#don’t feel the need to reblog this I just need a new pinned post

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Writeblr Intro 2.0

Hello again, it’s still me. I’m Tess, I’m 28 and I am an aspiring fantasy author. I finished the first draft of my new adult fantasy book, The Tomb’s Whisper, and have begun my first round of edits.

This blog will be a place to share my thoughts, ideas and inspirations as well as any great writing I come across.

You can also find me on Bluesky!

Asks/tags are always welcome :)

Current WIPs

The Forest’s Embrace (Guardians of Eternity, Book 2) DRAFTING

Plot-driven

Multiple POV

Antihero+antagonist MCs

Lots of magic, lots of creatures

Queer cast

The Tomb’s Whisper formerly The Tomb of Light (Guardians of Eternity, Book 1) EDITING

Character-driven

Multiple POV

Hero—>Antagonist

Hero—>Antihero

Magic/magical creatures

Queer cast

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Ugh, you have no idea how much I needed this,” you say as you plant the umbrella in the sand. 

“Isn’t that what you said about the old man?” Angelique scoffs and pinches your ass. 

You swat her away, “were you not just asking me to hook you up with one of his friends?” 

“Whatever. A girl’s gotta eat,” she giggles as she sits on the beach blanket and flips the lid of the cooler. “And drink.” 

She cracks open the ready-to-drink long island iced tea. You opt for a fruitier option as you settle onto the blanket across from her. You flip down your sun glasses and sigh. 

“What about the others? I know it’s an exclusive trip but I doubt it’s just us.” 

“They’re coming,” she catches a trickle along her chin with her tongue. “Now you’ve been baptized, maybe you might find a hottie around here. Let me tell you, young dick is something else.” 

“Oh and you would know,” you roll your eyes. “I mean, don’t all dicks feel the same once have so many.” 

“Shut up,” she throws sand at you. 

“Matching energy,” you hum and push in the tab of the can. 

“Did he fuck air into your head?” She chirps. “Jeez, you’re a fucking bitch now, aren’t you?” 

You just laugh at her. She’s salty over everything. She never liked not being the better of you two. You don’t think it’s really all that different than before, she just has less to tease you about. 

“Angel,” Colin’s voice ripples over the beach. Angelique sits up and squeals. You didn’t know she invited him. “Hey, baby, you look good.” 

She jumps up, leaving her can planted in the sand, and skips over to him. She sends more sand your way. You shield yourself as his entourage traipses up behind him. 

“So do you,” she pets his hairy chest as she stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Took you long enough.” 

“Had to get the party favours,” he gestures behind to the keg carried between two of his bros and the bluetooth speaker better suited to a night club. “Huh, is that who I think it is?” He glances over at you. 

“Colin,” you greet sardonically as you lean back on one arm. His eyes drift down your body. You cross your legs subtly. He’s never done that before. 

“That a new suit? Looks good on you.” 

You narrow your eyes behind the tinted lenses, “sure is.” 

“Yeah, her tits never stop. She snapped the last top like it was tooth floss,” Angelique snickers and shimmies her pert chest at him. 

“Hey, Ang,” Harley calls as she unfolds her beach towel, “who’d you fuck to get this beach house?” 

“Oh, shut up, slut,” Angelique snakes around Colin and punches Harley’s arm. The two of them could be twins; tall, slender, high tits, even the same pedicure. 

You bend your legs and sit up straight as company files in. You know them all. The typical crowd. Colin, Ryan, Trent, and Sterling, who prefers Steez. Either way, he sounds like a douche. Then Harley, her sister, Hazel, Tracy, and Kissie. 

You put aside your drink and distract yourself with the bottle sunscreen. You should put it on before the sun’s too high and you’re too tipsy. The voices garble around you as you rub the lotion into your legs. 

As you reach for the bottle, it’s scooped out of your grasp. You look up at Colin. 

“Can I get your back, kitten?” He winks. You furrow your brow and glance at Angelique. She’s groping Hazel’s tits. They look bigger, not that you took measurements. 

“Fine,” you turn and let him smear the lotion on your back. You can’t reach and trying will only have you pushing out your already oversized chest.  

His hands run up and down your back. Tendrils spread over you and you hold back a shudder. Calm down, girl. You’re not that thirsty. 

His hands slip around and suddenly scoop up your tits. You smack him and yelp as you spin away. 

“The fuck, guy?” You sneer at him. 

“I was checking if they’re real. Hazel’s aren’t.” He chuckles. 

You grimace, “Colin, you’re such a perv.” 

“Never said I wasn’t.” He stands and snaps the elastic on his trunks. “Finish that drink and I’ll be back.” 

You curl your lip and grab the can. You flip him the finger and search for your bag. You pull out your phone. Low bars. You shove it away and stare out at the water. 

“...some old guy. Grey hair and everything...” Angelique’s voice wafts over. 

“Oh,” Tracy struts up, “I heard you’re a slut now.” 

You look at her and take a drink. You shrug. “I have a lot to catch up with around you guys.” 

She giggles and sits on the end of the beach blanket, “tell us everything.” 

You look at Angelique and she smirks. She’s such a bitch. 

“It was just... you know. Whatever,” you shrug. 

Hazel and Harley sit beside Tracy and Kissie hovers behind them. 

“How old?” Harley asks. 

“I don’t know--” 

“Like fifty,” Angelique says. 

“He doesn’t look that old,” you counter. “Or fuck like it. It was like hours. I’m still tired.” 

“Hours? Sure.” Trent scoffs. “Old guy blew and rolled over to get his five o’clock nap.” 

“Fuck off,” you wave him off. Colin peers over as he turns his hat backwards. You sigh. “Here.” 

You take out your phone and search for the picture that was your background until that morning. The one of you and Bucky. You show the girls. 

“Shit, he’s fucking hot!” 

“And jacked, look, you can see his chest--” 

“Guess he worked out in prison,” you joke. 

The girls go quiet. Kissie speaks first, “prison?” 

You frown, “I don’t know. He’s got tattoos. He mentioned something. I mean who hasn’t done a night in jail?” 

“You,” Angelique accuses. 

“Drunk tank isn’t prison,” Ryan snorts. 

You shake your head, “well, he’s not in there now. And it was one night. Who the fuck cares?” 

“I didn’t know men his age came in that flavour,” Harley wiggles on her knees. 

“What are we? Chopped liver?” Colin snipes. 

“One pump chump,” Harley retorts. 

“Like you would fucking know,” he turns away. 

The girls laugh. It’s a bit ridiculous now it’s done and over with. It’s not that big of a deal. Fun, sure. Just the thought makes you want to moan but it’s not life-altering. Nope, you’re over it now. Now you can focus on more important things. 

Like getting fucking hammered and going swimming. You don’t want to think about work or your neighbour or your rent. You just want to have fun. 

👙

The sun adds to the effect of the vodka. There’s that haze around the edges of the vision, that looseness in your body. You feel good. Lighter. 

You run alongside Hazel into the tides and she squeals as the waves crash over you. You plunge under as you feel the top of your tankini slipping. You pop up over the surface and catch your chest as the straps hang down your arms. 

You giggle as you search for Hazel. She’s adjusting her bikini as she wades around. She grins at you. The other girls come crashing through. 

A shadow lands next to you. You look over as the frisbee floats on the water. You pull up the straps of your suit and fix the cups. Colin chuckles as he swipes up the disc and flings it. Trent hollers as it flies errantly through the air. 

“Hey, need some help with that,” he tugs on the straps and your chest bounces. 

You smack his stomach, “god, you’re the fucking worst.” 

“How long we’ve been dancing around each other, huh?” He plays with one strap and you nudge him away. 

“Colin, don’t start with me, alright? I’m not interested and until two hours ago, neither were you.” 

“What? I'm not ancient enough for you? How would you know if you try something... fresher?” 

“I know, okay?” You back up. “I didn’t come here for that. I’m on vacation.” 

“What else are you supposed to do on vacation?” He asks as he catches your arm. He pulls you closer. “We could find somewhere in the trees...” 

“Ew, okay, stop,” you push on his chest. 

He bends suddenly and picks you up. He plunges under with you and the water floods your throat. He brings you back up as you hack and cough, wriggling in his arms. 

“Ugh, you two, no one wants to see it so go somewhere else,” Kissie chides. 

“Yeah,” Angelique agrees and you glance over to find her glowering. 

“It’s not going to happen,” you shove on Colin until he lets you go. 

You splash down and his hand brushes your ass. You swipe him away again. You stomp through the water, fighting through the depths, and come up onto the beach. 

You need water. Three drinks was way too much. So much that you’re half-considering Colin. He’s a creep but you’re getting a bit antsy. You should’ve known vodka was a bad mix with half-naked hotties. 

You sit down on the blanket and untwist the cap of your water bottle. You chug about a quarter then wipe your mouth. Someone drops down beside you. You peer out at the water in confusion before you look over. 

Bucky sits on the other side of the blanket. The sun shines over the silver streaks in his hair as he wears all black; tee and jeans. He’s unbothered by the sweltering rays. 

“So why didn’t you mention you were going away?” He asks as he rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands together. 

“How-- what are you doing here?” 

“I don’t take too kindly to being ditched,” he looks at you, his jaw clicking. 

“Ditched? No, Bucky,” you look away. “I... I had this planned for a while, I just... forgot to say. I mean...” you pick at your lip. “Look, it was a lot of fun. You and I,” you smile at him. “But like, that’s it, right? I mean, we’re neighbours, we don’t want it to get weird. And I’m a bit young for you--” 

“I said that. I told you that,” he hisses as a lock of hair falls forward. His eyes swirl like the lake. “I begged you to back off and you said you wanted me.” 

“Bucky...” 

“No, you told me I was perfect for you.” 

“Perfect in the moment, but--” 

“This isn’t a fucking game. I’m too old for that. I spent enough time locked up that I’m well-past this bullshit,” he snarls and you wince. You’ve never seen him like this. And the mystery of how he even found you has you reeling. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear--” 

“You fucking started this. You,” his lips trembles. “I warned you. I told you to stop over and over. Don’t make me the bad guy.” He shakes his head as his eyes search the horizon. He brings his hands to his cheeks and drags them through his stubble. “Then I fucking see you out in there in the water with some fuckhead--” 

“Bucky--” 

“Let’s get one thing straight. It’s not over. Not fucking close,” he growls. He leans forward and pushes himself up. He stands over you, a blight against the bright blue sky. “I’ll be fucking watching. Understand. You have your fun but not too much.” He balls his tattooed fist. “And that boy touches you again, I’ll break every single fucking finger on his hands. Then I’ll slice his dick off.” 

You stare at him, stunned. You’re confused. Is this some hallucination? Is the sun playing tricks on you? 

“You’re fucking mine and I don’t mess around with my territory.” He grits down at you. “I’m your first, your last, your only.” He points at you. “Doll.” 

He marches away, unhindered by the sand in his thick-treaded boots. You turn to watch him and shudder. You look at the water. The rest are perfectly ignorant, splashing each other, tossing the frisbees, diving under. None of them have any idea that he’s there. You suspect if they find out, it won’t be good. 

[revelboo]

revel i really love how everything you wrote is connected to eachother in some way its actually so satisfying to read from the very first post and read from there! feels like seeing the bigger picture!

I try to connect the IDW fics or TFP fics to each other when possible, because it makes it more fun for me. This one is a bit earlier than intended, but the reblog tags for the last Jazz bit were killing me 😭

Over It Now Pt 9

IDW Jazz x Reader

• Tracking your passage through the house, his optics follow as lights come on, go out until you reach your bedroom and then the house is dark and silent, leaving him with his thoughts. With his oldest and truest companion, self loathing. Your anger spreading like poison through him as he walks to sit under that ancient pin oak in your yard near your window, head tipped back to look at the hints of stars through the leaves and trying to remember before the war. Back when his smile hadn’t been just a convenient mask to hide behind, he’d been a musician. A singer. He’d been happy then, but it’s been a long time since he was that bot. Sometimes it feels like the memory of a ghost, a life that couldn’t possibly be his. Optics shuttering behind his visor, he tries to picture the street, busy with Cybertronians going about their day. The weight of an instrument in his hands, servos dancing over chords.

• Furious with Jazz and yourself, you lay there in the dark and stare at the ceiling. Wondering why you let him get under your skin when you know the likely outcome. If everything is a game to him, then getting close or allowing him close is only going to hurt you in the end. You know that. So why does that crooked little smile keep slipping into your head? You’re angriest because of how you’d felt when he’d held you like that, safe, precious, like you mattered and it hadn’t been real. Because you’re dumb enough to play right into his little game. At first, the sound is so low you almost miss it. Something aside from the hum of the ceiling fan. Singing, the sound so achingly lonely even as the words mean nothing to you. Sliding out of bed, you limp to the window and peek out through the blinds, spotting the glow of Jazz’s visor beneath the tree, his biolights faintly limning his frame. He’s making that bittersweet sound and even if you don’t understand the language, it’s so full of yearning that it hurts.

• It’s not the sort of songs he’d sang on the streets of Iacon or Praxus, something new. Pouring all the poison in him out into the quiet night, all the things he can’t say out loud. The hurt, the loneliness, and the need for someone to see him, to see past the shiny, smiling veneer and realize that no, he’s not okay. Hasn’t been for a long time. The song sinks its claws into him, a stream of longing and grief, every word a new chain pulling him down with their weight. Because no one really sees him. They never have. Their needs forging him into this so he can do what needs to be done. No matter the cost. A good little spy smiling instead of screaming. The touch of a little hand on his ped breaks him from the song, voice faltering. And you’re right there, head down. Crying as you lean on your crutches, crying for him because he can’t and no one else will.

• You can’t stop crying, because that song is a living thing twisting inside you, all sweetness and barbed wire. This is something real, not a lie and it hurts more than a song should. Then he’s leaning forward, a servo tipping your chin up and then sliding over your cheek. “Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says voice low, big hand outstretched like he wants to pick you up, pull you into him again. But hesitating. And you grab onto his servos, letting your crutches fall as he catches you, lifts you to cradle against him, big hands tucking your little frame against the warm mesh of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to do this anymore.” Pressing your face against him, you’re not sure what he means by that. Maybe not lying. Maybe being real. But maybe you can help him figure it out.

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[widow-tarot]

PAC: Why Are They So Hot&Cold?

Do you want to support me? Reblog or tip me! - paypal.me/sadwidow

Groups: 1-2-3 4-5-6

Instruction: Think about your person while choosing a group. Do not use more than 1 group for one person. This is only for entertainment purposes.

If you don’t feel drawn to any group, this reading is not for you.

(Want to book a private reading? DM me or check the pinned post!)

Decks Used: The Mystic Dreamer Tarot, Island Time Wellness Love Oracle Cards.

PILE ONE

Cards: 3 of Cups, Judgement, 9 of Swords, 10 of Cups, Boat (Progression, Moving On, Closure Issues), The Runner rx (fear of intimacy, listening to ego), Not Today rx (not dealing, hurt, avoiding a conversation/person, boundaries).

There are too many people around to see how they behave around you. No matter if you're asking about a crush or a potential friend, they care a lot about what other people think, at least in your immediate surroundings (work/school). They don't want to be judged or they don't want their actions misunderstood by other people, maybe even you too but it connects to other people more. They're happy with how things are or at least they're... at peace with how things are. It's not like the connection between you guys is bad, it's just... like it's being kept at a distance. If you delve deeper, the connection might break and sour the work/school environment so they also are trying to avoid that. However, I do feel like they're working on fixing/changing that part of themselves. Can't promise anything will be different, it really depends on the person you're asking about. They're very much trapped in their own mind and perceptions. Very much blockage in the heart/throat chakra.

SONGS:

Door by Mitski (There is a door to me; I've never seen it; Sometimes I get closer to it; But I've never found it; A hopeless violence; I named it love)

my future by Billie Eilish (Can't you hear me?; I'm not comin' home; Do you understand?; I've changed my plans; But I know better; Than to drive you home; 'Cause you'd invite me in; And I'd be yours again)

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Phoebe Bridgers (Someday soon we all will be together; If the fates allow; Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow)

Unfinished by Noah Cyrus (Now I've got you on my mind; And I'm wonderin' tonight; If we could've been more; But we were left unfinished; I flew back to the life I knew; Left you asleep there in the hotel room; I told myself that it was for the best)

TAKE THIS HOME by DE'WAYNE, Good Charlotte (Take this crown away from me; I hold myself with no esteem; There's no joy in victory; All my heart feels is defeat)

first day of my life by gnash, Goody Grace (And so I thought I'd let you know; That these things take forever; I especially am slow; But I realize that I need you; And I wondered if I could come home)

PILE TWO

Cards: The Tower, The Chariot rx, High Priestess rx, 10 of Pentacles, The Phoenix (new phase, rekindle, growth), Love Call rx (message of love), The Runner rx (fear of intimacy, listening to ego).

At the moment I think they are going through something in their life or some major chaotic change is coming for them, hence The Tower. Honestly seems like they're in their own world, I think the hot and cold is not even on purpose, they don't even see it and if they do, they don't think it's a big deal or that it affects you. You're not at the center of their focus atm and maybe you're also a painful reminder of something as well (very specific for a selected few). They think very highly of you though. If you want them to approach you and explain their behavior, then you're gonna be gravely disappointed. They don't think they're doing something wrong or anything to hurt you so why would they feel the need to explain themselves? But they are changing, that's for sure.

SONGS:

There's Nothing Left For You by Mitski (There's nothin' left for you; Nothin' in this room; Try and go outside Nothin' waits for you; You had it once before; Not anymore; So go on to that sweetheart's door; And find a new you)

LUNCH by Billie Eilish (I could eat that girl for lunch; Yeah, she dances on my tongue; Tastes like she might be the one; And I could never get enough; I could buy her so much stuff; It's a craving, not a crush)

Christmas Song by Phoebe Bridgers (The desire for annihilation; Is as common as it is unkind; And it's hard to recognize the situation; When you're desperately trying to have a good time; You don't have to be alone to be lonesome; It's so easy to forget; The sadness comes crashing like a brick through the window)

Ready To Go by Noah Cyrus (I've lost all the words; Feels like my heart's been tied up; I wait 'til it hurts; I never can choose; I stay, we'll burn; 'Til you leave first)

Bleed Magic by I DONT KNOW BUT THEY FOUND ME (Don't want to scare you off'; Don't want to know your name; You'll never know a single thing about me; Until it's far too late)

SICK by gnash, CXLOE (Why you being so nice to me; I don't like the niceties; I wish I could make you see what I really need; I want you to make me sick; Love me out my mind)

PILE THREE

Cards: Queen of Cups, Wheel of Fortune rx, The World, 9 of Cups, The Grim Reaper (relationship is over, no second chances, grow and transform), Clock rx (need time, takes time, cycles), The Butterfly rx (relationship evolving, growth)

It's weird. It's like they enjoy spending time with you but at the same time, they know they have to cut it to a minimum because you either aren't good for them or they're trying to... leave? It's like smiling at you when you talk, having those fun convos about various topics, and laughing together but then the reality hits them and they withdraw. They think of you fondly though, but it's like they can't let themselves be swept into whatever this is with you so when the moment passes, they distance themselves again. But then, they have a good day again, they're positive again and they're starting the same thing with you. It's like they want to stay but they can't. You either aren't good for them or you can't be one that's good for them (someone else is already good for them). I assume you're asking when this person went cold again - this period will last a longer time for sure, but they have so much fondness for you at the same time.

SONGS:

Class of 2013 by Mitski (Mom, I'm tired; Can I sleep in your house tonight?; Mom, is it alright; If I stay for a year or two?)

Happier Than Ever by Billie Eilish (When I'm away from you, I'm happier than ever; Wish I could explain it better; I wish it wasn't true; Don't say it isn't fair; You clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable)

Georgia by Phoebe Bridgers (Georgia, I love your son; And when he gets older, he might be the one; And he never lies or picks up his phone; And sometimes in the pouring rain; He'll fall in the mud and get back up again)

Again by Noah Cyrus, XXXTENTACION (You just made the worst mistake; And you'll regret it, darling; 'Cause once you give and then you take; You'll only end up wanting; You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear; So tell me that you love me again)

WHAT LOVE? by I DONT KNOW HOW THEY FOUND ME (What love would get this vicious?; That's right, but never mind; This blood sometimes, holiness brings you; I think you've got a hold of me; But don't let go and I'll never set you free; You only come around when I got somebody new; You only sacrifice the things I never ask you to)

pajamas by gnash (Let's be immature and ignorant; 'Cause I don't feel like being sad; I wonder if the last generation was better; I wonder if the next one's going to hell; Am I the solution, am I the problem?; Let's stay in our pajamas; Let's not leave the house; It's been real bad lately; But I feel pretty good right now)

PILE FOUR

Cards: 4 of Pentacles rx, Knight of Swords, 4 of Cups rx, The Chariot rx, Heartbroken rx (deeply hurt, sad, feeling lost, breakup), Twin Flames (zen, balance, union, complementing each other), Healthy Choices rx (self-love, making good choices, being happier).

They know they're attached to you. It's an unhealthy mechanism they have, or maybe attaching themselves to you doesn't seem healthy. They're trying to distance themselves from you while not completely cutting you off because they can't. It's not that you are the problem here, but in their eyes, this type of dependency will ruin them, so they're trying to control it somehow. They want you in their life; they just need to digest the situation and make a plan. They're pretty stagnant right now, unable to find a way on how to move with this connection or change their codependency. For now, they're improvising.

SONGS:

Old Friend by Mitski (We nearly drowned for such a silly thing; Someone who loves me now better than you; I haven't told anyone, just like we promised; Have you?)

Lo Vas A Olvidar by Billie Eilish, ROSALIA (Tell me if you still miss me; Tell me if you still won't forgive me; Tell me if we still have something in common; Love can't be measured steadily; One day I'm a Goddess and the next day I can break)

Garden Song by Phoebe Bridgers (And when I grow up, I'm gonna look up; From my phone and see my life; I don't know how, but I'm taller; It must be something in the water; Everything's growing in our garden; You don't have to know that it's haunted)

Snow in LA by Noah Cyrus, PJ Harding (It's Christmas in California; Where the redwoods been burning for days; While the gold embers glow; The church bells are ringing on Sunset; But the preachers got nothing to say; If it turns out we all; Just weren't worth dying for)

Leave Me Alone by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME (You took the money; But the money couldn't buy a friend; Go fly a kite until you're tangled in the hanging tree; Aristocrat, tip your hat and break your mother's heart; And when the sun comes up; You'll find a brand new god)

I Wanna Feel Good by gnash, Chris James (I swear I try, I do the best that I can; To keep together when I know that I can't now; I've had it up to here with self-doubt and these second thoughts; I'm tired of pretending to be someone that I'm not)

O Little Town of Betlehem by Lily Williams (How still we see thee lie; Above thy deep and dreamless sleep; While mortals sleep, the angels keep; Their watch of wondering love)

PILE FIVE

Cards: Wheel of Fortune, Knight of Wands, Ace of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles rx, Ace of Swords, Lightning (sudden change, surprise, epiphany), Passion (insane chemistry, having fun), Coffin (Endings bring new beginnings, growth, liberation), Ascending rx (transcending obstacles, expansion, new phase).

Short answer: because they're happy. It seems like everything is going alright at the moment, so they don't need you anymore. It's selfish and very opportunistic but at the same time they haven't decided yet what to do with this connection. Do you need this connection? Is it a connection worthy of your attention and effort? It seems like you're the only one keeping it alive. I don't want to say that they're a shallow person but it seems like they're very opportunistic, using good people and then leaving them behind. You had good foundations for this connection to grow but they don't really care about growing something with you.

SONGS:

Thursday Girl by Mitski (Somebody please tell me no; It shows me what I am; I'm not happy or sad, just up or down; And always bad)

my future by Billie Eilish (Can't you hear me?; I'm not comin' home; Do you understand?; But I know better than to drive you home; 'Cause you'd invite me in; And I'd be yours again;  I'm in love with my future; And you don't know her)

Walking On a String by Phoebe Bridgers, Matt Berninger (The things you said are hanging in the middle of my mind tonight; I knew that I was dead before you touched my lonesome skin; You're never running out of ways to warm your way back in)

Oh What a Dream We Had by Michal David, Richard Marx, Billion Streams For Charity, Braison Cyrus, Lauri Ylönen, Marcelito Pomoy, Kimbra, Billy Ray Cyrus, Noah Cyrus (We held each other closer and dreamed the worst was over; a never-ending prayer to let every life be sweet; no heartache anywhere; a time for us to heal)

Mad IQs by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME (Come inside; Twist the knife; Like it's something to do; Don't you lose all your control; 'Cause you can't get into heaven; If you haven't got a soul; If you're sick or you're obscene; You can bend or you can break; But they'll replace you with machines)

feelings fade by gnash, RKCB (Don't know if I'll be fine without you; I hope I'll be alright without you; Everything's ending eventually; Best friends can become your enemies; Feelings fade when people change; I stayed the same; You played your games)

PILE SIX

Cards: 3 of Pentacles, Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups rx, Ace of Pentacles, The Phoenix (new phase, rekindle, change), Separation rx (sadness, missing you, unsure of future), Wedding Rings rx (union, wedding, eternal love).

You're still an important part of their life, but they want to move on to different stuff. They're not abandoning you, but they need to live their life too; you can't be there with them all the time. I don't know if there's any codependency or if you're really attached to this person, but I'm here to assure you that you're not being abandoned. I also think they start to feel trapped around you, like they're drowning. Give them some space. Let yourself enjoy your own presence or meet other people.

SONGS:

Cop Car by Mitski (We thought we had all night; There was no need to rush; That's when those cops came pulling up; I was too busy watching you going wild child; To be worried about going to jail; And you were so innocent, but you were stealing my heart; I fell in love in the back of a cop car)

when the party's over by Billie Eilish (Don't you know I'm no good for you?; I've learned to lose you, can't afford to; Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'; But nothin' ever stops you leavin')

Killer by Phoebe Bridgers (Sometimes I think I'm a killer; I scared you in your house; I even scared myself by talking; Can the killer in me tame the fire in you?; Oh, is there nothing left to do for us?)

For Once In My Life by Noah Cyrus (I can go where life leads me; Somewhere I know I'll be strong; For once in my life; I won't let sorrow hurt me; This is mine, you can't take it; As long as I know I have love, I can make it)

Need You Here by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME (There is no other place in this world that I'd rather be; If I can't be at home then I'll send my apologies; Can't you stay right here forever pretty please?; Where do you go when you're not home?)

leave by gnash (It's all my fault if it makes things better; Blame it all on the change in the weather; I'm not saying I know how to save this; I'm just saying we've been here before; I lost my patience, made an ultimatum; Wrote it down and gave it on a piece of paper)

[deputy-videogamer]

Hello Dear, 

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to you, urgently pleading for your help. I appeal to your mercy and humanity to help us. Please don’t be surprised when I say that you, yourself, are my hope—the hope that can bring life back to me and my children. As you read this message, my family and I are hungry, thirsty, and terrified. We are homeless, depressed, and feeling hopeless. To be honest with you, I can endure famine, thirst, and homelessness, but I cannot bear the thought of watching my children die from starvation. 

I am a father of three children, striving alongside my wife to secure a decent life for them. After October 7th, our lives took a drastic turn with the onset of the cruel war on Gaza. Tragically, everything we owned was lost when our home and business were bombed and destroyed. We are now enduring a slow death, living a devastating life in Gaza. 

I am reaching out to you after exhausting all other options that could keep us alive. The basic needs of living and the harsh circumstances we are enduring have forced me to write this letter and extend a hand for help. I believe that your generosity and kindness can make a huge difference in our lives and give us the hope we so desperately need. 

In response to our dire circumstances, I have created a campaign to help my family rebuild our lives and meet our basic needs for food, water, and other essentials in these harsh conditions. My previous campaign, “tahseengaza,” was terminated, but my new campaign has been vetted by @olagaza, @90-ghost, & @northgazaupdates.  

All I ask is that you reblog the pinned post on my page and donate if you can. Your support would mean the world to us. Please consider visiting my GoFundMe page at https://www.gofundme.com/f/tahseen-family-from-gaza-not-to-feel-hungry By donating and sharing, you are helping me, my wife, and our three children survive the ravages of famine and genocide. You are giving us hope to rebuild our home and reclaim a life that was stolen from us. 

I would also greatly appreciate it if you could follow me to stay updated on our situation. I eagerly await your response and thank you in advance for your kindness and support. 

With deepest gratitude,  Tahseen 

Tahseen's campaign has made over $13,000! He is almost halfway way there to reach his goal! He just needs about $11,000 more.

Please continue to donate and share his campaign.

Vetted

[moonchild9350]

Sign the Dotted Line (Chapter Two)

Summary: Your new life as Minho's girlfriend hasn't gone as planned, but an opportunity to get closer presents itself at your first award show.

Pairing: idol Minho x fab reader

Genre: suggestive, angst (for 2 seconds)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: suggestive scene

Note: the next chapter of the series! I'm sorry y'all but I love writing about moody, angsty Minho. We start to see a little action, but bare with me. It'll be worth it I promise ;) I hope you like this chapter! If so, please comment, reblog, like, or let me know in my ask box :)

New chapters will be posted on Saturdays at 1pm CST.

Series Masterlist

If you'd like to join my taglist for the series or general taglist, please let me know! (age must be in bio or pinned to be added)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or report this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

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You couldn’t believe what just happened. This was definitely not how you imagined meeting an idol you adored, let alone your now appointed boyfriend. You felt stupid, standing there in the managers office, as tears welled up in your eyes. But before you could break down and cry, the manager walked back in. You quickly wiped your eyes and plastered a smile on your face. Despite your efforts to look unbothered, she could tell something happened. She gave you a questioning look.

“Does Minho uh, does Minho want me here?” You asked looking at the ground.

You heard her sigh before gesturing for you to sit down. You sat down as instructed, placing your hands in your lap. The woman looked at you before saying, “Minho is struggling with the idea of us appointing a girlfriend for him. The other members had no problems when we appointed them their girlfriends, but Minho on the other hand doesn’t want to umm… cooperate.”

She paused for a while before continuing, “don’t worry though, he’ll come around once he gets to know you. “ she gave you a soft smile.

You really hoped so, otherwise this was going to be miserable. The manager explained that later you would be driven to the dorms, as they had prepared a living space for you. You thanked her for the generosity.

“Will I be able to work eventually?” You asked. You didn’t want to just sit around all day if you could help it.

“Of course! As long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties it’ll be fine.” She said. “Although you may want to learn more Korean before securing a job.”

You blushed at her statement. Damn you were embarrassed.

She smiled, “don’t worry. We can help you. Felix and Chan can help too when needed.”

You nodded in understanding. That made you feel better. You were sure you’d be able to pick it up in no time.

“Are you ready to go meet the rest of the boys? They should be in the practice room. You can hang out there until it’s time to go home.”

You were nervous but knew you’d had to meet them at some point. “I’m ready,” you replied getting up from your chair. You followed her out the room and down the hall. You could hear music blaring from different rooms as different idol groups were hard at work. At the end of the hall, she stopped, gave you an encouraging smile before opening the door. You followed behind her, quickly fixing your hair.

At both of your entrance, the boys looked up, silence falling over the room. They all looked at you curiously, all except one. Minho was still glaring at you, the ever present scowl on his face. You quickly looked away, focusing on the others in the room.

“Everyone, this is y/n. She is Minho’s newly appointed company girlfriend as of today. Let’s make sure she’s welcomed please. “

There was a moment of silence before the boys erupted in cheers, rushing over to you, and chatting excitedly. It was hard to stay shy, their happiness and laughter contagious, causing you to smile and laugh with them.

“Ok, ok everyone let the girl breathe,” one of the boys said laughing. It was Chan, the leader of the group. You couldn’t believe you were meeting him in the flesh, let alone the whole group.

The blond hair boy, Felix you recognized, patted you on the back, “nice to meet you y/n.”

You smiled and said hi, nervous because you could only speak in English. The two Aussies noticed, sharing a smile. “It’s ok, y/n, we’ll help you with your Korean yeah?” Chan said.

“Thank you, I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’m a fast learner though!” You said tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. The boys cooed at you, they thought you were adorable.

While all the boys fussed over you, you couldn’t help but notice Minho standing behind the rest. He didn’t look you in the eye, his mouth in a frown, his bunny teeth showing from under his lip. Your smile slowly faded. Why was he treating you like this? He’s not even trying to get to know you. It made you sad and anxious. Was this what the next two years would be like?

Jisung noticed your sudden silence, looking from your face to Minho’s. He thinks he knows what the problem is. He made his way over to Minho, draping his arm across his shoulders saying, “Min you have this pretty girl standing in front of you who gets to be your girlfriend. Why are you standing over here?”

At that the rest of the guys looked at Minho, shock on some of their faces while others had little smirks. Jisung pushed Minho in your direction, causing Minho to trip over his feet and fall over into you. You shrieked and reached your hands out to catch him, your hands stopping him from face planting on the ground. Minho looked you in the eyes then looked away, jerking his hands out of yours.

You blushed at his actions, stepping back away from him as Minho walked away from you. The boys looked after him in confusion. There was silence throughout the room once more, which was rare for the boys as they were usually loud and rowdy. Thinking he should break the tension, Chan said, “ok kids let’s get back to it. Y/n, you can have a seat on the couch there.”

You nodded your head and took a seat as the boys went to the center of the floor to resume practice. It was a dream come true watching the boys dance. Their moves were in sync, as they moved from formation to formation. You watched in awe as they worked hard, with smiles on their faces.

As the day went on rolling into evening, you were starting to feel tired, the long flight and time change taking a toll. Thankfully, the manager came back in the practice room to grab you as the driver was ready to take you to the dorm. You got up, stretching your legs, before waving and saying goodnight to the boys, a loud chorus of “goodbye y/n!” Echoing throughout the room. You turned to follow the manager, happy at the prospect of getting to take a shower and crawl into bed.

The drive to the dorm wasn’t long, it being close to the building. You thanked the driver and made your way to the dorm that was assigned to you. Unlocking the door, you entered the little apartment, flicking the lights on. It had the bare necessities, but was void of personality. You didn’t mind though, you were just happy you had somewhere to stay for free.

You made your way to the bedroom, setting your bags on the floor before opening them up to get your sleep wear. You padded your way over to the bathroom, turning on the shower to hot. Stepping in, you sighed out in relief, excited to finally be able to relax. You definitely had a stressful day, the tension present in your neck and shoulders. You have no clue what was Minho’s problem, but you hoped it wouldn’t stay this way. It would be quite hard to be his girlfriend if he didn’t even want to be by you. Maybe he just needed time to get used to you, with you being an outsider. Yeah, that’s it. It’ll all be better in no time.

Minho was frustrated, and a little angry. Why did the company think he needed a girlfriend? Why did they always have to meddle in the group’s personal lives? Why did they pick you out of all the candidates? He understood some of the other members had company appointed girlfriends and they seemed very much in love. However, Minho could not see that happening for him. You just seemed so plain to him, nothing super special. So why did they choose you?

Deep down he knew it wasn’t fair to treat you the way he did today. But, he’s not the best at showing his emotions, often coming off as aloof and mean to those who don’t know him personally. He can’t apologize now though, it would make it seem like he cares…which he doesn’t…right?

Minho was still in the practice room with the others, as they were wrapping up for the night. The other members were nervous, he could tell, probably about his mood and today’s events. He was packing his bag when Jisung walked over and sat down next to him.

“Hyung,” Jisung hesitated, “What’s wrong? You haven’t really been yourself today.”

Minho scoffed, that was an understatement. Jisung continued, “Is it about y/n?”

Letting out a sigh, Minho stopped what he was doing and said, “no, absolutely not. I could care less about her.”

The boys froze in their spots and Hyunjin gasped really loud. “Min, how could you say that?” Felix asked in a quiet voice? “She seems really nice,” he added on.

Minho just shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how nice she is. I don’t need a girlfriend, let alone one the company picks out for me.” He went back to packing his bag, the others exchanging nervous glances with each other.

Chan stepped up before saying, “Even if it’s not what you want…at least not now, cut y/n some slack. Let her get to know you and you know her. I bet you could at least be friends. Might make the next two years more bearable yeah?”

Minho listened to his hyung. He knew Chan was right. He really should get to know you and vice versa. But, the vibe was set with him being a dick, he can’t change that now. He doesn’t think you would forgive him if he did. Minho gathered his bag, before looking up at the sea of faces in front of him.

“Can we go please, I’m exhausted and would love to go to bed soon.”

The others shook their heads and gathered their bags and made their way out the door. Today was overwhelming to say the least. Minho would have to apologize. He felt bad the more he thought about how he treated you. Tomorrow he would have to take you aside and tell you so. Everything should be fine after an apology.

The next morning, you woke up, confused at first as to where you were. But then you remembered you were in Korea, starting your new life as Minho’s girlfriend. Ugh, Minho. You let out a loud groan. You knew you had to face him again even though you didn’t want to…not today at least. Getting up, you padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The manager had given you the boy’s schedule for the week, wanting you to stick close to them for a few weeks since you were new to the country. Today, they would be working in the recording studio and practicing the routines.

Pulling your hair into a ponytail, you sat down in the living area, waiting for your ride. It didn’t take long before you got a text saying they had arrived. You locked up and made your way to the car. Opening the door, you were met with 4 other faces looking at you. You had a look of surprise on your face, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and even Minho grinning at your shock.

“Morning y/n” Jeongin said, moving his legs so you could climb in.

“Morning!” You replied making your way to your seat in the back next to…next to Minho. You let out a sigh, sitting down and placing your hands in your lap. You looked out the corner of your eye, looking to see the mood Minho was in. He didn’t look as intimidating today. His face was unreadable still, but at least there wasn’t a frown gracing his beautiful face.

“Want a coffee?” Seungmin asked, turning around in his seat to look at you.

You quickly nodded your head, graciously reaching out to grab the cup, but your arms couldn’t quite reach it. Minho sighed grabbing the cup from Seungmin and handing it to you, his fingers brushing yours in the process. You blushed at the brief contact, quickly grabbing the drink and saying “thank you.” Minho just grunted and placed his hands back in his lap ignoring you. Sighing once more, you brought the drink to your lips, taking a sip. You closed your eyes at the taste of the caffeine thinking your day may be alright now.

Pulling up to the building and the curb, Jeongin opened the door getting out followed by Seungmin. Felix gestured for you to go first as you were in the middle seat. You nodded, climbing out of the car and stood next to the maknaes. Once everyone made it out, you all trekked to the building, taking the elevator to the floor where the practice rooms were.

Opening the door, you were met with a chorus of screaming, Hyunjin and Changbin playfully arguing about something. Hyunjin was screaming while Changbin kept saying “ya!” And hitting Hyunjin’s arm. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene despite your ears hurting from the noise. The rest of the members greeted you, asking how you slept. You were happy to chat with them, feeling more comfortable with the group compared to yesterday.

After a while, Chan motioned for everyone to take their spots to begin practice. You made your way once more to the couch, plopping down, and taking another sip of your coffee. Watching them practice was just as exciting today as it was yesterday. Their banter in between songs was adorable, the boys forming cuddle piles whenever they could.

During one of their breaks, Minho came up to you, a determined look on his face. You stared at him wide eyed, not sure what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Changbin who called out to Minho, “ohhhhh Hyung is so cute with y/n.”

You felt your face flush, but that soon faded as you looked up at Minho, a murderous look on his face. He glared at you before turning away and marching back to the center of the room. What was that about you wondered. It looked as if he wanted to say something to you before he was interrupted by Changbin. You couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind.

You spend the rest of the day following the boys around, watching as they continued to practice. You were even able to sit in on a couple of recording sessions, watching as Chan Jisung, and Changbin coached the others on their parts of the songs.

You could get used to this, their kindness and sweet humor gracing your days.

Months have passed since you arrived in Korea. You have settled in nicely. You now have a job at a local coffee shop, which you love, the rhythmic feel of preparing drinks for customers soothing you, most of the time, and you loved the aroma of coffee that you were bathed in daily.

Your Korean was much better with the help of the class you took and Felix and Chan’s help. You were able to go about your daily life now without language barriers. When you weren’t at the coffee shop, you were at the building with the boys, spending time with them. You felt at home with them. You even met Chan and Hyunjin’s girlfriends Harin and Seoyun who were absolute sweet hearts. You three would hang out sometimes, becoming close friends.

The only part of your life that was not progressing was your relationship with Minho. He stopped glaring at you every time he saw your face, which was something, but other than that, he refused to acknowledge you. You had all but given up, the energy it took to interact with him was too much. The boys noticed but didn’t say anything as each time they did, Minho would chew them out.

At practice one day, the manager came in to discuss the upcoming award show. This would be your first event you were expected to attend. After speaking with the members, she pulled you aside to brief you on the occasion.

“You’ll be provided the dress, shoes, and accessories and we’ll have someone do your hair and makeup. Really the only thing you have to do is show up,” she explained.

It sounded easy enough, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. You nodded your agreement thanking her and made your way to the couch where the boys were resting. You would have been excited for this event if you were getting along with Minho, but you dreaded the upcoming event, having to fake happiness with your boyfriend. You watched as the boys got up to finish practice. You were more than ready to go home so you could relax and sleep.

The next couple of weeks went by fast, and before you knew it, the night of the event was here. You and the boys had arrived at the venue together, before one of the stylist guided you to your own dressing room. The stylists sat you down and got to work, styling your hair and doing your makeup, as you sat back and relaxed. Once done, they had you stand up and as one of the girls walked to the rack that was in the corner, she pulled out the dress that was chosen for you to wear.

The dress was beautiful, a pretty royal blue. As you slipped into the dress, you couldn’t help but admire your look in the mirror. It was a cami dress, the seam bunched at the bust. Your favorite was the little bows the stylists tied at your shoulders, the only thing holding the dress on your body. You finished off the look with some accessories. Twirling in front of the mirror to get a better look, you broke out into a smile, happy with how you looked. As you continued to admire your look, your mind couldn’t help but wonder if Minho would like the dress on you. You secretly hoped he did, wanting him to feel any emotion toward you other than disdain.

The stylists made their finishing touches, fixing stray flyaways and applying last minute lipgloss. Afterwards, you made your way into the hallway, making your way towards the boy’s dressing room. Your stylists knocked on the door first, checking to see if they were done getting ready, before opening the door wider and letting you in. As you walked into the room, eight pair of eyes were looking at you, their eyes wide and staring at your outfit.

“You look beautiful y/n,” Felix said, ever the gentlemen.

You felt your face heat up at his compliment, smoothing your dress down and saying thank you. You looked up and met Minho’s eyes. Your heart fluttered in your chest, watching as he stared at you, his eyes slowly dragging down your body before looking up into your eyes again. He cleared his throat before turning away, going back to getting ready for the award show.

You brushed off his actions, used to it by now before making your way to the couch and sitting down next to Jeongin. You chatted with the boys, laughter and giggles filling the air as they joked with each other. You loved talking with them, as they made your day better, especially now as you felt really nervous about the show. A little while later, both Harin and Seoyun joined the group, sitting down next to their respective boyfriends. You loved watching them interact with Chan and Hyunjin, as there was definitely love in the couples eyes as they chatted with each other.

You felt a pang of jealousy, wishing you could have a connection like that with Minho. You longed for the intimacy that should come with being in relationship. You felt frustrated at the lack of progress with your relationship and even more so at the fact that Minho just didn’t seem to care. You felt so worked up by the thought that you could feel tears threatening to leave your eyes. Realizing what was about to happen, you quickly dabbed at your eyes, preventing any tears from falling and ultimately ruining your makeup. You just had to fake it until you make it, accepting the fact that your relationship with Minho would probably never be docile.

Minho would look at you every so often, his eyes dragging down your body and back to your face. He had to admit, you looked damn near beautiful in that dress, your breasts perched nicely within your dress. Your neck was bared and beautiful. He just wanted to mark it with bruises, so everyone would know you were his. He wanted to have you close, wrapping his arm around you, feeling your warmth as he waited for the award show to start. Minho sat in thought, the member’s voices fading out, as he was in his own little world.

You looked happy until he looked over once more and saw you swipe at your face. Were you crying Or trying to cry? He tracked your gaze, noticing you were looking at Chan, Harin, Hyunjin and Seoyun, most likely watching their interactions with each other. He decided this needed to end, he would make amends tonight before it was time for the show to start.

Standing up, he walked over to you, and mumbled “Can you come with me?”

You stared at the man in front of you, shocked that he even spoke to you. The others were shocked as well, disbelief that Minho was talking to you. You nodded your head and got up, following Minho out the door of the dressing room and down the hall. You watched him hesitate in front of some of the doors, trying the knob and finding them locked. After trying the fifth door, it opened, so he guided you into the room.

Once inside, he just stood there and stared at you, his hand reaching up to run it through his hair before he abruptly brought it down to his side, briefly forgetting about his styled hair. He cleared his throat before looking at you.

“You look uh…you look nice,” Minho stuttered out.

You were shocked at his words and how nervous he seemed, but replied thank you anyway. It was getting awkward, the silence deafening, the only sounds heard were the occasional voices outside the door as people walked by. You both stood in place, looking anywhere but at each other. After some time you spoke up, “did you want something? I’m sure the others will want to know where we are at since the show start time is close.”

Minho finally met your eyes, his brown orbs showing slight annoyance. He made his way over to you, backing you up into the wall behind you. You had no idea what was going on and why his attitude changed suddenly. He looked you in the eyes before grabbing your chin to force you to look at him, your breath hitching in the process.

“You’re mine yeah?” He said, eyes looking at your lips before looking you in the eyes again.

You whimpered out “yes, all yours,” the actions of the last few months with him be damned.

You felt a shiver run through your body, landing at your core, as your slick gushed out into your panties. Your eyes took in every feature on his face, from his dilated pupils, to the slight rise of his eyebrow. Your eyes trailed downward, landing on his little freckle on his nose to his plush lips that were slightly parted. You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together, the ache growing stronger with each passing second.

Minho smirked at you, pleased with your answer. He was aware of his effect on you, he’s noticed since the first day he met you. He brought his face closer to yours, his breath fanning across your face. You felt yourself hold your breath, not daring to move. You had no idea what to say or do, Minho’s behavior out of the norm of what you’re used to.

Minho continued to hover his lips next to yours, barely touching them. You let out the breath you were holder as you closed your eyes, thinking he was going to kiss you. He watched you close your eyes, taking in the soft flutter of your lashes, the flush on your cheeks, until he gazed at your plush lips. It would take nothing to press his lips against yours, to see if they are as soft as they look. Snapping out of his reverie, he pulled back, dropping his hand from your face.

You opened your eyes, a look of confusion on your face. You thought Minho was going to kiss you. You felt your face flush even more in embarrassment at how eager you were to feel his lips on yours. Minho let out a giggle at his influence over you. He knew he could have you like putty in his hands.

“Let’s get back, the show is starting soon,” Minho said, walking to the door. You just stood there for a few extra seconds, your fingers reaching to touch your lips. Minho turned around to see you still standing in the same spot.

“Y/n, let’s go,” he said a little more forcefully.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his authority, the feeling once more traveling down to your core. You blinked a few times, before following Minho out the door and back to the other dressing room. Have things finally started to look up? Even though it was nothing, his actions were different from what you were used to, your mind running in a million directions as you were confused. You wondered what brought on the change, but you didn’t linger on the thought for much longer as you felt Minho’s hand on the small of your back, allowing you to enter the dressing room first. The members looked at you, smirks on their faces as you walked back to the couch to sit down.

Your mind went back to the events that just occurred. You hoped that you could sweep your differences with Minho aside because now that you have gotten a little closer to the man, you didn’t want to go back. Maybe there was hope for you two after all.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @artemisdoe @emily21morgan @athforskz @jazziwritesthings @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

[sister-lucifer]

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don’t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

reblog banners by cafekitsune

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝑻𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒓 . . .

My name is Rose. I’ve been in the fandom here on Tumblr for close to a year now. Plenty of questions come towards me every single day varying topics from the following: How do I grow my account? How do I even start writing? What should I know before posting?

In this post, I would like to address as many things as possible for new people or just people who are feeling a bit lost. IT’S OKAY. I was you too at some point! I still don’t even know how to work everything either!!!! Links for tutorials will be included as well! Thank you to @muwapsturniolo and @sturnioz for these tutorials as well because tech makes me wanna choke on light bulbs.

Making your account before posting can seem overwhelming. You have to recognize that any theme can be changed, any tags can be edited. It is not the end of the world to make a mistake! 

Let's get right into it . . .

– Tag your work correctly. If it includes smut, only tag smut. Examples of this would be “sturniolo smut” “chris sturniolo smut” and etc. Same goes for fluff and angst. Look at the way other people tag their posts to find which tags to use. 

– If you got inspiration from another post, tag the creator of that post! I promise it is NOT a bad thing. In all honesty, it helps your work do better. Most writers are flattered when you take inspiration from them RESPECTFULLY. They are way more likely to reblog, hence boosting your account and post!

– Make a pinned post for a masterlist or navigation. It is a lot easier to figure it out at the start rather than later down the road. Find masterlist tutorial here. Find a tutorial for linking tags here.

– A taglist is complicated. Tumblr isn’t always the best at making sure everyone truly gets tagged. Sometimes it is the users fault when they do not have @ mentions on in settings. The way to make sure people truly get tagged is pretty simple. You can find a tutorial here. Basically, you enter 5 users at a time, hitting enter and repeating until you reach 50 users. At that point, you will need to make a separate post for a second taglist. 

– Your theme. This is very personal. You can pick any color, designs, and pictures you want. Lots of people like to do custom fonts, others like to do custom colors for their texts. There’s an endless amount of options and you will just have to mess around but you can find tutorials for each here: COLOR / FONT / DIVIDERS

– Gaining traction is hard. You need to write well, but this doesn’t mean it should sound like a book. At the end of the day, people don’t want to google what a bunch of different words mean. Make sure that the plot is understandable from the perspective of someone just reading it. If people are confused, they will not want to read it. 

– Another point with getting more growth is being unique. People need to be interested in order to give you a chance. My first fic to get a lot of attention was “Glazed Donuts.” It was related to a recently posted video from the triplets, had an interesting title, and a unique plot. 

– More than just your work needs to be unique. Your account should feel like you, people wanna be able to tell the difference between people just by the aesthetic. Find dividers, gifs, symbols, etc. Anything that matches your vibe and is unique will peak interest! 

– Coming up with ideas can be hard for some people. You need to find what inspires you. Music, pictures, videos, anything! It’s a personal thing to figure out and at the end of the day, there’s plenty of prompts listed on Tumblr for any fandom and any fics. 

– Interact!!! People will not interact with you if you don’t feel like a real person. Most people are scared to reach out or make the first move, but it’s crucial in order to be a part of the community and for your work to actually gain more traction with reblogs and comments. Go into people’s inboxes! Comment on their posts! Get excited so they get excited with you!

Any and all questions are welcome in my inbox. I will use the [ #rose toy sturniolo tumblr ] in the hashtags of this post to answer any of these further. Simply click that # and more posts will pop up once I’ve answered more! 

[littlebvtterfly]

Yello and welcome to the Easter Eggs-change! I had such a blast doing this last year, and it helped me through a dark time, so I thought, “Why not do it again?” So here we are. I do hope you’ll enjoy another little exchange. I always love interacting with all of you this way; it makes me so happy getting to know OCs I maybe hadn’t heard much about. Anyway, I hope you’ll like this once again, and thank you for your continued trust in me.

The rules and regulations are simple, but they exist nonetheless, so here they are:

The exchange, for now, is open until April 20th. I may extend it if people are interested.

You may make 1-2 requests, but I will probably reblog it, saying you can ask for more because I always do (hehe).

Please reblog this post to spread some awareness. You can like for remembrance, but just a like doesn't count (you already know this; I know my 5 regulars who come here every time)!

As aforementioned, this is open to my regular drunks and new patrons alike, so please do not be shy. Think of me as I think of birds; I am more scared of you than you are of me.

Fill out the form linked below and find the password in the form!

Please only send me face claims with good quality and plenty of material to use. Also, no cartoon characters. Video game characters may work, depending on the animation style. I'm not trying to discriminate; it can just be really tough for me to find material for cartoons, anime, video games, etc., as I edit by making little video clips first and so on. However, if you slide in my DMs, we might be able to discuss some stuff.

Please, please, please fill out all the columns I need and choose at least two gift options. I just like to have a fallback in case one gift doesn’t work out for any reason, though I usually do post two gifts for everyone.

Remember the pleases and thank you's; pleases and thank you's make my heart grow fond.

I don't do Harry Potter or Stranger Things OCs, and while I don't have a specific list of FCs I don't use, I ask that you do not request anything for overtly problematic actors. Thank you!

I accept pretty much any gift in return: GIF edits, mood boards, playlists, story reviews, drawings/art—anything is fine. If it's a story review, please let me know in the form so I know you did, as I don't check my accounts every day. You can find my writing platforms in my pinned post.

I'm fine with gifts for any of my OCs; my master list as well as the link to my Pinterest and Spotify are in my pinned post.

Please remember that in order for me to post my gifts for you, I need to know you have given me a gift first. I don’t want to sound greedy in any form; I have just had issues with this before. I do want to make everyone who hands in a form a gift, and it hurts when I can’t. If you submitted and can’t make gifts for any reason that comes up, it’s totally fine; I will most likely do another exchange in no time.

FOR ANY OTHER QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS, FEEL FREE TO SEND ME A MESSAGE, AND I WILL TRY TO CLEAR EVERYTHING UP!

THROW YOUR NAME IN THE BASKET HERE; THE EASTER BUNNY TAKES REQUEST AT THIS ADRESS; HERE IS WHERE THE EASTER BUNNY PREPARES TO HIDE GIFTS

TAGGING: @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @nikosasaki @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @avcrymorgans @andromedalestrange @far-shores @rose-of-oz @bibaybe @come-along-pond @dancingsunflowers-ocs @justahopelessssromantic

[hazelfoureyes]

Hate mail?

A very misguided edgelord child, or very damaged and lonely adult, seems to be harassing members of the larger hazbin community (not just our HDC)!

Here’s how to respond to these my dearest GN!Does:

0)Screenshot the inbox (optional, see step .5)

1)Report them

2)Block them

0.5)Send Hazel the screenshot and exactly how you WANTED to reply and we will laugh at them and then pity them together (optional, ig, but Im a messy bitch and I love reading these really dumb messages)

In all seriousness, seeing people delete blogs or go inactive from hate mail is just… gut wrenching. Tumblr has provided me such a massively needed community and source of acceptance when I’m terribly lonely and isolated so far from home and my native tongue. I can’t imagine any of us losing that over… well, clearly a child. (If these aren’t children then they are very very pathetic adults so desperate for attention yet too unlikeable to muster kindness they have write the most uninspired hate messages. And on anon? A coward at that 😂)

Luckily, I have a terribly thick skin (scarring does that ✨)

But for the days you are vulnerable, or your skin is running thin, or the words happen to hit a chord, you’re welcome to reach out to me.

If *you* are someone who is also a safe person to turn to, feel free to sound off! Let’s circle the wagons and protect each other. 💝

Yes, they can make more accounts. But every time they have to make a new one is time they aren’t able to harass someone else.

꒰১Fallen Guardian Angel’s of the HDC List*໒꒱

People safe to reach out to when these hit you too hard or just to vent and laugh at the sender (let me know if you want to be added, always keep your mental health and peace in mind):

@fraugwinska ✧ @hazelfoureyes ✧ @zzzykiek ✧ @dewdropdinosaur ✧ @afallowedfawn

This post is linked at the top of my pinned master list if you want to see an updated list! Reblogs don’t show changes to the original post

*again, adults only added to this list. Your life is hard enough at under 18 you don’t need to be taking on the stress of adults. Feel free to start a group amongst yourselves if you really want to be someone’s safe place, but I don’t want to send stressed and possibly trauma dumping adults to a minor.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Thirty One: The Soldier, or I Fucking Love You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, smut MINORS DNI. A/N: I've officially written the final chapters of this fic 😭 Chapter 33 will be the end, and it'll be posted by 3/20. Thank you all for commenting, hearting, reblogging, following, and just generally being amazing! You've made writing this story such an incredible experience ❤️

Summary: Things get dicey for Cleo and Bucky, but what do you expect from a HYDRA submarine?

Chapter Directory

I allow myself a few moments of weakness, tears rolling down my face in grief and anger and absolute confusion, before taking a deep breath, nudging my glasses up the bridge of my nose with my shoulder, and pulling my shit together.

I can do this.

I look down at my shoulder from the corner of my eye. Sapros, the fuckwad, probably had no idea the mistake he was making in leaving the seemingly decorative shell pins on my shoulders. A grin creeps across my face beneath the duct tape, and I bring my shoulder up to my cheek, tapping on the pin with my face. 

Instantly, the sundress and cardigan I was wearing are dissolved into nothingness beneath the Sirensuit as it extends from each of my shoulders. In the process, the tape on my wrists and ankles disintegrates as well. With my now free hands, I rip the tape from my mouth, wincing as it smarts just a bit. I shake my head to dispel the feeling and tap the side of my glasses, my new helmet unfurling across my face.

The helmet is the same dark teal as my chainmail-like pants, with gold accents coming from just above the black eye coverings up and back into the hard, metal feathers. It comes to a point at either cheek, only exposing the bottom of my nose, my mouth, and chin. It incorporates the winged aspects of Greek sirens, but more importantly it serves the multi-faceted purpose of protecting my face and head, providing a Heads-Up Display, and ensuring I can see thanks to the built-in prescription lenses.

Moving quickly, I take the chair I’d been restrained on and wedge it under the door handle, hoping to buy myself a little time in case Sapros comes back. I need to get my bearings. I need to contact my team. 

“Is this thing on?” I say, feigning lightness as the HUD blinks to life. 

“Cleo!” Tony shouts, clearly wearing his own suit, and I hear the whooshing of air in the background. “Fuck, kid, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Come on, Stark, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” I reply with false confidence as I scan my surroundings. The HUD shows my location, and I bite back a gasp when I see my little blinking dot on the map - apparently in open ocean.

“We’re on our way to you now, kid, so just hang in there.”

“Who is ‘we?’”

“The usual suspects - me, Capsicle, the Hawk, and Nat.”

“Wh-what about Barnes?” I ask, unable to keep the tone of worry from my voice. I have no idea what he knows - if he’s still asleep back at Meg’s - and as much as I want to see him (need to see him), I can’t help but hope he’ll remain blissfully unaware of this fight. I don’t want him playing into Sapros’ hand by coming right back into HYDRA territory.

Tony sighs. “Well, we told him to wait for us, but…”

“But what, Stark?”

“His cell phone is still pinging in the exact same location in the English building at Culver, and even if he’d listened and was waiting…”

“He wouldn’t be staying perfectly still,” I finish. “Shit. Listen, Tony, The Philosopher is my fucking thesis advisor - Elias Sapros. He’s working with HYDRA. So I don’t know if you can reach Bucky, but he really shouldn’t be storming in here.”

Steve chimes in, likely from one of Stark's back-up jets. “We knew about the HYDRA connection, but The Philosopher being your teacher is news to us. I’m sorry, Cleo, that’s gotta be a real shock.”

“I’m less worried about the shock of my mentor being an evil villain and more concerned about Bucky running headfirst into the lion’s den, if I’m being perfectly honest,” I say, and Steve sighs in response. “But anyway,” I continue. “Does anyone know why I’m apparently in the middle of the ocean?”

“We think HYDRA has you in one of their submarines,” Nat says. “Also, when all this is over I need to hear every single detail about last night.”

“Jesus, a submari- wait, how the fuck do you know about last night?” My voice comes out squeaky.

“I know everything,” she says mysteriously. “And I may have found your best friend’s phone number and texted her.”

“Dammit, Meg,” I whisper, closing my eyes for a brief moment. “Okay, so I’m on a fucking submarine, that’s just fantastic. You got any other info for me?”

Clint sighs. “Not yet, but we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay? Just lay low and wait for us.”

Nat snorts before I can respond. “Sure, Clint, like that’s going to happen. She’s as bad as Barnes.”

I grin. “You really get me, Romanov.” Suddenly, I hear the click of footsteps approaching outside my door. “Shit, gotta go,” I whisper. “Haul ass and try to keep Barnes out of this, okay?”

I levitate myself to the ceiling and use my powers to tug the chair back into position in the middle of the floor, waiting just out of sight above the door. Sapros enters with that same, smug expression.

“Good news, Cleo, it seems our - NO!” he cries, cutting himself off.

Before he has a chance to look around the room, I drop from the ceiling onto his back, wrapping my thighs around his neck and squeezing with all my might. “You fucking prick, fall asleep quick. Your mind is blank, memory sank,” I sing, incapable of keeping the anger from my words. He falls to the floor instantaneously, and I hope my powers are strong enough to have wiped his memory as intended. I know once I leave this room, my focus will waver, so I’ve done my best to incapacitate him as permanently as possible. And if the memory loss is a little revenge for the man I… the man I love, then so be it.

Unable to stop myself, I kick his face with the heel of my boot for good measure, hearing the crunch before I see the rush of blood. “Should've kept the mask on, dumbass,” I bite, pulling him all the way into the room. I exit into the hallway and shut the door behind me, twitching a finger to lock the handle.

I move as silently as possible down the metal hallway, relying on the HUD to warn me of anyone coming my way. Pausing outside the first door I come to, the HUD scans the room through the wall, locating no heat signatures. It’s empty.

I crack the door and creep inside, finding a makeshift study. I freeze as I take the room in. The position of the desk, the mess of papers, the stacks of books - it is all achingly familiar to me. Easing the door shut behind me, I approach the desk with apprehension and pick up the first journal I see, opening to a random page. I’m greeted by painfully recognizable handwriting.

and this means, of course, that only a select few individuals will be capable of accepting the crystal. I am both worried and excited by the idea that based on these criteria, my Cleo seems to be the ideal candidate to become the Heart’s host. I can only hope, if chosen, she has the support she needs to cope with this in my absence.

I blink away a stray tear threatening to escape from the corner of my eye and flip to another random spot.

I fear what Sapros will do when he realizes the inevitable truth that he is not a suitable host for the crystal’s power. The Heart will only select an individual worthy of such responsibility, and his intentions are anything but pure. I know better than anyone, after all - I wasn’t chosen, either. All I can do is feed him just enough information to keep his anger at bay and continue my efforts to escape. I doubt Sophia will be waiting for me after all this time, but I know Cleo would never give up hope of…

I turn to the final page, dread building in my stomach.

Sapros has discovered my misdirections. He says his Weapon has disappeared, but he has other plans for me in the Soldier’s absence. I know my time is limited, but I will leave this world with peace knowing my Cleo is out there somewhere, undoubtedly continuing my fight for the truth.

I slam the journal shut, digging through the chaos to find one that looks much more worn - the oldest I can find on the desk. I open to the first page.

Just like the heroes of old, my hubris has proven to be my hamartia. The knowledge that my suspicions are correct, that HYDRA has been searching for the Heart of Atlantis all this time, is a meager consolation in light of my capture. I can only hope to find a means of escaping soon. After three months away from my family, perhaps they will be searching for me. Perhaps they will -

I flip a few pages ahead, puzzle pieces clicking together in my mind.

Though I am able to keep the most vital details from them, they threaten me with a weapon they call ‘Zimniy Soldat’ - the Winter Soldier. I have only seen glimpses of the man, but it is enough to strike fear through my heart. I will do my best to obfuscate their efforts, but I will not defy them outright.

Cleo must be nearing her eighth birthday now. I often wonder if Sophia is searching for me, or if she suspects I’ve run away like the coward I am. Regardless, I have faith that Cleo retains some amount of hope in her heart. She has always had the most resilient spirit. When I escape my captors, I -

I’ve read enough. I close the journal, bracing my palms against the desk to take a few calming breaths. 

“JARVIS, please save scans of what I just read.”

The AI sounds quiet, sympathetic when he responds. “Of course, Miss Blake.”

When I feel calm enough to continue, I exit the room, promising I’ll return to salvage whatever I can from my father’s years as HYDRA’s captive.

I slink down the hallway as silently as possible, freezing when I hear voices. I flatten myself against the wall, the HUD telling me that there are at least five people in the chamber around the curve of the hallway. Ears straining, I listen to the HYDRA operatives, hoping for a clue that will make their defeat easier.

A man is speaking in Russian, voice deep. “Dobrokatestvennyy, vozvrashcheniye na rodinu.” My blood runs cold when I hear a familiar scream interrupt the words I cannot understand.

“JARVIS, translate,” I whisper.

The final two words have an English echo, a beat behind the Russian. “Odin.” One. “Tovarnyy vagon.” Boxcar.

I have to say the translation does little to help me understand what’s happening, but my confusion is frozen when I hear the voice that was, mere hours ago, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Now, though, it sounds cold and flat - a version I have never heard before, even in my worst moments with Bucky.

“Ready to comply.”

Clearly, my HUD is still broadcasting audio to the rest of the Avengers, because my helmet is filled with Steve’s sudden, anguished cry. “NO!”

“What the hell is going on, Rogers?” Tony asks, voice sharp, and Steve sighs defeatedly.

“JARVIS, mute the com,” I whisper as Steve begins explaining something. 

“Miss Blake, are you sure? The rest of the -”

“Just fucking mute it, JARVIS,” I bite, harsher than I’ve ever been to the AI.

“Of course, Miss Blake.”

The team’s arguing voices fall silent, leaving me with the unfamiliar, almost robotic voice that’s replaced my Bucky.

I stalk down the hallway, logic out the window, fueled by rage and protective instinct. I round the corner and wordlessly pounce on the first man I see, bringing him to the ground in a crumpled heap with one well-aimed strike to the back of his neck, just as Nat taught me. 

Bucky’s eyes meet mine, but there is no recognition in them, and somehow I just know. They’ve broken him, somehow - taken him back. It isn’t Bucky I’m looking at. It’s the Winter Soldier.

“Soldat, take her out,” one of the other men shouts, and Bucky nods almost imperceptibly, eyes never wavering from mine. Head down, he stalks toward me - a weapon on a mission.

“James, please - it’s me, it’s Cleo. You don’t have to do this, this isn’t who you are,” I plead with him as he nears, hoping that somewhere in there, the man I know can hear me. One of the men laughs at my desperation, and with a single wave of my fingers I’ve crushed his windpipe. Choking, he drops to his knees, clutching at his throat as he slowly suffocates. 

I don’t care. I suppose I, too, am a weapon on a mission, and I have no time for pacifism.

The briefest flicker of confusion passes behind Bucky’s eyes, but he shakes his head and continues stalking toward me. I levitate just before he reaches me, hovering above his reach, and wave my hands at a large, wooden table in the center of the chamber. With a jerk, it flies across the room, catching two of the final three HYDRA agents and crushing them against the wall. They do not move.

The final HYDRA operative looks at me with wide eyes before scrambling to run down the hall on the opposite side of the chamber. I laugh darkly at the idea that he could escape me right now, and with a few deliberately placed tugs on the frequencies surrounding his heart, I hear him collapse just out of sight. I know he won’t be getting up again.

That taken care of, I turn my attention to Bucky, only to find him climbing a shelf to my left. With one hand, he reaches to his back, and I know he’s going for the gun he keeps holstered there. Blanching in a panic, I drop to the floor just as he reaches the top of the shelf and comes level with me. Before he can react, I dart back down the hallway I’ve just come from, leaping over the man I took down when I first entered the chamber.

Bucky sounds close on my heels as I round the corner, and I risk a glance back to see him sprinting after me, just a few paces behind. Just as I’m about to turn my gaze back to the hallway ahead, I run smack into someone, thrown off my feet and into the hard wall of the submarine’s hall.

“Cleo,” Sapros growls, flying to his feet with electricity sparking at his fingers. His nose is crooked and there’s blood on his upper lip, but it doesn’t seem to phase him. “I see you’ve met my Weapon. I do hope he’s given you a warm welcome.”

I shake my head, gathering my bearings as I climb up from the floor and crouch, halfway between the two men. “Sapros, I thought I told you to give it a rest.”

He chuckles. “So you did. Unfortunately, your grasp on the crystal’s power is woefully lacking. You see, since our last meeting , I’ve been working on… fortifying myself, one might say. I think you’ll find your little tricks to be as effective against me as they are against the Soldat. You are outmatched, my dear.”

Gaze darting between Bucky and my former mentor, I see something dark flash through Bucky’s eyes at Sapros’ words. It doesn’t last, though, before the Soldier’s mask is firmly back in place.

I press my back against the wall, mind racing through any possible escape route, but I don’t get very far before Sapros casts out a current of his powers. I try to run, but he catches me quickly, and I’m soon screaming in agony as he holds me firmly in a cocoon of electricity.

The lights in the hallway flicker at my screams, bulbs bursting in rapid succession, but Bucky isn’t even phased. Sapros winces, but otherwise remains unaffected. 

“Now,” he says, flying closer to where he has me hovering in the air. “I believe you have something of mine, and I suspect it will be easier for me to get it back once you are incapacitated.” My eyes go wide, but all I can do is bite back further screams at the pain of electrocution. The HUD in my helmet stutters and cuts out completely at the current, and the entire thing folds back up into my glasses. 

Sapros hums. “How very peculiar. I suppose I’ll take a closer look once you’re taken care of. Soldat!” he cries, and Bucky stands to attention. “Finish her.”

Bucky reaches for his gun, a menacing expression on his face, and the pulse of the crystal thumps in my chest. Time seems to slow and my mind goes blank - a single thought the only thing present in this prolonged moment.

He has to know, I think. He has to know that I love him.

I push all of my remaining determination into the crystal, screaming with all the force I can muster. The sound breaks through the cocoon of red electricity, Sapros’ eyebrows flying up in shock.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” I scream, tears streaming down my face. His movements falter briefly, long enough for me to keep going. “I fucking love you!” With those final words, I somehow manage to make a gap in Sapros’ current - enough of a pause for the kinetic energy in my Sirensilk tunic to force the power of all the electrical jolts I’ve been receiving straight into the heart of my crystal. Without even thinking, I force it back out in a wave, blasting Sapros into the wall. He connects with the metal in a sickening thunk, and he falls to the ground, eyes unseeing and his head at an unnatural angle. An unremarkable death for a man so obsessed with gaining power.

I fall, no longer held by his power, and collapse to my knees the second my feet touch the ground. That’s enough, I think briefly - if the Soldier ends me now, it’s enough to know that he’s heard me say those words and the team will be here soon to help him recover once more.

I close my eyes against the inevitable, bracing myself for the hit of the bullet, but instead I’m leveled to the ground as a body hits mine with a ridiculous amount of force.

My eyes fly open, but instead of the face of a weapon, I see Bucky - my Bucky - tackling me to the ground in a crushing hug.

“Cleo,” he whispers, voice thick, and I feel his tears on my skin as he presses his face into the crook of my neck. 

Without really even realizing it, I’m sobbing, holding onto him for dear life with all of the strength I can muster. “James, you’re - you’re you.”

He nods against my neck and pulls back, eyes searching my own. His hands grip the sides of my face tenderly, his nose centimeters from mine. “I have no idea how you did it, Cleo, but you broke it - you broke their hold on me.”

I shake my head, really not caring about HYDRA or soldiers or anything but this man and this moment. “I love you,” I say, voice cracking. “James, I love you.”

Bucky’s eyes are full of emotion as his eyebrows knit together in amusement, and he presses his forehead against mine. “I think what you said was you fucking love me.”

I smile through my tears and lean into him. “Yeah, well, I’m nothing if not consistent.” He chuckles weakly, and I pull back to examine him. “Are - are you okay?” I ask.

“Better than okay,” he says, and then neither of us say anything more because one of us moves toward the other, who really knows who, and we’re kissing right there in the hallway of a HYDRA submarine, kneeling on the hard metal floor a few feet away from the body of The Philosopher. For all the awareness I have, though, we could be anywhere on earth - my only focus is the feel of Bucky’s lips on mine, his tongue tangling desperately with my own as we anchor each other.

Safe, safe, the kiss seems to say. We’re safe. His hands remain on my face, holding me with a firm gentleness that now feels deliciously familiar. I press my own hands to his knees, running them up his legs, from his stomach to his torso, over the planes of his chest, and squeezing his shoulders in a silent inventory, ensuring every inch I can reach is intact, before entwining them in his hair.

Bucky groans at the contact, pressing more fully against me, and I tighten my hold on his hair, heat pooling in my belly in spite of our current location. He moves his metal hand to my waist, gripping tightly enough to bruise, and I moan in pleasure at the force of his grasp.

Someone clears their throat uncomfortably.

We whip apart, my fingers spreading in preparation and Bucky grabbing his gun from where he’d dropped it on the ground.

“So I take it you don’t need any backup, then.”

My fingers fall and Bucky exhales a huff of air, putting the gun back in its holster.

Tony’s helmet recedes, showing his bemused expression. “I’m just saying, you could’ve let us know before we got all dressed up.”

“The situation was uncertain until quite recently,” I sniff, and Bucky huffs a laugh. We climb to our feet, surveying our friends.

Natasha stands by Tony with her arms crossed, an ‘I knew it’ smirk on her face. Clint is almost vibrating with barely-restrained glee. And Steve -

Before I know what’s happening, Steve rushes forward, grabbing Bucky and I both in a tight hug. “I was so worried,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

He pulls back and Bucky shoots him a grin. “Come on, punk, you know I always pull it out in the end.”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “No you don’t, you jerk. Sometimes you end up missing for seventy years, so forgive me for being a little concerned.”

Bucky’s face softens and he hugs his best friend again. “Sorry, buddy. But really, I’m fine.” Steve nods as they pull apart, and Bucky grabs my hand and interlaces his fingers with mine. 

Tony rolls his eyes at us. “Oh god, if this is what we’re going to have to deal with now, we should’ve just left you down here.”

Clint punches him in the shoulder, wincing and shaking his hand out when his fist hits the solid metal of the Iron Man suit. “C’mon, Stark, it’s adorable.”

“So,” I say loudly, ignoring both men. “What are we going to do with this submarine?”

Tony waves his hand at me. “Already have it under control, Glowstick - I’ve got people coming to bring it back to one of the garages in the Tower.”

I nod. “Okay, good.” Avoiding eye contact with any of them, I look down and fiddle with Bucky’s fingers. “Because, um, there’s some stuff that… that belonged to my dad, and I’d like to be able to go through it.”

Bucky squeezes my hand, and when I look up at him, his eyes are wide. “Your dad was here?”

“Yeah, I guess all sorts of mysteries are being solved today.” I try to laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and Bucky releases my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders with a questioning look on his face. I shake my head. “Later.”

He nods, and I allow him to hold me, pressing my face into his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs in my ear. 

“Gross,” Tony coughs, and I laugh in spite of myself, grateful to him for breaking the seriousness of the moment.

When I pull back from Bucky’s chest, his arm remaining firmly around my shoulders, Steve is watching us with a satisfied expression. He nods at Bucky, and Bucky just grins back at his friend. I warm at his unrestrained joy.

“Let’s go home,” I say.

Nat nods, speaking for the first time. “Yeah, let’s. I think we have some debriefing to do.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Come on, Nat, I’m sure they’re exhausted. Can’t that wait until tomorrow?”

She looks at me with a feral glint in her eyes. “Not that kind of debrief, Clint.”

“Dammit, Meg,” I whisper, and Bucky laughs. 

“Hey, is anyone hungry? There’s this bao place I’ve been dying to try,” Tony says as we make our way to the exit.

I hum. “I could go for some bao.”

Clint nods. “Me, too!”

“I swear,” Steve shakes his head. “All you three do is eat.”

“Hey, I’ve had a busy twenty four hours,” I say, winking at Bucky. 

As we climb out of the submarine to meet the jet floating atop the water, I let my friends take the lead, chattering away. Just before we join them on the jet, I plant a quick kiss on Bucky’s lips. “I fucking love you.”

He grins widely. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

[ellesbellswrites]

The Hollow Crown

Ch. 1

A/N: So sorry for the delay in posting! Work has been crazy, but I hope this long-ish chapter makes up for it. You should read the prologue for this to make sense! Also! Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the prologue! I love to share this with you guys, and feel a little burst of energy with every like and reblog<3

Warnings: Mention of minor character death, descriptions of grief, brief mention of battle

Word Count: 4.4k

Prologue

Chapter 1.

Your bedroom has been busy since the first rays of dawn splashed across the castle. Maids and your mother all but forced you into a large bath filled with oils and perfumes, and then scrubbed your scalp until the soap ran out. You had been in bed and left alone for the last three days. Almost everyone in the castle seemingly gave you a break before the start of the festivities. The only person who didn’t follow the implicit directions was your brother, Tony. 

He burst into your room with food on the third day, opened the curtains to let the light in, and then refused to stop poking your cheeks and closed eyelids until he saw you eat something. He grinned back at your glare when you finally gave him the attention he wanted and bit into an apple, “I know you want to help everyone, but you can’t do that if you hurt yourself before you get there,” he softly knocked your bicep as he passed you an apple. 

“How wise, you sound almost like a king,” you said under your breath, picking at the loose thread of a quilt. 

“Almost. For now, I’ll settle being your brother,” he laid back eating the blueberries he said were for you. He only spent a few hours with you that morning, but managed to get you out of your bed and onto your reading nook. “Progress,” he called it.   

“My lady, does it sit well? Or is it too loose?” Clara, your lady’s maid now asks you as she tightens a thin tiara into your hair. You wince at the next pull she makes not letting out a complaint, but she catches your reflection in the mirror.

“Just like your mother, you are. If you need a gentler hand, tell me,” the plump woman loosens some of the braid and fixes a pin. She has worked with you since you were ten. She’d sit and twist your hair around silk ribbons every evening, while you spoke on and on about your day’s activities and adventures. One story cutting to another, and never ending either. 

“It was just that braid that hurt. Otherwise, my scalp feels fine,” you lie only a little. She doesn’t believe you, but before she can prod further, another voice interrupts. 

“Clara! I need your help!” Lyssa, another maid, shouts out of view and with a gasp, “Please hurry!” 

“She’s new,” Clara grumbles. Once she’s out of the room, you loosen some of the braids without messing up the work they’ve put in. Brushing out some of your hair you hear their quiet bickering in the dressing room behind you. 

“Look at what happened to the sleeve! Maybe a seamstress can come? I know how to sew too,” Lyssa rushes her whispered words.  

“Lyssa, that’s not the sleeve. It’s the neckhole,” Clara whispers back. 

“Oh thank the gods. I thought I ripped it,” you can hear the relief in her voice and it does get a chuckle out of you. After a few minutes, the young maid pops out of your dressing room with her hair a frizzy blonde mess.

“We are ready for you to get dressed!”

“How are you supposed to address her?” Clara shouts after her.  

“Oh! We are ready for you, my lady,” Lyssa says loud enough for Clara to hear. You give her an approving wink. 

“But, it’s alright, Lyssa,” you follow her, “you don’t have to call me that.”  

“She is in training, my lady,” Clara holds your clothes open for you and guides Lyssa as they help you into all of your garments. Another maid joins them with a needle and thread in hand. You feel them pulling and sewing spots of the dress your mother designed for tonight. With a few last minute adjustments and touching up your rouge, they finally let you look in a mirror. 

You’re surprised by their final product. Your eyes don’t look puffy, cheeks are rosy, and the dress hugs you perfectly. It’s the usual style of ladies in your court, loose skirts with a structured bodice. The fabric is blue like an early night sky, with accents of gold trimmings and designs. Its neckline is low, and a family necklace hangs around your neck. 

“Thank you! You’ve outdone yourselves!” you give them a small spin to show the whole outfit. Satisfied with your reaction, the young maids file out together, but Clara hesitates at the door. She watches as you fiddle with the skirt. 

It really is a gorgeous dress. The fabric is weightless and catches the air as you move. It reminds you of the waters on the beach below the castle, of your late night adventures with Tony and Theo. Your brother always found his way to the nearest tavern, but Theo? He’d show you the tide pools. The pale moon lighting up the water, with little fish and crabs darting from one rock to another. Theo always pushed his dark auburn hair back so he could identify the animals for you, but you only paid attention to the way his dimples deepened when he got to see his favorites. You want to remember the things he’d tell you, but even in your memories the waves are deafening. You suck in a breath. You seem lost, but before you tumble further down your many thoughts, Clara calls you.  

“Come now, Sweetheart, your family should be waiting,” she holds out her hand, and for the first time this week, you feel grateful to escape your room.

The halls are decorated with ropes of greenery and floral arrangements made of your country’s native flowers and fruit. The varied colors of berries and roses pop against the pale tan stones of the castle walls. The candles hardly add a glow in the evening sun, but your mother said they would be romantic. 

“No alcohol until the mingling. Prince Odinson is in attendance and he can be…boisterous,” Your mother hands off final directions to her secretaries at the large wooden entry doors.

“Remember when he tried to lift a bench with four ladies on it?” you interrupt her. She jumps and holds her hand to her chest.  

“Honey!” Her brown hair is pulled up into an elegant twist, showing off her long neck draped with a necklace of rubies. Her eyes have subtle crinkles as she smiles at you, “Clara, fantastic job again, really.”

“Did I look that horrible?” you ask in mock offense.

“Well, darling, you hadn’t seen the sun for a few days… or soap, or food, and probably a change of clothes. Oh! and—” your mother starts to rattle off a list but you stop her. 

“Okay! I get it,” you nod, “I am okay though. I promise,” you confirm even though she didn’t ask. 

“You are,”she gives you a tight hug, “I promise this evening will go quickly. You just greet and move on. Talk for a bit. Then dinner. Then bed. Nothing heavy,” she leads you into the grand room.

The large stained glass windows of the throne room project a rainbow of colors across the long and wide walkway. A burgundy carpet leads to where your father sits on a golden seat talking to your brother. An iron crown twisted and sealed in gold is welded to the top of it. For many years you’d sit on the marble steps at his feet and listen to the public bring complaints or requests. People thought it was cute when you listened intently and tried to help solve issues, some even brought you treats and trinkets.   

“You look ethereal, my love,” your father gives your mother a kiss on her forehead. “You can relax now. Everything looks impeccable. Even our children. ” 

“I think Princess could use a few more dunks in the tub, but that may just be me,” your brother makes a sour face at you. His royal uniform matches your father’s. A red coat with gold leafy embroidery on the collar. Shockingly, there aren’t wrinkles in his outfit from sitting at his desk or lounging about the castle. You really can’t find a snarky response because he looks so pristine. You’re about to let him have the win because even his hair is perfectly styled. But that’s where you notice it. One chunk of hair looks rougher than the rest. Almost as if it were singed. 

“Aww, Tony,” you tilt your head, and touch the rough patch on his head, “did you blow something up again?”

“What?” your mother snaps.

“Tattle”, he pats his hair to keep it hidden. You laugh at him, but he grabs your arm and tickles your side, turning your laughs into involuntary gasps for help. You try to push him away, but he only tickles harder.

“Calm you two! Take your places,” your mother pushes you forward and takes her seat next to your father. 

“She started it,” Tony grumbles as he stands beside her. 

“I did not!” You stick your tongue out at him and stand at your father’s side.

“Enough! You’re both adults,” your father holds his hand up at you two. Your mother gives instructions about how to greet the guests, as if you haven’t had to do this your whole life. You’ll paint a smile on your lips, fake a light blush, and sound ever-so grateful to have their company here. You won’t let a tear slip down your cheek. And under no circumstances are you allowed to ask them to leave your sight so you can lay in your bed and melt into your grief. No. You’re the Princess of Eldoria, and that means something bigger than you. 

“Your highness, the son of King Rupert has arrived!” An usher rushes in breathless, and takes his place at a podium. He will announce every entry. The band setting themselves up on the balcony 0ver the room will play music to fill the space between arrivals. A few servants enter with trays of hors d’oeuvres ready to help keep the crowd patient. Some members of your court find their way in ahead of the first royal arrival. They stand quietly talking among themselves with their straightened stiff postures. You think a single strong wind gust could knock them over like dominoes.

“So we begin,” your father mumbles and sits a little straighter. You take a deep breath, ignore the racing of your heart and set a gentle smile. 

Guards open the doors wide, and an older man with raven black hair enters the  hall. He meets your father in a handshake, bows to your mother and brother. It’s all very formal and boring and you can feel yourself mentally slipping away already. 

The prince turns to greet you and Tony’s jaw drops. He’s bowing so low you’re afraid he might try to kiss your foot instead of your hand. But that’s when you notice the large bald spot at the back of his head. Somehow it’s a perfect circle, totally invisible if you see him from the front. You bow your head in return, biting your cheek to keep from laughing, and don’t dare to look at Tony, who you know is enjoying this too much. 

With that opening, the many entrances proceed with princes, royal families, and even more members of your local court joining the evening affairs. The sidelines are filled with beautiful dresses, quiet rumors of newcomers, and servants passing wine and food. Your mother went rigid when they brought the wine trays out too soon but couldn’t stop them as guests took the glasses off trays. You feel your feet growing tired and glance at your brother. He’s winking at a princess from a distant kingdom and you stop yourself from audibly scoffing. The slender blonde giggles among her friends, and your brother keeps up his silent flirting by raising his eyebrows at her. You want to gag. You know he’s young, but he could stand to be a bit less obvious in front of everyone. Your father coughs, your mother whispers something to a maid, and Prince Bald Spot almost gags on the big bite of cheese he got from a servant. 

Your father coughs again. 

A group of young royals laugh as one tosses a grape into the mouth of another.

Your father coughs, yet again, drawing your attention. You give him a side glance. 

“Watch the door,” his hand covers his mouth as he whispers and tilts his head forward. The band quiets down as the announcer clears his throat. 

“His Royal Highness, Prince James Buchanan Barnes of Brooklandra, accompanied by Duke Steven Grant Rogers of York and his wife Duchess Margaret.” 

It’s respectful to quiet down when a new house enters the room, but this time, not even the rustling of women’s skirts or clanking of metal from your guards can be heard. You know why. Unlike the royals in this room, relatively little is known about the heir of Brooklandra. Most know Prince James because of his father’s reputation on the battlefield. Relentless, bloody, and willing to face whole units of enemies by himself, the King of Brooklandra earned the moniker “The Lone Wolf.” 

Much of what you know of Prince James comes from what your father told you after a few visits many years ago. The Prince James of that time was an adventurous and crafty boy who could be found either reading, listening to kingdom meetings, or exploring the nearby forests. You wonder if he’s still as charming as your father found him. A few more moments pass, but no amount of time could prepare you for the man that now walks into your family’s throne room. 

If anyone is gasping, the sound of violins hide it. Every person is watching the tall man with broad cloaked shoulders taking heavy steps towards your father. His hair is half tied back but the loose strands fall to his shoulders. The deep brown, almost black,  color is sharp against his light skin. His face is unshaven but it only highlights his strong jaw. He keeps his gaze set forward with his furrowed brows adding a layer of gloom to the frown on his plush pink lips. You imagine they’d feel like velvet. Your heart rushes knowing that he will kiss the back of your hand in a moment.   

“Prince James, it is good to see you again,” your father stands and shakes his hand. 

“Thank you for welcoming me and my companions into your home, King Leonardo. This is Duke Steven and his wife, Duchess Margaret,” Prince James’s frown perks up to a flat line, and you suppose that is a good sign. Despite your very thorough review of his face, you only now notice that he does not wear the formal royal uniform of Brooklandra. His tunic is more constructed, and his sword sits at the ready on his waist. It’s a real blade, made for war and not the ones for show you see in this room. He still wears his house colors of blue and silver. It’s his own take on the royal attire; honoring his house but ready for any sudden burst of violence or attack. 

“Please, my family is happy to have you. This is my son Prince Anthony, and my wife Queen Anorra,” your father gestures to each. Prince James shakes their hands and then your father continues, “And this is my daughter, Princess Y/N.” 

Prince James finally meets your eyes and your mouth involuntarily parts.  His eyes are the clearest blue you’ve ever seen. They remind you of summers spent under cloudless skies and the pale sapphires in your family’s jewelry collection. Glowing. 

You blush and curtsy before people catch onto your shock and you hold out your hand. You feel his, rough and calloused, take yours. You stand but after a moment, and two more pass, he still doesn’t kiss your knuckles. It’s the proper greeting for a woman of your station, yet, he only shakes your hand like you’re another man at dinner. In your peripheral, Tony straightens his posture.

“Princess Y/N,” Prince James bows his head. 

“Prince James,” you bow your head too, trying not to let the awkward moment become a spectacle, but it may be too late for that. The blonde man who joins Prince James tightens his lips, and the brunette standing with him flares her nostrils. 

“Your,” James pauses, “hands are soft.” He remarks. What is that? Is that supposed to be a compliment? 

“Thank you?” You don’t mean for it to be a question, but you are questioning. You can hear some of the women giggling, no doubt starting a rumor based on the short interaction. His companions also greet your family and you, properly this time, and Duchess Margaret bows in deep apologies. The room goes back to normal volumes, but you can feel more eyes on you than ever. 

Prince James was, unfortunately for you, the last entrance, and now you’re forced to mingle with the room of royals. Despite the hiccup, many of your suitors vye for your attention. You can’t help but notice Prince James sticks to his companions—far away from you. You wouldn’t usually care about such disinterest, but his lackluster and frankly rude greeting leaves you confused. As a man dramatically retells a hunting story to your group, you instead watch Prince James. He grimaces and rolls his eyes at Steven who then walks away to the table full of treats. The woman, Duchess Margaret, crosses her arms and speaks to the brooding prince. Without a hint, she looks up at you, and you have to snap your focus to a tapestry on one of the walls. You know she caught you, and you decide that is enough snooping. If Prince James doesn’t care to show you manners, you won’t care to know why. Easy. You lift your goblet of wine to your lips and join the others around you in laughing at the story you have not paid attention to. 

“Princess Y/N, that shade of blue compliments you so well,” one of the men in your circle, Prince Henry, points out your dress.

“Thank you," you hope your short response will make him move on. It doesn't.

“The pleasure is mine. See, I have an affinity for painting so I like to observe beautiful things,” his delivery is clunky and the smirk on his face makes you want to sink into the wall. You choose to ignore him and try to move attention to someone or something else.  

“Speaking of beautiful things, has anyone had the chance to see the public gardens on your way in? My great grandmother designed and cultivated them herself.” 

“Your great grandmother! She was originally from the Kingdom of Asgard! Have you ever gone there?” One of the other dukes obviously did his research.

“In truth, I’ve never had the chance to leave Eldoria, but it’s warm and full of adventure here so I don’t mind.” It’s true. Eldoria is self-sustaining with flourishing wildlife, varied agriculture, and other natural resources that seem to grow easily on the large island country. Religious leaders say it is blessed by the old gods and share legends of great heroes bringing good luck to the land and its people. 

“Yes it is, in my home country we…,” the nervous but well studied duke continues. Over time, more people join the circle, leave, and join again. You absently laugh and make small talk back with the people who approach you. Some men pass their charms and compliments to you. You fake a blush and look down and then to the side. You hadn’t had to flirt with anyone in awhile, but Theo did used to say you were alluring. 

Tony slips you a slice of  bread as you entertain the fourth story about sailing and boat racing you’ve heard this evening. All from the same prince. You mentioned you liked watching the boats at the docks and he ran with that idea. 

 “I saw that,” a light whisper floats past your ear, and your immediate reaction is to drop the bread from your palm. You turn to the redhead next to you, and immediately smile in relief. Now she is a warm welcome. 

“Oh! Prince Gerholt, this is Princess Wanda, my absolute best friend and I haven’t seen her in months. You wouldn’t mind if we stepped away and caught up would you?” You gesture to Wanda and before he can answer, you pull her away from the thicker parts of the crowd and embrace her.

“I missed you so much,” she squeezes you just as tightly. 

“How have you been?” You can’t hide the break in your voice, but Wanda takes a deep breath. 

“Better, I hope you know my family still supports you and loves you,” she sounds rehearsed but you know it’s only because she needed to say it without crying. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. That I couldn’t go,” a couple of tears break past your lashes, but Wanda catches them and turns you away from facing the room. 

“Theo wanted you to be safe. You can’t blame yourself,” she speaks to you like your mother and Clara do as of late, a firm voice trying to get their words past your stubborn mind, “I did bring you some things though. Things he left for you, and things I thought you’d like,” she hopes it gives you something to look forward to. You sniffle and accept a handkerchief from a servant who blocks you from view with a tray. You thank them as they return to strolling the room of hungry guests. Wanda is focused on something over your shoulder. 

A cohort of ladies now surround Prince James a few feet away from you. They don’t speak to him, it’s more like speaking around him. They have to make the conversation as he doesn’t give more than four words per answer. One of the ladies touches his shoulder and laughs at something he says. He looks like he is ready to run. You wonder if it’s not just you he hates. Maybe.  

“He’s handsome,” Wanda wiggles her brows and loops your arms together as you pass around the room.

“And rude,” you mumble. 

“I did see a bit of that, entered right as he dropped the handshake,” she chuckles. 

“I was so embarrassed!” you hiss.

“Why? Kissing the hand of a princess is a bit traditional. Maybe he’s more?  Forward thinking?” she tries.

“Which I’m fine with, but the general air of annoyance and boredom would tell me otherwise.”

“Ah, so you’re upset he doesn’t like you?”

“No! I just. Did he have to do that in front of everyone? They’re already saying so much that something so little makes me look even more,” you feel your chest constrict, “rejectable.” 

“Theo did not reject you.”

“No, but I never gave anyone else a chance. Which I don’t regret!” you confirm to his sister, “It just makes me easier to forget and I’m not in a position to be forgotten,” the words lay between you. Wanda remembers you and young Theo. The way he’d follow you along the hedge mazes, or when he was home would ask her if girls liked this or that. She knew what he was actually asking  and told him things you did like. 

“I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror this evening, but I need you to realize that my best friend here? She isn’t forgettable,” she soothes you. You’re about to thank her when the announcer returns to his post. 

“Queen Anorra requests your attention,” he shouts over the room.

Your mother stands at the dais and waits for the room to settle, “Hello everyone, we are grateful so many of you have travelled to join us as we hold games, tournaments, and balls on Eldoria,” your mother gives a warm welcome to everyone. Inviting them to also spend time in the nearby towns, enjoy the local natural wonders, or simply relax by the beach, “It has been a long time since our last invitational, and we are ready to provide a wonderful time. So before we start with the whirlwind of exciting events, please enjoy a fantastic dinner,” she points to the walkway that leads to the large dining hall. 

A number of  large tables are set. Names are scribed on small placards marking the seats for specific people. Ushers act as guides, and you spot Lyssa near one of the head tables. 

“Hello, my lady, this is your seat,” she pulls the chair out for you and you thank her. She scurries off, likely searching for Clara to report she helped you find your seat and addressed you correctly. 

While alone you review the names on either side of you. Wanda will be on your right, she’s speaking to your parents before she joins you. On your other side, in perfectly curled cursive, Prince James’ full name mocks you.  Your mother promised this would be an easy evening and now this? You do not want to have to spend the rest of your evening dealing with a brooding prince who chose to embarrass you in front of everyone. An idea takes form before you can stop yourself. You push your seat back to stand and switch the card with quite literally anyone else at the table. No one will be the wiser if you move quickly. When your heavy chair juts out behind you, someone groans.

It’s an usher, with Prince James and his companions right behind him, wide-eyed. 

“Oh my! I’m so sorry, Thomas! I didn’t look before I stood. Are you alright?” you panic and hold out a hand to support him. 

“It’s truly alright my lady. I’m going to move. Over there,” Thomas gasps as holds his ribs. He excuses himself as the others find their name cards without looking up at you. Thomas’s hunched figure moves through the crowd as he reaches a door to the kitchens. You feel a heat grow across your neck and face. You pray your father eats fast because you can’t escape this table or night until he gives closing remarks.  

“Is that my name?” Prince James’ deep voice asks. You might just burst in your spot.

You nod, and without a word, open your hand and place the crumpled card back in its spot. Next to you.

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Seven

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter six! If you want to see chapter eight, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

Coriolanus looked far too good for a funeral.

A black suit that had once belonged to his father had been completely reimagined in the span of twenty-four hours by Tigris, who sewed in between sobs. Normally he would have dipped into the fund of Strabo Plinth but for this occasion, he needed to evoke something other than Capitol high society.

Power.

As he turned to look at his own reflection once more,  a tapping at his window caused Coriolanus to pause.   Silently daring the waiting jabberjay to defecate anywhere in his room, Coryo opened the window and let the creepy bird in, watching it perch on his bedpost. 

  “Do you think you could let me borrow the girl for a night or two before Snow marries her? I like them.. spirited.”  President Ravinstill’s voice came through the jabberjay as clear as a bell, repeating over and over.

You.

Ravinstill was speaking of you.

Clicking the remote once more, Coriolanus snapped his fingers and the jabberjay made its way back to the president’s mansion.

  “Coryo? They’re ready for you, Coriolanus.” Your soft voice came through the other side of the door and Coriolanus straightened up and adjusted the rose pinned to his lapel.

  “I’ll be right there.” Coriolanus said, listening to the sound of your heels retreating from the door, the slight discrepancy in your gait reminded Coriolanus that you had still not fully healed from the attack you would not speak of.

The one that took place in The Arena.

How could Coriolanus know this?

Because Coriolanus Snow didn’t just see everything.

He heard everything.

Mere hours after medics confirmed that Grandma’am was beyond saving, you had fallen asleep while comforting Coriolanus, your hand in his as you dozed off on his shoulder.  The jabberjay arrived and Coriolanus was treated to the sound of a gunshot, Ravinstill’s laugh, and to his surprise, a sound that was fresh in his mind.

  Your crying.

On his second playback, Coriolanus heard a muffled phrase in the background, one that to this day still sent him into a miniscule panic.

“Enjoy the show!”

The jabberjay had been a gift from  Dr. Gaul upon completing his first year at The University.  He couldn’t stand the thing, mostly used it for University gossip over the years and after he applied to work in the President's office, he had the jabberjay follow Ravinstill, picking up information he could use once his new position began.

But the jabberjay had picked up something more valuable to Coryo, confirming something that Coriolanus had known from the moment he met you.

You, his precious treasure, were a liar.

Yet he took your left hand with a kiss upon your knuckle and offered his other arm to Tigris, escorting you both to Grandma’am’s funeral.

With his perfect suit and you draped in one of Grandma’am’s furs, Coriolanus had only to wait a few seconds for the flashbulbs to reign down on you both outside, photographers giving up the pretense of not taking pictures of a funeral for a glimpse at something shiny and new.

You could set a camera  on fire.

As the funeral began and Grandma’am’s remaining friends who looked to be in various stages of decay themselves spoke of their dear friend, Coriolanus held Tigris, comforting his cousin and angling his body so the photographers had a better shot of you. 

When it was Tigris’ turn to deliver a few words after a choir sang the national anthem,  Coriolanus focused on the late arrival of President Ravinstill who stopped at his chair and shook his hand, a stately yet somber look on his face.

    “Condolences, my boy. You and your cousin are in our thoughts and if you need to postpone your work start date, you only need to ask.  I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Snow.”

From the corner of his eye, Coriolanus could see that you had started shaking the moment Ravinstill had walked up.

If the president was sorry now, Coriolanus could only imagine just how sorry he was going to be in a few short moments.

Coriolanus delivered the eulogy, speaking of how much Grandma’am loved her garden and her grandchildren but The Capitol most of all.  The more he spoke, the more his voice shook with remembrance of the loss of one of the two women who raised him. 

But all it took was one glance in your direction for the tremble in his voice to vanish, head held high to greet the applause that thundered in upon his conclusion.

So that was it then.

It was to be you.

Coriolanus had known you were lying for quite some time in fact, yet he did not care. He would caress those lies, suck them from your mouth like poison from a wound.

To touch those lies, oh, to touch you.

He would not care.

Did bowing before a lying goddess make his prayers any less heard?

As he sprinkled dirt into Grandma'am's grave some time later, a foot closer to death than he had been in awhile, Coriolanus Snow knew one thing.

He loved you.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

  “Before we say our last goodbyes, I just have one final note. My grandmother believed in hope, she believed in Panem and all that it could be. It is in her honor that I formally announce my bid to run for President of our beloved Panem in the upcoming election, the youngest presidential candidate in our nation’s history.”  Coriolanus said, delighting in watching the blood drain from Ravinstill’s face as gasps filled the gravesite.

Coriolanus could see Lucky Flickerman vaulting over the cemetery gate and sprinting towards him, tripping over his mic every few seconds but there was one last thing he had to do.

Had this been Coriolanus of another time, he would have whispered in your ear of your treachery, exposing what you had done.

But something else happened.

Turning to you, Coriolanus got down on one knee and produced Grandma’am’s engagement ring, plucked from her finger before the medics could finish checking for a pulse.

“Will you marry me?”

This was no ordinary proposal.

This was a declaration of war.

That’s Chapter 7! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 8, the penultimate chapter before the finale,  please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading.

[maikaartwork]

HOW TO FIND YOUR PERFECT COMMISSION ARTIST - BEGINNER’S GUIDE

There is a new trend of scamming fanfic writers that I was made aware of recently by an anonymous ask (I made a whole ass post about it) and the conversation about it led me to this post - how to make sure that an artist you choose to bestow your money on is as perfect of a choice for you as it can be, especially if you have no idea how to go about it. Being new in the world of commissioning can be stressful, so let me give you some friendly tips coming from an experienced commission artist to make the process at least safe and maybe a bit more comfortable.

This isn’t just for writers - if you just want random artwork to brighten your day, this might help, too!

Table of contents:

Basics of searching for an artist

What might be important to you as a client

First contact

Examples

Conclusion

BASICS OF SEARCHING FOR AN ARTIST:

Search in your fandom/ship community first - the best art to suit you will come from people that will actually know the characters they are drawing, people that like them, know how they act, the fanon and lore. It helps to get the correct emotions across. Scour the tags for #<fandom> art, #<ship> fanart and so on to see who is contributing. Check out the fanart channels of your local ship/fandom discord if you belong to one. Or just ask your fandom buddies for links to dope artists they like.

If that doesn’t pan out, search for simply cool art you like - experienced artists will know what questions to ask, how to guide the process to at least get to know your needs and learn about the characters you want portrayed. If your fandom is tiny or just lacking in the art area, keep your options open but raise the experience bar a notch, so you know that you’ll be working with someone who knows their stuff.

Art Vibe Check - you’ll know immediately (probably) if the art style speaks to you. Make sure you actually LIKE what you see - be it because of the style of drawing, the way the artist builds scenes, if in your mind’s eye you can imagine drawing in that style be something that represents your fic or that you’d be happy to hang on your bedroom wall and stare at every day.

ArtIST Vibe Check - go through the artist’s profile, check out what they post and reblog. You’ll want to look for someone that at least seems to be into things that indicate that they might be a cool person to talk to. You’ll probably be in contact with them for the duration of the commission, it’s at least nice to be able to talk to a nice internet entity, right? Especially if you’re thinking of commissioning in the future, you might want to choose someone you click with, who seems like they would get you.

Check if they have commission info - this isn’t something you should feel married to, some artists don’t advertise or just never did commissions before but again - especially for your first time, it’s good to have someone that knows their trade and will be able to guide you through the process. Commission info usually has some price ranges implied for you to gauge if you can afford them (NEVER PAY MORE THAT YOU’D POTENTIALLY BE COMFORTABLE TO AFFORD! - more on that later) and also things they’d be willing or unwilling to draw. They might have links in their profile bio to websites like carrd, ko-fi, patreon and so on, where they keep this info, instead of a pinned post or description. Please check the domain if you’re unsure what the website is before clicking any external links. Armed with this knowledge, you’ll know more what to expect when you actually reach out to them.

Keep your options (and mind) open - sometimes the artist you choose might not be taking new commissions at the time, be fully booked or will just decide they, for any number of reasons, are unable to work with you. Have some backup options ready, just in case. Also be aware that the artist might turned out to be a bit different in 1-on-1 conversation than you expected, give you different info than what they advertised (sometimes the posts are outdated because, you know, artists are humans and don’t always keep up with updating their profiles). In that case please keep an open mind but also be wary of changes.

WHAT MIGHT BE IMPORTANT TO YOU AS A CLIENT

Sometimes things that you might want to keep in mind when checking out an artist:

Price ranges - like I said, please be aware that a money exchange will probably be involved. Never spend more than you can comfortably afford to potentially lose. It’s the first time you’ll be meeting a new person, as nice as they might seem, sometimes shit happens and you might end up with either sub-par artwork you won’t want to use or nothing at all.

Payment method - please, please never give random strangers on the internet your personal data, your banking info or data that might make it easy to scam you. Make sure the artist offers secure payment options like paypal, ko-fi, etsy, patreon or other payment platform you actually know or can easily check out before making financial decisions.

Estimated time of delivery - if you’re on a time crunch, have a deadline in mind or just want to have your artwork asap, remember to keep that in mind. Some artists work faster, some slower, it would be a shame if you guys fell out because of a conflict there.

Work model/workflow - does the artis offer steps in their work schedule, like showing you a rough sketch first, then linework, then colors and so on? Or do they just offer a ready piece without the possibility of adjustments in the meantime? Think about how much you want to be included in the process, if you prefer to just let the artist do all the work and take what you’re given or would you prefer to have more specific control over the finished product? Sometimes you need very specific things that the artist might not think about while creating. Or you don’t have a clear picture in your head and will be happy with someone else taking control. Both are fine, but different artists might have different workflows that might not suit your needs and it’s good to have that at least figured out beforehand. Artistic freedom vs. process control and all that.

(Optional) Amount of changes that can be made during creation process - if you like to be involved, if you have a specific idea of a picture in mind or just feel you’d need them, make sure that you can have the option to request changes to the artwork. Some artists have their own ideas about the artwork they create or how much time they want to spend on changing stuff (it might be a tangible number of hours or change iterations) - because, let’s face it, time is money. Similarly, some artists simply like to include their client in the process and would feel bereft without your input. Lack of compatibility in this regard can cause friction and misunderstandings.

FIRST CONTACT

So you found an artist, think you could work with them and want to actually reach out to them but have no idea what to say? Here is what info you should have at hand to include:

Fandom/ship/characters - who, how many characters, is it a portrait, a full scene, half-body capture

Level of detail and style - do you want a simple sketch? A fully rendered piece with detailed shading? Just simple, flat colors with clean linework? A chibi version of your blorbos? This will help the artist to figure out how much time they have to spend working on your idea. You can have ready an example of specific artworks of this artist that you liked.

Description of the scene - think of poses, facial expressions, mood you want to convey, if you want background, specific props to include, text (if any) to include

If it’s a scene from your fic: relevant excerpt AND additional specific descriptions (for example of clothing, changes to the characters your fic made, you know, anything that the artist might not know without reading your fic)

Reference pics - if you have any specific poses in mind, facial expressions, props or backgrounds, it’s good to have at least rough examples at hand to help visualize what you mean. The artist is not in your head, they might not be able to get the idea or might not know niche nomenclature/props and so on. They don’t have to be fandom-specific, you can show them what you like from pinterest, other artists or just google

Deadlines you might have or any additional obstacles that you guys might face on the way, like difficulties in communication

Budget you have in mind - just in case, for when they give you a quote to compare if your ideas in that regard align

Any questions you might have for the artist, like about how they work, if they do half-payments (some artists, like me, require a sum up-front for their work, others just want to get paid after completing the piece)

Keep in mind that not all artists provide info up-front, that sometimes you’ll have to ask yourself. Please be respectful, try not to be too pushy (artistic souls spook easily) but make sure that you know what you’re getting, for how much and that you have at least a rough idea of how the commission will go time- and communication-wise. Make sure that you know if they’ll be reaching out to you and when (-ish, maybe a rough estimate of a timeline?) so you don’t have to wonder if they forgot about you or just ditched you.

SOME EXAMPLES OF A FIRST CONTACT CONVERSATION

EXAMPLE 1

<Client>: Hi! Are you open for commissions right now? I’d be interested in getting some art of <fandom and ship>.

<Artist>: Yep! Tell me more!

C: I need an illustration for my fic, <title>. I’d like a fully-colored and shaded scene of Character A piggy-back riding Character B, like a very happy, carefree scene in a park setting. Maybe a picnic blanket somewhere in the background? I don’t need the background to be super detailed but but I don’t want them to be just floating in nothing, you know? Something maybe like this:

C: <pinterest-photo-of-a-couple.jpg>

C: I really liked this picture you made: <art post link>

C: I’d like to post the fic by <date> so it would be awesome to have it ready by then, if it’s possible

A: Sure, I can do that! It’d cost X amount because of the deadline tho

C: That’s reasonable. Can you tell me more about your commission process? This is the first time I’m ordering art so I don’t really know what to expect lol

A: Okay, so… <details>

(And they got along great)

EXAMPLE 2

C: Hi! Are you open for commissions right now? I’d be interested in getting some art of <fandom and ship>.

A: ya.

C: I need an illustration for my fic, <title>. I’d like a fully-colored and shaded scene of Character A piggy-back riding Character B, like a very happy, carefree scene in a park setting. Maybe a picnic blanket somewhere in the background? I don’t need the background to be super detailed but but I don’t want them to be just floating in nothing, you know?

A: 600

C: …dollars or?

A: ya, $600

C: that’s kinda above my budget, I was thinking more along the lines of 180 - you have that in your info card

A: right now it’s 600 cuz I’m short on cash, you can venmo me.

C: ok, sorry, I can’t do that much, thanks for your time tho. Bye!

(Personal note: See the red flags there? Bad communication, price triple what was on the info card, a payment method requiring your phone number to be out there?

If an artist is rude to you or seems off in any way, be respectful but disengage asap. Don’t get into conversation or try being rude, please remember it’s easy to take screenshots and put them out of context, even if you didn’t have bad intentions. I hope very much that this will never happen to you, but as much as I’d like to pretend everyone online is a ray of sunshine, there are assholes out there and you should try avoiding getting in fights with them. Simply say bye and move on. Block them if you need to.)

IN CONCLUSION

I hope this post helps you guys to make informed decisions. Remember - be kind to each other, keep an open mind but watch out for suspicious behavior. If in doubt: your own gut is your best friend, if something feels right or wrong, chances are your brain already knows but don’t be afraid to ask for advice from friends, discord buddies or, if you feel lost in the sea of Internet - maybe someone in the comments of this post could help? The scammer post I did a while ago has a pretty good comment section so maybe this could become a good helping point with a signal boost.

Also: my commissions are open, too :D

[pinkpoweredpunk]

• pinned post •

heya, I’m Blake (they/them). ‘m an ace trainer from Galar, and- well- an ex-champion so if you recognize me that’s probably why. or maybe from the two disasters I helped stop-

anyways! I’ve done a bit of traveling these last few years, I’ve been to the isle of armor, crown tundra, and Kalos. but right now I’m back in my home region Unova for. college I Guess. I’m not super happy about it but whatever grr

this here’s my ace, Kappa. best Inteleon in the world <33

my current team bc update I ran away from the shitty college that didn’t let me have pokemon with me (don’t ask):

-King (F Serperior)

-Cordelia (F Simipour)

-Phaedra (F Krookodile)

-Kilobyte (M Eelektrik)

-Lumi (F Lampent)

other 'mons:

-Kappa (M Inteleon)

-Go-Go (F Coalossal)

-Lancelot (M Sirfetch’d)

-Jeanne (F Corviknight)

-Charlie (M Boltund)

-Venom (M Toxtricity)

-Red (M Delphox)

-Basil (M Sylveon)

-Granite (M Tyrantrum)

-Ryu (M Lucario)

-Verde (M Venusaur)

-Stardust (M Meowstic)

-Blister (F Charizard)

-Tulip (F Venusaur)

-Snart (F UD Archen)

-Athena (F Urshifu)

-Tater (F Flapple)

-Potato (M Galarian Slowpoke)

-Audun (M Flygon)

-Zuzu (F Dragapult)

-Azi (F Dreepy)

-Shiverbolt (Arctozolt)

-Alto (M Grookey)

-Oran (M Munchlax)

-Fwoofy (Cosmog)

-Stormy (M Sobble)

-Dewdrop (M Sobble)

-Nessa Jr. (F Sobble)

-Bubble (M Sobble)

-Neptune (F Sobble)

-Flick (F Vivillon)

-Snooze (M Snorlax)

-Pecha (F Grookey X Fomantis hybrid)

-Galahad (M Skarmory)

-Spark (M Galvantula ✨)

uhhh what are some other things about me. well besides pokemon training I enjoy drawing, martial arts, and camping! might post my doodles here from time to time. if I get the chance to go camping I’ll probably post vlogs about that too.

that’s about all you need to know I guess! feel free to shoot me an ask or message whenever you want

update: apparently I have that dog in me. and by that I mean I’m a therian. midday lycanroc most likely

———

Tag Directory:

#blake post - ic posts made by Blake

#blake rb - ic reblogs from Blake

#doodle tag - for either ic art by Blake or ooc art by mod (usually the former)

#ooc post - mod post

#blake plays hollow knight - literally just me livebloggging my first playthrough of hollow knight but as Blake

#wolf tag - blake posting stuff about their theriotype (rockruff/lycanroc)

#non-canon post - what it says on the tin. mostly for sillyposting

🍃 post- posts made by King

boo post- posts made by their Yamask, Boo

———

CURRENT ARC: Facets of Truth Arc

Summary: After a slight mishap, Blake finds themself on a spur of the moment journey around the Unova region.

Truth and ideals collide. Balance is put to the test. What outcome will this new formula present?

Tag: #facets of truth arc

Warnings: N/A (for now)

Mini Arc: N/A

Previous Arcs: #MMM: Rival Swap!, #MMM: Get Baby’d Idiot

———

//OOC

hiii Wren here! so this is basically a fresh restart of @pinkhairandpokemon. I decided it would be fun to start at the beginning of their Unova arc this time around. they’re 18 here, and just starting the main story of pokemon black!

I just got kinda… unmotivated to run their old blog anymore?? so I decided it was time for a refresh. SUPER excited to rp as this version of them

this Blake is probably going to be more… standoffish? I guess? not all-out mean but they’re kind of bitchier in this arc of their story (tbf they deserve to be after the shit they went through-) so while they’ll typically be chill in normal interactions they might be like. be a bit more snarky. I’m always scared of being too mean when I rp so please let me know if I need to tone it down!! ;w;

they’ll also probably be a little more discreet about being a chosen. for now anyway :3c they’ll still talk a bit about it but they won’t go super in detail about their powers

mod is 21, and follows from @scrappyscales, but if you need to contact me OOC go to @xgoldenlatiasx

blog list

Magic Anons: On (within reason, and I might not reply to them immediately)

Pelipper Mail/Malice: On

Musharna Mail: On

Union Circle: On

Askbox: Open

(IC hate anons are ok)

I think that’s everything but if you need me to specify if anything else is on lmk.

their old blog will be kept up for archival purposes if anyone still wants to check it out!