of those looks ended up being one of Sarah's 5 turnovers, the only unfortunate part of her game. But we need more of these plays. Too many of them are going to people who aren't making the shot. I trust Azzi from three more than Azzi in the paint honestly and more than anyone from three.

Paige hit her big three when UConn needed it but she also tried a bunch that weren't great. Reminded me of her freshman year game - she was 1/6 that day.

Proud of KK honestly because she's getting that confidence and making shots when we need her to.

Ash, I expected more from you.

Azzi - 2/4

Paige - 2/6

Sarah - 0/2

Jana - none taken

Ash - 0/3

KK - 1/2

Aubrey - 0/1 (but really this was a pass to Sarah lol)

Morgan - 0/1

Kaitlyn - 0/1

Shot map: https://www.espn.com/womens-college-basketball/playbyplay/_/gameId/401713513

Will we learn from this? We haven't learned anything since December and now we are hearing that Geno knows what the issues are but clearly hasn't done anything to fix them? Big East should help them build the chemistry and practice these things but but the Big East isn't going to physically challenge them like this game. They have two Big East games to help them reset for better or worse.

That final play was good and Azzi should have made that quickly instead of trying to get a foul with it. Really though, they needed to do a three point play from the start. Azzi popping out to hit the shot quickly and Paige finding her is their bread and butter. Because again, I would have trusted that more. But also they never should have been in this position to begin with so I guess we just say c'est la vie and move on to the next.

Thank you for the report on the game 🫶🏻.

[hawkogurl]

Tell me good things about Harry so that I'll like him more.

I don't really like him for some reason, but to write good Norman & Harry one-shots/stories, I need to actually like Harry (and loving Norman but not liking his son is ridiculous). I thought you'd be a good person to ask since you're writing a fic about him and seem to like him a lot.

I mean you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but I assume, like me, you'd love to rant about your favorite character.

Have a good day!

So I’m gonna warn you in advance, I have severe insomnia and I haven’t slept in more than a day so I’m not firing on all cylinders. This is also why this is taking so damn long to write. Also none of this is necessarily directed at you specifically if I mention something. It’s probably a general observation.

While I do think it’s valid to dislike him for a lot of reasons—I think it’s valid to dislike him on the grounds of what an absolute piece of work James Franco is alone—there are some things I will posit for my son boy. It’s worth noting that one, he is seventeen years old in the first movie, he is a baby, and he dies at either 20 or 21. Additionally, most of the more overt shitty things he does are things he’s shown to have developed as a direct result of Norman, namely his treatment of MJ being an explicit result of Norman being a misogynist. And on the topic of reasons I think he’s liked, I know for a lot of people his reaction to MJ commenting on Norman, while not pretty, is just so, so real to a lot of victims of similar abuse.

While at the end of the day I do sort of think that trying to quantify morality sort of misses the point of the Raimi trilogy’s core cast. Whether or not they’re good people is less important than the fact that they are human, with human flaws and human problems who are all for the most part trying to do their best, or in cases where they actually are acting maliciously like Eddie and, not to slander your blorbo, Norman, acting maliciously for very human reasons. I think Harry is a great example of this.

And I do think Harry is a better person than he’s generally given credit for. He maintains his 616 trait of not having it in him to kill, even having a line in the novels where MJ mentions he couldn’t kill a frog in science class. He keeps a lot of the 616 core of his character when it comes to fragility and gendered tropes, having a complex relationship between traditionally female and male tropes as used in those movies. He is subversive as a male character. But that’s getting off topic, even if I could go off about that for hours. He’s more respectful of MJ’s romantic decisions than most secondary male leads in fiction, maintaining a platonic relationship with her long after they’ve broken up. Norman is a weapons manufacturer, yet Harry’s job in OSCORP has him working on accessible green energy with Otto. He’s far more loyal to Peter than people want to give him credit for, resisting his hallucinations and the revenge he’s obsessed over for two years at that point for no other reason than the fact he loves Peter. And it’s important to me that you know the original ending of the third movie didn’t have him going to help Peter after being told how Norman died but instead after seeing a shattered photo of himself, Peter and MJ. That boy cares so damn much. While poorly executed, the amnesia arc in the third movie is very important in my opinion because of what it’s meant to demonstrate. Harry isn’t a malicious or malevolent person at his core, he’s just deeply traumatized and struggling.

And I know well that all that is buried six feet deep beneath his mountains of issues, but that’s half the reason I like him. I think it’s easy to admire Peter, and he’s well written and deserves it, but I don’t think it’s any coincidence that there’s such a decent amount of affection for Harry on tumblr specifically. He’s the character with the subversive gendered tropes, the canon schizophrenic, the one I think a lot of people connect with out of this feeling he was treated unfairly. And I think it’s reassuring to see something that reminds you that no matter how much has happened, no matter how many mistakes you’ve made, it isn’t too late. You can always choose to be better.

There’s also a fantastic video essay about Harry and the stages of identity development somewhere on YouTube that I think is absolutely fantastic because that also is a massive part of his character. Along with his genuine psychological issues, his development of identity has been stunted. He’s soft spoken and tries to make himself as unobtrusive as possible in the first movie, basically molding who he is to try and please the people around him. He swings in the opposite direction in the second movie, where he’s perfectly capable of interacting like a normal human person at Peter’s birthday party, he almost deliberately paints himself as obnoxious as possible around Otto. I’ve written full posts about that before, so I’ll keep it short as the idea that he twists who he is to make himself feel safe. And feeling safe isn’t necessarily what’s actually safe for him, but often just what’s he’s used to. There’s a sense of completion to him simply deciding to go and help Peter. He’s choosing who he wants to be for himself and nothing else, choosing whose love actually matters to him.

I’m happy to talk about the guy in messages or asks upon request. Also have like 293 posts this length or longer about the dude tagged under harryposting he is so important to me. I should probably make a specific analysis tag.

[larks-birdhouse]

GENLOSS FOUNDERS CUT THOUGHTS

i want to make it so so clear i don’t want to dunk on genloss. this is my braindump and i LOVED genloss. please support young creators as they grow and improve i beg of thee

im putting this under a cut because i expect it to be long 😭

❤️ - negative

💚 - positive

💙 - neutral

💚 once again reminded how much ranboo’s acting has improved since dsmp <3

💚 AND a fantastic reminder of how great the other actors are!!!! all the deaths still hurt and the security officers did SO SO GOOD

💚 i love that hetch is more evil now. hurts even more watching hetch manipulate ran even harder up to his death

💚 ranboo has survivor’s guilt :’[ god him slowly accepting it was his fault (even though it WASNT) broke me

💚❤️ i think redubbing certain parts makes sense, but for some reason it was just really obvious during niki’s intro?? it felt so jarring

💙 ngl i paused the premiere to catch the qr code. in my defence i was about half an hour behind already :’]

❤️ GOD i wish we saw more of the carousel folks. so much time spent on setting up mousetrap, so little on them. is that in of itself a commentary? genuine question i do not know

❤️ also i am so sad we didn’t see more of austin’s “hey what the fuck is happening.” there was plenty of it but i want MORE

❤️💙 and i wish there was a little more time on ethan’s fashion show simply because it is funny

💚 the play on words with austin being the straight man is still fantastic

💚 someone else pointed this out (i’m not sure who i saw it from first but i’ll find them) but hetch near exclusively calling ranboo “hero” is such a good detail. not their name, but their character

💙 i forgot about the charlie stream! but honestly i would fully believe that is something charlie would just Do

❤️ I WANT MORE SNEEGGGGGG WHERE WAS HE

💚 the ART!! the DESIGNS of the devices!! adds so much to the story and i’m so glad they were shared. such fantastic art too!!

❤️ the create-a-creature kinda came out of nowhere, i was so confused and i wish there was a bit more buildup

💙 about hetch saying they aren’t themselves anymore: how many times can the actors get tortured and brainwashed before they stop being themselves? how much of them can be taken and replaced before it stops being them? (theseus’s ranboo)

💚 I LOVED THE SQUIGGLES ANIMATIONS!!!! SO GOOD I NEED TO FIND MORE OF THE CREATOR’S WORK

❤️ i might have missed it so correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think we had the wide shot of the hero-kill-inator or whatever and i WISH we did because it goes so hard

💚 in terms of ending changes, i loved both endings!! both so good for different reasons, and the “thank you” KILLS ME IM SO SORRY BOO I HOPE YOU CAN JOIN YOUR FRIENDS IN THE CANON AFTERLIFE

💙 actually only hell is canon. maybe heaven just Doesn’t Exist. only suffering

💚❤️ at some points i thought the gore was great and at some points i wanted MORE. all the blood seeping out from under the doors, the room they haven’t “reset” yet, the guts instead of food were all great. but i wanted more of surgery charlie’s suffering to contrast the absurdity and just generally more carnage

❤️ i also wish there was more audio gore with austin & sneeg’s deaths. the wall just kind of Stops with no indication of them being crushed and its not apparently obvious that they died

💚 gen zero preview!!! i’m so excited, wondering who will be brought in for that one

💚 hearing the echos of “just let me die” in the beginning was haunting, fantastic stuff loved it

💚 HOW DID I FORGET THE PHOTOS THAT WAS SO GOOD ARE THOSE REAL BABY RANBOO PHOTOS?? INCREDIBLE

💚 overall i quite enjoyed the founder’s cut! can’t wait to see what comes next and i’m so proud of ranboo!!

💙 what is it with media about content creator self inserts that suffer immensely with little to no comfort that draws me in so? why has this happened so many times??