#first blind man to appear as well so he's special

[mysteriousdragon2]

Art trade for @funkii-fox Requested me to draw N'Doul! Been drawing him quite a lot, along with Geb. But no complaints, drawing the two of them is always a treat- Geb especially because I get to mess around with how to draw water-like effects! Forgive me for the delay and mild inactivity, life's been a disaster BUT I will definitely post JoJotober in some weeks so everybody will get to see characters I don't draw often, or new characters completely! Thank you for the art trade chance once again, enjoy this N'Doul everybody ;p

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny Pt.9

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.10]

"Fan-sea meeting you here. You must be Phantom!"

Danny slowly turned around, grin blinding. "I shore am. Who's asking?"

Danny knew exactly who was asking. Bludhaven's vigilante, Nightwing. If the giant dark blue bird emblazoned on the front of his suit didn't give it away, the friendly demeanor and the puns would have. Plus, now that Danny's figured out who Tim was, the rest were pretty simple dots to be connected.

"Hi. I'm Nightwing. Thanks for saving Batman."

"I am Phantom. You are welcome. Please lecture him on the necessity of keeping the waters clean."

"Uh, I think he knows," Nightwing grinned. “So, why are you cleaning Gotham’s bay? I heard the Atlantic is nice this time of year.”

“Exactly. This?” Danny flapped a gloved hand around them, specifically at the moldy docks and the paint scraped board. “This is not nice. If it were nice, I wouldn’t need to be cleaning it. Look at that paint! It’s flaking off into the water! Does Gotham not have proper boat maintainance? That’s dangerous for the waters and seafarers!”

“Woah, you know a lot about boats,” Nightwing commented, crossing his arms and leaning back. What the hero didn’t know was that he knew more about boats than Danny did, as Danny’s hyper fixation was more focused on space ships and Dick had education à la maison de Bruce Wayne which usually meant an absurd amount of information for someone who doesn’t actually use boats as a regular mode of transportation.

“Rust! Rust is very much a thing!” Danny ranted, using his ice to scoop up water and using it like a makeshift filter. “It weakens bonds! It’s a tetanus hazard! And oh, don’t even get me started on how you people mutated the ocean life!”

“Mutated ocean life? I’m pretty sure we hadn’t. It’s just a little weird, right?”

Without another word, Danny dove into the weird ecosystem that was the Gotham bay. He came back holding a wriggling green thing the size of a worm.

“Do you know what this is?” Danny demanded. The thing flopped around on his gloved hands.

“A sea monkey?”

“They’re brine shrimp. Brine. Shrimp. Do you know what regular brine shrimp look like???” Danny shoved the thing at Nightwing, who took a step back.

“Not like that?” He replied, a quizzical look on his face.

“No, not like that! What in the ancients is this?!” Danny waved the weird sea brine that had started glowing faintly, like Danny’s natural ectoplasm glow. “Far be it from me of all people to judge evolution but this was all man made!” Danny gently tossed the brine shrimp back into the bay. “Brine shrimp is staple food for the ocean! You’ve got weird brine shrimp? You’ve got weird fish! Why is it impossible for this place to, for even one day, refrain from dumping hazardous chemicals or dead bodies in the water?”

“Ooookay, how about we take a breather?” Nightwing quickly glanced around, trying to find something to change the subject, feeling oddly guilty at the earnest expression on the kid’s face. “Uh, I was actually wondering if you’d swing by the waters near Blüd?”

Danny crossed his arms. “I clean the waters as a past time because you humans don’t know how to keep it clean. I am not a personal, on call, seakeeper.”

“Batman will pay you for your time,” Dick offered. Danny straightened. Amity didn’t actually cost that much to live well, but Gotham was a whole other ball park. The rent might be dirt cheap for a city, but the special pricey little add ons such as gas masks and space level insulation on top of the sky high insurance policies were draining what’s left of his half dead soul. As they say, Danny was a city dweller first and Phantom second.

“How much, when, and I won’t fish up the bodies unless he pays me extra.”

“Four thousand base pay, extra one hundred per identity, fifty for bodies with no shades, and on the weekends.”

Danny straightened as his mother’s steel spine, Jazz’s whip sharp wit, and his own craftiness made their appearance as he bargained. “Five thousand. Rate agreed, but I can only do every other weekends and I’ll have to call out some days.”

“Okay.” Nightwing rocked back on his heels with an affable smile. It’s Bruce’s money and it’s going towards his probable future baby brother, after all, even if said baby brother is a dead immortal Atlantis founder. Or something.

Danny groaned. “You are supposed to bargain back. But I’ll take it.”

“Great! Who do we got tonight?” Nightwing looked down at the plastic/burlap wrapped person Danny dragged onto the shores a bit ago.

“The lake kept the body cold, so it should be preserved adequately if you want to examine him,” Danny tilted his head to the side, the flames of his hair tilting with him. “He said his name is Gorganzo Bean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s a nickname he got for eating a whole can of beans straight.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Any more details?”

“Sure.”

When Danny reached to take the money from Nightwing, he found that the hero had tightened his grip on it.

Danny pointedly dropped his gaze from Nightwing’s face to the money.

“Wait. I- I heard from a source that you could possibly smell souls.”

Danny yanked the cash out of Nightwing’s hand and shoved it into his shoulder. If that didn’t confirm Nightwing’s identity, he doesn’t know what would other than the guy telling Danny who he was. “You’ve been speaking with Danny. Yes, I can.”

“Can you tell what’s wrong with my brother?” Nightwing blurted out.

Danny stared at him, his legs flickering in and out to his tail form. “…Other than dressing in probably leather or Kevlar and going out to beat criminals with his bare hands?”

Nightwing opened and closed his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “Other than that. Why is he- um, stinky? Soul-wise,” Nightwing added, clearly humoring the tinny little voice at the base of his temples that was an annoyed Red Hood saying that he showered. “He showers often. And is definitely not stinky body odor wise.”

“I am not a doctor. Well, not now anyways,” Danny said, thinking about his future PhD. “But he’s got a… soul infection. His natural immunity- all souls have a natural immunity against regular outside influences- is working hard to repel the equivalence of chronic bronchitis.”

“There’s… no way to help him?”

“I never said that,” Danny tilted his head. “Bring your brother to meet Danny. He could probably handle it.”

“The civilian?”

“His parents hunted my kind, once. He helped protect me and my people. If anyone knows how to cure it, it would be him.”

Phantom could not afford to deal with this right now, because Danny had a presentation tomorrow that he needed to finish.

“Oh. Thank you, Phantom.” Nightwing said, looking relieved and pensive. Danny decided right then and there that was Future Danny’s problem.

Danny nodded distractedly, blinking out.

He blinked back in. Nightwing jerked back. “Do you happen to have any examples of corrupt politicians in Gotham?”

Nightwing blinked before laughing. “It’d probably be easier to name the ones that aren’t.”

“Good to know. Thank you!”

——

A couple of days later, Tim and two older guys ambushed him in the quad.

“Hi! I’m Dick! This is my brother Jason! We’re Tim’s older brothers!”

Danny looked down at his hand- trapped in an overexcited handshake- and back up at Dick.

Whatever expression he was making, it must have been ha-fucking-larious because Tim and Jason burst out into laughter. Danny cursed his past self.

“Yeah?” Danny blinked. Wait. His smile grew and he made a face like he just realized something. “Oh. So you’re Nightwing?”

The laughter cut off.

“Haha, what?”

“Phantom told me you’d be coming but I, uh, thought you’d be in gear. Not… straight up telling me who you are?”

“You’re in regular contact with Phantom?” Tim demanded.

“Yeah, dude. After you- wait, you’re Red Robin!” Danny whispered.

“Oh shit, B’s gonna be pissed,” Jason drawled, looking mildly amused and hiding an extremely cautious, possibly lethal (if it weren’t for the fact that Danny’s pretty much impossible to kill with regular weapons) reaction.

“You’re one to talk. I’d smell your soul no matter what your disguise was.”

“…About that.”

——

You might be wondering: wouldn’t Dick know not to show up in civvies?

Yes. Except for the fact that Tim stalked Danny for weeks after he met Phantom and Danny hadn’t hung out with (himself) at all. They think Danny doesn’t know Phantom well enough to even talk to him much, despite being from the same town because: they’re all big city kids and have never experienced small town solidarity and, more importantly, gossip grapevines + they have no idea these two are the same people.

A deleted scene:

“When did you have time to talk to Phantom?” Tim demanded. Jason nudged Tim. That had hinted too much at what Tim was doing on his off hours and stalking was usually frowned upon.

“When I wasn’t talking to you, duh.”

[nebuladreamerrr]

What about those ideas? You won’t post them anymore? I want to read the dad fic so bad 😭🥰

https://www.tumblr.com/nebuladreamerrr/754189019746910208/hiiiii-i-have-several-ideas-in-mind-and-although

I hope you enjoy it a lot, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I tried to do it differently, adding many more details. I think it's the story I like the most out of the ones I've written so far 💗💗💗

Fine line| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: After three long years of constant changes and persistent fears, Kylian feels ready to show his son to the world, but he will not hesitate to jump and defend his family if anyone attacks them.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and mentions of a kid suffering from blindness

You couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion as you dressed your son to attend his dad's match. The Real Madrid stadium was gearing up for an epic night, and the thrill of seeing Kylian on the field was always indescribable. However, this time it was even more special. Not only because Kylian was in his best form and ready to fight for the Champions League title, but because Jayce, your little one, would be there to witness it.

Ever since you told Jayce, just two weeks ago, that he could go to the place where his dad worked, he hadn't stopped talking about it every chance he got. He wore the Real Madrid jersey in every possible situation, even while sleeping, and practiced singing the anthem for when the match started. His enthusiasm was contagious, and every time he talked about his dad, his words reflected a mix of admiration and love.

It seemed incredible that the little Mbappé family hadn't set foot in the stadium to cheer on the footballer in almost three years. This had fueled numerous breakup rumors in the media, as you had always supported Kylian, not only by going to the club's stadium but also by traveling to different countries to be his "lucky charm." However, when little Jayce was born, everything changed.

Kylian adored his son, and it showed in every daily interaction he had with him. From teaching him to walk, to making video calls when he was away so Jayce could hear his voice while hugging the personalized stuffed toy shaped like his father. Gradually, Kylian was instilling all the values that would make Jayce a great man. But Kylian was terrified that someone might harm his little boy. He knew all too well how the journalists and the press operated, and they wouldn't hesitate to hurt his son just to get to Kylian.

Since the beginning of your relationship, Kylian had always been overprotective, fearing that the press might overwhelm you or that the crowds might drive you away from him. However, he slowly discovered your strong personality and understood that you could handle those problems on your own. But Jayce was still too young to face all those challenges, so, as his parents, you had to protect him.

From the moment Kylian found out you were pregnant, he had been dreaming about the day he would meet his son: how tall he would be, how much he would weigh, whether he would look more like you or him. Although doubts sometimes crossed his mind about what would happen if something went wrong, he always found comfort in the fact that you had a great team of professionals by your side and that you were a strong woman capable of achieving anything you set your mind to.

The delivery seemed to go smoothly, and everything appeared to have been a success until they began examining little Jayce. Initially, they noticed that he was barely opening his eyes. They thought it might be due to the strain of the birth or that the light might be bothering him, but as days passed, Jayce seemed to have problems with his eyes. It was then that they discovered the little one was blind.

You had never expected to have a child with a disability, but you knew you would love him with all your heart. However, it pained you to see how Kylian felt guilty about everything. He couldn't help but feel responsible for the criticisms his son might face for being his son, for being the center of attention even if he didn't want to be, and for always standing out. Through tears, Kylian confessed that he preferred to keep his son away from the public eye, and crying, he begged you to forgive him for complicating your lives.

During these past three years, you had learned not only how to be a mother—deciphering what your son needed when he cried, what stories Jayce preferred, and how to find the perfect balance between motherhood and your professional life—but also to be the emotional support and rock for Kylian during this time, especially in the most difficult moments.

At first, it seemed like Kylian was sinking deeper and deeper. His joy was fading, consumed by worry and sadness. However, the start of the new season was a breath of fresh air for him. The adrenaline and passion for football allowed him to release all those pent-up emotions, and Jayce's first year of life became the year Kylian was crowned the league's top scorer. This achievement was not only a milestone in his career but also a crucial step in his emotional recovery.

Gradually, Kylian learned to manage his emotions and realized that he couldn't let fear and external pressures dictate his decisions. He learned to be the best dad possible for Jayce, accepting that raising his son wouldn't be as he had imagined, but also discovering that he wouldn't change it for the world. He loved how Jayce would touch his face to get to know his features, and how he would get excited about doing chores like setting the table on his own. These small moments showed that Jayce was a strong child and that in the future, he would be as independent as any other kid.

Undoubtedly, one of Kylian's most cherished memories with his son was when he started teaching him how to play football. He bought special balls with sand inside, which allowed Jayce to locate them by sound and feel as they moved. With these balls, Jayce learned to kick and score goals that filled his father with pride. Each time the little one scored, Kylian's joy and pride grew, strengthening their bond and giving him another reason to keep going.

These years hadn't been easy, but they had strengthened your family in ways you never imagined. The challenges had been numerous, but love and determination had prevailed, showing that together you could face any adversity. Now, as you dressed Jayce for the match, you felt a mix of pride and excitement. You knew that no matter what, your family would always find a way to move forward, and today was a celebration of that indomitable spirit.

After making sure you had everything you needed for the match, like snacks for Jayce and various toys, you decided to drive to the stadium. Kylian had informed the club in advance about the importance of this day, asking for his family to feel comfortable and well taken care of. So, when the security staff noticed that you had arrived by car, they didn't hesitate to help and guide you through the stadium, giving Jayce a team scarf and small stickers. The little one, grateful, responded with a huge smile.

Upon reaching the designated box, you showed Jayce around. Kylian had commissioned a relief recreation of the stadium's silhouette so Jayce could always know where he was, the tunnels leading to the field, and the goals where his father would dedicate a goal to him that night. Additionally, some wives of Kylian's teammates came over to greet and meet mini Mbappé, who was delighted to chat and meet new people.

Shortly before the match started, Kylian came up to the box to give you a final kiss and to encourage Jayce, promising to make him very proud. His presence and words filled the air with emotion.

"I am so proud of how you’ve evolved and how we’ve grown as a family," you whispered before giving him a warm kiss of encouragement.

"I couldn't have done it without you, mon amour," Kylian replied with a smile.

As you watched Kylian return to the field, you felt a wave of pride and love. This match was not just a sporting event but a symbol of the journey you had traveled together as a family. Kylian, Jayce and you had faced challenges that had strengthened you, and now you were ready to enjoy this special moment together.

Jayce settled into his seat, stroking the team scarf with a smile as you explained the details of the stadium that he explored with his hands. Every goal, every play, every moment of the match held special meaning, and you knew this night would be etched into your family’s memory forever.

In the 37th minute, Mbappé scored a goal that not only made all the Madrid fans leap to their feet but also brought Real Madrid closer to lifting that long-awaited Champions League trophy, especially significant since it was being held at their home stadium. Right after scoring and celebrating with his ecstatic teammates, Kylian headed toward a camera, blowing a kiss and pointing to the box where you were sitting. What surprised you the most was hearing over the loudspeaker: "Kylian dedicates this goal to his family and especially to his son Jayce." Kylian had taken care of every detail to ensure his son felt loved and understood what was happening.

“Send lots of kisses to Daddy,” you whispered to your son as he enthusiastically blew kisses into the air. Although Jayce couldn't see, Kylian was on the field, returning those kisses.

As the match progressed, Madrid focused on defense. Both teams tried to create chances, but neither managed to score another goal. However, this didn't dampen Madrid's spirits as they became Champions League winners once again.

You couldn't help but take out your phone to record, filled with emotion, as Kylian looked for you with his eyes. Your little one was jumping with joy when you told him to say hello to Daddy, who was looking for him. Tears welled up as you watched Kylian and the team lift the trophy they had fought so hard to win. While you saw Kylian joke around, dance with his teammates, and even sing chants with the fans, you decided to give him his space to enjoy his moment, taking the opportunity to explain to Jayce everything that was about to happen.

“Now we’re going down to celebrate with Daddy, okay?” you said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

Jayce nodded enthusiastically, clutching your hand as you prepared to head down to the field. The security staff, aware of the situation, kindly guided you through the stadium, ensuring everything went smoothly.

When you reached the edge of the field, the roar of the crowd and the glow of the spotlights created a magical atmosphere. Kylian, seeing you approach with Jayce, ran towards you with a smile that reflected pure happiness. He bent down to hug Jayce, lifting him into the air as the little boy laughed and reached out to touch his dad’s face.

“We did it, mon petit champion!” Kylian exclaimed with an emotional voice, kissing Jayce’s forehead.

“Yes, Daddy, we did it,” Jayce responded, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and joy.

The night turned into an unforgettable celebration, with Kylian sharing his triumph not only with his teammates but with the people he loved the most. As you held Jayce, you watched Kylian lift the trophy once more, feeling that all the effort and sacrifice of the past years had been worth it.

No matter how many times you had imagined this moment, this day had exceeded your expectations by far. Beyond the incredible athletic performance and talent that Kylian had demonstrated once again, your little one had immensely enjoyed this day. There were memorable moments, like when you took a photo with the trophy where Jayce sat inside it, or when Kylian lifted him up so he could touch the goal where he had scored the goal dedicated to him. Jayce had also enjoyed the company of the children of his father's teammates, who had animatedly talked with him and held his hand the whole time.

After many celebrations, cheers, and chants, Florentino Pérez carefully approached Kylian to ask if he could give a few quick words to some television channels. Although Florentino promised that he could ask someone else, understanding that it was a very important day for him, Kylian knew it had to be him who spoke. Not only because he had scored the winning goal or because he was the star player, but because many people were surprised that he had decided to introduce his son today.

Kylian nodded, taking your hand for a moment before heading towards the group of eager journalists. "Take care of our little champion," he said with a smile, kissing Jayce on the forehead and giving you a peck before walking away.

You and Jayce watched from a safe distance as Kylian took the microphone. The journalists started shouting his name to get an exclusive, and the cameras focused on him. "This goal is for my family, especially for my son Jayce," Kylian began, his voice resonating with a mix of pride and emotion. "Today is a very special day, not only because of the victory but because I could share it with the people I love the most. Jayce is an incredible, strong, and brave child, and he inspires me every day to be better both on and off the field. And y/n shows me every day how lucky I am that someone as wonderful as she has decided to spend the rest of her life with me."

The crowd applauded enthusiastically, and many journalists congratulated Kylian, commenting on how Jayce seemed like an intelligent child and was the spitting image of his mother. However, suddenly, a question echoed above all: "Aren’t you ashamed to have a child like that?"

The ensuing silence was palpable, and the atmosphere tensed. Kylian stood still for a moment, processing the insensitivity of the question. However, his expression hardened with determination and calm.

"Did you really just ask that crap?" Kylian responded firmly. "I often criticize the work you do and try to put myself in your shoes, understanding that you are paid to get exclusive news and that often you do things you don't want to. But what you just asked shows your lack of tact and poor education. Jayce is my son, and I am incredibly proud of him. His bravery and spirit are a constant source of inspiration for me. There is nothing to be ashamed of, although if you are a father, I wouldn’t doubt that your children have reasons to be ashamed of you. In fact, having Jayce in my life has taught me more about love, strength, and resilience than anything else. He is an incredible child, and anyone who cannot see that is the one who should feel ashamed."

Kylian's words were met with even louder applause, and many journalists nodded in respect and admiration while booing the other journalist, who couldn’t help but leave embarrassed, trying to hide his face.

From your position, you felt full of pride and gratitude. The way Kylian had handled the situation with dignity and love was a testament to his character. Jayce, although unaware of the full significance of what had happened, seemed to pick up on the positive energy around him, and his face lit up with a smile.

When Kylian finished his brief statement and returned to you, the crowd was still applauding. "You did great, Daddy," Jayce said as he hugged him.

"Thanks, champ," Kylian responded, returning the hug with strength.

[ladykailitha]

My steddie brain never rests. And neither will I!! Bwahahahaha! *cough cough* Sorry about that.

Eddie is a pirate captain. He is a known terror of the Seven Seas. His ship The Hellfire is known by its fearsome Jolly Roger. The skull has devil's horns and has a cutlass and musket on either side.

His first mate is Jeff and his cabin boy is Dustin.

He has a very dedicated crew. They are loyal to a fault and fiercely protective of their captain.

He is a thorn in the side of Lt. Jason Carver. The man tasked to bring him in.

Eddie has been captured a few times, but always his crew mounts a daring escape.

Final Eddie is caught and Carver isn't going to wait until morning to hang him and give his crew time to save him. He knows he'll catch hell for it later, but Eddie must be stopped.

When Carver comes to get him, he finds Eddie looking out the window at the night sky.

"Praying, Munson?" he sneers. "I didn't think your kind believed in God."

Eddie shakes his head. "No God. I worship starlight."

"Starlight?" Carver mocks. "What's so special about starlight?"

"When the moon is new and the stars stretch on forever," Eddie explains a little breathless, never taking his eyes from the window high above him, "you can find your way if you let the North Star lead you. That's what I believe in. The North Star."

Carver scoffs. "You sound like you're in love with a distant twinkle, Munson. I always knew you were mad, but this takes the cake."

Eddie shakes his head ruefully. "Oh that I could love a star, that it could love me back."

Carver motions to his men and they haul him to his feet.

They take him out to the scaffold where the noose is waiting for him. They put the rope around his neck and he whispers. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

Tears run down his face as they tighten the noose. He closes his eyes.

But before they could pull the handle that would send Eddie plummeting to his death a bright light appears blinding everyone but Eddie because his eyes were closed.

He feels a soft warm hand touch his cheek. "Keep your eyes closed for me, won't you?"

Eddie nods. He doesn't know what's going on but even through his eyelids he can tell the light is too bright.

Suddenly there are sounds of screaming and of people being ripped apart. Eddie squeezes his eyes further shut.

Then the rope is being removed from his neck. "Don't open your eyes yet, love," the warm voice murmurs in his ear.

Eddie shivers but not because of the chill of the night, but because the voice sent a sharp thrill straight to his gut.

Then he's being picked up and carried bridal style. Whoever this is keeps telling him he's all right, that he's safe now.

He get set down gently on his feet.

"You may open your eyes now."

And Eddie does only to be greeted by the most ethereal being he's ever seen.

His hair is dark brown with golden highlights and he has hazel eyes. He's wearing robes that shimmer in the light and he gives off a subtle glow.

"Thank you," Eddie murmurs.

The man gives him a gentle kiss. "I will always watch out for you, my beloved Eddie."

"What's your name?"

"Stella Polaris."

Then in a flash he's gone. He makes it back to his ship and tells them the tale.

They don't believe him at first but whenever a battle is turning against them, a light flashes, blinding their enemies and ensuring their victory.

Eddie makes it back to England and is talking to a scholar, getting the old man drunk in a bar.

He says he's an amateur astronomer and Eddie pumps he for information because of his own love of the stars. And he brings up the North Star.

"Ah," the old man says with a nod. "Stella Polaris, the star that is polar. The one star in the sky you can always rely."

And Eddie is floored. His rescuer was the actual North Star.

That night laying in bed at the inn, Eddie says, "My own star. Well, I'll be damned."

Then Stella Polaris arrives in his room.

Eddie leaps from the bed and kisses him senseless.

"Stella Polaris is a bit of a mouthful for every day, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs between heated kisses. "What should I scream when you fuck me?"

The star laughs. "You can call me Steve."

"Well, come on, then, Stevie," Eddie coos wagging his eyebrows. "The night is young and I have been aching for you since you rescued me."

They tumble into the bed and have sex. The next morning comes, and Eddie wakes up to find a small little starburst scar just a above his heart that he'll later get tattooed.

For the star that fell in love with a pirate and the pirate who loved it back.

[magiccath]

Tokens of love

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor leaves you love notes around the TARDIS. At least... that's what you think they are

It started as a joke. 

“If you’re the Doctor, do you have messy handwriting?” you asked with a laugh, leaning against him. You knew he wasn’t actually a doctor, but you wondered if the stereotype still applied. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he had deflected, ignoring your comment. 

After that, he started leaving notes around the TARDIS. At first, you thought they were for him, reminders to do silly things like sleep and brush his teeth. Then, they started appearing in your spaces. You couldn’t read them, they were in circular Gallifreyan. Even if you were versed in the language, you doubted that you would be able to decipher them. The Doctor’s handwriting was awful. Worse than you could have ever imagined or joked about. The notes looked more like blind scribbles than actual messages. 

“What is this?” you asked, holding up a bright yellow sticky note with some scribbles on it. 

“A little note for you,” The Doctor grinned childishly, turning his attention back to the console in front of him. 

“I don’t read Gallifreyan,” you laughed, sticking the note on the console.

“What does it say?”

The Doctor pulled his glasses out of his pocket and examined the note. You were surprised he could read his own handwriting. After a few moments of deliberation, he pulled back from the note. 

“I love you.” He smiled, taking the glasses back off. You had no reason to assume it said anything else.

“Well in that case I’m taking this back,” you huffed, grabbing the note back. You tried your best to hide the blush creeping across your face. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the Doctor in for a quick kiss. The action left the man flustered and blushing. Even now, your kisses could leave him speechless.  

After that, the Doctor started leaving more and more notes for you to find. They were almost all different and scattered in all kinds of places about the TARDIS. By your bed, in your bathroom, buried in the library, or somewhere in the kitchen. Sometimes the Doctor would just give them to you directly, followed by a kiss. 

After a while, you stopped asking what they said. It was always a variation of “I love you,” or something regarding how beautiful you were. You found it incredibly sweet, so you kept every single note. 

Most of them were bright, colorful sticky notes with short but sweet messages. There were a couple that were longer, and you assumed those to be detailed love letters. The issue was, you couldn’t read a single one. 

You had tried to learn circular Gallifreyan, a feat that proved harder than you thought. The Doctor refused to teach you, and there were hardly any books on the language in the TARDIS library. You picked up bits and pieces but they did little to advance your understanding of the strange messages.

Before long you had a thick stack of notes resting on your desk. A messy array of papers and sloppy writing. For the most part, you kept them in the order that you had discovered them. They were some of your most prized possessions. They came from the Doctor, which made them special enough. 

One day, Donna was hanging out with you in your room on the TARDIS. These days, she spent more time with you than anyone else, usually mulling about your room. She’d burst in without as much as a knock on your door. You weren’t complaining - the company was nice. 

Down the hall, the Doctor was busy with something in the control room. The constant clanging from down the hallway let you know he was still alive. 

Donna poked her head out of your bathroom, holding up a note. 

“Why do you have Bop It instructions on the bathroom mirror?” Donna asked, confused. 

You furrowed your brow and grabbed the note from her. This was the first one he had ever left in English. His handwriting was still awful, but it was more legible than his Gallifreyan. 

“What..?” you whispered, equally confused. You turned the note over multiple times in your hands, examining it from every angle. You even turned it upside down, hoping that might explain its peculiar nature. This certainly wasn’t a love note. 

You grabbed your stack and flipped through them. It was undoubtedly from the Doctor, the handwriting was unmistakable, and the pen was the same. 

“He said these were love notes,” you explained, gesturing to the stack. Donna raised an eyebrow, sending a disapproving look your way. 

“I’m not sure Bop It instructions can classify as love notes,” she laughed. 

“Maybe to him?” you defended, shrugging slightly. You’d never received love notes before, especially not from an alien, so you didn’t exactly know what to expect. 

Donna made a contemplative noise, frowning at the notes. Without asking, she snatched the stack from your hands and stormed off down the hallway. “Donna!” you called after her, flabbergasted. You dashed after her, scared of whatever came next. Donna was not to be trifled with. 

The redhead found the Doctor and shoved the stack in front of him. He looked up at her, extremely confused. Panting, you finally caught up with her. 

“Read them,” she demanded, hands resting on her hips. You flashed her a disapproving glare, upset with her antics. You weren’t a confrontational person. If it was up to you, you would have just asked him about it. 

“Start with that one,” Donna commanded, gesturing to the one she found. 

The Doctor frowned down at his writing, realization striking him. He had messed up and written in English. His cover was blown. 

“In my defense, the game is in English.” He winced, handing the note back to Donna. “Mix-ups are bound to happen,” he said casually, hoping to play it off. 

“You wrote it on purpose?” you asked, confused. Was this his idea of a joke, or did he really think he was being romantic? 

“Well…” the Doctor groaned, trying to find the best way to explain it. “I may have been writing you wikiHow articles.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with his own idea of a joke. 

“You said they were love notes?!” 

The Doctor blushed, averting his gaze. You rolled your eyes. Leave it up to your stupid space boyfriend to leave you wikiHow articles and call them love notes. 

“Read them to me,” you said simply, sitting down calmly. “In order,” you added. 

The Doctor scrunched his face like the idea was painful, but complied. He couldn’t figure out how to talk his way out of this, so it was best to play along. 

“This ought to be good,” Donna laughed, sitting down next to you. The Doctor flipped through the notes, trying to find some of the first ones he had left you. He picked up a bright yellow sticky note, the first one he had ever given you. The one he had claimed read “I love you.” 

“How to Grow Cabbage,” he whispered, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. You cleared your throat and raised your eyebrows disapprovingly. The Doctor blushed and repeated the note louder. 

You and Donna exchanged a look of confusion, wondering why the Doctor would leave you such a note.

He turned a darker shade of red as he continued to flip through the notes, looking for the next one. 

“How to Keep Cats Out of Your Yard.” 

Donna scoffed from next to you. You hid your own smile with your hand, finding the title both useless and comical. The Doctor furrowed his brow at your reactions and continued.

He found a stray note in the pile and frowned at it, clearly upset by its contents. 

“I didn’t write this one,” he claimed, eyes wide. You moved closer to him, trying to read the note over his shoulder. 

“What does it say?”

“How to Be Less Talkative,” he mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Oi!” Donna laughed, flashing the man a disapproving look. Behind him, you giggled, finding his defensiveness cute. 

“I swear, that wasn’t me!” the Doctor argued, looking up at you with pleading eyes. He was terrified you would be offended or mad at him. Instead, you seemed to find the situation hilarious. 

“You talk more than both of us!” Donna laughed, pointing at the Doctor. 

He furrowed his brow and groaned, “I didn’t write it!” He argued. You smiled warmly, enjoying the banter between your friends. 

The TARDIS thrummed behind the Doctor, the sound barely audible over the laughter. 

“Meddler,” he growled, presuming the ship had left the message for you. He frowned at the note in his hands, hoping the ship didn’t just ruin his relationship with you. 

“It’s ok.” You smiled, reassuring the Doctor. You sat back down next to him, taking the note from his hands and setting it aside. You picked out a larger letter from the pile, one that you had tried for weeks to decipher. With a smile, you handed it to him, “What does this one say?” 

“How to Eliminate Monsters Under the Bed,” he said with a seriousness that felt out of place. 

“Is this your idea of a love letter?” Donna teased, taking the paper from his hands. She squinted at it, but still couldn’t read it. It just looked like scribbles to her. 

“It’s useful!” he argued, almost pouting. 

You tilted your head in confusion, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“It could save your life someday,” he said earnestly, looking you in the eye. You genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being serious. The Doctor could say crazy things and mean them. You looked over at Donna, hoping she might have some insight into his truthfulness, but she looked equally confused. Deciding to move on, you handed the Doctor another sticky note. 

“How to Shower With a Lemon.” 

You squinted, trying to process the words coming out of the Doctor’s mouth. 

“You made that one up,” Donna laughed, waving him away.

“Lemons are actually good for your skin,” the Doctor stated. He continued on about their benefits, but if you were being honest you got a bit lost. He had a habit of going off on rambling tangents, and quite often you got lost in his rushed words. Judging by Donna’s far-off look, she was equally lost. 

“It’s not that unusual,” he shrugged, signaling the end of his tangent. You smiled and nodded, pretending that you understood any of the words he had just said. 

“This is a good one.” He smiled, picking up a neon green sticky note from the pile. 

“How to Calculate Pi by Throwing Frozen Hot Dogs.”

“There’s no way you didn’t make that one up,” Donna argued, determined she was right. 

“It’s a real thing!” The Doctor frowned.

“That’s something straight from your whacky Martian brain!” 

“For the last time,” the Doctor groaned, running his hands down his face, “I’m not from Mars.” 

“He had to have made it up,” Donna said, turning to you. You shrugged, completely unsure. 

While your friends continued to argue, you took the liberty of looking it up. Sure enough, it was a real thing. Upon further research, you found that multiple people were responsible for writing and editing the article. Neither the Doctor nor any of his aliases were listed.

“It’s real.” You smiled sadly, handing your phone over to Donna. You watched as her eyes danced across the screen. A crinkle formed between her eyes, the cogs turning endlessly in her brain

“You used multiple accounts to cover up the fact that you wrote it,” She glared. 

“I would never!” he gasped, clutching his chest.

Donna rolled her eyes, clearly not believing him. To be fair, it did seem like something he would do. 

You smiled to yourself, having found their argument both entertaining and adorable. 

When Donna wasn’t looking, the Doctor winked at you. You frowned, confused as to what he was hinting. 

Ignoring you, he picked up the next note and read it out loud, “How to Sneak Your Cat Into Work.” He continued to flip through the notes before finding the next one. 

“How to Apologize to a Cat.” 

“For someone who dislikes cats so much, you sure did leave me a lot of notes regarding them…” you pointed out, leaning into the Doctor’s shoulder. From the corner, you heard Donna let out a little laugh. The man ignored you two and continued on. 

“How to Flush a British Toilet.” He smiled at the note, clearly proud of himself. 

“We end up in Britain a lot,” he explained to you with a cheeky smile. 

You rolled your eyes, “I know how to flush a toilet, love.” 

“How to Be Random.” 

“You’re one to talk!” you laughed, playfully shoving the Doctor. Donna burst into laughter, pointing at the Doctor. He looked between the two of you, bewildered and confused. 

“I have a reason for everything I do.” He frowned, upset at the accusation. “I don’t just do things on a whim.” 

The last comment made you and Donna lose it. You almost fell out of your chair with laughter, which only seemed to upset the Doctor even more. 

“I think your laughter is more than displaced,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You tried to reel in your laughter to comfort him, but his grumpy face only made you laugh more. 

Ignoring you, he started to rattle off more notes. 

“How to Listen to Music, How to High Five, How to Walk.” 

“Doctor,” you started to ease your laughter, “We don’t walk much, we always seem to be running for our lives.” You smiled, proud of your quip. 

“Well, you do waddle a little,” the Doctor shrugged nonchalantly, continuing on before you could protest too much. 

“How to Breathe.” 

“Wait,” Donna interrupted, “that’s a normal human reflex.” You nodded, agreeing with her comment. 

“Seems like a fairly useless article to me,” you added. 

The Doctor looked warily between you and Donna, his eyes lingering on the redhead. When you turned to laugh with her, he attempted to hide one of the longer letters. Catching his motion from the corner of your eye, you stopped him. 

“What’s this one?” you asked, snagging the letter from his hands. The Doctor avoided eye contact, debating various possible responses. He settled on the truth. 

“How to Be Human.”  

“I am human,” you laughed, clearly finding the letter a joke. The Doctor didn’t share your amusement. He stared at you with a curious expression, almost like he was studying you. He made a small humming noise that suggested he didn’t believe you. 

“I am!” you repeated with an uncomfortable laugh. The Doctor looked between you and Donna again before giving you a knowing look. He presumed your reluctance was due to the other woman in the room, though he didn’t believe your protests. 

“How to Become a Philosopher,” the Doctor read, looking around the room for reactions. Much to his dismay, you and Donna remained silent. You were still reeling from the last one. 

The Doctor frowned at the remaining notes, desperately not wanting to read them. He rushed through them, hoping to go too fast for you to understand. 

“How to Romance a Man, How to Get a Man to Marry You, How to Apply For a Marriage Licence in Alaska, How to Dress For a Wedding, How to Stop a Wedding, How to-” 

You cut the Doctor off, “I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Are you trying to say something?” 

The Doctor looked at you innocently, as if he hadn’t just tried to avoid the whole ordeal. 

“The last five notes mentioned marriage.” 

“Six,” Donna corrected, counting them off on her fingers. 

“Are you trying to…” you thought about the last one, “Stage a wedding?” you asked. 

Then it occurred to you. Maybe the Doctor was trying to propose to you. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about marrying the Doctor. You’d been dating for years, and you loved the man more than you had ever loved anything else. You couldn’t imagine your life without him. You had just assumed that was never something he wanted for the two of you. Franky, you were fine with it. You didn’t need a ring to know the Doctor loved you, he showed you that in his own ways. 

“Or are you trying to propose to me?” 

Now it was Donna’s turn to look shocked. Her gaze darted between the two of you, her mouth hanging open in shock. The Doctor turned bright red and averted his gaze. 

“Because it definitely needs work,” you added, scrunching your nose. “How to Stop a Wedding is kind of misleading.” 

Donna was still staring at you, a little too shocked for words. 

“Is that what you were trying to ask me?” you clarified, hoping you hadn’t read too much into it. 

“Maybe,” the Doctor said quietly. Donna let out a pained squeak. 

“Maybe I’d say yes.” 

The Doctor lit up. One of his signature grins took over his face and he jumped up from his seat. 

“Really?” he asked. You nodded, you’d never been more sure of anything in your life. 

The Doctor wrapped his arms around your waist, excitedly lifting you off of the floor. You threw your head back, happily laughing. The Doctor planted kisses all over your face, placing his lips anywhere he could. Finally, he settled on your lips. 

“You’re getting married!” Donna finally processed, throwing her hands up in excitement. The Doctor pulled away from you with a smile, gently setting you back down. 

“We’re getting married,” you giggled, hardly able to contain your excitement. 

“We need to get to the space registry!” Donna clapped excitedly, already moving towards the TARDIS console. 

“Marriage isn’t even a concept in many civilizations why would there be-” 

“Shut it, spaceman,” Donna snapped, gesturing to the TARDIS. The Doctor rolled his eyes but complied. 

“I still have my wedding dress if you need it,” she said, elbowing the Doctor in the side but looking at you. 

“It doesn’t have pockets,” he grumbled, remembering the first time he met Donna. Donna rolled her eyes, clearly unbothered by the idea. 

“Do you remember your wedding?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in disapproval. Donna scrunched up her face, a clear sign of disgust. 

“Don’t remind me.” 

You giggled, also remembering the first time you met Donna. 

“We can get pockets added,” you reassured, taking the Doctor’s hand. He smiled down at you and nodded, letting go of your hand to pilot the TARDIS. 

After a short, fairly smooth flight, the ship landed with its usual thump. You wobbled on your feet, but the Doctor wrapped an arm around you for support. 

“Where are we?” you asked. 

“Chiswick, Donna’s house.” 

“What? Why?” She frowned, confused. 

“I figure Wilfred is going to want to come, and we need to pick up that dress.” 

Donna nodded, understanding. The three of you started to walk out of the TARDIS. 

“We also need to go to a tailor,” he added, grabbing his coat from its spot by the door. 

“For pockets?” Donna laughed, grabbing her own coat. 

“Obviously,” he said, “I’m not walking around without pockets. Plus, it might need some alterations,” he continued, gesturing to his long frame in comparison to Donna’s.

Donna stopped in her tracks, eyes practically bulging out of her head. She shook her head, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Behind them, you giggled lightly. Regaining her thought process she opened her mouth,

“I’m sorry… what?!” 

[halcyonfawn]

the meaning behind "face the raven" theme in "wild blue yonder" and more

a continuation of this post. i need to talk about this otherwise i'll explode.

some people have also said that this theme is playing in "last christmas" and "hell bent" (thank you for pointing that out, i'm going to die) which makes it all even worse (better). therefore, this post is, more or less, destined to turn into capaldi's era brainrot. but not all of it, i promise.

you've been warned.

first of all, allow me to refresh your memory. let's look into the context of the scenes where we heard this music theme before.

"last christmas"

according to series 8 official soundtrack, this theme is a part of "every christmas is last christmas" and is heard quite clearly two times. they're both important scenes for the doctor and clara.

too late.

a moment full of regrets and nostalgia. the doctor thinking he's lost clara again, wishing he would have come back sooner. clara reminicing her life without the doctor in it.

"so no one matched up to danny, eh?" "there was one other man, but that would never have worked out." "why not?" "he was impossible."

it is (heavily) implied that "one other man" is the doctor. does the doctor himself realise that she's talking about him? open for interpretation. but what this small exchange truly does is showing a game of saying something without actually saying it.

"can you really see no difference in me?" "clara oswald, you will never look any different to me."

yet another way of dancing around words. there's something special and touching about this last line. it is sort of a confession of unconditional love. but the word itself - love - is never spoken out loud.

then again, twelfth might be face blind.

second chances.

now, this scene is a complete opposite of the one mentioned above. it's full of hope, anticipation, happiness. a beginning of a new arc. he is given a second chance and he takes it. the doctor asks clara to run away with him once again. and she says "yes" without hesitation, takes his hand, kisses him on the cheek.

conclusion? these two scenes are focused entirely on the doctor and clara's relationship. it is there to show their strong connection, how much they mean to one another. utter devastation at the thought of their time ending and the absolute joy of reuniting after being separated. a chance at a happy ending. which also makes the music that plays on the background their theme.

"face the raven"

"every christmas is last christmas" is now turned into "face the raven" and is asocciated with clara's death. it also makes the previous name even more heartwrenching since last christmas was literally clara and doctor's last hurrah. we can hear this piece of music appear in two scenes as well.

clara's monologue about facing the raven.

"if danny pink can do it so can i. die right. die like i mean it, face the raven. maybe this is what i wanted. maybe this is it. maybe this is why i kept running. maybe this is why i kept taking all those stupid risks, kept pushing it."

she's accepting her fate and aknowleges her recklesness all the way throught the season 9. it was meant to be. there wasn't enough space for two doctors in the tardis.

"i let you get reckless" "why? why shouldn't i be reckless? you're reckless all the bloody time! why can't i be like you?" "clara, there's nothing special about me. i'm nothing but less breakable than you. i should've taken care of you."

this scene is also about how a human life can be so very short compared to the time lord's and how easily it can end. it's fragile. and it's the doctor's curse: bearing the pain of losing his loved ones.

clara meeting her fate.

as she approaches the raven, ever so brave, the doctor watches her. he hears clara scream, then witness her collapsing onto the ground. it is extremely painful, but this is, i repeat, the doctor's curse: watching his companions leave. there's no use in running away from that pain, it haunts him every step of the way.

"hell bent"

next time, "face the raven" theme can be heard during the memory wipe sequence. there is no name given for the background music in this particular moment, but it's quite obvious it represents loss and... letting go?

the doctor is about to make clara forget their time together (does that ring a bell, anyone?).

it is worth pointing out that the music becomes the loudest at the exact moment the doctor says:

"look how far i went for fear of losing you. this has to stop. one of us has to go."

it is the culmination of their relationship. companions that push each other to extremes. together they might destroy the whole universe in order to keep each other safe. there's no other way but to separate. they've formed such a strong connection than one is ought to forget the other.

even though at first the doctor is determined to wipe clara's memories, he then admits she is right: it is unfair to take away all that wonderful time they had from her. so he gives her a choice. or, more like, an offer to play a russian roulette. it's either you or me. i'm not going to press that button. we will do this together.

to summarise: all of these moments featured a strong connection between clara and the doctor. it also tells us a story about how hard it is to lose someone you care about deeply, especially for the doctor.

how is it all connected to the doctor and donna?

memory wipe

the doctor has to make donna and clara forget about him in order to keep them safe. expect that he doesn't give donna a choice, wiping her memory almost instantly, without saying a proper goodbye to her. obviously, he didn't have enough time to think of a better way to solve the problem since donna wouldn't have lasted long. however, it is still a decision he regrets making.

from "the star beast":

"i'm so glad you're back, donna. it killed me, it killed me, it killed me."

if we take a look at clara's situation, it's a bit different. i've already mentioned it above: at first, the doctor wants to do the same thing to clara that he did to donna. make her forget. expect, this time he is confronted for doing so (even threatened, at some point).

"these have been the best years of my life and they're mine."

i think this line triggers something in the doctor. because this is when he realises that this is not the right thing to do. not exactly. he'd already done it once and he regretted it. so this time, he offers a slightly different solution. someone still has to forget, but they'll press that button together. it's a mutual choice.

now, i know it's not entirely related to the dialogue in "wild blue yonder", but i think it's worth mentioning that donna and clara's stories are somewhat similar. i'm sure it's been said before, but it's still important.

donna's story was incomplete because she wasn't given a choice. now, that she remembers, 14th doctor makes sure their time together is worth-while. a second chance just like in "last christams".

too alike

another similarity between these two stories is that clara and donna are not entirely humans. not anymore.

donna's half timelord. even though her head is still not big enough to fit all the doctor's memories, she still has a part of the doctor in her.

clara's frozen in time, that makes her practically immortal. she risks her life, she reverses the polarity of the neuroblock, she gets her own tardis, she's even reffered to as "clara who" at the end of "hell bent". she has become the doctor in a sense.

but there can only be one doctor. so where's the story heading to at this point, i wonder? but we'll come back to this question later.

"but what really happened?"

before i say anything, it is obvious that the doctor's silence before and after he says "a lot" is him reminicing all that'd happened to him during the 11th, 12th and 13th reincarnations. all of the loss and pain he went through.

but why "face the raven" theme of all things? it could be a general theme of grief/nostalgia/painful memories, nothing else implied.

but please let me be delusional for a bit longer!

just as that scene in "hell bent" brought the doctor back to the moment he made donna forget him, could it be that bringing back his best friend's memories in a whole universe that "he absolutely loves", also reminded him of another important person in his life with similar story? just like "hell bent" mirrored "the journey's end", "wild blue younder" gave us a reference to "hell bent".

this is where we get back to the question about the current story direction.

foreshadowing?

donna's story is not over. and there are a lot of possibilities how it can end.

say, there is a connection to clara's story here, i wonder if that's where the plot's heading. in one of the trailers, the doctor does say "i'm not sure if i can save you this time" to donna. and it worries me. then again, maybe they're just tricking us into thinking something bad will happen (oh the drama).

i'd say it's unlikely donna's going to die because that would be absolutely devastating after just bringing her back. at the very least, the ending wouldn't be completely "happily ever after". perhaps, sacrifices will be made in order to prevent something truly horrible from happening.

why did this face come back?

in "the girl who died" twelfth doctor finally realises why he got his face. it is a call-back to "the fires of pompei" (don't even get me started on its being the episode with 10th and donna).

the message the doctor was giving to himself turned out to be:

"i'm the doctor and i save people!"

but what is 14th trying to tell himself?

i think it's about donna and more.

he's fixing his mistake of erasing her memories and depriving her of the right to remember amazing things that'd happened to her.

it's a reminder to actually tell people how much they mean to him. as we can see, 14th's more open with his feelings and constantly shows signs of affection towards his loved ones, even breaking the "never say i love you" rule.

it's about being honest and open with people because they deserve to hear it from him and he deserves to hear it back. because "things happen and then it's too late".

again, take 12th doctor, for instance. he constantly represses his feelings. but in my humble opinion, the reason why he's changed by season 10 was clara. she pulled him out of the dark place. and even though her death almost threw him back to that state again, he is still a better man by season 10.

but there were things left unsaid. love and care were always there but it was never said out loud. kind of the same thing happened with 13th.

i strongly believe that donna is that person for 14th. they're best friends who love each other deeply. and after the doctor lost her and got a second chance to fix everything, he does, he's being affectione. he's finally open with his feelings.

conslusion: why did you make us read all fo this?

to answer the question in the title: it's all tied with how memories are important and priceless, fixing past mistakes, moving on and learning to treasure every moment with people you care about like it's your last.

it can also be a foreshadowing for something terrible, but i choose to hope for the better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

aaaand that is the end of my doctor who rant. thank you for getting this far, if you did!

my feelings about all of this can be described with this one meme:

[muddyorbsblr]

a startling realization pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Oakley finally finds the words to explain what he's been feeling for you, but the sudden reappearance of someone from his immediate past threatens to dampen the mood. And ruin any progress he's had toward becoming more with you.

Pairing: Oakley x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k (get some drinkies ready)

Warning/s: angy boi Oakley at the elderly (she had it coming); bit of angst; language (like maybe 2 cuss words) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: only one bed trope at the end; special guest Hiddles character mentioned; jealous and clingy Oakley hours

Note to self: Find a massive care package for Y/N's sister to thank her for the new dresses, Oakley typed away at his phone, giving himself a reminder as he looked outside the cafe to where you were seated, admiring the way today's wine-colored dress made you look like a doll. Every dress the last few days did, and it always gave him the perfect opportunity to offer you his jacket if ever you started getting chills during your classes.

It was a rare beautifully sunny morning, and he told you to find a seat outside, beat the rest of the customers to it. He'd take care of ordering for the both of you. Much as he still didn't consider himself a morning person in the least, these hours he got to spend with you before your first class for the day made it well worth the adjustment. Especially today, that he was blessed with the vision of the morning light bathing you in such an ethereal glow.

You were more than a doll today, you were an angel. At the risk of blaspheming any deity out there, he might even call you a goddess.

It was just too bloody bad for him that other men were beginning to notice the change in your appearance, too. Some frat boys blatantly ogling you and nudging their mates to get a good eyeful as well, others even being so bold that they outright approached you to tell you how nice you'd been looking this week. While he was visibly in your company, no less.

And then…there was the worst of them all, at least to him. Your thesis advisor. Professor Laing. Who saw you even before your sister's intervention. Who showered you with admittedly well-deserved praises for being one of the brightest amongst his students.

Who saw you for everything you were worth even before Oakley himself did because he was so caught up in enjoying his life as a boy, that he didn't realize that a better life could have been waiting for him as a man.

Who was standing outside by your table, chatting it up with you with that blinding grin of his that he seemed to only have for you. Every other student in your year only ever got that menacing grimace as if he was lambasting every word that came out their mouth. No one dared approach him to become their thesis adviser, but for you…for you the professor approached you himself. Saved you the trouble of lining up with everyone else on the faculty and fighting your classmates for slots.

You were the only one he took on.

This was definitely a new emotion, the pounding in his chest, the furious breaths he was taking through his nose as he watched the two of you outside. Before there was only a mild irritation whenever he took notice of how much nicer the otherwise grouchy professor was to you. But now? Now it felt as if someone lit a fire under his arse. Now his insides were writhing with something he'd rarely, if ever, dealt with before.

Jealousy.

Laing made a motion as if to take the seat across from you, and from what he could see of your face, you seemed apologetic, explaining to him that it was already taken. "Yes, that's right, the seat's mine, you pompous wanker," Oakley muttered under his breath, forcing a civil thin line of a smile across his face when the older man looked into the cafe, his own bright smile fading into its signature grimace before he nodded at both of you, before saying something else to you, briefly touching your shoulder, and crossing the street toward the campus proper.

The elderly lady at the register cleared her throat, motioning for him to step forward. "A fry up with the works and a cup of decaf," he said absentmindedly, browsing the lineup of pastries for something down your alley.

"And for your girlfriend, dearie?"

The word felt like a jolt of electricity all over his body, all the way to the tips of his fingers. The roots of his hair.. "Erm, she's not my girlfriend, but I'll get two of those jalapeño cheese puffs, a lemon bar, and your largest iced coffee as well."

"Could've fooled me, dearie," she shot back at him. "The way you looked at her, your pupils might as well be heart-shaped." He handed her his credit card when she told him the total, his mind still fixating on that word.

Did he want that for you? Was he ready to put your friendship on the line for the chance of becoming something…more? How would you react if he told you he'd been thinking about you endlessly since he got back from Italy? Was he ready for the possibility of you rejecting him?

Did everyone that saw him in the last few days know what was going on in his mind whenever he looked at you? Was he that much of an open book that literal strangers could decipher him so easily?

And if strangers had read him within moments…had you read him, too?

"She's my friend," he said softly, the words fighting against him as if it hurt him to say. "How am I supposed to tell her--"

"I've been here quite a while, dearie," the lady cut him off. "And I've seen all kinds of stories play out in this here cafe. You're not the first ladykiller I've seen wanting to go down the reformation route, and you certainly won't be the last. I'll tell you what I've told every single one before you. You can't go about thinking about how to tell her, if you don't even know the words yourself yet. Once you can tell yourself how you feel about this girl, that's the only time you can start even thinking about how you're going to woo her."

Oakley began to stew over more questions, starting with whether he even knew for himself quite yet these feelings he was having for you. How long would it take for him to know what they were? Where would he even start to find the words?

What if someone else found his words faster? Told you before he ever could? Or even worse…

What if someone else already knew how he felt, and could articulate those feelings better than Oakley ever could his own? Someone who had years of experience on him, and was so visibly smitten with you, it was almost endearing that you hadn't ever noticed it?

"What if I tell her and it's already too late? Or she doesn't feel the same?" What if all she'll ever see in me is the randy scoundrel that juggled two affairs in Italy?

"Then at least you would have told her. Letting your words remain unsaid will weigh down on you your whole life. Until they burst out of you. Or they crush you."

The sound of the service bell from the kitchen effectively stopped the conversation dead in its tracks, leaving Oakley to process the sage woman's words as she brought the tray to him.

"Enjoy your breakfast, dearie. And your company."

Before he lifted the tray, he snuck a glance at your seat again, his blood going cold when he caught sight of the woman walking away from your table. He hadn't seen her face, not completely, just a glimpse of the side of her face.

That was all he needed, though. He knew that frame, so well that it made him uneasy. Anna.

Once he made his way to you, there was a faraway look in your eyes, repeatedly scanning the same page on your notes as if nothing was sinking in. "Y/N…"

You started in your seat, looking a bit like a cartoon as you shook your head rapidly to get out of whatever thoughts were running through your head. Then your mouth stretched into a strained smile again. Just like the night he got back.

The unsettling pit in his stomach returned, a mixture of shame and fear flooding him now that a part of what he wanted to leave in the past had followed him and found its way to you. He couldn't help himself anymore, he reached across the table and took your hand in his, desperately trying to close the steadily growing distance he was feeling between you two.

"Y/N what's wrong? That woman that was just here what did she--"

"She's quite lovely," you told him, your strained smile unwavering as your eyes flickered to your joint hands. "Just wanted to check up on you since she couldn't call your mobile anymore. You really shouldn't let the people that care about you worry like that, Oakley."

You returned your focus to your notes, pulling your hand away from his to trace along your line of sight on the piece of paper, and at the same time deflating him of any hope that he had that perhaps you two would have a rather pleasant morning. Simply joking around and roaming about the campus until it was time for your classes together.

He was hoping that maybe today you would be open to the idea of having dinner with him. He would dress all nice and bring you to one of those frilly restaurants with wait staff and fancy wine glasses. Before you two would pick up some pizza for your all-nighter at his apartment.

Any hopes of today having any form of levity faded into nothing all because Anna wasn't one to let go. She'd tried to impose herself into Oakley's life and when she failed, she instead drove you away from him.

His panic worsened when you placed your things in your book bag, only throwing a cursory glance at the tray he'd brought out. No no, please don't leave, he wanted to plead with you. Beg you if he needed to. Don't take my light away. My home.

"Wait…Y/N, where are you going?" He couldn't find it in him to speak any louder, the lump in his throat making it hard to even breathe. Please stay.

"Professor Laing passed by while you were inside. Told me his schedule's cleared up for the day and I won't have to wait until after lunch to consult with him about my thesis." His chest felt a sharp pinch at your monotonous answer, not even a hint of your usually playful tone present. Like you were just trying to get out with as little fuss as possible.

"But…" he uttered, his voice barely a whisper. Maybe even a whimper. "What about breakfast?" he asked you lamely. "I got your favorites." Please stay.

The smile you gave him now was mirthless. Civil. "If I hurry perhaps I can find that lady friend of yours. She could join you, have a lovely morning together."

"No, no, Y/N stop." He placed his hands over yours, grabbing hold of your book bag for dear life. The words he was biting back from before began to spill out. "She doesn't mean anything to me. Just…just…please? Sit and we'll just finish our meal together and I can walk you to Laing's office myself." Please stay. Stay with me.

"She might not mean anything to you," you muttered, your hands stilling when his thumbs began to stroke the inside of your wrists, the gesture a touch too intimate for the two of you. "But clearly you mean something to her. She went all this way to see you--"

"That's obsession, Y/N, not affection. She doesn't care about me. Not in the ways that matter." Not like how I care about you. "Please?" he tried again. "Breakfast? Then straight to Laing's office. No detours, no distractions." And no ghosts from my past trying to drive a wedge between us.

He finally felt like he could breathe again when you sat back down on your seat, taking a bite from your puff pastry with a ghost of a smile playing on your lips when the cheese and jalapeño hit your taste buds. "You weren't kidding when you said you picked out my favorites," you mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand while you spoke. "Thank you."

"You know I've always been curious what is it about those pastries that you love so much. The lemon bars I understand. Coffee…I've accepted we'll never be on the same page with that--"

"To you, Goldie, it's a necessary evil. To me, it's like petrol to a car," you explained to him. "I need it if I want to function properly. Now as for these pastries…" You cut a small piece from your pastry, making a motion to hand the fork over to him. "Since you bought today's breakfast, I think it's only right that I share and help you satisfy your curiosity."

The Anna-shaped cloud that hung over your heads seemed to have been shoo'd away. At least for now. Oakley made a note to have a word with her if she was still hanging around campus after he walked you to your session with Laing.

For now he was more than content to enjoy the moment with you, wrapping his comparatively larger hand around your wrist and holding the fork in place. Then he held your gaze as he closed his lips around the tines, offering you a little smirk as he handed you back your now empty fork.

The remainder of breakfast passed quickly. Too quickly, if he was being completely honest with himself. Before he knew it he was already walking you toward your thesis adviser's office, once again fighting against the urge to wrap his hand around yours. To lace your fingers together.

"Alright so…I'll see you later tonight then." Your words violently yanked him back to the present moment. Tonight? "All nighter? Our thesis portfolios?" Your face fell for a fraction of a moment before stretching into that smile that now instilled the fear of God in him. He never wanted to have to see you smile like that again. To wear a mask around him. "But if you're going to be catching up with your lady friend I totally understand, we can always reschedule--"

"I'm not," he cut you off, frantically placing his hands on your shoulders. Part of him was fearful that if he didn't, you would have just slipped away. "Of course we're still on for tonight. I just--Won't I see you in class?" He was tripping over his own words, trying to get them out fast enough that you'd know he was far from wanting to cancel plans with you.

In fact he wanted to make more plans with you, if he could.

"Oh…right…" you said in an exhale, your features twisting into a sheepish expression. "Tiny thing…I took the exception exams. And I passed. I'm pretty much done with--Well, everything, really. Except this portfolio. I technically don't have to attend any more classes unless I just want to be a nuisance to our instructors. Or annoy the living daylights out of you."

There was another pinch in his chest as the information sunk in. Now he was going to have even less time with you? He must have pissed off some deity of confused and conflicted emotions, because they were making it increasingly difficult for him to find the time with you so he could make sense of what exactly it was he was feeling.

Why every time he saw you all he wanted was to have you right next to him. To put his arm around you, not even to tell every onlooker that you were with him, but rather just to feel you there with him.

Why the moment you parted ways all he could think about was when he would see you again, his thumbs hovering over the buttons on his mobile, itching to send you a message. To make plans for the next day. For the weekend.

For after graduation, wherever that would take you.

"That's…that's wonderful news, Y/N. Truly. No one in our class has worked harder than you. No one deserves a breather more. I'll see you tonight, then."

He wanted to place a kiss on your forehead. Or perhaps your cheek. But the fear set in again that if he did, that was a bell he couldn't unring, and he wasn't even fully aware what bell it even was to begin with. So instead he handed you his jacket instead, draping it over your shoulders.

"In case you get cold."

There was a glimmer of something in your eye before you gave him a soft, warm smile, the kind that started to show that little dimple in your cheek. A real smile. The kind he'd been dreaming about seeing on your face when he pulled away after kissing you.

"Thanks, Goldie. Try not to take a nap during the lectures."

He stayed at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Faculty of English building until you'd made your way inside, offering him a tiny wave before the doors closed. There were words at the tip of his tongue, itching to be said, that was pure uncharted territory for him.

The mere thought of commitment scared the living daylights out of him; this wasn't his forte. Never had been. He wasn't the kind that thought about cleaning his apartment and making room in his drawers and counters for your things. The kind that only thought about spending the foreseeable future with one woman and deleting every other contact in his phone that he'd collected over the years for short lived flings.

He wasn't the type that planned for the long haul, the kind that wanted to be someone's husband.

And yet for you…he wanted to be that type of man. He wanted to go on an adventure with you that wouldn't last a few fleeting days.

The sound of Eric and Marcus chuckling as he approached the lecture halls brought him back to the present, his blood turning cold when he saw who it was they were laughing with.

"Oh look there he is! Oaks! Look who popped by for a visit." Marcus waved him over, Eric making crude gestures behind both him and Anna. There was an unease in the older woman's eyes as he approached, as if part of her knew that coming here, finding some out of left field manner to insert herself into his life, had crossed a line in the sand that he'd never thought of drawing.

In truth he'd thought that the boundaries were implicit enough when they all parted ways a week ago. He was wrong.

"What're you doing here, Anna?" There was no warmth in his tone, her smile immediately dropping when she realized that he wouldn't be one for niceties. Not anymore.

"I--Well my calls weren't coming through and I'd begun to worry and since I was traveling and passing by the area--"

"Well then isn't that sweet, Oaks, the lovely Anna here was worried about you--"

"Too worried," he butted in again, the grim and unimpressed expression on his face unmoving. "So you came here to…what then, exactly? Did you have hopes of starting back up what never should have been back in Italy?"

"Oakley, darling, why are you like this--"

"I'm not your darling," he snarled, his nostrils flaring with the anger starting to boil up inside him. There's only one woman I wish to call me that and she barely even wishes to look at me since you invaded our morning. "I made mistakes on that getaway and I have to live with those memories. But I don't appreciate when those memories are trying to once again be present in my life while I'm trying to build for my future."

"Your future?" she repeated, scoffing. "That quaint little thing outside the cafe? I met her. She seems like a nice enough girl. Smells awfully familiar. But Oakley you don't possibly think a girl trying to build her own life would want to already be shackled down by something as defining as being 'your future'? Girls like Y/N--"

"Don't you dare say her name," he cut her off, the older woman immediately clamping her mouth shut. "You don't get to talk about her and belittle her as if she's something beneath you." He stepped closer, standing at his full height and imposing herself in her personal space. "Perhaps I didn't make it clear enough what the boundaries were when we all parted ways, and that's on me. But I'm going to make them clear now. Italy and boyish trysts and letting women barely more than strangers cling to me affectionately? That is firmly in my past. And I won't respond with kindness to anyone that tries to go against my wishes. Am I clear enough now?"

She could barely meet his eyes, fidgeting in place like she was trying to fight against the instinct to back away. But she insisted on her own convictions. "Y-You're young, you-you don't possibly know what or who you want yet, you need g-guidance--"

"I know who I want and it's not you." He'd begun to raise his voice, passersby stopping in their tracks and turning their heads to watch the commotion. "This will be the last time I repeat myself. What happened in Italy is my past. And there is only room for one woman in my future. And you met her outside the cafe. Must I make myself any clearer for you?" She shook her head mutely, already shuffling away to the side.

"I-I understand," she stammered. "I hope she'll make you happy."

"She will," he shot back without missing a beat. "If she even gives me a chance after whatever it is you might have told her." She gave him a single nod, waving a final goodbye to his friends before awkwardly stepping further backward and away from them. "One more thing, Anna. It'd be wise for you to lose my number. I had yours blocked. That's why your calls weren't going through." Her face fell even further, eyes misting over. "At the very least you deserve some semblance of closure. There you go."

He walked away before she or anyone else could say anything further, the faint sound of his mates giving her a haphazard goodbye registering in his ears before he heard their heavy stomping footsteps as they caught up to him.

"Bit cold, Oaks."

"She wasn't getting the hint," he deadpanned. "Coulda been nicer, I'll admit that. But I also coulda been worse. Considering she was beginning to belittle Y/N like that."

"So…Y/L/N, huh?" Marcus queried, trying to change the course of the conversation. "Got your whole life with her all planned out and everything?"

"Yep. Y/N," he answered, unable to help the smile that stretched across his face even saying your name. "And maybe not everything. Not yet. All I know is wherever I'm going, I wanna be going there with her. No one else."

"Well, mate, it's about bloody time," Eric quipped, clapping both his hands on Oakley's shoulders. "Slight problem…doesn't she kinda see you as just…oh I don't know, a friend?"

"Yeah…I was hoping you two could take a pause from your dick wetting trips in Sorority Row and help me with that. Make her see me as something other than…well, whatever the fuck she's seen since Freshman Year." He felt so awkward even admitting it to these two. He needed help with a girl. No. A woman.

Quite possibly the last woman, if things went his way.

The sound of the egg timer going off jolted you and Oakley out of your last review session for the night, handing each other back the articles you'd been peer-reviewing for the past half hour. "Goldie, you know you were supposed to critique these, right? I'm finding no marks on any of these."

"That's because I couldn't find any parts to critique," he answered. He couldn't help but smile watching your mouth form into a pout at his words, brows furrowing as your eyes scanned the page, no doubt critiquing your own work now. He grabbed the ultra-fine tip dark green pen from your hand before it could touch the paper. "Your work is concise, and yet offers explanations where needed without going on for too long. There's no part that felt it went on for ages or needed more meat to it. My honest opinion? Your works are borderline perfect even Laing would be proud."

You let out a little hmph, looking over the pages again. "Funny that Laing said nearly the same thing," you muttered, shaking your head at the words you were scanning over. "But there has to be something--"

"Y/N," he cut you off, giving a gentle but firm tug to the papers to get them out of your hands. "If even Professor Stick in the Mud Immovable Object Laing said that it's perfect as it is, take the win and just use the rest of your time to…I don't know, kick back? Get some sleep? You're beginning to get bags under your eyes and if they go any further you can start carrying your books around in them."

He reached over to trace the curved line under your eyes with his finger to emphasize his point, causing you to break out into that lilting laugh that he adored from you. You swatted away his hand, sticking your tongue out at him. "You just want me to stop working on mine so I can help you with yours."

Oakley only responded with holding his hands up in surrender, giving you a slight shrug. "Only partly guilty as charged, darling." He bit the inside of his cheek at the endearment that slipped out. It felt too natural, rolling off his tongue with as much ease as his next breath. "Rest first. Then if I get another batch of red pages from Professor Adams I'll ask for your help. I wanna at least try to get through this without calling in the cavalry."

"The Cavalry…" you repeated, drawling out each syllable as a your smile grew even wider. Brighter. "How flattering." You stretched your arms upward, finally letting out a yawn. The fabric of your pajama top rose to expose your stomach from the motion, making you quickly put your arms down when the cold air hit your skin. "So erm…like always? Help me with the couch?"

Your ask brought to surface a rather unfortunate circumstance. "Right, about the couch…Eric stayed over a couple days ago, absolutely shit-faced and…" He made a motion to simulate throwing up, making your face scrunch up in terror. "I haven't gotten around to seeing if I can get it cleaned yet--"

"Cleaned?!" you shrieked, horror coloring your features when you realized that all he'd done was wipe away the sick, turn the cushion to the other side, and spray a mix of Febreze and bleach to the area. "Oakley, if I were you, I'd use that shiny trust fund that you're trying to deplete faster than it earns interest into throwing this one out and getting an entirely new couch."

"I'll work on getting it cleared out of here first thing in the morning," he swore, making you break out into a smile when he held up his hand in a scout's honor. "You can go ahead and crash in my room, and I'll take the couch tonight. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you earlier, it completely slipped my mind--"

"Nonsense, I'm not kicking you out of your own bedroom, Goldie. And making you sleep on cushions with dried up sick in it is just cruel and unusual punishment, I won't stand for it." You stood from your seat at the table, putting your things away in your book bag. "I appreciate the offer, but if this is the hand we've been dealt, then maybe we won't be able to stick to the usual schedule of an all-nighter tonight. How's about I head back to my dorm and I'll just swing by in the morning--"

"Y/N have you lost your lid, it's dark out," he blurted out, panic rising in him at the thought of you going out and walking back at this hour. "Well after dark, actually. Most of the lights outside have been shut off since the shops closed hours ago."

You huffed out a long breath, placing your hands on your hips and wracking your brain for another solution. "Well then if this is the hand that we're dealt, I suppose we'll have to sleep at the very edges of your bed, then."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "Pardon?" The same bed? With you? He might just lose out on every urge to hold you in his arms through the night. Or kiss you.

"I don't know, it's the only idea coming to me short of me sleeping on the rug--"

"You're not sleeping on the ground," he said sternly, his tone visibly taking you aback. "Pick a side then, right or left?"

"Right," you answered him after a few beats.

Oakley hadn't slept a wink that night, whereas you had no issues slipping right into slumber within minutes of easing yourself into your side of the bed, unwittingly giving him the most vivid glimpse into what a life, a future with you would be like. Especially when just under an hour after your breathing had evened out, you rolled on to your side and your sleeping form had draped your arm across his stomach, snuggling into his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

His breath caught in his throat, trying to fight the tears that pricked in the back of his eyes as more visions of what your life together could look like. As the words that he stomped back down his throat every time they threatened to come out finally stumbled clumsily from his lips the moment he placed his arm around you, tracing along your cheekbone with his other hand.

"I love you," he whispered, taking every ounce of his strength not to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, settling for tracing his finger along the bridge of it instead. "I don't know what I want for the rest of my life yet, but I know who I want to be there with me for the journey and it's you. It can only ever be you."

He pressed a ghost of a kiss to your forehead, holding you close as you slept through the night. All the while he was making a list in his head of arrangements to make for after graduation. For his future. And perhaps, if you felt the same, your future together.

Starting with a two-bedroom apartment for the two of you to move into once you were finished with this final semester.

A/N: A sequel to this story is already up for y'all to enjoy in the form of 'just another memory', so we all already know what becomes of Oakley and Reader in this story 🥹 Also there won't be anything that becomes of Reader and ✨Professor Laing✨…at least not the Reader from this story, because she's already very much down bad for Goldie Long Legs

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[violetarks]

"dearer than i?"

anime: attack on titan

character: reiner braun

summary: an eldian warrior falls for the forbidden enemy, and he knows he would sacrifice anything for you. or, at least he would if he could.

warnings: g/n! reader, second person pov, heavily based off that tiktok trend going around atm (yknow the one), just a quick fic, wanted to try my hand at angst

you're not the first to find out about his secret. and you're definitely not the last. people from inside the walls that you protect, they find out within the week. you don't know how you could've been so blind, so dumb. falling for someone like reiner... falling for someone at all. you were a soldier, for god's sake. not some lovesick fool.

but you sure did feel like one.

how he made you feel like a lovesick fool, and how much you loved it, loved him. you can't wrap your head around it, even as you cry in your sheets and hide all the presents he had given you — soft blankets, a now dried flower from his visit outside the wall — just so you could keep them. you couldn't throw them out, no, that would be barbaric. you... just need them here, for your sake.

he didn't even look at you when you called his name, pleading for him to come back and surrender. you begged him to stay home, to stay with you, and you were faced with the sheer rejection he unwillingly showed you as he escaped. how could you love someone who has left you behind in the remnants of his lies?

you criticise him for being such a beautiful man, who loves you more than either of you could ever love yourselves. but now you know why. because he could never forgive himself for what he was about to do to you, your family, and your home.

you could never forgive him.

which is why you are so utterly confused when you see a note in your room, on your desk, asking you to meet him at your special spot. he signs it with his name, handwriting rough as always and slightly more rushed.

you almost don't believe it's him. why would he write to you now? a long time after he left you. what right did he have?

you want to crumble it all up and throw it out the window, or burn it and let your bedroom go up in flames as well. you want to sell him out. you could bring levi, eren, mikasa or literally anybody else, they could hide in the shadows and strike when you have him at his most vulnerable.

it would be poetically miserable, an untimely ending. revenge tasted sweet on your tongue.

but you held it. your heart had it in a headlock, and it forced you to keep that note a secret, and it pushed your legs up that mountain, trekking through the heavy greenery. it made you look back at the talk blonde, with such broad shoulders that you had hugged so tightly your heartbeat could mould into his.

he is tired, he is sad when he sees you. he almost wishes you hadn't come. because he can see how tired you've become over the three years he left you here. you stare back at him, but you don't look mad or upset. you simply soak in the sight of him.

he will never forget the blood that seeped through your uniform, how even after he had caused your injury, you still chased after him with your gear when your horse was killed amongst the thrown rubble.

your hair is the same, you must've been maintaining it. you need to keep up appearances; the soldiers that were put under your command look up to you, they need to know how strong you are. and reiner can see that.

but you have a scar across your collarbone. namely, the place where debris of the village had hit you when he and his fellow warriors made their escape. he remembers watching you fall under the crumbled stone and wood. your yell of pain as you threw your head back, and he could see metal protruding from your upper shoulder, cutting quite roughly through the top of your trapezius, deep enough to leave the bumpy scar between your neck and shoulders.

bruises covered your body, and you have a bandage around your hand. you've always been a hard worker. and you'll beat yourself to death if it meant to get over him.

yet here you are...

what happened?

"you came." reiner says, voice low and just above the sound of the wind. it's midnight, just after, and he watches you in your shirt and your thick jacket covering your shoulders. he can't muster up a smile.

and neither can you. the note crunches in your fist. he watches. your voice comes out louder than his, just barely. "you called."

devoid of any true emotion.

he stands just four feet away from you, and if he shuffled he could engulf you in his arms. but he doesn't deserve it.

"why are you here?" you ask, suddenly in control of the conversation.

"i wanted to see you."

"why?"

"did you not want to see me?" when you don't answer, he fills the silence. "i missed you."

"do you, now?" a sense of doubt lingers in your tone. reiner nods carefully. "do you regret leaving?"

"i don't know." he says, rubbing his cheek. he isn't sheepish, he used to rub his cheek when he was nervous or he was flustered by you. you used to find it endearing, now you find it infuriating. you want to cut off his hand. "i don't know."

he repeats himself like a broken record and you step forward, your stance confident as you let the the cold air of the cliff push your hood off of your head. "would you have stayed if... if i did something?" you ask, brows upturned in desperation, "what could i have done to prevent you from leaving? what made you... stay with me in the first place?"

"i didn't want to fall in love with you, y/n, i promise that what we had was never planned. i didn't want it when we began." his words should hurt you even more, add fuel to the fire, but you find yourself momentarily thankful. "i stayed that long because i loved you more than my purpose. i loved you so much that i would disregard what i was meant to be doing. i just wanted to love you and have you. i wanted nothing more."

you won't cry for him. you won't shed one single tear for this dunce. not with how he stared at you when you were enrolled, not with how he kissed you out of nowhere when celebrating your graduation, not with how he made you feel like he would never leave you. no, you won't cry for him now.

he cries. he has tears running down his chin, but his tone keep steady. as if he's been practicing. the sight of you makes his heart lump in his throat.

"but... there was nothing you could've done to keep me here, y/n. i'm sorry." he makes you feel like you're not enough anymore. a plaything, a toy for him to drag around while he holidayed within the walls. reiner makes you feek like a fool. "i had to leave. and i couldn't take you with me. you don't belong with the people of my home. they would hurt you."

"more than you did?" you scowl, balled up fists as you glare at him. your heart pounds in your ears and your face feels like it's heating up. reiner's cool facade breaks, and he begins to wipe his tears away. "how could anyone hurt me more than you have?"

reiner speaks through his palms, "i don't know..."

"you never know." your voice is harsh, it's similar to the irritation that those soldiers spit to him when he is home. but the malice in your tone is different. far, far more hurtful. "why do you never know? you don't know any reason to stay, you don't know why you didn't just leave me alons, you don't know why you promised me the world and left with everything i was."

hands grip the edge of his coat. marley's colours litter his person, but nobody would notice. not with how well he had hidden it. but you'll remember the uniform of that bastard who killed your commander, who was playing a game with the lives of all your comrades. and you will never forget how reiner shares that same uniform.

reiner cries more, he watches you take another step forward and his fingers tangle in his jacket. you leave footsteps and leave a pang in his heart.

"i can't believe i fell in love with you! i—i wish i had never met you, reiner! annie was fucking right, i thought she just hated you, but she was just trying to save me!" you shout, anger lacing your throat as you throw the crumbled note into his chest. you're crying. you cry when you're angry. he knows, and he knows how much you wished you weren't crying. it drips onto the dirt. "i... i can't believe you would do this us... why didn't you choose us, reiner? after everything we all did together, you still chose to leave?"

he's going to give you the same answer, and you know it. you wait for him, though. a habit that just refuses to die with your memories of him. reiner holds the end button of his jacket, and he looks back at you with those puppy dog, sad eyes that he would give you when he accidentally made you upset. but you don't fold over this time.

you're in arms length.

reiner misses you the most at night. after a couple years of saying 'goodnight' to each other, holding one another as an excuse to keep warm, kisses of comfort, it's hard to go back to your life before. reiner finds it just as difficult. he waits, and waits, and waits for you to come into his bedroom and kiss him, sneak under his sheets and sleep in with him until an hour before you were to wake. but you never come.

"why didn't you just stay? we would've... you could have stayed." you say, scrambling for that piece of you stil loved him. it wasn't hard to find. you still looked at him the way you used to when you were upset with him, looking for some sort of reasoning. that was hard to find. "why did you do it?"

"i don't know." his voice is even more desperate than before.

when your fist collides with his jaw, sending his head up and his body falling back, reiner swears he's seeing stars. maybe that's because he was, having now been faced to the night sky. but there's no doubt that your punch had knocked his smarts back into play.

you're on top of him in an instant, tears rushing down your face and landing on his chest. you sit atop his hips, yanking on his collar to pull him up at you send another punch.

"i hate you! i can't—!" you begin to angrily call, reeling back to hit him again. you watch his face bloody. but it's not enough. it won't ever amount to the blood that was spilled those days he attacked your home. you will bruise your fists, bleed yourself for your revenge. "we will never forgive you, reiner. i will never forgive you!"

reiner's instincts kick in at your sixth hit, and his hand that was resting on your hip, keeping you in place, now comes up to catch your wrist, stopping your punches.

but you bring your other hand, backhanding him. "you ruined my life! you promised me you'd..." you mutter out, choking on your sobs, "why couldn't you just listen to me? i said you could come home! you didn't have to abandon me!"

your knuckle burns after the second impact, and you go back for a second shot when reiner lifts himself to sit up, making you shift back to sit in between the circle of his legs. your heels under the bump of his hips, you grasp the hand covering your wrist, trying to yank him away.

"y/n—"

"you left me."

"i didn't want to, y/n, i love you." he claims, and you watch as smoke covers the injuries you put upon him moments ago. it heals him.

"then why did you leave?" you gulp, swallowing the tears that were yet to come, "why didn't you choose me?"

he takes in a deep breath. his scruffy facial hair drew wet from his tears. his eyes are dark but brows are upturned as he stares at you. "i would've chosen you."

"but you didn't." you say, tight fists in his hands, "you still chose the home that threw you away..."

he can't explain why he did it. because he doesn't quite know. maybe it's because of how he was brought up, how he was sent so young to take down the enemy. but that isn't good enough.

"you can still come home with me." your voice sounds like as sweet honey, and he sees your gently link your fingers through his. your eyes are still red, but you look at him. that part of you that loves him is pulling through. "you don't have to leave again."

he holds your hand tighter. they've become rougher, callouses cover your palms. he sighs out, "if i go back to marley, then we can't be together." his warm hands catch yours, desiring your touch. he longs for your hold. your heart sinks. "but if i never return, i turn on my family and my country. they're... they mean the most to me..."

"the family who sent you off to war at such a young age to simply dispose of the ridicule they face? the country who forced you to infiltrate my home while you were barely a teenager?" you scowl, standing up and peeling your hands out if his. he drops his hands onto my lap, watching you take a step away from him. "they mean more to you, than i do?"

he takes a deep breath, and lets it out. silence follows, drawing on more and more. he won't answer you.

"you said you'd choose me if you could. you can, right now." you say, staring down st him, "but you aren't, reiner... you... you still won't choose me."

"i'm sorry."

"that's not good enough." you respond, wiping your face, "i'm sorry, but if you don't come back with me, then i'm sending my unit after you."

"stay a little longer. please." he pleads, standing up again.

"i can't." you respond, walking back towards the forest, "listen to me, reiner. come home and i'll make sure we sort everything out." eren wants to kill him. levi wants revenge. mikasa is willing to do anything to protect her family. you could try, though. you glare back at him. "but you'll give me no choice if you go back. i'll make sure to be the one to end you if you continue being our enemy."

reiner drops his shoulders. all the tension fills the air between your gazes. his heart swells at your words, and your hard gaze turning gentle.

"i'm sorry, reiner." you murmur, turning your head and looking at the grass beneath you. the moonlight sets your path home ablaze.

he smiles softly at you. "it's okay. i wouldn't want it to be anybody but you." he tells you, "i still love you."

your eyes train on the floor as your shove your hands in your pocket. a heavy breath leaves you, "i promise i'll spend the last moments of your life with you."

when you leave, reiner feels better. he shouldn't, you rejected him and refused to stay any longer at his side. you said you would send people after him, you'd kill him. but he feels better.

he wonders how long it'll last this time.

[swiftsmlb]

5- tee higgins

tee higgins x fem!reader

warnings: none!

in which: tee gives you the best birthday gift.

warnings: none really? fluff. (this is short) - sorry. more tee imagines coming soon! i promise!

the bright sun came through the blinds of the huge windows in your shared bedroom with tee. your eyes fluttered open, making you groan a little. you absolutely hated mornings - but this was different. it was your twenty-third birthday today.

you stretched out, to wake tee up. but to your surprise - he was already up. you were confused, usually on a day off - he didn’t wake up this early.

you got up, making your side of the bed. before putting one of tee’s hoodies on, that went below your knees. before looking into the bathroom - maybe he was taking a shower? you thought.

but tee wasn’t there either. you decided to check downstairs to see if he was there. he would’ve told you if he was leaving. tee and you always told each other when you were going to leave.

and there he was. in the kitchen, making your favorite breakfast. a huge smile appeared on your lips. before walking into the kitchen.

“mornin',” you spoke

“morning beautiful. happy birthday.”

tee pressed a kiss onto your cheek, wrapping his arms around your shorter frame. the comment made you blush. tee made it worse by kissing your cheek.

tee was a gentleman, always treating you right. it was only eight-thirty in the morning and he was making you breakfast?

the two of you met at clemson. having the same classes together. you were partnered up for a project for one of the many classes you had with one another. and the two of you hit off. ever since then — you two have been together.

you were by his side through it all. you supported him through everything. even when you had classes - you still showed up to his first ever nfl game. you were there on draft night. and of course when the bengals went all the way to the super bowl.

and then you graduated. tee was there for that as well. you found a job in downtown cincinnati so the two of you could be closer to one another.

“breakfast is almost done. go sit and i’ll be over soon?”

you nodded in agreement. the smile never leaving your face. gosh, you loved tee so much. he was so beyond perfect.

you sat down on one of the barstools you had on the breakfast bar the both of you picked out. your e/c watched as tee placed the breakfast items on two plates. he really was beautiful.

tee came over, sitting next to you. placing your plate in front of you — and his plate in front of him. tee made some eggs, bacon, and pancakes and cut up some fresh strawberries.

“it looks good. thank you tee.”

“anything for you. it’s your birthday. you deserve to be treated like a queen.”

“i love you so much.”

“i love you more.” tee smiled. before the two of you met in the middle for a kiss.

“hurry up and eat. i have a gift for you— that i can’t wait for you to open.”

the two of you began eating your breakfast. making small talk and making jokes. it really was the perfect morning so far. tee always knew how to make you feel special. he knew you so well.

the two of you finished up. with you telling tee you would wash the dishes. but the man wouldn’t let you, grabbing the plates before you could even say anything else.

tee was giddy. he was very excited to give you this gift. you got excited by the minute. wondering what it could be. why he was this excited for a gift?

“alright. this is it… i hope you like it.” tee handed you a box.

you opened the box. your eyes landed on the beautiful item inside. it was a necklace, but not just any normal necklace. it was tee’s number 5. covered in diamonds. it had to be really expensive — but above all, it was so beautiful. it was perfect.

“i love it.” you look up at tee, with happy tears escaping your eyes. it was probably the best gift you’ve ever received.

“really?”

“it’s beautiful! can you um.. help me put it on?” you asked, taking it out of the box carefully.

tee nodded with his famous smile. helping you put it on and attaching the two pieces together. your fingers traced the “five.” it was beautiful, no words can describe how much it meant to you.

“i love it so much tee. thank you so much. it means a lot. it’s so beautiful.”

the two connected their lips once again. tee’s arms wrapped around your waist against. you leaned your head onto his chest.

“i love you so much.” you whisper

“i love you more princess. so much more, you have no idea.”

_

hey!!!

i hope you all liked this!!8 had this idea for so long. and figured i would do this idea with tee!!

only a couple people write about him - and he just deserves so much more!!

so sorry this is short. i have more imagines in the works of tee. so be on the look out for that!

anyway, i hope you all are doing well! and have a good day/night

[thoseyoulove]

Just finished Part I of The Vampire Lestat and here are my first impressions (I skipped IWTV *for now* since the show has already covered it... I'll read it eventually):

I can't tell yet if I like it or not.

So far, I enjoy the concept and the characters seem to be compelling. In terms of eventfulness, there hasn't been much, but I do have some interest in these people. They all appear to be complicated and have a lot of baggage, which I guess makes them appealing and gives the story potential. Let's see where this goes.

I don't hate, but I also don't love Anne's writing style. I don't think she narrates and describes things very well, she lingers on stuff I don't care that much for and doesn't provide details on things I'm actually curious about? There are some abrupt changes that annoy me sometimes as well.

I do believe this might be an attempt to get ourselves in the mind of Lestat and how he process to the world around him, though? It would make sense considering how chaotic he is.

Another thing I like is how he got so obsessed with the 20th Century, music and theater. The descriptions really give me the idea of someone experiencing the world for the first time (in a while) and considering how isolated he was growing up or after everything that happened with Louis/Claudia, it makes sense that he is so fascinated by all these discoveries. And it's really immersive and sweet to see how he in awe he is with all of it.

He also speaks like he is somebody born in the 1700s. So I give her credits for that as well.

Pretty sure Lestat is neurodivergent at this point (ADHD is basically a yes from me, maybe he has dyslexia and/or autism too).

And his memory is trash. So often he doesn't know if he actually did something, or if it were someone else, or if it was just a thought... I'm like, ARE YOU OKAY (he isn't)? By the way, this is painfully relatable because I also have poor short (and long-term) memory. Heaven help him (and moi).

That boy is a water sign if I've ever seen one.

He cries A LOT. I don't remember ever seeing any (book/show/movie) character cry that much, specially in such a short time lol. And the fact this is coming from a man and not a woman... There you go with defying gender norms, king!

Lestat having Borderline Personality Disorder isn't even a headcanon at this point, but a FACT.

He probably hasn't been hugged enough times in his life and it SHOWS.

Even with the abuse in his family, his frustration with his mother and the "malady of mortality", he manages to stay optimistic in a way that feels so childlike and naive that makes my heart warm and ache for him. I'm like, you deserve better.

Again, I don't know if I'm enjoying or not, but I do like the fact I can imagine Sam's Lestat doing all of this on season 3. Picturing Sam bringing these moments to life is the BEST PART of the reading.

Would I still read these books if the show never existed? That's what I need to find out.

I can see why some people got so invested in this character, though. At least for now. Some stuff hit close to home and I find myself rooting for him. I imagine that for the ones who read it at as a teenager, it must've made them feel less alone and seen to some extent.

At this moment, it's Lestat > Gabrielle > Nicholas for me.

Lestat's father isn't a person I care about, but depending on how the show adapts him, I guess it could be a good opportunity for a blind actor. It would be killing two birds with one stone, because it would develop Lestat's backstory, but also give space for a category that barely gets any job in the industry. I would love to see a powerful guest star that is a an actual disabled person playing a disabled character. Sure, we would hate him, but if someone manages to show their potential, book more roles and maybe even earn an award or nomination, why not?

Whenever Lestat talks about kissing his mother I get confused if the incest is already happening or not lol. Because I normally would just imagine a platonic kiss on the cheek or forehead and I haven't seen anything explicitly inappropriate. I don't know if it's because I'm reading the Brazilian Portuguese version, or if Anne wasn't that clear, or maybe I'm slow and naive, but nothing big seems to have happened? But I'm familiar with those spoilers, so... Anyway, whatever. It's not like I was counting the days to read about incest, so I don't really care about it being evident or not. I just mean that for now they seem to be more of a "parent that didn't want kids, but cares for him in a distant, but still real way and child that seeks for any crumbs of love and affection" kind of relationship.

Speaking of that, Lestat is SO DESPERATE for love, omg. Nicki was basically the first person besides his mother that was nice to him and he told the guy ALL OF HIS LIFE STORY AND FELL IN LOVE almost immediately? Get up!

Peak BPD/ADHD/maybe autistic/water sign/Scorpio behavior. MY GOD.

Still don't know how to picture Gabrielle and who I fancast playing her. I do think I have some sense of who she is now, which is nice. I also have some actors that could pass for Sam's parent and have the appropriate age to play her in my mental library, but I can't form a face yet. Not the face of a real actress or even an imaginary face, it's just a blur so far. Which sucks because I loooooooooove imagining fancasts, specially for a show as great as this one, but I'm just waiting for the revelation to come to me lmao.

[tinyperson00]

Douko Yami, bsd Oc

Total time: 3 hours, 21 minutes

Info:

Douko Yami, age 21

Occupation-

Douko works in the port mafia as their elite assasin. She is executive rank, but prefers not to acknowledge it. Douko was taken into the mafia at age 14, around the same time Dazai would been 15. In the past 7 years, Douko has killed over 300+ people and has gained the alias ‘The crimson moon’ due to the design in her fans.

Relations:

Douko used to work as Dazai partner in the time they were both in the mafia, and grew very attached to him. She later distanced herself from everyone and everything around her after he vanished, but she allows Chuuya to get close to her from time to time. Both of her parents were assassinated when she was only 10 years old, so she lived alone up until the mafia took her in.

Ability:

Name: death no more

her ability allows her to slow time down in her eyes up to 15x, making her appear to be moving up to 15x her normal speed. When in this state, she is practically untouchable hence the name, ‘death no more’. She is only able to stay in this state for up to 30 minutes max before having to stop and rest.

Trauma / Backstory:

when Douko was 10, her parents were assassinated in their home. Douko grew up in a small town in the mountain. Unfortunately tho, her father was a well known menace to society up in the town which eventually led to the families demise. Her father had ended up getting into a disagreement with the town official one day, and he took it a bit too far. Later that night, Douko got a dream showing blood on the snowy doorstep of their house, and both her parents lying dead. Soon enough, the morning came. Douko begged her father not to go outside that morning, but it was to no avail. The second the door was opened, a loud shot could be heard and blood was splattered onto the freshly snowed doorstep of their house. The assassin didn’t stop there tho. Douko’s mother screamed and tried to protect her, only to have a knife stabbed into her back and fall lifeless by Douko’s feet. The assassin went after her next, but Douko activated her ability 5 second prior to the assassins attack. The young girl was still inexperienced at the time so she ended up getting slashed across her eye, hence why Douko is blind in her right eye now. With her ability still in use, Douko ran as fast as she could out of the house and vanished down the mountain. 4 years later. The port mafia took Douko in and trained her to be a merciless assassin. Her first job, killing the man who murdered her parents. Since that first job, Douko has been mercilessly assassinating full organizations solo and taking jobs 24/7.

weapon:

Douko only uses two seemingly simple traditional hand fans as her weapons. Tho, the fans are not as simple as they appear. When flicked s certain way, the fans spit out retractable blades from the spines of the fan. The fans are made from a certain foreign skill user, so they have several special qualities. The fans are just a normal fabric with a crimson moon design on it, but when struck with the force of a bullet or knife, they turn to metal and withstand the blow easily. She also carries a spare dagger in the loop on her legs sometimes when she is going against a particularly strong opponent.

reputation:

over the past 7 years of her work as an assassin, Douko has become on of the most infamous assassins in Japan. She is known to the public as ‘the crimson moon’, and her identity has remained a secret to everyone outside of the port mafia and Dazai.

——————————

alright :D finally finished Douko and drew her out for once in my life! Lemme know if there is any other info you want on her, I’ll be happy to share

reblogs are highly appreciated :3

taggjng: @kimetsu-chan @zenitsustherapist @saffron0v0 @exymybeloved @a-stray-wretched-dog

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hehehe, hello dear author. I have a somewhat peculiar request for Poseidon. Let's say that at a meeting or party some time after Ragnarok, Amaterasu arrives with a miko assisting her, which the goddess treats as her daughter and as soon as she sees Poseidon she does her best to prevent Poseidon from noticing the priestess. Since Amaterasu knows the story of Medusa and this special human is like a daughter to her. The miko is from a modern era, but she had a peculiar childhood. Since she and/or she was born, she was consecrated to the Grand Shrine of Amaterasu, being the only woman among her brothers. Her parents only visited her at the temple to demand perfection, asking the monks and superior priestesses to leave her in isolation if she did not meet their expectations to the letter, the monks could not oppose since her family was of high social hierarchy and very rich. Basically, she suffered mental and sometimes physical damage from the scars left from training her with weapons related to the sun goddess. And it was at dawn, while he was serving his punishment in isolation, that Amaterasu appeared to him, and lamented everything that his followers had done. From that day on, the goddess promised that she would always be with her, and basically Amaterasu was the one who he would gossip while they hung out in isolation. she y/n she died defending the temple from a too powerful yokai, and Amaterasu collected her soul and performed her funeral personally, as well as driving her y/n's family out of her lands. For this reason Amaterasu is so jealous of y/n, especially against Poseidon due to the tyrant of the seas' fetish for virgin priestesses. But surely Poseidon is worth half a peach and somehow he takes the miko to his domain to try to woo her, and y/n knowing that he will not beat Poseidon in a fight, he always evades him saying that he is not interested in being with a married man (Amphitrite) while trying to find a way to escape every day. And Amaterasu is about to start a war against Hades, since the latter stands in the way of the sun goddess breaking Poseidon's face.

-Your life was only better after you died.

-It was a sad truth, but a truth, nonetheless. You were the only daughter born to a high society family with four older brothers and one younger brother.

-To your parents, you were useless, as only boys mattered to them, sons to carry on their lineage.

-They got rid of you the first chance they had but did it in a way where nobody would accuse them of being bad parents, they gave you to the Ise Jingu, the holy Shinto shrine of Amaterasu, where the goddess is rumored to live, an honorable fate.

-Your life became nothing but chores and going to school, only being able to attend through middle school, the mandatory educational requirements in Japan.

-However, you worked hard, proving yourself to the High Priestess and the priests who oversaw the temple grounds, and you were conscripted to become a priestess yourself.

-Your family benefited from your promotion, using it as publicity for them and their sons that their only daughter was devoted to a life serving in a temple as a priestess.

-However, this came at a price, due your parents being so wealthy, giving massive donations and getting many other high society families to donate large amounts, their instructions were clear: you had to be perfect, no mistakes, and if any were made, you were to be locked away and punished.

-Unable to risk the donations, the High Priestess accepted the terms.

-You tried your best, being diligent with your work so you would make any mistakes, but their constantly watching eyes, even the smallest mistake had them throwing you into a small isolated room with no windows, sometimes after whipping the tops of your hands so you would learn.

-You struggled with their treatment, sometimes punishing you by not feeding you for days, isolating you, you were quickly beginning to look sick, but those in charge were too blinded by their greed.

-You could only stare in the darkness of the room, no windows to illuminate anything, the only source of light being the sun peeking through the small cracks.

-A hand on your head startled you, flinching in fear as you could barely move, turning your heard to see the most beautiful woman you have ever seen, glowing as if the was the sun herself.

-You eyes were wide and full of tears as she pulled you into her arms, weeping softly as she held you, “How could they hurt someone so young- so small.”

-You instantly knew this was Amaterasu herself, your own tears welling as you broke down, sobbing into her chest, but she didn’t berate you, she just let you cry, giving you the soft affection that you so desperately wanted.

-From that day on, Amaterasu was always with you, but nobody could see her but you, as she said they were not worthy to see her.

-She had healed your wounds, kept you warm at night, became a friend, a mentor, and a mother to you, doting on you so gently.

-When she had to leave you for a short while, you were terrified, clutching her kimono, which broke her heart, but she promised to return to you.

-Without her divine protection, which had shielded your mistakes from the eyes of those in charge of the temple, so you wouldn’t be punished, it was like a demon took over the temple, tainting all those who resided.

-When Amaterasu returned, she could only stare in horror, seeing you bloody and broken body, whipped viciously, your hands bound behind your back, seeing the priestess and priests were the ones harming you.

-In one act of Divine Punishment, Amaterasu struck the temple with a ball of fire, immediately igniting it.

-She watched them all flee, leaving you behind, her heart aching as you passed, but she immediately pulled your soul out of your body, cradling it close as you woke up, completely healed, floating above the burning temple.

-You were in disbelief that you had died, but at the same time, you never felt happier, as you could never be hurt by them again.

-The temple only had minor damage, the fire department working quickly, but Amaterasu made sure to reveal your body, which was only minorly burned, showing the abuse you had been put through.

-The public was in an uproar, furious that those in charge had treated the little miko so harshly, so cruelly, then it came into light of your family’s bribery to the temple, paying them to treat you like this, as nothing but perfection would be accepted.

-You were in awe, holding onto Amaterasu as you watched your family lose everything, being shamed and being forced to flee Japan to start anew.

-You harbored no feelings for your family, no remorse for them, as they were the ones that did this to you, they did this to themselves.

-In Valhalla you had so much freedom, getting to explore around the Shinto pantheon, meeting warriors from history, and with Amaterasu by your side, you go to meet other gods as well, many who were disgusted by the way you, a sixteen-year-old girl, had been treated by adults, least of all holy figures that watched over temples.

-Amaterasu doted on you like you were a daughter, not a miko, as you were considered a demi-god of sorts, as you were considered a holy maiden. You didn’t mind either way, you liked helping your new mother out, doing simple chores, delivering paperwork around the pantheon for her.

-You had never been happier than with this new role in the afterlife, in Valhalla.

-It was at a massive party where you got to meet so many other gods and notable humans, a celebration for the salvation of humanity, as the gods have decided to work with humanity to help them better themselves, what they should have done in the first place.

-You were wearing a traditional miko outfit, red hakama pants with a white shirt, and a large red bow tying your hair back in a low ponytail, remaining by your mother goddess.

-Many were surprised to meet a holy maiden that was so young, but most were nice to you, many of the humans enjoyed speaking with you, as you asked them questions about their past as you knew their history.

-Amaterasu grabbed your wrist, pulling you behind her as a man approached you both, you peeked out, hearing your mother call this man Poseidon, a glare on her face, as she knew the story of Medusa, of what he did to a priestess of Athena.

-He wasn’t going to be allowed near you.

-However, her intense protectiveness is what made Poseidon want to see you more, to know more about you, wanting to know why you were so special to the sun goddess.

-When you were out delivering papers a few days later, Amaterasu was beside herself when she realized you had gone missing, snatched away from the pantheon.

-She immediately knew where to go, heading right for the Greek pantheon, with Susanoo and Tsukuyomi tried to hold her back from waging an all-out war between the two pantheons.

-She was correct however, as you had been taken by Poseidon, spirting you away to his palace in the Greek pantheon, as he was curious about you, wanting to see why you were so special.

-You were scared, as you didn’t know where you were, a powerful god had kidnapped you, and you knew you couldn’t fight against him and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was dangerous, he made you uneasy.

-Amaterasu told you about Poseidon, and about Medusa, whom you remember reading about back on earth in history class, how she was a priestess and he raped her, and she was turned into a gorgon.

-She wanted you to be safe as she was afraid that he would come after you in the same way, despite being married.

-Poseidon was quickly infatuated with you, when you asked to go back home to your mother, soon moving on to demanding him, refusing his advances.

-He didn’t want to force you, he wanted to woo you, so you would come on your own free will, that way he would be safe from Amaterasu and the other gods.

-You refused all his advances, “You’re married! I’m not going to get with a married man! And I’m still only a teenager!” but with each refusal, he grew more and more infatuated.

-When he heard your mother was looking for you, he locked you in a lavish room in a tower, you could see out the windows, but you were trapped, unable to escape while Poseidon went to assure your mother that he didn’t have you.

-Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon had their hands full with Amaterasu, who was ready to launch a full out attack on them, knowing that Poseidon had you somewhere.

-Susanoo called for The Seven Lucky Gods, to search for you while he and Tsukuyomi were trying to prevent a massive war.

-You were trying to tie every piece of cloth you could together, to make a rope to throw out the window so you could climb down and escape, needing to get back to your mother.

-You were terrified, every inch of you was shaking as you shimmed down your makeshift rope until you heard, “Y/N!”

-You gasped, seeing Ebisu who was rushing towards you on the ground below, seeing you escaping from a high tower.

-You slipped, losing your grip and you fell quite a ways before you managed to grab onto the rope again, halting yourself but you cried out in pain as Ebisu shouted out your name again.

-You made it to the ground, letting the rope go and falling into his arms as you felt him touch your waist and you were instantly in tears, your arms wrapped around his neck as you sobbed, having been so scared.

-Ebisu wasn’t the greatest at comforting others, but he held you tightly, furious that Amaterasu was right, Poseidon had taken you, and he had been hiding it from everyone, including his brothers who were trying to defend him as they didn’t know any better.

-When the other Seven Lucky Gods walked in, all furious, Zeus was quick to ask what their interruption was all about before Ebisu stepped forward, you in his arms princess style, as your arms were still wrapped around his neck, not wanting to let him go.

-Instantly all attention turned to Poseidon who looked furious that you were not in the lovely room he had prepared for you, his brothers angry as well, as they had been defending him, only to find out Amaterasu knew what she was talking about.

-Showing her intimidating side for once, shocking everyone in attendance, even you, the heat that was quick to envelop the room was stifling as she spoke, glaring hard, “I will not hesitate to dry your oceans, Sea God, if you ever even look at my daughter again. There will be no mercy a second time.”

-She also threatened Zeus and Hades, who were quick to agree with her, that they were to punish their brother for not only kidnapping you, but also lying about you being hidden away.

-They ended up calling Aphrodite and her son Eros to use an arrow on Poseidon to lose his infatuation with you, but he was to be watched closely.

-Ebisu was quickly blushing, defensive against everyone once you all arrived back to the Shinto pantheon, your home, as you didn’t want to let him go, and Amaterasu cooed on how cute he looked, shouting at her, “OI! I’m not cute!!” which caused a lot of laughter to ring throughout the pantheon.

-Amaterasu kept you close for the next few days, by your choice more than hers, as you felt too nervous to go anywhere without her, which made her sympathize with you, doting on you and reassuring you that he would never come after you again, if he didn’t want to risk his life.

-You cuddled your mother, laying your head on her lap, making her giggle as she brushed her hands through your hair, doting on you, seeing that you were so happy to be there with her, safe and sound from everything.

-That is until you visited the Norse pantheon and Brunnhilde took you flying on her winged horse, giving your mother a slight panic attack, worried about you.

-She knew that she would need to let you grow up, both emotionally and mentally, knowing she couldn’t keep you by her side forever, but she always prayed to you that you would always come home to her, no matter what.

[thatuselesshuman]

Character Introduction: Zero

So uh in the spirit of everyone knowing what the fuck I'm ever talking about, I've decided a character Introduction was in order!

*<- will be used to mark plot details that will be explained at the end of the post

Disclaimer: Bro goes through shit

Name: Zero (originally Kian Whittaker)

Gender: Man

Sexuality: He's fallen in love with one person in his life and then got traumatized out of ever falling for someone again (within the canon time frame)

Age: 634 years old, but he looks like 2 days over 19

Appearance: emo He has chin length pitch black hair, most of it tied up in a bun for a half up half down look. His skin is pale. The top half of his face is mostly covered by a black ornate mask, but you can just see his bright white eyes. He's thin and only 5'10 (but will still kick ass). He has what looks like a black choker at first, but black tendrils spread down from it through his body that look oddly like wires.

Outfit: He wears black pants, a black cropped zip jacket (typically unzipped) with a black shirt under it, and standard issue black combat boots. The jacket and pants have white accents, and the jacket has a white X* across the back. A couple of seemingly normal swords can be seen hanging from his hips. Under his shirt, a small silver chain with two rings on it (one simply engraved and one with floral detailing) hangs.

Personality: He seems very unapproachable (purposely) but if you have a strong enough personality to push past the bullshit he's actually pretty witty and funny.

Affinity: He can control a dark energy, usually used to form 2 twin scythes. His other powers include immortality (the not dying of old age +longer time you can go without necessities kind) and the ability to sense his surroundings. No one lives long enough when confronted to learn his other two powers

Rank: Archreaper**

Public Backstory: Very little is known about Zero, as most people aren't even sure he's fully human. Only one thing is known for sure, he's old enough to rival the country itself. No one knows where he comes from or even what his face actually looks like. Some swear that he was born from shadows and the day he returns to them is the mark of the end.

Real Backstory: (pictures, cause I ain't transferring all that—read the pics from last -> first)

Other fun tidbits:

The ‘choker’ is a control device. It can cause immense unstoppable pain, prevent Zero from taking his own life, and cause every one of his muscles to seize up. It can also send poison to his brain in different doses, either making him lethargic or straight up killing him

He was born with only the whites of his eyes (no pupil or iris) so he can't see. Brother is blind if not for the sight-adjacent thing his Affinity does

*The X is the only required part of the 'uniform' for Archreapers. Archreapers must display the stars (markers of achievement/rank signifiers) they have on the back of their uniform. An X = 500 or more stars.

**Archreapers are the second highest rank in the military, the first being the general. Because of their high rank, they are allowed to wear whatever they want. There are only 9 Archreapers in service at each time, and you have to be specially selected (and exceptionally strong) to become one. After Archreapers are selected, they replace their name with whatever number they were replacing. Their old name is erased from everything and they are banned to ever go by anything other than their number, unless for a mission.

Well, that seems like that's it. If you have any questions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ASK MEEEEE WHETHER ABOUT THE CHARACTER OR THE WORLD OR IDC

v Tagging who may care v

@moltenwrites @willtheweaver @wyked-ao3 @katenewmanwrites @agirlandherquill

@the-golden-comet @finleyorion @illarian-rambling

[oumaheroes]

Got any spooky local folklore and stories?

Not local to me (though there are a good few I could tell), but have this strange tale instead

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

The Teacher

There is a ghost past the schoolyard.

Over there, past the field to where the trees touch the iron railing on the other side. Do you see? By the forked one with the crack. In and out between the trees he walks, to sit or stand a while alone. He’s always been there, for years and years and years. Everybody knows. Pale skin, pale hair, and blood red eyes- all life sucked out of him. It’s true! You must know him, Sir, you must. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You were a student here too, Miss says, back when you were young.

He was. And the teacher can remember the story of the ghost behind the playing fields, one who walked there a few days every year to sit in silence amongst the trees. There is a little bench on the other side of the school’s railings, old and rusty as if left behind to guard a forgotten track, and the ghost would come and haunt the grounds a few times in October, every year since the beginning of time.

Maybe he was there more often, in the summer when the leaves hide the shape of him amongst the green, but he was always gone by the time the last of them fell, leaving only the old bench and the muddy floor of the forest. Or, perhaps he only appeared when the spirits grew in strength as the summer died, old year peeling away to reveal the world of the beyond.

This is only a story. One passed from year group to year group, new students taken by the shoulders and made to stand at cool railings, five years old and dreading to spot the dead man emerge from the trees. Children said he died there, waiting for a lost love. That she betrayed him to her secret lover, who shot him from behind as he waited to meet her. He’d kill you, if you looked him in the eye. Drop dead from fright.

If you listen, Sir! If you listen you can hear the shot. I swear it, and Ada says that she saw blood last year on the leaves. Gone in a blink but she swears-

The teacher enjoys these stories. He is pleased that after twenty years that it prevails, almost entirely unchanged. He remembers some encounters that now come back to him, stood as he is in his new-old classroom on the first weekend of October. His brother swore blind that he saw the man once, a flash of white before vanishing when he looked. Several of his classmates had a similar experience, a noise of twigs snapping when no one was near, the smell of gun smoke and unseen cookfires that left as suddenly as they came.

The teacher has no stories of his own. He had been too scared to get close to see when he was a student, staying well in the safety of the school field as his classmates screamed and ran from the edges, daring each other to get close, closer.

He wonders how old these stories are. Every school has something of the like, he knows- girl dead in the toilets, boy thrown from the roof. Sad and lost children, furious at their lot and stuck forever to watch the life they left behind. But this one, the teacher thinks, is unusual. The details still so solid and exactly the same as what he remembers.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ The librarian, the same as was here when the teacher was a boy, takes a sip of her coffee and blinks at him behind thick glasses, ‘The whole time I’ve worked here, I think. Unsettled me, at first. Thought it morbid.’

‘And now?’

She chuckles, ‘Now, I’m fond of it. It’s nice that it hasn’t changed. Traditions passed by children are special, I think. Don’t you?’

Stop.

Wait.

What is that, by that tree? A movement, quick between tree trunks. Hold still, listen a moment. Is that not the snap of a twig, the rustle of something move?

Perhaps, after all, there is something past the schoolyard.

The teacher spots it, one day, taking a walk around the edges of the field. Too many papers, too much marking… and it’s nice to be outside. The sun is out today, the autumn leaves orange and red fires in their branches or in drips and splotches along the ground but there… what was that. A glimpse of white amongst brown. Could it be?

Don’t be foolish. Go and look.

How many years has it been, the teacher thinks to himself, as his heart beats faster close by the railings. A too fast trip ta-tum ta-tum, a marching drum as he nears. Caution grips his stomach, a flutter of a warning. Silly children’s stories, silly exaggerations and games, he is too grown up for this. But stories long held and passed down hold truth, don’t they? Isn’t there something true, in every tale that is told? Something that makes it important to be kept, something that demands it be remembered?

Closer, closer. One step, two.

The teacher has never been this close before.

On the edges of the schoolyard, almost beyond the shouts of playing children where the trees touch the railings, there is a bench. It is warped, rusted by wind and rain and time. It sits alongst the branches and the roots, a forgotten rest stop in the thickness of the forest. And by the bench, stands a man.

He is a normal man. Average height, average build. Maybe a little too slim, coat too loose about the chest, but there is a body to fill it. He swings his head around as the teacher approaches, a polite nod in greeting that the teacher does not- forgets to- return. The man’s eyes are red, his hair is white, and hundreds of old stories murmur in the teacher’s head at once like whispers.

‘Can I help you?’ The man speaks, awkward silence between them gone on for too long, and the teacher finds his senses return. This ghost has a voice, and a body. He is a man, after all.

But… but.

‘Hello.’ The teacher steps closer to the stranger. ‘Are you lost?’

‘Lost?’ The man scoffs, as if offended. ‘Nah. Just on a walk.’

‘This is a school.’ The teacher says, patting the railings that separate them, ‘You are scaring the children.’

The man raises his eyebrow, disbelief and scorn all over his face, ‘The children?’

Swallow, breathe. A shout of young voices on the wind. ‘Yes.’

‘Huh.’ The man turns away and looks out through the forest. ‘I’ve been coming here for years and not had trouble before.’

The teacher goes to respond but the stranger scuffs the mud underfoot with the toe of one boot and the teacher finds himself silenced.

‘There used to be a road here. A single horse track through the woods.’ The stranger lays a hand upon the bench, wide hand light on the metal back, ‘The Prussian army camped here once and left this behind. Wouldn’t know that now, would you?’

Muddy ground, thick trees. Where had this man come from? The teacher shakes his head, ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘Not on any maps anymore. Used to be. Then they built the manor-‘ a head jerk towards where the school now sits, directed to something missing, ‘and everything shifted east. Then, this became the edge; the last bit.’

The edge? Of town, yes, but that felt like there was more there, underneath and between the man’s words. The teacher opens his mouth, closes it. Then, ‘My family lived there.’

The man turns back to him, bright eyes and a knowing smile, ‘Yeah?’

Why had he said that? The teacher didn’t mean to say that, he had meant to sa- ‘Yes. My great great grandfather was born in the gatehouse. They worked for the family.’

The man snorts. He knew that already, the teacher thinks, he knew that. He knows me too, somehow, something in his face gives it away. The normalcy of family, shared blood and kin amongst strangers.

‘Well, all gone now.’ Red eyes, white hair. Broad shoulders pulled back and straight naturally- a soldier’s stance. There could almost be a sword at his side, and if the coat were not there the teacher could believe that there was. The man nods at him, sober- ‘Nice to meet you’- and the teacher knows that he is dismissed.

Where is he going? Why is he walking away? But he is, the teacher finds that he is walking. Back across the field, back to the school- sat atop the ruined foundations of a manor house that hardly anyone remembers was once there. A general built it, some documents say, a young man who was rewarded for his efforts in helping Prussia to greatness and it fell when the Russians came.

How strange, the teacher thinks to himself as the hours tick by, how odd. His shoes are muddy and he knows he walked during lunch, but the route… where did he go? Who did he speak to? Did he speak at all; he thinks that he did. He has memory of words there, in his mind, but he can’t quite hold onto them. It is like his mind shies away, refusing to acknowledge something he isn’t supposed to know. There is the taste of something in his mouth, something metallic and sharp, and it lingers there until the night like soot.

Sir, sir! Look, did you see-?

No. No, he did not.

[elysiumarchieve]

okay here me out. This may be a bit dark. What about Scaramouche who's like a cult leader and reader is the obedient loyal follower who would do whatever Scara asks them to. The rest is up to you. You can get very creative with it. I just like the idea.

HERE YOU GO ANON i had so much fun with this oh god

cult leader! scaramouche x devouted follower! gn! reader

warnings: scaramouche is a warning for himself, cult themes, religious themes, taking his god complex to an entirely new level ngl, is this how sumeru quest could've ended LMAO, cult au, violence?? you have been warned this man isn't too nice in this except to you (but it's super toxic like damn), idk what kind of au this is but just imagine teyvat but scaramouche has a cult, great

✧ cult leader scaramouche is honestly such a hot concept holy shit

✧ besides that, having an entire cult devoted to him probably would make him far more arrogant than he already is in general

✧ he doesn't appear a lot before his followers nor does he make any official appearances. scaramouche enjoys being sought after by his followers and how they throw themselves at his feet when he just walks by without any announcement prior to this - it boosts his confidence knowing there are people who treat his words like they were the actual law. the fact that he's rude and violent however never changed - he doesn't really bother with anyone's wel being and he hates chatty humans the most

✧ being a discarded divine creation, he lures poor humans in with empty promises and lavish things, he amassed a rather huge following, however most of his cult is shrouded in mystery due to how unreachable he appears before everyone. cult members who join are never seen again and neither are the people trying to oppose him, as these people get assassinated if they only dare to make any moves against him

✧ those who do know him quite well however stay out of his way, knowing that a single mistake was enough to tick him off and have that person be sent,,, somewhere (where nobody has ever returned from), so not only is he arrogant and thinks of any human as pathetic, he's also manipulative and oppressive! congrats!

✧ just like most people in his cult, you too believed him to be above everything else, the solution to all troubles, something akin to a savior meant to free you from earthly matters and peril

✧ what his actual goal was? nobody knows. some might even claim he started all of this for fun, others say he started this as an act of revenge against his own creator - not that it mattered to any of you. whatever he believed was correct and not to be questioned

✧ there are only a handful of people who have actually seen him or managed to be acknowledged by him with words, and you just happen to be one of those special cases who happen to be recognised and be worthy of his attention for more than just a few seconds

✧ as his devotee, when he first laid eyes upon you and told you to follow him you did so without questioning his order in any shape or form. you weren't worthy enough to question any order he gives out personally

✧ to you, he was kind, nice, the same facade he puts up around people when he tries to gain their trust before stabbing them in the back shortly after - however, as blinded as you are by his fake smiles and soft chuckles he lets out, you're way beyond reasoning at this point

✧ he'd kindly invite you to sit with him while he's having tea, to which you agree almost too eagerly. in the end, all you did was sit next to him in silence as he spoke about things you had never heard before in the sweetest voice you had ever heard, and in the end he even shared his last sips of his tea with you before sending you off

✧ this went on for weeks, with him revealing mere tidbits about himself as it went on, you learnt more about his past, his emotions and what he really thought of the people around him - to hear from him that you were one of the only people he accepted around him almost put you in a cardiac arrest at how he said it in such a genuinely nice tone

✧ but in fact, scaramouche did take a liking to you. maybe it was how big your eyes became when you took shy glances at him, how you started shaking in sheer excitement when he spoke to you directly and asked for your opinion on things or how you played with your hands on your lap when you asked him question over question about the world - questions to which he of course had all the answers for

✧ with time, you almost spent every day with him in his chambers, drinking tea and receiving gifts from him for your devotion. scaramouche promised you that as long as you continue doing as well as you've been doing so far, he'd do anything to keep you away from prying eyes

✧ you never understood what that meant, but you also didn't question it. maybe you should've when you noticed that people suddenly went missing or how people were utterly terrified of scaramouche's sheer presence in the same room as them

✧ it was nonsense to you, he was kind, intelligent, beautiful, you'd do anything for him! even if he asked you to give up both of your hands you would do it, no questions

✧ turns out that our dear cult leader has taken such a liking to you that he started to refuse to see anyone else anymore, which in return meant for him that you also won't see anyone else other than him - but you understand, right? you wouldn't betray him and leave him behind like all of them, would you?

✧ of course you wouldn't. because what scaramouche wants, scaramouche gets, through one way or another he always gets his will regardless of what it might cost

✧ as long as you do what he says and follow him obediently so he can shelter you from the outside world, he can make sure you'll be safe (which in returns eases the dull aching in his chest he's been feeling for years now)

✧ if you ever manage to gather your courage and ask him why he decided to talk to you, you'd probably become withness of the most genuine smile he can actually muster up before telling you that there is no particular reason other than curiosity - curiosity on whether or not humans remain the same sort of stupid or if humans have the capacity to change into something worthy of his presence

✧ after all, talking to him was a gift and spending time with him was the peak of devotion - it's what he deserves for the betrayals he suffered through

✧ you, his loyal devotee who has become worthy of him, you've become his proof of his actual obsession, his search for a heart that he doesn't have and will never receive

✧ maybe his heart was never in his chest to begin with but out there, just waiting to fall into his hands just like a missing piece of a puzzle you'd be looking for and finally find under a rug years later (it might be the gnosis that he so dearly desires)

✧ if you ever dare to die, he won't have that. even if it meant dragging your spirit through the depths of the abyss and back to him, he can't have his most loyal follower die due to his incompetence or lack of surveillance

✧ cult leader scaramouche is a manipulative guy, only acting based on his whims and playing with people's life as if they were toys for him - that's how scaramouche lives his life and enjoys it, keeping himself above everyone else

✧ don't be fooled by his kind smile and tender words - underneath that facade rages cold fury that's been hidden for years with bo end in sight that he somewhat manages to calm once you're nearby

✧ whether or not this is a blessing or a curse, you might not even tell how fucked up this was. maybe you even considered his behavior as normal by now, disregarding any cruel act or decree he spoke and blindly running after him in hopes of remaining on his good side

✧ you'll only be able to tell in the end whether or not you made a good choice

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 16

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 2126

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 16

Excitement bubbled in Melody's stomach as she rode the Avengers Tower elevator up with Bobbi.  They’d both been to the tower plenty of times.  They’d met all the Avengers.  This was different though.  They weren’t there to sleep over with their prospective boyfriends.  They weren’t there for a party that half of the city had been invited to.  They weren’t there for work.  Tony Stark had invited them to dinner with the team specifically to get to know them.  He’d even had an assistant call to find out if either of them had any special dietary requirements to make sure they felt completely correctly catered for.  He wanted them to feel comfortable because for the Avengers this was the equivalent of meeting the family.

It felt like a big deal.  A relationship marker.  This was the part where the people who loved them best decided if Melody and Bobbi were good enough for them.  Melody just wished it had been Steve’s idea.

Bobbi reached over and gave Melody a push.  “It’s going to be fine.  It’s just dinner.”

Melody pushed her back. “I know.  I know.  It just feels like a big deal.  I don’t know if I should ask Steve to come meet my parents after this or what.”

“Well, at least you get to think about that as an option,” Bobbi said.

Melody frowned and put her arm around her cousin.  “I’m sorry.  I know.  But you got me.”

Bobbi rested her cheek on the top of Melody’s head for a moment.  “Yeah, I’ve got you,” she said.  “And Bucky’s already met you, and he thinks you’re great.  So I’ve got nothing to worry about.  Still, there are my sisters, and I hold out hope mom and dad will come around.”

The elevator opened, and to Melody’s surprise, instead of opening out onto the party deck where she’d first met the rest of the team, it was straight into an apartment.  She could only assume this was the penthouse because it appeared to take up the entire floor, and at least the one above too, as there was a large glass staircase that wound up on the left of the room.  Ahead of her were three steps that led to what appeared to be a living room and the top of the Chrysler building dominated the view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.  The Avengers were all sitting on the couches together and they stood when the doors opened.  As well as Steve, Bucky, and Tony there, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Thor, Maria Hill, Sharon Carter, and Pepper Potts were all there.  She’d met them all at the party, though some only very briefly, and while most she knew just due to their fame, there were others whose job it was not to be known by the general public.  Melody had Steve go through everyone’s names before coming just so she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

“Here are the guests of honor,” Tony announced, when they approached he stepped forward and kissed each of them on the cheek.  “Welcome, welcome.  Have you all met?  I’m sure you know most of them from their do-goodings.  That’s Maria and Sharon.  Anyone else you might not know?”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve said as he put his arm around Melody.  “They both met everyone at the party.”

“Though some of us only briefly,” Hill said.  “It’s nice to see you still around.  I don’t think any of us have ever seen that before.”

“This is the first person I’ve even seen Bucky actually date,” Clint said.

“There was that blind date Natasha set him up on,” Sam replied.

“Alright, alright.  We don’t all need to be going over my love life in front of my girlfriend,” Bucky said.

Bobbi took his hand and kissed his palm. “Your past doesn’t bother me, mi corazón.  They can tease.”

“Great, permission granted,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together.  “This is going to be great!”

Bucky groaned and ran his prosthetic hand down his face.  “Fuckin’ great.”

“Come on, come on,” Tony said.  “Dinner won’t wait forever.  Let’s go through.”

Melody had never seen a dining table as large as the one in Tony’s dining room in person before, and while she’d seen ones on TV just as big or maybe even larger, they featured on shows with vampires, or large mafia families, or epic sagas with Kings and Queens.  Those tables were always dark and heavy hardwood.  Often they were ornately carved.  This was nothing like those tables.  It was rectangular and made of what looked like a single piece of highly polished obsidian and sat on a support of polished chrome in the shape of an x.

Steve pulled out one of the black padded chairs for Melody and she took her seat as everyone else sat down around her.  As soon as they were seated two waiters came out and began filling glasses.  One poured either red or white wine into the wine glasses, while the other poured water into the highballs beside them.  Already set out on the table were platters with olives and warm sourdough bread, as well as meatballs, stuffed zucchini flowers, focaccia, and some kind of arancini.

Melody helped herself to a little of everything as the rest of the group filled their plates.  She was used to eating with Steve and Bucky at this point and wasn’t surprised to see how full Bucky’s plate was, nor how Steve had leaned more into the high protein things like the meatballs over the empty calories of the white bread.  She was surprised to see just how much Thor had taken.  He had dragged an entire platter of meatballs down to himself and added handfuls of everything else to it.

“Speaking of people’s love lives,” Melody said.  “How’s things going with Mattie, Sam?  He talks about you a lot.”

Sam’s eyes lit up at the mention of his new relationship.  “It’s going great,” he said.  “I mean - you know what it’s like dating an Avenger.  I don’t always have a lot of free time, but we’re having a great time together.”

“Ohh… is there another meet-the-family dinner coming up?” Tony asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I’ll happily let all of you degenerates meet him any time,” Sam teased.  “But we’re a little way off taking him back to Lousianna.”

Tony put his hand on his chest.  “I’m wounded, Tweety.  You wound me.”

The appetizers were already starting to run out and the waiters started to bring out bowls of a rich soup filled with clams still in their shells.”

“That’s Zuppa Di Vongole,” Tony explained.  “It was one of my grandmother’s favorites.  Or if you don’t eat fish, you’re getting minestrone.”

“How many courses are we having tonight, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Just six,” he said.  “I didn’t go overboard.”

Sharon, Sam, and Clint started laughing, while Steve, Pepper, and Rhodey shook their heads, the look of resigned disbelief was mirrored in all of them.

“Thank you so much for doing all this, Tony,” Bobbi said.  “In a way, it reminds me of dinners with my whole extended family.  Only we all cooked together as well.  And it was a lot more dysfunctional.”

“Give it time,” Bucky muttered.

“You don’t want to cook with all of us,” Bruce said.  “There’s only a couple of people here who can cook.  Most of us burn water.”

“Well part of the fun is passing on tradition, isn’t it?” Bobbi said.  “Bucky’s a great cook.  We’ve been teaching each other different recipes.”

“I didn’t know you liked cooking, Bucky,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t know lots of things about me.”

Sam looked at him deadpan.  “Well I was going to offer to share some of my family recipes with you, but see if I do now.”

Melody was using one of her clam shells to pick out the clams from the others, but there was still a lot of soup left in her bowl compared to the people around her.  She was a little worried she’d still be eating by the time the next course came out.  She leaned up to Steve’s ear.  “I might need your help to eat all this.”

Steve chuckled.  “And you’re asking me?”

“Think of it as a public service.  Your poor hard done by girlfriend needs to save face,” she whispered.

Steve laughed harder and stole a quick kiss.  “Okay, I’ll help you,” he said.

“Thank you, honey,” she said and kissed his cheek.

Steve shook his head, smiling affectionately as he scooped some of the soup from Melody’s bowl into his own.  She was just getting to the bottom of the bowl when the waiters came out with the next course.  This time it was a salad course.  Most everyone got a Caprese salad, though Tony and Pepper seemed to have gone for something without dairy that featured pear and red cabbage.

“Still avoiding dairy, Tones?” Rhodey asked.

“Well, cutting it down.  It’s hard when there’s a Ben and Jerry’s flavor named after me,” Tony said.

“That’s not the humble brag you think it is, Tones,” Clint said.  “Most of the people here have Ben and Jerry’s flavors named after them.”

“And not one of them is as good as Phish Food,” Maria said.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Tony said.  “Hey now, I won’t hear a thing against Stark Raving Hazelnuts.”

Melody was starting to think she might make it through the entire six courses as she ate her salad.  It was light and fresh, and it didn’t feel like it was filling her up at all.  Then the waiters began bringing out the next course.

“Gnocchi with pesto cream,” Tony said.  “But it’s a cashew cream.”

Melody took a sip of her wine before she started eating.  Before she even took a bite, the conversation had started up again.

“Stark said you interviewed him, Lady Bobbi,” Thor said.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said.  “We had fun.  You should do it.”

Tony snorted and took a quick swallow of his water.  “Sorry.  I just imagined what it would be like for your team to be making food from 2000 BCE.”

“Just big slabs of meat roasted over coals,” Melody laughed.

“I would not complain,” Thor said.  “A feast is a feast.”

“That sounds better than what I had to eat.  Everything I had was set in jello,” Tony said.

Clint laughed loudly. “Amazing.  I can’t wait to watch it.”

“So what’s the premise?” Sharon asked.

“Just a casual interview while you eat food made from recipes in magazines that came out the year you were born,” Melody said.  “We have other ideas too.  But so far we like that one.”

“That does sound fun.  I hate doing interviews and I’d do that,” Clint said.

“You’d be so welcome,” Melody said.  “I was also thinking of doing a series where we compared things from different chains.  Like pizza or burgers.”

“Oh, oh, I want to do that one,” Clint said.

“I’ll call you to set it up. Thanks, Clint,” Melody said.

“So what did you have to eat Tony?” Natasha said.

“There was a red cabbage salad in a jello that tasted like acid,” Tony said. “This loaf made of creamed liver, this sandwich that was made to look like a cake.”

“Mmm… sounds so appetizing,” Rhodey said.

“I was a little worried he was going to get revenge with this dinner,” Bobbi joked.

“There’s still two courses to go,” Sam said.

Tony laughed hard.  “See, I’m a better person than I thought.  That didn’t even occur to me.”

Despite Steve’s help, Melody was very full by the time she finished the pasta course.  She noticed that most of the other mortals were struggling too.  Pepper’s plate was practically full when they took it away and replaced it with Tuscan-style lamb shanks, while the non-meat eaters were given eggplant parmigiana.  Thankfully, the conversation flowed freely around the room.  So while Melody was feeling overfull, she didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

The fact that Steve’s friends were all so open to accepting both Melody and Bobbi was gratifying.  Nothing was quite as gratifying as seeing Steve and Bucky enjoying having Melody and Bobbi fit in with their friends.  By the end of the night, Steve had never looked so in love, and it made Melody’s heart feel full every time he looked at her.

By the end of the night and after a serving of Tiramisu served with Vin Santo, Melody not only felt very full but very content.

She said goodnight to everyone and headed to the elevator with Steve.  “Will you spend the night?” Steve asked.

She looked up at him and smiled. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

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