#from now on I'll put several in the same post probably

[silverior968]

Banban be thy gartens

This one has a really niche reference: I noticed Sheriff Toadster has stitch marks on his back, and as it so happens my great-grandfather was H.H Ussing, a renowned danish biochemist who documented how ions travel across frog skin. So I gave my design of Toadster my great-grandfather's glasses :]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of a redesign of Sheriff Toadster from Garten of Banban. He's drawn as an anthropromorphic gray-brown toad with a wide grin and yellow, rectangle-pupiled eyes. He has rounded rectangular glasses taped to his face and a too-small cowboy hat. His face and arms have darker spots clustered on them like freckles, along with darker spots resembling eyebrows on his face. His outfit consists of a yellow button-up shirt with rolled up sleeves, a dark red neck kerchief, a brown vest with a star on the left side, a brown belt with a gold-colored buckle and some sort of belt bag, brown trousers and dark brown boots molded to fit his feet. They have spurs on them. He's standing with his hands on his hips. The background is Marty Robbins Gunfighter Ballads pink. The right side of the image has an initial sketch of his design with the text "first design" and a picture of his in-game model, with the text "canon design". The artist's signature, Silverior968, is written to his left in black. / End ID]

[ao3commentoftheday]

I know tag wranglers do a lot of work connecting tags etc. Is there anything authors can do to make their jobs easier for them like trying to mostly use canonical tags or not making tag comments?

Thanks!

This is a great question, and I'll do my best to answer it but I do hope that some wranglers add on in the notes! I'm also just going to preface this with the fact that you should still tag however you like to tag. This list isn't meant to be a checklist or anything. It's just info I've picked up over the years and you can take or leave each piece as you see fit.

Okay, so the first thing that most non-wranglers should know is that wranglers see tags separately from the fic. They get a big bin full of tags to sort through and match up in the system, but they'll only see your fic and the other tags you've added to it if they decide to go look.

That's important to know because sometimes a user will tag something like [character] is so sexy and then also tag by which I mean they're a huge dork. The wranlger won't see that second tag and won't know that they're connected so your sarcastic tag will end up synned (matched up to) sexy!Character or whatever the canonical is, as if that was the meaning you were going for.

Another good thing to know is that tags can only be synned if they only have 1 idea in them. So if you tag, say, [character] is gay and autistic then the wrangler can't actually syn that to either [character] is gay or character is autistic because it only half-fits either tag. To have them synned in the database, you would need to tag those two ideas separately.

You might have already seen the post I made referencing the fact that you don't have to tag multiple versions of the same idea (unless you want to for the aesthetic) because the synning that wranglers do makes sure that tagging one idea allows users to filter for all versions of that idea. But in case you didn't know that, now you do!

Wranglers are often members of the fandoms they wrangle, but they aren't always. Sometimes they'll take on a fandom that doesn't otherwise have a wrangler because they like to do research or because they like small fandoms or for many other reasons. But that means that if you're tagging your OCs by name, you should add (OC) to the end so that they know it's not a canon character that they aren't familiar with. This is double true in huge fandoms like Star Wars where there are millions of canon characters and just as many OCs.

Wranglers don't "seed" tags in fandoms. For a tag to exist, users need to create it. The rule of thumb is at least 3 fics from 3 separate authors, but that's very much the minimum and in fast-moving or huge fandoms the bar is probably higher. Also, for brand new fandoms, it's entirely possible that they won't know you exist until you tell them. Back in January I was the first person to write in a brand new fandom so I knew I had to start the tags, and I waited until there were 25 or so works by 15 or so creators before I emailed Support because I know I have to be patient - but I'm still impatient by nature lol.

Another thing to know is that tags are kind of like proton packs - they can't cross the streams. If you put a tag in the Character field by mistake, wranglers can't move it to the Additionals. This can also work in your favour, though, because if you have a minor character or minor relationship that you want to tag because there's some kind of fandom drama happening and people want to be able to avoid them, you can tag them in the Additional Tags so that people can know they're in there, but the people who like that character or ship can still filter the Character and Relationship tags without seeing a bunch of works that don't really focus on them.

This got super long, so I'll end with your question about tag comments. I know people worry that it makes extra work for tag wranglers if you get all chatty in your fic tags but I've been reassured by more than one wrangler over the course of several years now that it's no extra work. They just shovel those tags into the gaping maw of the Unfilterable Beast - which is the same thing they do with those tags that have multiple concepts in them. If it can't be synned, then that's where they go.

(keep tagging that way, though, if you like to because that's how new concepts get created and eventually canonized)

Alright, I that's all I can think of off the top of my head, and the list was actually longer than I thought! Wranglers: please do add on with other things you wish users knew, and please correct me if anything has changed since the last time I delved into this topic!

Editing to add: a wrangler pointed out in the tags that [character] is autistic and gay can itself become a single tag if enough people use it. That's true of other tags with multiple meanings as well. They just can't be synned with existing tags in the meantime.

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 1) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ curator's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

A Place Called Home by @agustdakasuga

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Accidental Friends by Erakun06

Meet Bangtan, international superstars, the pride of South Korea, the love and hope in the dark of many lives, the role model and celebrity crush of so many people, and a group of people you often stumble across in your day to day life. You become acquaintances, slowly become friends, and- that's it. You are in a platonic friendship with Bangtan. Let me say it again. clears throat PLATONIC. Or One day, you meet a member of Bangtan, the next day, another, and another, and another, and one day, they become a group of people you often stumble across in your life. They become your acquaintances. Then your friends. Then your source of comfort, just like they are the source of comfort of millions of people in the world. What you didn't expect is that you become the same to them. It's inevitable. You are friends.

🗯️ a theme that I don't find much of, and this one was excecuted quite neatly I'd say

Ace For Hire by tokki-maknae

Who is Ace? Besides being the deadliest hitman on the market in the underground, whose really under the hood? The answers simple, well for you at least, because you are Ace. When you're not busy blurring yourself into the background noises of school, you were making a killing in the underground, both literally and figuratively. For years now Ace has become an infamous name among the other gangs and holds the reputation of being lethal and untouchable. But that all changes after a slip up that causes you to attract the unwanted attention of one persistent seven member gang. A gang that's been dying to know, who is Ace?

🗯️ badassss

At Your Service by @untaemedqueen

In which Yn is looking for an escort to accompany her to her nightmare ex and ex best friend's wedding, only to ended up falling in love with him.

Baby (you complete us) by @purpleyoonn

Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches. Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Back Home by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

Secretly, he was selfishly hoping that you didn’t age well. Dealing with a small crush was easy enough when he was young and knew next to nothing about girls, when you were just a cute albeit slightly weird girl he had a soft spot for. But he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his feelings came back with a vengeance while you were living together. God, he would probably lock himself with Jungkook until you went away. OR The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

🗯️ crack fic! my fave category and this one makes me giggle in both funny way and butterfly-in-my-stomach kinda way

Beauty of Love by @imnotlauriane

When you cross eyes with your soulmate, you get flashes of memories that have yet to happen. You can't see the same memory as the other and it can be either good or bad. It's not always terrible, but a thing is for sure. No matter what you do, it will happen. But are things always what they seem to be?

Between The Bloodshed series by @agustdakasuga

🗯️ this series... I just love. plot is super neat, relationship doesn't feel forced, etc etc

❶ Between The Bloodshed

Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that you would have to leave your life behind and build a new one.

❷ Everything Between Us

They left you hanging, they broke your heart. You didn’t get your happily ever after. But now they’re back and they’re searching for you to make things right. Could you look past the betrayal to take them back into your life and back into your heart?

Beyond The Stage by Alysheart

Alexis was going through the days simply. She was a college student in Florida, working towards her degree. When she scored tickets to the BTS concert in Korea, she didn't hesitate. She never expected to be soulmates with the seven idols.

Bound by Blood by PurpleQueenie

In a world where vampires and humans have to co-exist, where the line between tolerance and animosity blurs, how can you ever expect to get your happily ever after when your soulmates hate your very existence?

🗯️ love all the details, the slow burn, gosh just so good

Boyfriend For Hire by @remedyx

Unsatisfied with your life was an understatement. Being under the thumb of your father can have that effect. He wanted someone capable of running the company, but you wanted to pursue your passion. Countless unwanted blind dates and the threat of losing your freedom drives you to seek help from a group of individuals you'd least expected.

Breakthrough by Alphathyx

"My dreams haunt me like past memories that never existed" The Memory Dive, an invention that allows the user to dive into anyone's memories just from the collection of their DNA. Made by Professor Kim Seokjin, he created this device for the worlds secret service to solve mysteries that the ordinary field agents are unable to. With seven agents, ranging from ex military, to a university professor, college student and even a criminal, only these seven are able to use this machine to extract memories of others. They are also the only people that know how to escape it. Discover through their eyes of uncovering the darkest truths of the world, through the minds of victims.

🗯️ this one's super neat plot with complicated and technical world, just so good

Bright Colors and Loud Soulmates by Mostmouse

You resented soulmates, the whole damn concept. It just wasn't your thing, and you couldn't help but feel jealous of those who were born without soulmates, who could see the world as it was intended to be from birth. When you run into your soulmate, you're determined to stay in your own sphere of the world. Focusing on you. But, because nothing is simple in your life, it turns out he's one of seven - better yet, your seven soulmates are the globally famous band BTS. Because why wouldn't they be? OR you learn how to let your soulmates past your carefully crafted walls, and they’re more than happy to show you what a loving and supportive relationship should look like.

🗯️ a funny and cute one! (with extra h0rny characters lol)

BTS Office CEO AU by @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

You work for seven CEOs who have called you into their office due to a complaint

Can't Wait To See You Again by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

The one where Jungkook develops a huge crush on a Youtuber he found after falling into the rabbit hole of his recommended videos. Unbeknownst to him, you were also recommended to his hyungs. Unbeknownst to you, all across the world seven idols were slowly falling in love with you.

🗯️ I just love the concept of the boys being fanboys :3

Choco Bun by @nunchiimagines

When you moved to Korea after finishing college to continue pursuing latte art and baking, the last thing you were expecting was to open up your very own coffee shop under BTS Corp, Korea’s biggest entertainment service company for idols, models, singers, and more. Thanks to your hard work, creativity, and approachable personality you managed to become friendly with some pretty big named individuals as well as up and coming talent. As exciting and fun as it was for you, you slowly began to realize how much your 7 bosses weren’t particularly fond of this, acts of jealousy, pettiness, and aggression poking through in the most unsuspecting of ways. But what could 7 big named dragons want with a little foreign bunny?

Combined Beings by @numinousher

You are bullied on a constant because korea’s beauty standards do not fit girls on the heavier side. the bullying gets worse once a ceo is attracted to you and he mentioned you to the other 6.

🗯️ minus the bullying elements, this story is like a comforting sweet cloud

Comfort by http-lostforever

Hybrids have been introduced into society for a handful of years now, the fighting for their rights is still happening but doesn't look promising. But when one girl finds a hybrid in danger she jumps at the chance to help, yet what she didn't know was how upside down her life was about to become. But a word of advice, not everything is as it seems.

Could We Be Together Someday? series by BTS_Mommy / @babyboy-bangtan

🗯️ mann Idk what to write lol. this is another one that I've re-read thousand times, bcs some of the boys started as fanboys then became clingy friends. also yn's so supportive I just lovee.

❶ By Chance

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS's radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

❷ The Moments in Between

As you become close friends with BTS, you begin to realize that the feelings you have for them are slowly turning into something you're not ready to deal with. Unbeknownst to you, the same is happening to them.

Crave by sweetinsanityy

The boys don't do well with being controlled, but for their group, they'll bite their tongue and put on a smile for management. Yet when you, a new little rookie, stumble upon them, they're like a pack of hungry wolves. Or, the boys are all Doms and they want you to be their perfect little sub.

Cursed Fate by PurpleQueenie

The universe has designed soulmates- someone that completes you. But what happens when you don't have one but seven? And all you want to do is run in the opposite direction when you see them...

🗯️ queenie's stories are just so good, you should check them all out! this one also has such great details and writing.

Deep Down by sleepingbearandbunny

Jae, unlike everyone else, has nothing against the hybrid species. She likes being alone, where she is safe from ridicule and her controlling father. When a group of hybrids save her from some trouble, fate brings them together once more.

🗯️ a harsh and complecated world this one, so they went through a lot together and I love that!

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[milla-frenchy]

Out of the QZ

1k5 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: you act like a brat with Joel. He puts you in place Warnings: 18+ mdni. spanking, fingering, size kink, degradation, oral (m), ball sucking, rough sex, piv. No age specified

a/n:  Fic inspired by this post (I was supposed to work on my wips, damn) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing, love you 💕🫶 @arcanefox207 for the famous gif 😍❤️ and @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“I'm fuckin’ sick of your damn mood. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Yeah? Well stop talking to me. Do what you usually do, grumble. It'll be better for everyone,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Joel looked at you, nostrils flaring. You had been getting on his nerves since this morning. He had looked at you questioningly at first, not used to those mood swings from you. He gave you some space, but as the day progressed it had been harder for him to keep his cool. In the afternoon, his patience was melting like snow in the sun, and several warning glances from him didn’t change it. You kept huffing every time he opened his mouth. 

You were finally approaching the place where you were going to spend the night, before reaching Lincoln the next day. Backpacks filled with aluminum spools for Bill's fence, and medicine for Frank. It was the first time you left the QZ in months and Joel was nervous. And you... you were in an inexplicably bad mood. And now his anger was rising fully.

“Go check behind the house. I'll check the side.”

“Can't you just do it yourself, mister I-do-everything-better-than-everyone-else?”

“Now that’s enough!” he growled, grabbing your wrist sharply and pulling you into the small house.

“Sit,” he said, after he slammed the door behind you, hands on his hips and a dark look on his face.

“I'm not a damn dog, Joel. Who do you think you are?”

He grabbed your arm and before you realized it he sat on the bed, and lay you over his lap.

“I'm tired of your bullshit,” he said, before crushing his hand on your pants-covered ass.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you whined. He had spanked you hard, hand flat, and it hurt like hell. You couldn't believe it.

“You're done?” he asked, jaw clenched.

You still couldn't help yourself, couldn’t stop. Now really pissed off at being held like that, and punished.

“That's all you got, Miller?”

His forearm pressed against your back just before he spanked you a second time, making you cry out this time.

“Shut up. We didn't check the perimeter because of your fuckin’ attitude,” he barked while holding you on his knees.

“Oh, that’s great, Joel. Use your strength if that’s the only way you know how to deal with me.”

“You're actin’ like a brat, I treat you like one, that's what I'm doin’. You're done?”

“Fuck… you….” you answered as calmly as you were able to.

His hand landed a third time, in the exact same spot.

“Fuck,” you gasped, unable to stop your thighs from squeezing against each together.

“What the… you’re turned on?!”

“No!! No, of course not!”

He spanked you again and this time you couldn’t hold back a moan from escaping your lips. When you felt his cock pressing against you, you stopped breathing for a second.

“Joel…,” you didn’t know if you were still pissed or aroused. Probably both.

You didn't even know what was going on with you. Your bad mood had been consuming you all day, without any reason. You were just pissed and couldn’t keep it to yourself. 

And nothing had ever happened between Joel and you so far. You trusted each other when you were out of the QZ, you saw each other more or less regularly inside its walls, but nothing more.

When he pulled your pants down your thighs, you stopped moving, totally disconcerted by his gesture.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“Told you to shut up,” he said in a low voice, his hand caressing your burning ass. You tried to pull away, without much conviction. His fist was tight on your jacket, holding you in place.

You stopped struggling when he reached your pussy and glided his hand along your folds.

“We shouldn’t…”

“You’ve been on my nerves all day, now shut the fuck up.”

His middle finger slid between your drooling folds. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. That’s what was itching you all day? You needed to be spanked like the damn brat that you’ve been?”

“I… I just…” your words got stuck in your throat as he started to finger fuck you, before quickly adding a second one. His cock was pressing against you, and it seemed fucking big.

“Shit, you’re drippin’.”

“Oh fuck, yes!” you whined, when he brushed your clit. Way too perfectly. As if the apocalypse had never dampened his ease at fingering a cunt. And maybe it never had. Maybe he fucked every month or every week or more in the QZ, what did you know about it, anyway?

He pulled his fingers out and you whimpered.

“You really thought I’d let you come?” he scoffed. “Now you’re gonna do as I say and kneel. Got it?” he asked, brows furrowed, after getting up. You fell on your knees, your pants still at mid-thighs.

“You’re gonna suck my cock,” he said, undoing his belt then unzipping, “at least I won’t hear you grawl or whine, for some time.”

He pulled his cock out and having felt it against you earlier didn’t make you less surprised. It was massive, with a reddish tip, twitching and flowing with precum.

“Yeah, I know, it’s big. Now suck it.”

His cock in one hand, he placed the other on the back of your neck, forcing you closer. You rounded your lips as best you could, taking his tip in your mouth. The precum invaded your throat, flowing slowly. You sucked his tip, trying to get used to its width. You didn't have much choice, with his hands holding you like a fuck doll. He didn't try to push himself further, but he was holding you in place. 

“Much better for my nerves when your mouth’s full.”

You felt his gaze lowered towards you and you looked up. His jaw was clenched, tense. He raised his eyebrows as if to say that you shouldn’t have messed with him.

You kept sucking him until he pulled back and took his massive balls in his hand. “Suck,” he growled. “They’ve been tense all day, because of your attitude.”

Tongue flat, you licked each of them, sucking their delicate skin, covered in some slightly gray hairs, mixed with your saliva that had flowed down his shaft when you blew him off.

“That’s it, actin’ like a good girl now, finally…” He was jerking off slowly, his impressive length just above your nose.

“I should paint your face, but I wanna feel that greedy cunt around me. Get on the bed, undressed. On your back. Wanna see your face when I’m gonna be balls deep in your pussy.”

You took off your clothes and lay down, thinking he would undress too. But he stayed fully dressed, coat on, and he was even hotter like this.

He didn’t wait, didn’t try to give you time. As soon as he settled between your thighs he thrust in one go, his hand around your neck. “Oh, fuck!” you cried when he bottomed out. He used you, growling about how tight you were, thrusting hard, keeping the same pace until your moans filled the room. Pulling out, he growled, “Don’t you dare. You don’t deserve to come so quickly.” He manhandled you on all fours and climbed on the bed, kneeling behind you, holding onto your hips before thrusting in again. He took all he needed, finally releasing the pressure of the day, using your pussy like he would use his fist.

“You’re gonna lose that goddamn attitude, now?” he asked, panting in your ear.

“Yes, yes! Fuck, let me come.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please, Joel. Please, let me come.”

“Come then… fuckin’ brat.”

You hastily slid your hand down to your pussy, twirling your clit under your finger. It took only a few seconds for you to pulse on his shaft, a dumb grin on your face. When you stopped shaking, you felt him close to coming too, but he didn't pull out.

“Joel, we shouldn’t…”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m about to come,” he groaned, his hand tightening around the back of your neck and pulling you sharply towards him.

“We shouldn't keep going, pull out, pull out, please!”

“If you ever act like that again, next time I won’t pull out. Got it?” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “And if it sticks, you’ll be the one who’ll have to deal with a damn kid. And I kinda like the idea, right now. We clear?”

“Yes, yes!”

He pulled out at the last moment, growling, his cum covering the inside of your thighs, and then finally released you. He let his weight collapse on top of you, both of you lying on the bed, catching your breath.

“You should have told me sooner that taking a cock was all you needed to calm down,” he grunted.

He stood up, and tucked his cock in his pants.

“Now, get dressed, and go check behind the house. I’ll check the side. Let’s hope your moans didn’t attract a shit ton of infected. Jesus.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[epiphanytofu]

Fankids are still a thing, right? Whatever, go my scarab. Introducing my two fankids for an incredibly RARE rarepair that I've been keeping hidden for over 2 months now, Jangle and Chime. Twins who are complete opposites, but stick together as if they were glued to the hip.

Jangle is the more eccentric, hyperactive, silly, and chaotic half of the duo, always up and about, everywhere at once and speeding around like his life depends on it. There's rarely a moment where this one isn't doing something fun or getting into mischief as he makes it a point to search for the next adventure, regardless of the time or place. He has a love for performing, talented in many forms of entertainment and will gladly put on a show when asked to. Despite his childish nature, he is intelligent in his own ways, showing a deep interest in literature, philosophy, and morals, despite his young age. Furthermore, he has quite the eye for spotting lies and truths and he's not afraid to shout out what he sees. Funny enough, he is not a very good liar himself; he's quite blunt, but never wishes ill on anyone... unless they insult or upset his family. Perhaps Jangle takes his role as a jester very, VERY seriously. Chime is the quiet, emotional, timid, and insecure half of the duo, always preferring to stand back and let others take the spotlight and attention. Whereas Jangle is always found running about, never sticking to one spot, Chime would rather stay in her comfort zone, keeping to herself in a limited number of areas to minimize the amount of social interaction as much as possible. She finds more comfort in solitude and quiet, always becoming distressed if too much noise is made, too many people are present... or there's a minor inconvenience that just happened. It's very easy to upset her. Much like her brother, she is quite smart for her age, except her specialty lies with mathematics and anything involving numbers, which allows her to excel with machines, mechanics, and tinkering. She tends to do so often, finding it to be a special interest of sorts. Though, it's not all she does; Chime DOES have a particular interest in music as well. Perhaps one day she can finally make music that's just as pretty as her brother's. Moving onto some gameplay aspects; there is the topic of both twin's abilities, starting with Jangle's.

As it can be read here, Jangle's ability can stun Twisteds using the jester doll named Jack in his head, who has a separate conscious. His active is different from other toons' abilities, as instead of an instantaneous use, the ability can be charged up, which causes Jangle to start winding up to get ready to use his ability, which requires the ability button to be held down long enough. Thankfully, in moments of danger, he gradually speeds up the longer the icon is held. This can be particularly useful for distracting or escaping; You can release the button at any time before the ability goes off to save it.

For Chime, hers is also different from some toons' passive abilities. Using Bobette as an example, Bobette has a specific radius around her that toons can enter for stamina regeneration. However, with Chime, she doesn't have a radius. Instead, it relies solely on how areas of a map are divided into parts for her ability. Once she enters a room or a large area that counts as one space altogether, all toons within that area receive her extraction boost. though once she leaves, it will instantly wear off. She'd be useful when several machines are in the same area, offering support to all who extract on the nearby machines. Lastly, here are their trinkets!

I have. A LOT MORE. To talk about with them, since they're decently developed. But this post is already a smidge long as is and I'm tired, so I'll probably save it for another time. In the meantime, take these doodles of them as filler. (And you get to see the concepts for their Twisteds.) [ Edit: Btw if you got any questions, feel free to ask. I forgot to mention that originally, I was too tired. ]

[laser-tripwires]

alright, R3 trailer analysis time. strap in.

y'all thought i was kidding about doing a shot-for-shot breakdown of this thing? i wasn't. let's go.

alright so we open on hardison walking down a hallway, tossing his phone from one hand to another (some things never change), looking up, and unlocking a door. from the jump, this is interesting - hardison is very present in this trailer, but we know from Aldis's recent comments in interviews that he's not going to be in this season a ton. i'll talk more on that later.

he opens the door to find parker hanging upside-down over a display case holding a small golden owl - we see later it's the target of their heist. she tells him not to trigger the floor alarms (once again, some things never change). we cut away before we can see hardison's reaction, but given as Sophie has the owl later on in the trailer we can infer that things went within some measure of fine.

exterior shot now, of what looks like the louvre - the alarm sounds could be hardison setting off the floor sensors but i honestly doubt it and i think we can chalk it down to trailer editing; again, given as we see them attempting an on-foot exit with the owl later on in the trailer, i think what goes wrong isn't the owl stealing but is something else. we'll refer back to this image a good few times as the trailer goes on.

so, what does this tell us so far? a few things. one, they're in paris, which means that so far this is from the pilot episode - parker and hardison are dressed as waiters, put a pin in it. it's very likely that this is right at the beginning of the show, and the trailer is going to stay with this plotline for a while. right now, i'm very much just recapping what's shown on screen here, but that'll change as we start throwing in more elements and stuff to chew on. stay with me, this post is long, and this is just part one.

okay, so, cut to a grey bakery van speeding down the street. which immediately raises some questions - we know from the mastermind job that the team do have brick & basil trucks in paris. this is either a stolen vehicle for a getaway or there's something else going on.

sophie, eliot and parker are inside the truck. sophie's wearing a blue suit and eliot's in a dark checked shirt and black tee - again, put a pin in it, we're gonna be using outfits to pinpoint down some stuff as the episode progresses.

then, eliot says "We gotta find a way out of Paris, now." - which again confirms to me that this is from the pilot episode. i didn't go to electriccon, but i'd bet any amount of money that these outfits are the same as the ones they were wearing in the opening scene of R3x1 shown there.

i think it's really interesting that eliot says they need a way out of paris - not france, not this car chase. he doesn't say they need to lose these guys or that they need to get out of the country; apparently, whoever's chasing them is looking in paris specifically.

cool wing mirror shot of the dudes chasing them - black cars, guns, shooting, bullets bouncing off of the back of the crew's truck. oh boy. dunno about y'all, but these guys do not look like museum security to me. couple more shots of the car chase next, which i ain't posting here because quite frankly tumblr's image limit already wants me dead.

we're on a public road and france has pretty damn strict gun laws - narrows it down to law enforcement (no uniforms, no insignias, so possible but unlikely), organised crime (afaik we've never pissed off anyone in the wider paris area, but it doesn't rule it out) or private security. they're probably private security.

parker swerves, while sophie and eliot get thrown around. once again, some things never change. we get the start of a line from parker in the audio. i'll talk about it in a sec.

it's from here that, for me, this is going to imminiently all stop being straightforward. welcome to the next several thousand words of your life, entitled Lottie Bitches About Trailer Editing.

we get a better look at the guys shooting at them, now. definitely not law enforcement - but those are leather jackets and jeans rather than the nice pressed suits that RiZ and their ilk likes to put guys in. whoever this is, they're either ameteur (unlikely), organised crime (again raises the question of "who") or well trained and trying to blend in (raises questions about the firefight in the middle of a street). the team are in trouble.

but i'll also point something out - we can see from the angle here that these dudes have handguns. to quote everyone's favourite murder encyclopedia: "A handgun is unreliable over the distance from the street."

whoever these guys are, if they're trying to take out the team, they very probably weren't expecting their attempt to escalate to a car chase.

now, we see parker saying the line that started in audio a few seconds back - "This was supposed to be a quick little weekend heist." she's in the same outfit and appears to be in the same truck, so this is from the same episode, but those of you paying attention will have noticed the sudden apperance of a hardison directly behind her, and some white sheet thingies that weren't in the last shot. this isn't in the same immediate continuity as what we've just seen.

given as we see in a few secs that hardison was in the back(?) of the truck during eliot's lil fight scene, i'm imagining this line is from after eliot's done his lil fight. it's a great example of the kinds of trick edits we're about to see a lot of throughout this trailer, and if you weren't paying attention you'd think this would be one continuous scene.

next is more of the car chase. car chase is car chasing. i'm remembering the S5 and R2 trailers - speeding vehicles make for good television, apparently. makes for fluff for my post, though, and image limit. so. i'll just say that we didn't see roadworks on the last wideshot we got, so confirms that this chase is long and covering some ground. seems like a basic thing to point out, but as we've already seen with that parker line - trailer editing is deceptive. that's why i've been stating the obvious so much; the more baseline reality we can establish, the stronger a foundation we have for when the trick edits get worse later on. i told you this post would be a lot of me bitching about trailer edits.

alright, eliot awesome time now! and our next line: "Drop me off." he's still in the front of the truck right now, provided that bit of webbing we see next to him is the same bit of webbing we can see behind parker and hardison for the 'quick little weekend heist' line. so this probably - probably - comes imminently after the 'we need to get out of paris' bit earlier. i have no idea what he's lifting here - some kind of sack or cardboard box? unclear.

we hear eliot say "This won't take long." it's in VO - but probably continues on from the last line. trucks stops, cars pull up. notable that the dudes leaning out the windows with handguns are now inside the cars, assuming that this comes after that bit of the car chase, which i think it likely does. pretty reasonable to assume that the next bits are all in order.

black screen, punch dude into car door, black screen. fun trailer editing for emphasis! this goon is wearing a beanie and a similar black jacket to the other guys, though his isn't leather. given the door he's stepping out of, it's likely that he was the driver who we couldn't see in the previous shots.

BADASS CAR SLIDE. this dude is one of the ones we saw shooting earlier - and, fun fact, this was the first screen any of us saw for R3. last filmed scene; most of the show was filmed in order with the pilot first, but some of the stunt stuff takes longer so they just gave up and flew everyone out to belgrade for this bit specifically, given as the electric entertainment folks had to be there for filming The Librarians: The Next Chapter anyway. if you go looking i think christian still has a video up on his facebook with the stunt coordinator from when they wrapped this.

another black screen then, because trailer editing. gunshot sound effect but we see that eliot's fine. still on the same dude here but a few seconds later in the fight, eliot slams him into the car. dude falls, fade to black, and then we cut to eliot opening the truck door (presumably just after this fight, given how haggered he looks) and we get what's easily the funniest line in the trailer from hardison: "There's my special little guy. How was your first day at school? Did you make any friends?"

...and a facial expression from eliot that i can only describe as 'dammit hardison'.

cut back to our louvre image, now in red and surrounded by some other pictures (we can see the eiffel tower, a skyscraper that turns up later in the trailer, the nola headquarters and a river i can't quite place yet) - this red and teal blue seems to be the colour scheme for all the promo this season. text sliding of "The Team Is Back" turning into "The Scheme Team Is Back" - first time i saw this i was expecting us to go into a bunch of different team nicknames, but we don't. which makes this interesting, because we haven't ever heard that moniker for the crew. i like it, it's cute!

from here, the trailer changes slightly and we go from an almost-chronological throughplay of the pilot into an avalance of clips from the season as a whole. means my job gets a lot harder. but on the plus side, cool titlecards for everyone! this is actually the most we get to see of random miscellanious episodes, so make the most of it.

first up, sophie! blowing out some kind of insence match thing, wearing a hippie-style denim dress reminiscent of tara's outfit in the future job. doesn't exactly narrow down what the grift is, because this kind of personality will be of great use in many circumstances, but means we're for sure in for a fun ride.

next up is parker and this is where stuff gets complicated.

there's a number of things here. one, parker's sniffing money - obvious, adorable, once again some things never change. two, she's in a blue waistcoat and shirt with a red bowtie, which we'll see her and hardison in multiple times throughout this trailer, making the second distinct plotline we can kinda almost follow.

the question of when in the show this is from is up in the air - but, given as among other things that stack of bills parker's got her nose in appear to be €200 notes, i'm currently guessing it's also the premiere. we'll keep looking back for this as time goes on. with the exception of some scattered clips, there really doesn't appear to be that many episodes mixed in to this trailer. i'm reminded that the s2 of a show called The Ark, an electric entertaiment show that came out last year, mixed up basically only the first three episodes and the finale for it's trailer (with again the exception of some scattered clips). we know hardison is in the premiere, episode two (put a pin in it) and probably the finale. i'm going to keep coming back to this because it's by far the most interesting question in this trailer, and luckily also one that we'll probably get an answer for relatively soon.

nothing unusual in the next few shots.

we've just a grumpy eliot in his natural habitat of punching people in what appears to be a kitchen. like sophie's, this isn't an outfit we see elsewhere in the trailer so we can assume it's from one of the as-of-yet-inscrutable midseason episodes. the apron eliot's wearing has a fleur-de-lis on it, meaning this is either in france or nola and because of the aforementioned non-reccuring of this outfit with the information i currently have i'd say it's just a random shot from some episode down the line.

next is bree, bree, my darling bree. we do not get enough of her and harry in this trailer (explained partly by electriccon peeps telling us that the two of them aren't in at least the opening of the premiere episode). nice to see she's still got the ace sticker on her laptop that she had last season.

then harry, playing what looks to be pool or snooker in a dark room. we see later on in the trailer that the team has installed a red games table, so it's likely that like breanna's titlecard this is at the nola headquarters. i'll be honest, when i saw this i almost reflexively ticked off the "harry does a terrible accent" square of my bingo board.

it was at this point when writing this post that i hit tumblr's image limit for the first time, and realised that that was going to be a problem. last and certainly not least of the title cards come hardison - in the same silly blue waistcoat thing as parker. we're going to come back to this exact shot later with a dialogue line, so i won't say much on it now.

cut to hardison at a briefing saying "We fix things," and a reaction shot of the crew, which we can tell is a straight shot reverse shot because of sophie's shirt. hardison's line continues on in VO with: "We stop bad guys nobody stops." behind him, we can see two headlines, one that's presumably 'lawsuit to be heard in court' and another that's 'activist strikes [...] blow for local [...]'. standard briefing, with the glaring exceptions of the fact that A) hardison is basically begging here - no reason for a big speech like this unless he's asking them something extremely important and B) eliot's in an arm sling. put a pin in it, we'll come back.

the next couple of shots are a blowoff and a seemingly unrelated moment of parker and harry saluting to someone offscreen.

the bad guy getting put in a car by some cops is actually the moment in this trailer i'm the most confident on. poster in the background says rio de janeiro, which is interesting. a while back, john rogers said on social media that they did an episode on water shortages in central/south america; i'm betting that's this dude. in terms of what episode, the premiere has a credit for "rio pedestrian", but given as that seems to be solidly set in paris i don't really know. cool that my stalking of a showrunner's bluesky has for once provided some useful foresight, though.

now for parker and harry here, which seems to be disconnected from our previous shot. harry's in his regular lawyer suit, but - as many people have pointed out - parker's costume here is extremely reminiscent of her MiB look from the first contact job. even the same hair. it's a cool look. she and harry are also saluting, which just raises... so, so, so many questions. i'm open to any theories or ideas people have for this - personally i'm just praying for another top secret government agents con.

alright next up is the most solidly baffling sequence of editing in the entire goddamn trailer, according to me. i'm taking this a little bit out of order so i can explain properly.

so, wideshot, eliot and harry playing pool/snooker (seriously someone tell me how to tell the difference) on the new table. breanna's talking, i'll go into what she says in a sec when i move into talking about the con. we cut from there to harry and sophie and then to bree putting some stuff on the screen (pin. it.) and then to sophie wondering what she's going to wear.

now.

notice anything?

bing bing bing! that's right, the random sophie and harry reaction shot has harry and sophie in completely different outfits than all the surrounding shots. why? fuck you! no idea. i did say that this post would be mostly me bitching about trailer edits. see why i made a whole point about establishing baseline reality? yeah.

right, let's talk now about the stuff breanna throws up on the screen, because it's some of the most interesting shit in the trailer:

"The scum of the scum," huh? we've got location markers on five dudes here - one unknown, one in transit maked over nola, and then guys in paris, montreal and karachi. paris, makes sense. nola, makes lots of sense. montreal and karachi? we've never so much as mentioned either of those cities.

this is clearly a breifing from some episode that we don't have a whole lot of information on. the dude located in paris makes me think it's somehow connected to the pilot episode, but i couldn't tell you how.

next shot, a sign saying mumbai airport, and sophie stepping out of a car in a blue summery dress in front of an airplane hangar. given as mumbai isn't really anywhere near any of the cities the bad guys from a second ago were hanging around, i'm willing to bet that this is an entirely different episode. we do come back to it once or twice throughout the trailer, though, so keep your eyes peeled.

right. the next sequence is A) important and B) fast, so i'm going to tackle it all in one block.

we've got a wideshot of a skyscraper with what looks to be the golden gate bridge in the background (making me think this is san fransisco, though it could just be a generic bridge). from there, we zoom in through the windows to parker dancing through some red lasers before reaching a keypad and pulling her balaclava off with an "I'm in."

now. a few things.

one, we've only seen red lasers once, and we've only seen parker run a solo break-in in a balaclava once. both happened in the inside job - the lasers in archie's flashback, and the balaclava as the episode opens. obviously, those are both aesthetic things, and given as parker's talking on her earbud we know she's probably with the team here. but it for sure pings my 'this is from a parker episode' spidey senses, especially given as - with the singular exception of that very crucial flashback - all the laser tripwires we've seen in the leverage franchise so far have been blue.

(oh and so i don't forget - @independent-fics sent me an ask saying that this scene looked like it was in the nola HQ, but i honestly think that's just them using it as a filming studio. won't be the first or the last time, and the zoom in from the skyscraper sure implied this was an external con. sorry.)

right, so, we've almost reached the bit of this trailer with actual. y'know. themes. i told you we'd come back to that hardison shot i skipped over earlier!

"I don't wanna do this anymore."

"You don't wanna crime anymore?"

and just. wow. yeah. so, we're in those blue waistcoats - meaning once again that i think this is either episode one or the finale, though e2 is still also a possibility (i'll explain why later). that's the same safe parker was standing in front of for her titlecard, so i think this probably takes place a few seconds prior to the liberation of those euros from earlier.

i wish we saw hardison's response to this. we're setting up a proper big arc for parker this season, from the looks of it. the question of retiring is one hardison's answered before - he's gone on record saying he never wants to get married, could never retire. i reckon that those things might both have changed, especially if the electriccon folks are right with the proposal spec. given as we do see parker happily pull that money out not long later, whatever he says can't be that devastating. i guess we'll find out.

but, speaking of devastating...

"I don't like watching someone I care about take punches meant for me."

now. before i dig into the meaning of that - and i will, i'm trying to analyse as well as summarise here - let's just look at the facts of the scene. given the outfits and the fact they're in headquarters, i think this is pretty soon after hardison's breifing that we saw earlier. because it's thus also probably the start of an episode (or possibly the end of the premiere?) that again narrows us down to pilot, e2 (THE PIN IS THERE I WILL GET TO IT I PROMISE) or finale. i'm saying e2 at this point, tentatively. depends on if we see eliot being injured or not.

oki-dokey, time for the analysis. i've had quite lengthy conversations about this with both @ghostlyarchaeologist and @aardvaark (and plagurised said conversations heavily in this section), and we're all kinda coming to the conclusion that... well, yeah. let's look at it from eliot's side: he didn't expect to live this long. no-one expected him to live this long.

i'm remembering the drop in sophie's face after the big tearful til my dying day thing in long goodbye. she knows eliot's gonna die for them. eliot knows it too. he's okay with that, he's not happy with it but it's as good an ending as he can hope for. and now we're over ten years later and "I'm afraid there's no such thing as a fair fight anymore." no-one can take him out. eliot knows how good he is but the truth is that he's goooood. and he's lucky, and he's smart, and he's surrounded by loved ones. he could grow old. this doesn't have to end on the wrong side of a bullet or a punch or a knife.

but in order for that to happen, he needs to let himself rest. which he won't, because there's always more to do. maria's right - he thinks that as long as there are bad people doing bad things, he doesn't deserve to be happy. maybe that's not how he consciously would explain it, but it's sure the rulset he's been living off for the last while, since we ticked over some imaginary expiration date. and it sucks, even if he's not really wholly in the wrong.

you noticed now that we're briefly cutting back to the first fight scene we saw, with eliot against the goons in paris and an unfun looking punch in the gut. if this brief montage is intending to show causality, then it again implies that this hardison scene is at the end of e1 or sometime in e2, especially given the following scene being our blue waistcoats again, and my current bet that those are premiere outfits. for something more fun, have hardison failing a vulcan nerve pinch:

i love the incredulous look on the guy's face. not how you do it, hardison! we can see parker breaking into a safe in the background here (or possibly breaking out of the room they're in?) and luckily for our overenthusiastic trekkie, eliot swoops in once hardison's down.

note: the arm eliot's using here is the one that doesn't end up in a sling. if my guesses are right about the ordering of all this and this is e1 with hardison's breifing being end of e1 or the beginning of e2, then this makes sense with eliot's arm injured in a preceeding fight. although, again, with nothing solid to tie the blue waistcoat continuity to any other scenes, we can't know for sure.

"Seriously dude, you try the Vulcan Spock thing again?"

"It's gon' work one of these days."

(not if you do it like you just did, it won't.)

and with that, i'm going to finish off part one here - there's a minute left of the trailer but i'm a little bit sick of dodging around tumblr's image limit! we've still got a lot of ground to cover, including a truly ridiculous number of parker awesome moments and a few returns to a lot of stuff we've already covered so far (i promise i will take out all those imaginary pins).

endless thankyous to everyone who chipped in with help and theories and rubber ducking and more than a few sanity checks - @lindseymcdonaldseyelashes also deserves a mention because any time i'm citing electriccon i owe my info to her. part two can be found here. i've been lottie, my main is @the-tomorrow-road, and you can follow me here for endless streams of leverage crazy. the con is on!

[sunschay]

An Unwanted Guest || Natasha Romanoff x Male Reader

You return home after two years serving in the American army, having been forced by your father to enlist. But you didn't expect to have another stepmother in such a short space of time.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Inappropriate language, swearing, sexual tension, age gap (Reader is 21, Nat is 42, she's a milf ugh), Bruce is a terrible and disrespectful husband. *

Also, this is not fully proofread yet, so it may contain some minor spelling errors.*

Word count: 10k

You wake up to the sound of banging pots and pans and a loud bell ringing in the back of the dormitory. It must be about five in the morning, but that's the time everyone here is obliged to wake up anyway, as early as possible. Sleep isn't important, but your work and your duties? Without a shadow of a doubt. You hear the recruits getting up from their bunks and putting on their uniforms, berets, boots and belts before retiring to the mess hall. You get dressed as well, brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face and almost jump with fright when you turn around and see a man standing in front of you.

“Private Banner. There's new mail for you at the post office outside the base.” Sam Wilson says, almost like a robot, the dark circles around his eyes giving away his bad sleep during the night.

“Thanks, Wilson.” You press your lips together and nod, retreating to the cafeteria.

It's an ordinary cafeteria, at least 30 to 40 square meters, with 25 tables and chairs scattered around. The canteen is a rather small kitchen that houses large pots and pans, two built-in stoves with four burners each and a huge fridge taking up almost half the space. The soldiers form a queue with trays everywhere to eat.

“Combatant Banner, how's your day going? There are three letters and correspondence from Mr. Banner waiting for you.” Your most familiar and talkative friend, Steven Rogers, greets you with the same smile as every day.

“Hey mate! Thanks for that, really. How's your day going?” You reply and give him a brief hug. “Good so far, no women around unfortunately.”

Steve is a good man, he's also an excellent and extremely competent soldier, unfortunately life (in this case, the top lieutenants) has placed him as a letter carrier indefinitely supposedly because Rogers doesn't reach the level of skill and strength as other recruits. But he's still a nice guy with his straight-edged blond hair, his friendly smile, his blue eyes and his pumped-up muscles.

“Thanks for this, Steve. I bet my old man is just asking me how things are going. He should know by now that I'm coming home tomorrow.” You snort and pick up the thick envelopes, seeing that the other letters are from your 13-year-old brother, Derek.

It was probably one of his drawings that he's always sent you since you joined the army.

“I hear you've got a new hot stepmother- I say, I hear you've got a new stepmother, comrade. You know, Derek tells me everything. I love that kid.” He gives you a nervous wink and you choke on air.

“Stepmother!? Wait, bloody hell! That's the fourth woman my old man's taken in two whole years.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. He's single and still a bit young, a man should celebrate his freedom as he sees fit. But sometimes, with a new woman comes new problems.” Steve laughs lightly, finding your nervous expression amusing.

“The thing is, he's been having fun with several women for a long time, Steve, and he always gets into trouble with all of them because he doesn't know how to deal with break-ups. I bet she's a bitter old woman with a bunch of kids. Thanks, man, I'll have to accept another little woman wanting to boss me around anyway. See you in the cafeteria.” You roll your eyes and say goodbye to Steve with a high five.

After picking up the tray, you sit down and start opening the cards, barely touching the food in front of you. As soon as you finish opening the first letter, a long sigh leaves your lips before you start reading.

"Hey, my firstborn, how are things going over there? If I remember correctly, you're just finishing your service and will be going home soon. Derek misses you, I helped him send you his many drawings of dinosaurs and of you painted next to him in a soldier's uniform. He can't stop talking about you. I've also heard that you're as strong as a big Nutcracker doll. That's my boy. On the other hand, I imagine that Rogers has already told you everything. Son, yes, I'm in a relationship with another woman. Natasha is the most incredible and fascinating woman I've ever seen, and it's the best thing that could have happened in my life, I think you'll like her. We can't wait to see you, firstborn, come home soon."

Running your hands through your hair, you let out a heavy, tired sigh, taking a few bites of the not-so-juicy apple on the tray and looking at the mashed potatoes mixed into a soup with a strange texture. The food isn't always the best, but there's nothing to complain about, at least you have something to eat.

“I told you, new stepmother, new problems.” Rogers giggles as he enters the cafeteria and then laughs when he sees your frown.

“At least I hope this one doesn't try to burn our house down.” You say with a frustrated half-smile, eating with some effort.

“Relax, she must be a good woman.” Steve places the tray on the table, looking away for a moment.

You continue eating and frown when you see that he's practically drooling, staring in the opposite direction. Your head turns slowly and you see Second Lieutenant Stark and Agent Carter enter the cafeteria, walking together as they talk. She's pretty, with short brown hair, light eyes, a light button on her lips and a military uniform, wearing high boots. Agent Carter is actually the first General of the United States Women's Army, so basically, she's a well-known woman around here and sometimes makes a visit to the men's military base to do "research", evaluations and things like that.

“I'm going to have to get a bigger bucket if you keep drooling over her like this.” You smile, feeling Steve throw a stuffed potato at you.

“Ew, I wasn't even looking like that. Mind your own business.” He scolds you, fiddling awkwardly with his food.

“Oh, the one who spoke is no longer here.” You laugh and finish eating, getting up when the lieutenant calls you to run around the courtyard.

This time, you wake up before the bell rings and the noisy pots start banging to wake up the rest of the soldiers. Today is "vacation" day, if you can call it that. You're coming home after two years away. Finally. You'll be able to sleep when you want, when you want, drink, do all the rebellious shit you share with Steve. As you enter the bathroom, you pick up a razor and fit a new blade into the razor, washing your face with warm water and spreading shaving foam over your face as you shave. After removing the loose hairs from your face, you wash it thoroughly and face the new pencil moustache covering your skin, all the rest of your skin shaved and clean.

“It's not so bad.” You whisper, running your fingers over the moustache.

As soon as you've finished the rest of your hygiene, you pick up your farewell uniform, putting on your camouflage collarless shirt, pants and boots. You run your fingers through your black hair and comb it gently until it's neatly aligned, then you put your beret on your head. When you return, the dormitories are already empty and the commanders take the rest of the conscript soldiers outside to catch the bus home. You wouldn't take a bus home if Bruce came to pick you up, but with a brainless father like him, it wasn't good to risk being late. You stand in the queue and immediately feel someone tugging your ears back slightly, turning to see Steve right behind you.

“Hey, buddy, you look like you've just stepped off a modeling cover. If I were a woman, I'd be wet just looking at that moustache.” Rogers jokes and you roll your eyes, joining in.

“Yeah, and you look like a nomad with that much beard, the girls will love that.” You put your hands behind your back and he sighs. “I wish.”

“Private Y/n Chase Banner, 21 years old, British, sergeant correspondent. You may board.” The man hands back your papers.

“Sometimes I forget you're British. It's a bit ironic, you don't even like a cup of tea.” Steve says, straining his accent and making you laugh. “Why tea when we have whisky and beer in America?”

Steve laughs and takes the documents out of his pocket, handing them to the driver. Quickly all the soldiers board and you press your head against the hard seat, looking out of the window as the base slowly moves away and the bus accelerates. You hear Steve chattering non-stop next to you about Agent Carter, saying how divine and beautiful she was, and saying how much he wished he had a chance with her. The trip from Kentucky to Washington DC would take at least 8 hours and something more, it was still early in the morning and you'd be arriving in the afternoon or even evening, so you just answered Steve with nods and brief 'um, yeahs' as you drifted off to sleep.

“Hey, buddy, this isn't bedtime! Wake up!” Steve shook you, making you jump in your seat slightly.

Your fingers rubbed your eyes and you shook your head, gradually adjusting your vision. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, delivering a warm and muggy evening, the clouds gradually disappearing as the larger group of soldiers began to get off the bus at the Washington terminal. Steve laughed as he commented on your sleepy face and you grabbed your backpack, following him off the bus. It was clear that Bruce hadn't made any effort to come and see you in Kentucky, so it annoyed and irritated you at the same time, but there was no point in wasting time with your grumpy old dad.

“You're coming to dinner with me. That's not a request.” She joked with him as they started walking together.

Your house wasn't three blocks away, it wasn't that far, so it would be nice to walk.

“If it's to meet your hot stepmother, I'm always up for it.” He said and you punched him in the bicep.

“How do you know she's hot and not some old lady with a herniated disc who's obsessed with plants?” You opened a packet of mints, handing him another.

“Derek told me she's not old. And I know Mr. Banner doesn't date old ladies. Come on, Y/n, it's only been three times.” He replies, making you let out a laugh.

“Three times describes my father's character very well, Steve. Well, let's face it, there are a lot of hot old ladies out there.” You blink, feeling his critical gaze on your back.

“You're a fucking pervert. I didn't know you liked old ladies, man.” He laughs, pushing you slightly.

“I didn't say I liked old women! I'm just saying that there are some older women, in their forties and fifties, who are hot, depending on the individual. There was a friend of my father's, I think her name was Wanda, something like that, and she was in her late thirties or early forties. She looked like she was in her twenties, I swear to you, she was crazy as hell! Of course, not all women get to that age looking good, it's a question of grooming and vanity, you know.” You explained, kicking a few stones along the way.

“To me, that's like saying: 'I'm definitely into fucking an older woman's brains out', there's no limit to that, bro, you're an adult and single.” He winks and you laugh out loud. “Wait, why do I feel like something happened between you and this Wanda?”

“She gave me head in the bathroom at her nephew's birthday party. If that answers your question.” You smile mischievously and Steve shakes you like he's made a great discovery. “I knew it, you tricksome pervert! If she really is that hot, then I understand you.”

“You say that as if Carter wasn't a little older than you." Your eyes narrow and he shrugs.

“That's another matter, Banner.” He smiles smugly.

As soon as the two of you arrive, you stop to look around the house. It looks the same, but at the same time it looks like a different house. As if you didn't belong here. The house is still surrounded by orchids and tulips that you planted years ago in memory of your mother, something you did every year to remember well what she liked to do when she was alive. The house had worn-out paintwork, ajar windows and a tall lawn, which made you wonder if Bruce was so useless as not to mow a simple garden lawn. You walked up to the front door and knocked lightly against it, hearing some loud voices talking from inside.

“Just a minute!” A female voice shouted from inside and you slowly turned to face Steve, who had a small smile on his lips. “Time to meet Mom, Banner.”

You rolled your eyes deeply and tried to ignore him, scratching your moustache nervously as footsteps approached the door.

When the door opened, the first thing that came into your mind was that Steve was probably right. She wasn't old at all. Or she was Bruce's own age and she was fucking well preserved, which you thought, fuck, that's got to be it. The vision lit up before you, with a redhead opening the door of your own house with sweet wavy red hair down to her shoulders, big curious green eyes analyzing you as if she already knew who you were before you even said a word, her face as delicate as pieces of porcelain, her nose turned up and the most beautiful lips you could find. She was much shorter than you and than Steve, which meant that you had to look up to meet your eyes and that you had to move your head down to see her.

A black dress falls over her body with delicacy and a deafening elegance. There are a few buttons from the opening, which shows a little of her pale neck, to the middle of her waist, which has a belt around it. It's a simple garment. But it doesn't exude any kind of vulgarity, although this woman... she exudes lust through her eyes. She has slight expression marks under her eyes, almost imperceptible, but which give away the fact that she is much older than you. And she hasn't even said a word to you. A pearly necklace is around that elegant slender neck and you hold your breath, locking your jaw before you speak.

“May I ask who you are?” Your whisper is precise and firm, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that her cheeks are flushing.

“Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. You must be Y/n. I'm your father's wife.” She answers you just as firmly, although her nervousness shows through a little and Steve's eyes widen behind you.

You would never have thought that your father would get married so quickly, even if it was his way of getting into bed with any woman for one night and then telling you that he was in a relationship with her. But he had married her! That was too much.

“It's me, yes.” That's the only answer that came out of his mouth and Natasha seemed to swallow with some bewilderment.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Romanoff. I'm Y/n's friend, Steve Rogers. I hope you don't mind my presence, it may have been a little unexpected.” Steve greets her with a light handshake.

“It would never be a bother to receive you, please, the house is more yours than mine.” She smiles and turns to you.

Without a word, you lean in as Steve pulls away from her hand. Her nails are painted a bright red, which contrasts with her red hair. Your hand brushes against hers, which makes Natasha almost gasp and electricity runs through her body when your hand gently squeezes hers. Without further words or affirmations, this is much more than Natasha would have expected to feel. You raise your head and she quickly moves to the side, making room for you and Steve to enter.

You won't admit it, but you're fascinated by Natasha's beauty. You also know now that you were wrong to think that she was older than Bruce, he only went out a few times with some noble ladies full of money with arrogance stamped on their faces.

“Y/n!” A weak, childish voice shouts at you, and you laugh as you feel little arms go around your legs. “Hey, big boy.”

You greet Derek, feeling him cling to your neck and hug you tightly, as if he hasn't seen you for decades. Well, he hadn't seen you in almost three years, so it made perfect sense.

“Doesn't anyone miss me?” Steve mocked. “Stevie!”

You laugh and let them talk, quickly answering a few of Derek's questions before seeing Bruce off down the stairs. He's got his black hair tangled and all out of order, his glasses are crooked on his face and he's wearing a white coat, with a scruffy beard. He looks a mess, with dark circles under his eyes and a breath of something like campari. You look him up and down with judgment and press your hand on the strap of your backpack.

“Hey, big boy.” He approaches you and gives you a firm hug.

“Hey, old man. I thought you'd see me at the Fort.” You say, frowning with annoyance masked as irritation.

“Well, you're already a big man, Y/n. Not to mention I was looking after your brother, he needs to brush his teeth and do his homework.” He says, turning away and fixing his glasses.

“Of course, you're always worried about my brother stinking of pure alcohol.” You say firmly, your jaw locking with some force.

“Is that any way to talk to me, kid?” He looks at you, slowly approaching as Natasha comes back into the room.

“Oh, I believe you're both hungry. I'm making an apple pie before dinner, love, can you help me?” She grasps Bruce's shoulders, who turns away from you. “Of course, darling.”

Your eyes roll back and Natasha gives you a look as if she's analyzing you. It's a fact that, although much older, Bruce is shorter than you, and his bone structure is even smaller, as if you were the older one here. You cross your arms earnestly, feeling the tension start in your broad shoulders and work its way down your burly biceps. Yes, you really have become an even bigger man than your father and Natasha seems to be looking at this before turning her face away and entering the kitchen.

“Hey, man. Relax, let's just enjoy the night.” Steve grabs your arm, visibly tense, and pulls you over to the sofa.

You sit down with him, try to relax but it's almost unavoidable. Bruce Banner has always been the kind of guy who is a compulsive alcoholic. He goes to support groups every weekend to try to get some support from other people who suffer from the same problem, but he keeps drinking as if he depended on it. He wasn't exactly a friendly father to you, it's as if he was always there but absent. He didn't teach you how to shave, so you learned on your own – with support from Steve who has a great dad – he didn't teach you how to pick up girls or how to flirt or how to drive, let alone how to listen when you had any doubts. He's like a ghost who breathes, eats and sleeps. But he's never really there for his children.

That's probably why your mother divorced him in your teens before that accident. Bruce is a difficult person to deal with, something you clearly took from him, but you're completely different. You're a good man, you're there for Derek, you're good with children, you're civilized, patient – when you want to be – and you're everything your father would like you to be.

“Look, I drew a picture of my school friends, Uncle Stevie and Y/n/n!” He says, handing you a drawing.

In it, Derek is drawn wearing the same blue sweatpants and plaid shirt at the actual moment. His hair is messy and slightly disheveled, his round glasses are crooked and you straighten them on his pale face, seeing that there is a blond boy next to him and a girl in a pink dress with long red hair.

“Who's that, little guy?” You ask as you stroke his hair.

“That's my friend, Emily!” He says between jumps and Steve looks at you with a smile. “Friend, huh?”

“Do you fancy her, mate? It's okay to talk to us, it's boy talk here, we won't judge you.” You ask and then smile, listening to Steve chatter something. “Fancy? Is that any way to say you're into a girl? You Brits are funny.”

“Give it a rest, Steve, it's noble English. You can talk to me, mate." You stroke Derek's hair and he laughs nervously.

“I think so... Dad says that when you like a girl a lot, you start admiring her, praising all her tastes, her hair, her expressions and everything about her, I see Emily like that. But I'm afraid she likes another boy.” He closes his expression into a sad little beak and you lift him onto your lap.

“Listen, you're a young boy. You're handsome, you've got nice hair like the bloke here.” You look at Steve who starts bragging and you interrupt him. “Maybe Emily is your first love, but you're still very young, you've got a lot to live up to. You've got to finish school, get a good job, make new friends, find a hobby, something you enjoy doing. Life isn't just about girls or love, it's about you and how you want to live it. And if Emily ever lets you down with another bloke, send her home to the grumpy toad.”

“What's the Grumpy Toad's house?” Steve blinks in confusion and you lean in to whisper. “A polite way of telling someone to fuck off. He can't swear because he's still a polite little boy.”

“You're unpredictable.” Steve laughs, disbelieving what he's heard.

The conversation between the two of you continues between laughter and irresponsible advice from Steve, who makes you laugh every second at the absurdities he tells you about past relationships, and from Derek, who starts showing you a folder full of his drawings. Lovely doodles. Natasha enters the room after a while, pressed between the doorway and shyly clears her throat.

“Hi guys, I don't mean to interrupt, but dinner's ready.” She says and you stand up, ruffling Derek's hair. “Go brush your teeth, kid. Girls don't like guys with breath.”

Derek mumbles something but climbs the stairs to the bathroom, determined to follow any of your advice, because you're the oldest and he sees tremendous wisdom in you. When you enter the kitchen, you sit down and Steve sits right next to you at the square table, and Bruce is there, scribbling something down. Always working, never with time for his children. Or too drunk to care.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He says, and barely blinks as Natasha places a plate of food in front of him.

“No problem, my love.” She says and her gaze settles on Natasha, who moves gracefully.

Is it wrong to be completely attracted to an older, more experienced woman who is unfortunately your new stepmother? Most likely, but you can't help it. Everything about Natasha is too sexy. Her light-lipped smile, her curves, which even covered by that very covered dress, manage to be somewhat naked. Her legs, the way her knees bend to grab something from the tallest cupboards in the kitchen. You can imagine the way her knees can bend in front of you... and fuck. Stop it, you tell yourself.

“How was your time serving, Y/n?” She asks you, and seems to be talking, or trying to.

“Same as always.” Your answer comes, it's short, but not rude, just disinterested.

The best thing is to look like you're disinterested in her. Not out of rudeness or rebelliousness. But because you feel the adrenaline in your veins that tells you it's dangerous to be so enamored of your stepmother, knowing that this is also something immoral and incorrect. You don't want to lose control.

“Men giving orders. Proud men doing what they want to do. Discipline masquerading as arrogance.” You prolong your answer, and you don't expect Natasha to understand, after all she is a woman and has never been in need of serving her country.

Natasha, on the other hand, is struggling to stay focused on getting more plates and cutlery to distribute to you and Steve during dinner. She's fascinated. Shocked. Silently drawn to you. The difference between you and Bruce is glaring. While he seems sloppy and uncivilized, you speak so calmly and politely that you don't even sound like his son. You're both very similar in appearance, hair, face, expressions, eyes a little, but the difference in size from your father to you is absurd. You're like a wall of muscle compared to him, who clearly makes sense as a fatally alcoholic and careless man.

She rubs her thighs discreetly as she places a plate in front of you and fork and knife on either side of the embroidered plate, hoping you haven't noticed her indecent act, but you're even watching the way her throat moves when she breathes. She feels impure, filthy. She shouldn't look at her husband's son as prey, as if she had never seen such a beautiful and majestic man, a man who, as soon as he entered the house for the first time, left her breathless.

No, you were younger. Perhaps more naive, too young. And you were her husband's son. Her stepson.

“If I may ask, does that make you uncomfortable? Taking orders?” She asks, placing her plate and cutlery in front of Steve.

You lick your lips slowly. Natasha stares at you. She likes that. An act so simple and ordinary that it made her almost drool all over that table. She was a depraved and incorrect woman at that moment. Natasha loses herself in you at that moment. The intense green gaze flees from your calm lips to your drawn jaw, sculpted beyond her comprehension. Your eyes are wild yet calm, they exude...a hard life. A life full of challenges. They're dominant and Natasha doesn't like the way they intimidate her without you even realizing it. But that's you, a mystery to her, silent and solid. A black ocean with no comprehensible answers.

“I only do what I'm asked. It's my job.” Her whisper comes, quiet, yet icy.

“A man who works without complaining becomes a good worker. I think that's what I taught you.” Bruce speaks for the first time, taking a bite of his food.

In front of you, the smell of food fills your stomach and you barely notice Natasha serving you as you are busy facing even the worst fears of her soul. Your hands move nimbly and you cut off a piece of meat, putting it in your mouth and chewing slowly. It takes her a few seconds to realize it's a stew and the salty broth with potatoes, carrots and peas melts in her mouth perfectly.

“First of all, you cook perfectly well, that's great, Natasha.” You say as she sits down to eat and you see her pale cheeks develop a slight blush. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

No one had talked about her food in a long time, not even your father.

“Secondly,” You take a few more mouthfuls, managing to eat half the stew in minutes, and then look at Banner with a certain disgust. “Is that why you sent me to the army? To teach me your own kind of passivity?”

“You seem to like offending me sometimes, kid.” He laughs dryly, helping Derek to sit down and assemble his plate. “What's wrong with being passive?”

“Nothing, nothing wrong with it. Except that whenever someone confronts you, all you know how to do is roll over and show your belly like a puppy.” You cluck your tongue, listening to Bruce grumble.

“I think we'd better calm down a bit here-” Steve begins, still starting to eat when you cut him off. “No, I won't calm down.”

“I sent you to the army to control your rebelliousness and lack of control!” Bruce replies, starting to get upset.

“My rebelliousness? Don't fuck with me, Bruce.” You spat, completely disbelieving that you had heard such a thing.

“You've always acted in a problematic way, breaking laws, coming home late without giving explanations, disrespecting your own father! What did you want me to do? Shake your hair and tell you how to act, as if you were actually going to listen to me?” He shouted back, pointing a finger at you.

“You never cared about me yourself. You send me to the army to control me by saying I'm a rebel and all that shit and now you treat me like some fucking bum you don't even know. You sit on your ass here all the time, you only go out to work or to drink like you always have, you think you're an example of something?” Your hand hits the table and Steve gets up next to you, trying to stop anything worse from happening.

“You shut up when I talk to you, kid!” He growls and Natasha grabs him by the shoulders. “Bruce, please, let's put this aside. Derek's here, sweetheart.”

“Enough, please, let's calm down, man.” Steve puts his hand on your arm, suddenly getting serious.

Your chest is rising and falling through the camouflage uniform, hitting your ribcage with some violence. Natasha is frightened, even though she tries not to show it, it's quite transparent. She's heard Bruce's stories about you, that you had the same explosive temper as him even though you were different, that as a teenager you got into fights frantically and that you were suspended from school for 'vandalizing' the bathroom walls and things like that. Most of that was true, but the only friend you had was Steve, you were both often chased by the good-looking guys and bullies for being "skinny and weird" and ended up being extremely excluded and beaten up at the time. As if the confusion came to you both on purpose.

In any case, Natasha didn't know you and became involved with Bruce shortly after you officially joined the army, where you were promoted to the rank of Private E-2 a year later. Although Bruce was her husband, he generally behaved unpleasantly some of the time, especially when he got drunk in front of Natasha, which also discouraged Derek and made him sad, wishing he had more time with his father. She wanted to get to know you better, she felt that you had a good heart and she didn't really want to believe all the absurd stories that Bruce told her as if he wanted to make you a bad son for his wife.

“I wish I didn't have to look at your face.” Your answer came, harsh, indifferent.

Bruce didn't move, however, as if it hadn't hit him. He really didn't care about you at all. You felt an extreme pang of guilt when you saw Derek at the end of the table, hunched over with his hands on his head. He hated arguing and shouting, and it often happened between you and Bruce, but you avoided fighting in front of the boy as much as possible to prevent that kind of thing from happening to him there.

“All right, darling, come here.” She called to him, hugging him and trying to calm him down.

The rest of dinner was a terrible, deathly silence that pressed down on her throat, absolutely wanting to break Bruce in half. But you wouldn't, you already felt bad enough for scaring your little brother. When you'd finished eating, feeling Steve stare at you in fear of another fight breaking out, you got up and put your cutlery and plate in the sink, emptying a glass full of orange juice that you'd barely touched minutes before.

“Oh, Y/n, you don't have to do that, I could really do it-” Natasha intervenes, but you respond subtly. “It's okay, I don't mind.”

She stops in place, her lips parted in shock. It was rare for a real man to be there to do something as simple and minimal as washing dishes without her having to ask. Because for that very reason, Bruce wouldn't do it on the grounds that 'he worked too much' and Natasha had to take care of the cleaning and everything else in the house on her own. But it weighed on her, she felt alone there, even if it seemed silly. Bruce Banner described himself as an old-fashioned man, but something about him pointed more towards a misogyny hidden under the carpet. You really were different from the man she married.

“Oh, all right.” She sighs, the corner of her lips curving slowly.

Putting a little detergent on the yellow sponge, you subtly scrub the plate and then the cutlery and glass. You turn on the tap and wash everything silently, watching a few bubbles of foam disappear down the drain and everything become clean, then you take a dry cloth and dry everything, placing it inside the cupboard in the proper places for each object. You knew how to do everything apart from washing dishes. Washing your father's rusty car, cleaning the whole house, absolutely everything that would be considered 'women's chores' that your mother taught you before she died. And he silently despised you for it, but it didn't matter, because there had been a helpful and very useless man in this house and now that man was back.

“Are you staying for dessert?” Natasha asks as she watches you dry your hands and Steve also wash his dirty plates and cutlery quickly.

“No, Steve and I are going to stay in my room for a while. We can eat later if there's anything left, thank you very much.” You shove your hands in your pockets, watching her nod a little tensely and pick up all the remaining dirty dishes when Steve gives her a nod.

The two of you climb the stairs and soon reach your room. It's not a small room, but it's spacious enough to hold everything you like. Philosophy books, art books, porn magazines that you used to swap with Steve when you were teenagers, – yes, this is kept secret – some toolboxes in case you needed them when something broke in the house, a collection of old CDs by the Beatles, Led Zeppelin and a thousand other bands and singers from the 70s and 80s. The room is still tidy, with a single bed lined with thin blue sheets and a gray pillow. There's also a desk and a medium-sized cupboard in the corner next to an old window.

The smell of your room and nostalgia is cozy, almost intoxicating.

“Hey, man, do you really keep them all? No kidding!” Steve laughs, picking up the magazines with the half-naked women on the covers.

Although you didn't have an addiction to this kind of thing, you and Steve were once two curious teenagers with hormones running wild in the middle of puberty. You'd get excited and buy these magazines on the sly, but even so, you weren't the type who needed to see a naked woman's body to get completely turned on. No, you were better than that, and you knew that real bodies worked better, were beautiful and much more objective.

“Of course, I left the army and ended up forgetting all this garbage.” You laugh, opening the drawers and leafing through some superhero comics, watching Steve laugh as he sees a cover with a blonde woman on one of the covers wearing pink lingerie. “No, no! Fuck, man that was the worst, I remember you gave it to me with the pages sticking together, you fucking pervert!”

“Sorry, man, I couldn't help myself! I still remember the look on your face when you got it full of life.” He says and you rolls your eyes.

“Jesus, that was disgusting. I'm going to throw it all away anyway, unless you want to keep it as a souvenir.” You laugh quietly and he makes a vomiting noise.

“No, thanks.” Steve shakes his head, walks over and picks up some comics to read too.

You put on a band CD while you lose yourself in conversation with Steve, remembering everything. You both laugh out loud when you remember the time Steve put a live frog on the head of a girl who was terrified of frogs, because she just thought it was funny to make fun of your worn-out shoes and said you couldn't afford new ones. He's never been so furious, no one could mess with you, only each other and all in jest, of course.

It was a great pastime for you to play pranks on bad students and grumpy teachers, or to skip important classes to drink cheap beer while listening to a small radio given to you by Steve's father. Those were incredible times, which only got old in the best way when Steve and you decided to enlist for the first time at the age of 18, getting kicked out because of arguments you had with some of the lieutenants. Anyway, you both found a way to get into the American army through the Kentucky fort, and obviously, together.

So Steve and you knew each other practically from your mother's womb. Joseph and Bruce met during high school before they got involved with their respective wives. They both served in the army, but only Mr. Rogers decided to make it a career, although he didn't succeed and decided to go into medicine. They were extremely close throughout your and Steve's adolescence, until one day they drifted apart over a mysterious fight in which you never really found out the motivation.

Even so, you and Steve could fight for centuries and still remain good friends.

“Hey, there's someone at the door.” Steve yawned, signaling the light knocks on your bedroom door.

With a light sigh, you put your comic aside, turning down the volume of a small, still-functional radio that was playing Black Sabbath in the background. When you opened the door, you saw her again.

Natasha. Your 'lovely' stepmother. She was standing right in front of the door, with two pieces of pie on a large plate and a tense, apparently shy look on her face. You still didn't understand why she looked at you as if she was going to dismount at any moment. She was wearing a beige apron over her dress and her hair was now slightly wavy at the ends, her face flushed.

“I know you may not be that hungry anymore, but I can't help trying. The pie is still warm, it's apple with caramel on top and blackberries and you know, I'm sorry about Bruce. Your father didn't have a good day, Y/n.” She sighs, looking away for a moment.

“Did I hear the word pie!?” Steve jumps out of bed already excited.

“I appreciate that. I'm sorry about the argument. I think he always tries to take it out on me, but that's okay. How's Derek?” You blink slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of Natasha staring you down to the core.

“Fine, I guess. I fed him dinner and some pie, got him to brush his teeth and now he's sleeping like a newborn after reading your stories about bigfoot.” She laughs softly, making you smile.

“He'll end up having nightmares about it. Thank you, Mrs. Romanoff.” You say, your voice already husky and slightly sleepy.

“Natasha, call me Natasha. There's no need for formalities here.” She replies, licking her lips slowly.

“Natasha.” You whisper back, hearing Natasha's breathing increase as you spell her name perfectly on the tip of her tongue.

“Have a good night. If you need anything you can call me and I'll be in the next room.” She says, almost stuttering, and nods as she walks away. “Good night, Natasha.”

“God, I thought you were going to eat each other and leave the pie behind!” Steve grumbles, picking up a piece with one of the forks and takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Wonderful!”

“Bloody hell, Steve, she's my father's wife!” you laugh incredulously, taking a piece of the sweet pie. “It's really good, it's fucking delicious.”

“But I know that. She's still got the hots for you, don't you see?” He shrugged, starting to devour the pie in seconds. “And even if she wasn't your father's, it must be worth losing yourself...you know, in that woman.”

“You're absolutely shameless. And I would never do that, no matter how much my father deserves it.” You roll your eyes, taking another piece of pie and Steve smiles. “I'm paying to see how badly this goes.”

Your wristwatch reads at least 6:10 in the morning. You don't know why you woke up so early on a Monday when you were on vacation from work, so to speak. Perhaps waking up at 5 a.m. every day at the Fort to paint walls and curbs, patrol, and other exhausting military services has made you accustomed to waking up at those times as if you were an uncontrolled robot. So you took a shower, brushed your teeth and ate an apple before going to Steve's house to pick up some cans of paint.

Your house was in a deplorable state, with the paint on all the walls outside peeling off, the garden with its extremely high lawn dirty with leaves thrown over it since last fall, dead plants and flowers everywhere and the appearance of the house itself sad and gray. You had to do something about it, since Bruce hasn't done it in two whole years.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, the clock now reads 7:19 in the morning. You finish running the roller full of paint up to the top of the back wall of the house, not even needing a ladder because you're so fit. In an hour you've managed to paint the whole house and now you're going to rip down the wooden fences and put up new, clean ones.

“Y/n! What are you doing? It's so early and it's roasting hot out there!” You hear a familiar feline voice and drop the paint roller on top of the empty can.

You step away from the can and container and wipe the excessive sweat from your chest, your skin was probably all sunburnt, exposed to the bare torso and shapely legs on display. Natasha is at the door, dressed in a red sweater. Holy shit. You turn your face away, feeling deeply warmed, and run your paint-smeared hands over your face, clad only in baggy shorts and barefoot.

“I'm painting the house, Natasha.” You answer simply and matter-of-factly, watching out of the corner of your eye as she puts a thin blouse over it, certainly embarrassed.

“At 7 in the morning! You must be dying of heat! Have you applied sunscreen?” She asks, approaching quickly.

You missed the maternal concern and affection, but considering the current situation, it was totally inappropriate.

“We didn't use sun cream during our time in the army. Especially during patrols on the patio with direct contact with the sun, or anywhere else where it was necessary. They simply didn't hand out sunscreen to us.” You say and shrug, discarding the empty tin and the rest of the used items.

“That's horrible, you could get serious burns!” She replies and puts her hand to her head, making you laugh. "I'll be back in a minute."

Natasha leaves and you wash your hands in a sink at the back of the house, removing as much of the gooey paint as you can and wetting your head and chest to try and cool off. As soon as you've finished, you go down to the basement and get a box full of new fences that haven't even been used before. First you get the rest of the tools and put everything in the garden, then you get a lawnmower, which luckily isn't rusty.

You push the lawnmower as soon as the blades shoot out, starting to cut the grass quickly. Your hands are steady and nimbly, you're finishing off the first row of grass. Pressing the button on the side of the mower, you snort and sigh deeply, resting your hands on your waist.

“I'm going to melt like this, my Lord.” You say to yourself with a laugh.

Going round to the back, you find a sack and a shovel and start gathering up all that grass and throwing it into the sack. It could be useful or reusable at some point.

“Hey you! All right, take a break from that and come and eat properly.” Natasha appears as soon as you've collected all the grass in the sack and walks over to you gently.

She's now wearing a black tank top, which emphasises her perfectly marked collarbone and her pale neck, which is as delicate as any detail can be. On her legs are a pair of denim shorts, neither short nor baggy, but you can still see how her shapely thighs look so perfectly...thick in them. And she looks so natural, nothing forced, just there, for you, carrying a plate with a cut sandwich, a glass of juice and a bottle of water. I mean, your father was lucky but he was an idiot, why on earth would he deserve someone like that?

“Natasha, really, you didn't have to do that. I don't want you to bother with me.” You say, feeling your face very red, from the sun - and from a certain effect it has on you - and sweaty.

“I'm not bothered at all. I'm not going to let you die of dehydration in this heat, it must be 30 degrees or more!” She exclaims and you carefully pick up the plate, cautiously dropping the other equipment. “Wait, open your arms a little, don't let go of the plate please.”

You frown and open your arms, pushing the plate as far away from your torso and body as you can. Natasha approaches you, taking a plastic bottle from the pocket of her shorts and opens the lid, pouring some kind of cream onto her fingers. You stare at the words written in blue and white, trying to decipher the smudges, and your jaw drops in disbelief. It was sun cream.

“Natasha, look, it's okay, I've got used to the sun-” you say, but it's too late.

The woman is smearing sunscreen on your face, and you're so red that even under the sunscreen, you can see how flushed and hot you look. Oh, shit.

“The sun doesn't get used to any of us, though. Once when I was half your age, I went to a beach in Miami, Florida, with my parents and some friends. I slathered sunscreen all over my body except my buttocks and um... I definitely couldn't sit up straight for a week after that, the burns weren't kind to me and it wasn't the sun's fault.” She laughs lightly, gently rubbing the sun cream into her cheeks and forehead.

The heat in your cheeks spreads even more violently and you gently bite your lower lip, something that Natasha notices and strangely makes her legs wobble. I wonder what else makes her unable to sit down for a whole week. Fucking stop it, you cut off your thoughts before they spread, but they're dirty all the same.

“That must have been hard.” You answer, and your voice slowly begins to die.

What is she doing now, my Lord?

Natasha finishes spreading the sunscreen on your face and neck, her fingers still smeared with protector trailing down the start of your chest. Your skin is burning, but that's not what fascinates her, it's the hard, burly, extremely rock-hard flesh of your pectorals, covered in a very thin, sparse line of hair. She gasps as discreetly as she can, trying her best not to grab his every muscle and touch and squeeze. In fact, she knows now that you look like more than a wall, it's as if you were made completely of muscle and only a little 'skin' covering everything.

Romanoff's hand slides to the end of your chest on the right side, and she doesn't even know what she's doing, for her, she's just spreading the rest of the sunscreen on her fingers. But you feel it, you feel her grip, her electrifying, mundane, specific touch, as if she wanted to scratch every part of your skin as well as touch it, as if she wanted to do everything you could imagine there.

“I'm sorry.” She says, swallowing dry and trying to swallow her own shame as well.

But she still feels your warmth. She feels your minty fresh breath, pleasant and peaceful, she feels how affected you were by a single touch of her delicate, soft hand. You want more and maybe she knows it, but that's wrong, it's inappropriate.

“You can leave the sunscreen somewhere, I'll put more on after I've cut everything here.” You say and she nods quickly, hugging her own body.

“This is going to be a lot of work.” She says and you nod, taking a bite and moaning slightly.

The sandwich is a spicy mix of tomato, toasted wholemeal bread, smoked turkey breast, mayonnaise, a little mustard, bean sprouts, cheese and a spicy dressing. As well as being kind, intelligent, seductive, completely attractive, the woman cooks like hell, what more could Bruce want? Absolutely nothing.

“Fuck, this is fucking divine, the work will be worth it. Thank you so much.” You thank her without knowing what else to say, the scouse accent making Natasha wince.

She had time to notice your accent and your voice as soon as she arrived with Steve at the residence yesterday. She, however, had no idea that you were British or anything. Not least because all Bruce ever really said about you were the most unpleasant compliments in the form of criticisms. He proved to be a good father to other people, but it was different with you. You could see why.

“No need to thank me, really. I hope you didn't forget your sunscreen.” She says, raising an eyebrow as she tries to look serious and you laugh. “Sure, no problem.”

Your bites are precise and hungry, and you can tell that a single apple an hour ago would never have satisfied you. You finish eating, drink all the pineapple juice and hand it all to Natasha, taking the sunscreen again and spreading it on your fingers, your hands flying across your sweaty pecs, ribs and abs. Natasha walks away towards the house, her gaze lingering on you several times.

She's a married woman. Married to your father. That's not right, it's far from it.

But just taking a look is okay, right?

You hurry, organize everything and start up the machine again, cutting another row of grass. Then another, another, until you've finished with all that tall grass that could end up with some animal hiding there. You put all the grass in two sacks and put them in the corner of the garden, then you start to remove and tear down the old, dirty and soft wooden fences, which are practically falling apart.

After marking out the right height for the fences with lines and stakes, you make a quick calculation and grab a spade, digging the holes where the picket panels will be. It takes about some hours, between quick breaks, your feet are dirty with dirt and now your body is really bathed in sweat, but after lining up the pickets, checking that they're all in the same vertical position, digging non-stop and cleaning dirt off your grass, everything looks perfect. You even do a quick and precise finish, and smile when you see that your work has turned out perfectly.

“Great. I just need to replant the plants soon.” You whisper, feeling tired.

After putting away all the equipment, cleaning up all the grass and briefly painting the fences, you walk away and enter the house, dripping with sweat from head to toe. You wipe your feet on the carpet, imagining that Natasha is the kind of woman who will freak out if you get dirt all over the house and yell at you for hours. Now, however, she's sitting in the living room, with Derek by her side as she appears to help him with his homework.

“Looks like I'm late.” You smile, adjusting the black cap on your head and her gaze quickly falls on you.

She has to control herself, she has to. She's in front of a child.

But it's inevitable.

Bruce would probably show off if he looked like that too, but he's got the typical 40-something dad-beer-belly physique. You, on the other hand... you're majestic, even though you're completely sweaty and give off the classic manly odor of a man who does everything for his family, your muscles being highlighted by sticky sweat, probably swollen from working outside the house. She is silently awestruck, the heat rushes through the blood in her cheeks and her thighs rub together painfully.

“Y/n! Nat said you were painting the whole house.” Derek jumps up, running to hug your legs and you wave.

“I just went to give this house a new look, it was looking sloppy and abandoned. I painted it, put up new fences and now it looks decent, all that's missing is a few details on the inside. And you, big boy, go back to Aunt Nat and do your homework.” You kiss his forehead and the boy runs back to the woman.

“Aren't you hungry? It's practically lunchtime.” Natasha starts talking, looking tense.

“Maybe I'm a bit too hungry, but I need to take a shower and get rid of that skunk smell. Where's Bruce?” You cross your arms, looking around the house for your old father.

“He's gone out to sort out 'work matters', he said he'll be back in the afternoon. You can take your shower, when I've finished here I'll make you something to eat.” She says, smiling gently and you sigh.

You're definitely not used to this motherly treatment. You've always looked after yourself, but Derek first, and Bruce second. You always prioritized family, but that didn't mean you were at ease with Natasha doing it all for you. After all, you've never had anyone really care like that. Natasha seemed to want to take care of you like a newborn baby and that seemed strange, but you didn't want to give her so much trouble. You could look after yourself, so why worry so much?

You didn't want to be so close to her either. You were afraid of what might happen when you were alone, because that sexual tension was evident, it was dry and eager. She looked at you the way you looked at her, with silent desires that even without emitting sound, understanding, could be understood just by looking at you, by searching for you.

The warm water falls over your body, relaxing every tense muscle from your back to your exhausted chest. You lean your forehead against the wall and relax for a moment, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of relaxation and calm.

“Fuck.” You whisper softly, feeling a wave of warmth hit your body.

No. No dirty thoughts about an older woman. The problem wasn't that she was older, it was that she was your stepmother.

The foam-filled sponge glides over your stiff, tense body, your eyes closing as you imagine... Natasha on her knees, or lowered to the floor, or bent over with her face buried in the pillow as she smiles at you. A grunt leaves your lips and the blood rushes violently to your semi-hard member.

“Jesus, no.” You say, washing yourself and running some shampoo through your slightly overgrown hair, wiping away all that sweat.

After taking a few more minutes in the shower to get rid of a possible erection, you wash your face and leave the bathroom, drying yourself with the first towel you find there. You're still hot, but you have to control yourself. You want to take her right now, admit it. Your head shakes and you climb the stairs to your room with the towel around your waist, hoping you've been unnoticed, and enter the room, drying yourself quickly.

Passing through the open door, you put on sports shorts and boxer shorts underneath, quickly finishing drying your hair while putting on a tight compression T-shirt. Just wearing it makes you realize how much you've really grown physically.

“Hey, it's time to take Derek to school.” Natasha says as you walk down the stairs with running shoes in your hands.

“Sure, I can do that without any problems, my dad didn't use the car to go out today. Are you coming?” You ask, trying to understand the blush on her cheeks.

“I'd love to. I'm just going to finish tidying him up.” She smiles tensely, and you see your brother waving frantically as Natasha changes his clothes.

Derek then turns around, his hair combed back like his mother used to do with hers, the backpack a little bigger than him slung over his back and wearing a simple blue shirt and shorts, the sneakers identical to yours. Well, Natasha really was a good stepmother. You just couldn't see her the way you were seeing her, because that was incorrect and dirty, but it was almost inevitable.

“Ready?” You lick your lips and the two of you nod quickly. “Good, let's go.”

The road is quiet, peaceful. Natasha tells you where Derek goes to school because he was transferred not long ago and you drive along calmly, listening to them chatting about random, common things. Your hands turn the steering wheel skillfully, and through the rearview mirror you feel Natasha's gaze on you, although you can't say why.

The car stops and you park it in a wide parking lot, turning off the engine and taking off your seat belt. Stepping around the car, you help Derek out of his seatbelt and open the door for Natasha, who looks ecstatic about something but climbs down next to your brother, stroking his hair.

“Professor Carter!” Derek says, and runs out to a female figure standing a few meters away near a silver golf.

Natasha closes the door, giving you a grateful look, and the two of you approach the scene gingerly. Derek is hugging an older woman, she wears a long dress just below her knees in a wine color and her hair is straight blonde and well aligned, her brown eyes surprisingly calm, welcoming the boy and leaning down to hug him back. She... She's familiar to you.

“Hey, pretty boy, how are you? Natasha, good morning. Oh.” She greets the redhead and then looks at you, a surprised look filling her face.

More than a few years ago, you and Sharon Carter had a little fling together. You grew up together and had a lot in common. Steve introduced you to her at a party when you were 16 and she was 19. She's not that much older than you, and that didn't seem to be a problem, until Sharon said she'd fallen in love with you. And indeed, Sharon has fallen in love with you.

But you were the classic bad boy who liked to drive without a license, who spent the early hours of the morning away from home because your father constantly found any reason to fight with you, to complain about you as if it hadn't been his choice to have a son. You weren't the typical nice guy Sharon needed, like Steve for example, and you didn't know if you were in love with her, but you two had sex often, and that made her even more attached to you.

When you disappeared with the simple warning that you were going to serve in the army and didn't know if you'd be back any time soon, Sharon was disappointed. She wanted to spend time with you more than anything, but you had gone to serve your country and she had a career ahead of her, which she chose to become a teacher even though she wanted to be a psychologist. She liked you, she really did, but sometimes you acted like a bomb about to explode, just like Bruce did.

“Surprised to see me? Yeah, I knew you were going to become a teacher, Sharon. You always knew how to get along with children.” You say and squeeze Sharon's hand with a gentle but firm touch, which she blushes at before replying.

“I thought you were going to spend even more time in the army, Y/n. It seems to have done you a lot of good.” She says, biting her lip discreetly and smiling.

Natasha crosses her arms, an impassive expression on her face. She can already completely tell that the two of you know each other, that's for sure, but for some reason, the way Sharon looks at you and acts towards you makes Romanoff feel a big pang of discomfort in his stomach.

“Teacher, I have to show you my new drawings!” Derek says excitedly, hugging the woman tighter by the legs.

“Of course, darling, I'll look at them all, okay?” She says, running her hand over his bangs. “I thought Bruce was coming today.”

“You know how he is, always 'sorting out work stuff. Thanks for taking such good care of him, Sharon.” A minimalist smile curves your lips without showing your teeth and Sharon nods.

“No need to thank me, apart from being my job, it's a pleasure to look after this little one. We should have a coffee together one day, perhaps.” She says and makes you sigh, grabbing the car keys and giving Derek a kiss on the forehead.

“Yeah, maybe one day. Good morning, have fun, we'll be going for now, see you soon.” You nod and she agrees, expecting more from you, but turns and walks into the school with the boy.

As soon as you get into the car, put the key in the ignition and adjust the windows, Natasha gets in. Her face is slightly twisted with frustration, perhaps? That, and a hint of discontent. It looks like someone has stepped on her toes, but why?

“So, you and the teacher...” She says calmly, although her eyes seem distant and indifferent to you.

“What?” You turn the wheel, steering the car out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

“There seems to be something between you.” She replies and you laugh awkwardly, shaking your head.

“There's nothing between us.” You say and look at her out of the corner of your eye, Natasha's face turned completely towards you.

“She made it sound like there was, you know.” She shrugged, seeming not to want to bother you with the subject.

“Steve and I have known her since we were teenagers. Teenage parties, drinking, drugs, you know. Sharon was a fling of mine. If I can call it that.” Your voice answers quietly and you look at Natasha discreetly.

"Well, she doesn't seem to have forgotten you. You know how it is, when a woman loves, she's willing to do anything to make up for lost time, but it doesn't just depend on her." She says relaxed, still trying not to let her jealous face overflow.

“Sharon isn't in love with me. At least I don't think so. Even if she was, I'm not what she's looking for.” You say and on the one hand, Natasha reassures herself.

“And what is she looking for?” Romanoff looks at you from the passenger seat.

Her lips are pressed together, her breathing seems slightly unregulated. She's frustrated, yes. She's jealous, yes. She hated the way Sharon looked at you as if you were a toy she could ride on top of. Absolutely. Yes. But why should your stepmother be jealous of you? That was wrong, immoral, maybe a bit problematic, she'd only just met you anyway. It made your skin hot, but the hairs on the back of your neck were rising and your fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road before your eyes.

“What most women are looking for, I believe. A protective, self-assured, confident man. She wants a man who is one hundred percent there for her at all times. I didn't learn to be like that.” You brake at a red light and buckle up, your head resting against the seat.

“Don't you think she's the right woman?” Romanoff swallows, trying her best not to sound intrusive.

If anyone else were asking you these questions, it would be a different story. But her, she brought you comfort. She was...good. She was a good woman, as Steve assumed.

“I'm not in love with her, Natasha, even if she was right, what good would it do?” You look at her, and she nods quietly.

You've never found someone who makes your heart soar as if you were in one of those cheesy movie clichés, who makes time stand still around you, who makes you feel like the luckiest man in the world. No, you've never experienced any of that. You've only had nighttime adventures with older girls or even girls your own age, adventures with kissing, sex without commitment and conversations thrown away to be remembered. You never knew what love was.

And the only person who could teach you that was right there beside you, annoyed for some reason at the possibility of you falling in love with someone other than her.

“All right.” That was the only answer Natasha gave you, watching the car pull into the driveway of your house.

When you got in – and there was still a certain murderous silence in the air – you just took off your shoes, sat down on the sofa and picked up the remote control, looking for a live American soccer program, trying to distract yourself. Natasha went into the kitchen to do something, and the door creaked open a few minutes after you arrived, revealing Bruce's early arrival. He looked at you, but overcome by pride, said nothing and passed through to the kitchen.

“Hi, darling. How was work?” Natasha's distant voice said to him, who caught her kissing him, answering disconnectedly. “It was business as usual. I've never waited so long to get home and have my wife all to myself.”

You rolled your eyes, lay back on the sofa and turned up the volume slightly, watching two American league teams fight for a title. For some unusual reason, the sound of wet kissing bothered you deeply. You shook your head and tried to focus on the match, then you heard footsteps approaching the room and Natasha's warm hand touched your shoulder, making you turn almost instantly.

“Hey, do you want something to eat?” She asked, her lips slightly swollen and her face flushed.

You'd love to see her like that, but you'd love it even more to have that effect on her.

“No, thanks, Natasha. I'm going to take a nap, you can relax.” You replied and she nodded, smiling slowly before heading up the stairs, Bruce right behind her.

Your head pressed into the pillow and you let out a short curse, feeling uncomfortable and disgusted by the situation. It was your father's house too, but you were still there. Anyway, you forced yourself to sleep and it worked, your eyes became heavy and you completely relaxed your muscles against the not-so-spacious sofa, knowing that you would wake up with a sore neck as soon as you woke up.

“Fuck.” You cursed, rubbing your tired eyes.

The house was the same, but the afternoon was beginning to fade, making it clear that it would soon be dark. You grabbed the black clock on the table, seeing that it read 5:48 in the afternoon. There was still an hour or so before Derek would be released from school, so you were relieved to see that you weren't late to pick him up.

“What?” You sat groggily on the sofa, listening to a lot of noise coming from upstairs.

There were sounds coming from upstairs, and at first you thought there was something wrong there, since you were still groggy from sleep and tired. But gradually you noticed. The creaking of Bruce's bed, the loud sounds of skin hitting skin, of the headboard hitting the wall. They were having sex.

“Fuck, holy shit.” You say, completely lost in disgust and cover your head with your hands. “This can't be serious.”

But you could still hear it. It completely disturbed you. But it was also wrong, being jealous of your stepmother when she's married to your father. It's not as if Natasha hadn't been upset with Sharon about you too.

But she was married, you weren't. Still, that seemed contrary to morality.

“Fuck.” You cursed to yourself, getting out of there and going to the kitchen.

There was a case of beer in the fridge. You hated looking like your father, because whenever something bothered you or upset you, you always drank too, but not like him, he was worse. You grabbed two bottles and opened the caps with your teeth, spitting them into the trash can. Five minutes passed, and you emptied half the bottle of beer, lying on the sofa when Natasha came downstairs.

Your head turns subtly in the direction of the stairs and there she is, walking down the steps like an art exhibition that could never be bought. A misunderstood muse. Yet not something that could be conquered, but touched, felt. A woman, with a deceptive young girl's face, with an older woman's mature soul with gifts you could never guess. Married to your arsehole of a father. He didn't deserve her, that much was clear, but what could you do, if not mourn in the corners of the house, silently wishing this woman was yours?

Her skin was pale, although tanned by her own sweat. Her impeccable red hair was now dishevelled and out of order, falling in light waves to her shoulders. Her body, which could reveal to you many dangerous curves and paths to the most silent sin, was covered in a long black dressing gown, and you could see that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt that wasn't hers on her body. Her lips were swollen, dry. You could see a glimpse of her shapely legs, and wow, what legs. Although you knew exactly what she and your father were doing up there, she didn't look pleased. Her eyes looked confused, troubled, even sweaty, she was unhappy. And how could she not be unhappy with Bruce Banner?

But you couldn't look away. She was so well preserved, my goodness.

“I'm sorry, Y/n, I thought you were still asleep. I didn't want to appear like this, I must look like an unnatural stepmother.” She laughs, and it's so natural that you want to hear that sound more often.

“Yeah, well, I just had a nap anyway. It seems my father didn't take care of his work properly. I heard it, without meaning to, but I heard it.” You say, and as soon as you realise what you've said, you swallow bitterly.

Natasha looks at you deeply, she doesn't feel offended. But embarrassed? To the extreme. Bruce doesn't even look after the house, imagine if he could handle wife when they're in bed? He was an arrogant arsehole – and sometimes you were a bit arrogant yourself – but he was terrible at a lot of things. That made him a complete failure.

“Y/n. I wish you wouldn't comment on my sex life with your father.” She says, and she's not blunt, but firm and offhand, even.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to.” You reply calmly but you want to say much more to her.

Yeah, if I had you, you'd really moan, Natasha. In fact, you wouldn't even be walking unless your legs were completely weak and you wouldn't even be thinking. That would be having a real man.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grab it, seeing messages from Steve inviting you out for a drink at a newly opened bar. It didn't sound too bad. And you weren't going to stand there listening to your incredibly hot stepmother having sex with your slacker father who didn't even know how to treat a woman. You answer Steve quickly and grab a camouflage jacket, put it on over your shirt and change your shorts for trousers and shoes before heading back down to the living room.

“I'm going for a walk with Steve, we're going to a pub with an old high school crowd. When I get back, I'll probably bring Derek from school. So don't worry, I'll take care of everything.” You say and walk across the room, but Natasha holds your arm.

“Hey, don't drink too much. You're driving and you're bringing your brother, Y/n.” She says, her green eyes clouded with worry.

“I won't. You can relax.” You whisper firmly, and the smell of her sweat hits you.

It's something like vanilla, but at the same time mixed with a specific sweet, fruity flavour. Delicious. She's delicious. Even when sweaty, her scent remains impeccable, and you've noticed it ever since you first saw her. You see a slight bite mark on her neck and you want to touch it, but something bothers your stomach, because you know it's not you who's caused it. And you can't. Natasha sighs, she knows you're so close that just by looking at you she could stop breathing, because you're like a masterpiece hidden deep inside her genius mind.

“I get it. You take care.” You say, forcing yourself to get away from her before you do something thoughtless.

Natasha regrets your departure. She wants you to stay, but it's your choice and you want to be with your old friends, it's your right, so she just watches you walk out the door. Your words are still jumbled and struggling in her mind. Bruce really wouldn't know how to satisfy her. But what about you? How deep could you go for her?

The place is cosy like being in an old cottage in the middle of a field away from everything, but it's a pub nonetheless. A pub, with the appearance of a pub, of course. With lots of chairs and tables spread out in an orderly fashion, with decorative signs with drink brands, with people laughing and exchanging small talk with each other, with a woman carrying more mugs of frothy beer than you can count. The smell is pleasant, a mixture of burning wood and live alcohol seeping through the walls, as well as jazz and blues playing in the background. Now that should be a lifestyle. You stick your hands in your pockets and catch up with Steve, who is chatting distractedly to Private Wilson, none other than Maria Hill and James Barnes, a school friend who has disappeared from your sight to go live with his parents in Germany.

Maria was a great friend of yours and Steve's, and he even told you that she liked you a lot, but you only saw her as a sister, something that annoyed her, but she would never push it.

“Hey, look who's here! When Steve said you looked like a wall, I couldn't believe it, I had to come and see for myself.” Barnes laughs and hugs you, patting you on the back. “And you look great, mate, if you were blonde you'd be considered a German citizen straight away.”

“You're impossible.” Maria laughs and hugs you too, as tightly as if she hadn't seen you for years, which was true.

The five of you get lost in conversations between the past and the present. Maria, who was a classmate at the school where you and Rogers studied, had completed her studies and was studying law for some time, something she was very proud of. Barnes, who was now living in Germany but took time out to see old friends, had opened a workshop in Stuttgart, one of the country's most influential industrial cities. Wilson was certainly in the army, as you already knew, but according to him, he planned to finish another year of service and open a carpentry shop to honour his late father's memory. Even Steve was planning to leave the army, he said he'd like to become a 'police chief', which didn't sound too bad. You, on the other hand, weren't even sure what to do.

All you knew was that you wanted your own car, to move out of your grumpy father's house and find a place of your own, even if it wasn't in the city centre.

But you would still happily visit Derek as often as you could.

“Hey, baby! Why don't you come round and give us a bit of attention? Let's have some fun!” A bald guy with yellow teeth exclaimed from the table a few metres away from yours on the left.

This guy was with two other men at his table, one of them had spiky hair and wore dark glasses, the other had gel-slicked hair and blue glasses. They were all wearing jackets and dark clothes, with helmets on the floor under the table where they were standing. They all looked fucking weird, though, and were already staring at Maria in a completely uncomfortable and sexual way that was putting you off. She paid no attention for the first few minutes, of course, trying not to care, but they were becoming increasingly unbearable to put up with.

“Hey, mate, stay cool. She's with us.” Steve said, noticing your shoulders tense with nervousness.

He didn't want to risk it, he knew you had a certain problem with anger but Steve was a man of order and hated arguments unless he felt it was 'necessary'. You, on the other side, had already downed three shots of straight whisky and were ready to blow the ugly faces off those ogre bikers.

“And who said I asked you anything, hero hair?” The frizzy-haired guy asked and stood up, passing behind Sam and subtly squeezing Maria's shoulders, who was startled. “Could you please take your hands off me?”

"You don't like it, do you?" He laughed and approached her.

You practically jumped out of your chair, using both hands to push the man's chest, who staggered backwards with your violent force and almost fell to the floor. He growled a dry laugh and approached you again, punching you in the air as you nimbly sidestepped him. Your group laughed and whistled in your direction, making him even angrier, and you drove your fist straight into his nose, hearing something break and fresh blood splatter on your skin.

“She said to let go of her.” You grunted, hardly caring about the pain.

“What the fuck, man!” One of them shouted and you felt the thud of something glass against your face. “Y/n!”

You punched the same man and kicked him in the stomach, hearing a loud grunt of pain, blood staining the refinished wooden floor. The second man approached and you head-butted him hard, feeling his blood splatter on your forehead and nose. The bald man pushed you, making you stumble with a bleeding part of your face, noticing that he had smashed a fucking glass bottle over your head. Fortunately, there was a single deep cut on your eyebrow going halfway down your pale cheek. He nearly blinded you. Steve pushed him hard and kicked him in the stomach, and you elbowed the third man who approached you in the face.

“That's enough! Out of my pub, NOW!” A middle-aged man with a full moustache said and Steve and the others pulled you out.

“Bloody hell, mate, you nearly fucked your face up for that! That was insanely crazy!” Barnes shouted, trying to analyse your bruise.

“It's okay, it's just a bit of blood.” You sighed heavily.

“What were you thinking! Jesus, Banner, you could have hurt yourself badly or something worse!” Maria grabbed your shoulders, visibly worried.

“Exactly! We need to take care of this.” Steve pointed to your bruised face.

“I wasn't going to let that disgusting worm harass you, Hill.” You whispered furiously, your fists shaking.

“And I didn't want you to get hurt because of me, Banner! God, you're so impulsive.” She shook her head.

“All right, Hill, I'll take care of it from here. Don't worry.” Rogers touched her shoulder and Maria nodded nimbly.

“Wilson, Barnes and I were thinking of going to a party a few blocks from here, are you coming? It's a friend's birthday.” She asked, brushing a lock of her fringe out of her face.

“I can't right now, I have to pick Derek up from school. I hope you have a good time, though.” You say and pull her into a tight hug, which she returns.

“And I'll be keeping an eye on this tough guy. Good night, take care, gentlemen and...lady.” Steve says goodbye to them and you look at him out of the corner of your eye. “Don't give me that look, you know I won't let you drive alone in this state.”

And Steve does. He drives to school as soon as you've said goodbye to the rest of the group, looking at you every five minutes as if you might jump out of the car if you had a mental breakdown. You were still bleeding, no matter how hard you tried to stop the bleeding, the cut had left a wide scar on your eyebrow sliding in a crooked loop to the beginning of your right cheek. It stung like hell, even, and there might have been a few shards stuck in there, but you'd convinced yourself to put up with as much pain as possible and Steve not to drag you to the nearest hospital.

“Stevie! Y/n!” Derek ran towards you both, hugging you and jumping into your arms.

“Hey, little brother.” You ruffled his hair, hearing voices all over the car park, parents gathering with their children and kids everywhere.

“What happened to your face?” The boy held your chin, his black eyes wide.

“Well, what can we say, mate? Your big brother took on a bad guy to protect a friend of ours and ended up with a war wound.” Steve smiled, crossing his arms as he looked directly at you.

“Hey, that's an honourable act. Let's just say it's what separates the men from the boys.” You shrugged, opening the passenger door for your brother and sitting him down, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

“In other words, he's a tough guy.” Steve laughed briefly, getting into the car and you patted Derek on the shoulder. “And we say...”

“We should always protect and look after women, sir.” The boy said before you could even think and you nodded positively, sitting down next to him and pulling on your seatbelt as Steve started to drive. “That's my boy.”

The journey home is a bit hectic. Derek tells you and Steve that the girl he's supposedly tremendously in love with, Emilly, has taken a liking to a guy who certainly loves to pick on him. She also seems to be ignoring him. You and Steve try your best to comfort the boy, who is quiet for a few minutes only until you mention that Natasha must be preparing something for him to eat when he arrives. The boy jumps out of the car as soon as you park it and helps him with his seatbelt, and you joke about it with Steve as you approach the house after locking the car.

“You're here, baby! How was class?” You hear Natasha's voice from inside and sigh.

The first thing that unfortunately crosses your mind is that she literally fucked your father while you were awake listening to everything.

But it's okay, because apparently Bruce didn't get the job done, but he should be calmer now.

“It was great, Nat! Emily kicked my arse, but it's okay because Stevie told me I'm a big guy who deserves better things and now I'm starving. Look at that, Y/n's got a new war scar!” He exclaims, pointing at you as you enter the room.

Natasha is now wearing neutral-coloured baggy trousers, a striped T-shirt and slippers that you've never seen before, but which make her even more adorable considering the situation. Her red hair is tied up in a messy bun and a few strands fall across her face, making her look completely and fucking ten times hotter than before. But no, you shouldn't see your stepmother like that, mate.

“What? My God, Y/n! What's happened?” Natasha moves away from the cooker where she was standing and switches off the fire, running over to you.

“Natasha, it's no big deal, just-” You try to explain yourself, but Romanoff is quicker.

“Oh, God. What's wrong? I told you not to drink, especially as you had to bring Derek back home! Say something, how did this happen?” She exclaims, practically on the verge of collapse.

You almost laugh at the situation, because you find the way she cares for you subtle and kind, but your smile falters when Natasha is so close that her breath brushes your face. Her fingers are on your jaw, some run over your ears, and you smell her, feel how close she is now, and her touch is simply the icing on the cake. It lights you up.

“It was just a silly bar fight, Natasha, it's fine. Steve and I were with some friends, Maria, our friend, was being bothered by some weirdos and I had to take action.” You explain, swallowing.

“And by that he means: he took on three men practically on his own and got his head bashed in. That's why he's bleeding.” Steve commented, not looking threatened by your fatal stare.

“Jesus Christ. You've got to be out of your mind, you should be in hospital right now! Hang on, I'll take care of it.” Natasha said, moving away to rummage through the cupboard drawers.

Just then, Bruce appeared, coming down the stairs. He had his glasses in his eyes, his hair crumpled and dishevelled, a crooked posture and a grumpy, grey look in his eyes. He didn't look very friendly for someone who'd had sex this afternoon. Well, it's not as if he's the type who knows how to leave a woman satisfied. It seemed to make sense.

“Leave the boy alone, Natasha, he can look after himself, he's practically a grown man.” He said and she replied. “No, he's bleeding, he won't know how to look after himself.”

“You're stubborn, just go and serve the dishes and stop voicing your opinion-” Bruce said rudely, but she cut him off.

“Shut up, Bruce. Sit down. I'll take care of Y/n's wound first.” She practically grunted, bringing with her a first aid kit.

Bruce looked static, probably furious that his wife had hit him for the first time, but he went to sit down at the table and remained silent.

“Natasha-” You sighed, feeling her sit you down in the living room armchair and shake her head.

“No Natasha, Y/n. You're hurt, the least I can do is clean it up and hope it gets a bit better, but if you were in hospital, you'd probably need a few stitches.” She shakes her head, opening the small suitcase. “And that's going to hurt a bit.”

You close your eyes and shake your head subtly, trying to ignore the way her breath was practically in your face and judging that her full breasts were so prominent inside her striped shirt, she was probably without a bra. Fuck, don't look over there, kid. Natasha takes a piece of gauze, her hands already clean and sanitised, and presses it gently on the cut, trying her best to stop the bleeding without hurting you.

“You know, I was a nurse when I was about your age. For a few years. I served in the army in Manhattan. I was good at what I did, but I didn't think it was for me.” She whispered softly, her eyes fixed on every part of your face.

“Can't stand the smell of blood?” You asked rhetorically.

“Not just the smell. I don't like seeing the consequences caused on the body of a man who is trying to defend his country. I didn't have the stomach for it.” She swallowed dryly and you nodded softly.

“What do you do now?” The question escapes her mouth faster than she realises and Natasha pulls out the bloodstained cotton wool, fiddling absent-mindedly with the case.

“I make cakes, sweets in general, it's been a long time since I married your father. I was unemployed anyway, so as I'm almost obsessed with baking, I put one thing together and that's what happened.” She replied, bending down to wipe the dried blood from her brow.

“Do you make them and have your own shop or?..” You stared at her.

“No, well, I cook them and prepare everything myself. Young Thor, from next door, delivers them on his bicycle, and I pay him accordingly. He's a great kid.” She says simply.

Your jaw clenches, the fingers of your hand squeezing the seat cushion indiscreetly. Annoyed? Certainly. But why? She's your stepmother, she's married and well-off, even though she has your idiot father for a spouse. Apart from that, you shouldn't be jealous of her.

“Got it.” Your eyes flash dangerously and Natasha suddenly blushes, looking away.

“I'll put a saline solution over the cut to make sure it's cleaner. Then I'll cover it with gauze, but please make sure you go and see the doctor, Y/n, I don't want you to get an infection or anything.” She asks and you nod.

Romanoff leans over and with a new piece of damp cotton wool, she dabs it over his still open cut with the utmost caution, cleaning the area as best she can. A grunt comes out of your mouth as the wound burns all over, the blood running cold through your veins. Natasha notices and pulls her hand away slightly, feeling your gaze on her.

“It's all right. Take a deep breath.” She says and you do as she says, your chest rising and falling.

She moves closer again, and feels your hand on her wrist, which makes her breathing increase slightly, intimidated by you. But you follow her every move, and she cleans the wound as much as she can, pulling away when she's finished. With a clean towel, she carefully dries around the wound and takes a piece of gauze, making a few improvised cuts because of the angle of your wound. She quickly covers the area and sticks the cotton fabric there, making sure it sticks well but also doesn't cover or obscure your vision.

“Thank you. That wasn't necessary.” You say, your heavy accent making Natasha's legs tremble discreetly.

“It was necessary. And please don't get into any more fights if you want to kill me and your father with worry.” She says, and her hand accidentally brushes against your broad shoulder.

“I'm sure he doesn't mind, but I really appreciate it, Natasha.” A crooked smile curves her lips.

“I care about you.” She says simply.

Natasha's gaze on you is surreal. Everything about this woman is surreal, her eyes, her voice, her completely gentle and naturally full demeanour. Fuck, she should be unwanted here, but you're starting to completely ignore the very rules you've built behind the wall you're hiding behind, because deep down, you want this woman in every way possible. It doesn't matter if she's your stepmother, or a forbidden woman.

“Aren't you coming round for dinner?” Natasha smiled softly, a bite on the lower lip being enough to end your evening.

[timeslipcamp]

me?? look up flower symbolism for a mobile game??? it's more likely than you think!!

spoilers through ep 15

🌸💐🌼🌸💐🌼🌸💐🌼🌸💐🌼🌸💐🌼🌸

first of all trying to find all these was insane SECOND of all tumblr only lets me add 10 pictures per post on mobile so this WILL get split up into multiple posts. thats on me for always writing these at work lol

a couple of the flowers as well i'm doing my best guess. either the shape or the color is slightly off (it's artwork and flowers) so i've been finding what i think is closest. additionally, i do prefer to be as educational and historically accurate as possible in the references i'm finding, but flower languages are something that tended to vary across culture, time period, and region. oftentimes the major messages and themes carried over, but the interpretation wasn't always the same. i did my best to cross reference at least a couple sources for each one and i'll be going with the main meaning i find for each.

do i think all of these are intentional? probably not, but it's fun anyways.

if anyone has any questions or other interpretations, please send them my way!

flower meanings for the ghouls

first up we've got the most recent one that came out in subaru's super cool fit from episode 15. like i said in my time loop theory post, i do believe this is actually technically a red surprise lily, not a spider lily. however, the two are considered sister flowers, and i put them side by side below so you can see.

as far as i can tell, both of them have the same meaning, and are often used interchangably when describing the flowers. just about every place cites the japanese meaning: they both bloom in autumn, around the same time as both the autumnal equinox and a period called ohigan. during ohigan, it's an important time to visit graves and pay respects to ancestors. spider lillies are poisonous, and in ancient times, were planted over fresh corpses to keep animals from digging them up. ever since then, they've become one of the most easily recognized and symbolic flowers with several meanings and names.

the most common meanings are death, reincarnation, the after life, and its two names, "the death flower" and "the corpse flower". hotarubi has dealt with ghosts and the restless dead in both episodes they've featured in, not to mention episode 15 took place in a haunted house where we were pretending to be ghosts. i think this one is pretty simple.

helloooooooo beautiful sunny haru! we've got quite a few flowers here. i've got sunflowers, daisies, orange roses, thistle, pansies in the background there, anemone, and then i think that's supposed to be baby's breath but the clumping and petal shape look almost like butterfly bush. could be sweet alyssum as well. idk i just work here

sunflowers - did you know sunflowers were originally cultivated as a food source? there's your fun fact for the day! these flowers also vary in meaning across different cultures but all of them have a positive connotation. sunflowers stand for hope, happiness, and also good luck!

daisy - is that a daisy. the petals are fat and now i'm second guessing myself. oh apparently theres one called a wide petal daisy lmao anyways! if it is a daisy, once again a very positive flower, most meanings list innocence and new beginnings. victorian flower language says a daisy means a secret is safe with you. interesting :)

orange roses - theres always 900 interpretations of roses smh. from what i've gathered, outside of a relationship they mean fascination, perseverance, and admiration. new beginnings make an appearance again. inside a relationship it typically means passion and energy, along with enthusiasm. all things that are very haru

thistle - cute lil tucked away in his pocket. this one's pretty interesting because the meanings amost flip depending on where you're from. thistle represents adaptation, pride, and resilience, but in victorian flower language specifically, it represented pain and intrusion. honestly, i think both fit.

anemone - three out of four of his flowers have greek myths associated with them. what the hell, man. anyways. this one changes wildly depending on the culture. one has them listed as anticipation, one as tragic love, and apparently, this one is also a flower of the dead OR it will protect you from evil. if i had to guess, i think the anticipation one fits most, because it has it listed here that you give them during major life changes.

pansies - this one kind of went back and forth and i didn't feel confident in any of the sources, but the most common one i found was that they're to give to someone to let them know that you're thinking of them. interesting that these are placed in the background.

baby's breath - still not 100% that's what this is. whatever. baby's breath is another one that symbolizes purity and innocence. if anything, i think these ones symbolizing innocence just kind of apply to haru's optimism--he has such a pure view of wanting to help anomalies and humans live together. it's so sweet.

overall, i'd say the main theme of harry's flowers are optimistic, purity, life changes, energy, and resilience. love the way daisy applies to him.

i wasn't going to include this one but this picture is pissing me the fuck off and i think it's because this isn't a real flower. i've been googling for 45 minutes because clearly that's a yellow rose, right? wrong roses dont grow in on woody leafless stems like that. you know what does? kerria! you know what kerria is often confused with? japanese rose bushes! i think someone fucked up and pissed off a very specific subset of nerd (aka me and like, one other person)

hoping i'm wrong. someone PLEASE tell me what this is if you figure it out

anyways

yellow rose - literally so different depending on the region and even the time. in modern americas/england, they're for friendship, but in victorian flower language, it was infidelity. in latin america they represent deep, passionate love, but in china and modern japanese culture, it's for wealth, prosperity and life changes. in historical japan, they represented the imperial family.

so literally who knows pick your fav this one doesn't count.

the man the myth the legend!! love this dude

we've got purple roses (and some blue and yellow but that might be for aesthetic reasons), yellow iris, i think that's supposed to be a purple dahlia in his pocket? but the size is off, perhaps more thistle? whatever. a couple white calla lillies, a couple lil yellow and greenery that's also filler, and i think white delphinium.

yellow roses and thistle meanings listed above

purple roses - this one was funny. the synonyms kinda changed depending on the source but for the most part they represent love at first sight, enchantment, and mystery. one website said they meant "a love that is unattainable." :')

blue roses - less info available, but also mystery and the unattainable.

yellow iris - across the board, they represent passion, but it does also look like it can mean both platonically and romantically. one super obscure website also said it's a gender non conforming flower. nonbinary zenji lives

purple dahlia - several sources cited this one as meaning dignity, grace, kindness, and a couple others also had creativity in their lists. there were also some that had mystery! a very zenji flower, even if i'm incorrect about this one lmao

white calla lily - another innocence and purity one. however, they've also come to be associated with death and rebirth with their use in easter celebrations. iiiiinteresting

white delphinium - i've spelled that name wrong like six times so far if you see a typo no you didn't. this one seemed to have a different meaning on every place i looked, but there were a couple common threads: levity, protection, innocence, and remembrance. zenji's card bouta make me cry.

if we're looking at the placements at all, i love that he's handing you the enchantment and love at first sight flower. ugh zenji you deserve the world

followed IMMEDIATELY by his brother lmao. these two drive me INSANE dude i am always thinking about their relationship

in the back bouquet that he's holding we've got some pink and peach roses (and one hidden red one???), a couple random ones i can't made out, and in the foreground a BUNCH of

hey wait hold on

its called WHAT???

huh?????????

zenji hello???????

okay anyways back to jiro

up in the forefront he's got a bunch of dame's rocket, i guess? also called sweet rocket and eve weed, it's the closest i could find. yet another flower that has a greek tale associated with it, which i think the greeks just made up stories about every flower smh but it's named after hesperus (the morning star).

apparently it's only real symbolism meaning is deceit, which is wild given how much of this flower is on this card. also, jiro doesn't remember parts of last year. guess he could be lying!!!

pink roses - admiration and love, but a few sources did make a point to say the pink is a more gentle and understated love. very jiro. also love that there's a single red rose poking out there

peach roses - sincerity and gratitude.....ok. ok hold on. tin hat donned. jiro is holding flowers that mean sincerity but there are a ton of deceit flowers behind him. he's trying to be sincere but something is holding him back? who's to say

anyways that's all the pictures that tumblr will let me add on mobile so this is part one done, onto part two!

dms and asks always open 🌻

[daughterofevil158]

Posting the "Damon has to suffer thru having multiple platonic & romantic soulmates" AU that i've been writing in my drafts for the past 2 weeks because unlearning shame is so cool and sexy of me (if any of these give u inspiration to make something, feel free to use)

mostly imagining it with my favorite Damon ships (platonic or romantic) + platonic Toshiko (get older brother'd, idiot). I'm mostly thinking of putting Damon thru the wringer when i pick the different soulmarks he gets (now he feels a need to become someone worthy of all these people he's connected to on top of all his canon issues)

◊ Ulysses has "what you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's." This, thusly, makes him the 1st and probably only one Damon is in contact with pre-EGA with after one too many times of finding "buy new journals" and other such reminders on his arm. They probably did exchange number at some point, but let's be real, Ulysses is more likely to remember to bring his pen than his phone on a daily basis anyway. Imagine Damon researching for a debate and briefly mentioning the topic to Ulysses, who immediately starts writing several historical that support Damon's topic. (Also, whenever Damon's about to eat/sleep, he writes a reminder for Ulysses to do the same.)

◊ Mark has "music your soulmate is listening to pops into your thoughts" (Damon is frantically searching up the song that's been playing in his head all week with no results. Then Mayhem drops their newest track and he does the Pointing Rick Dalton pose. Mark chooses to believe that the increase in his own songs playing in his head is just himself thinking about them because the alternative would kill him via embarrassment)

◊ Jett has "you feel phantom pain whenever your soulmate gets injured" (I'll be honest, i chose this specifically to be a dick to Damon. Imagine the audience watching one of Damon's debates, and they assume the shaking & stuttering is due to nerves until he collapses mid-sentence. This also leads to Jett feeling even worse about his accident :D) (On a lighter note, every time Damon gets that "seatbelt jerk" pain from sudden vehicle stops on Jett's end, he'll pinch the flesh between his thumb and pointer as revenge)

◊ If it's canon compliant, Eva gets "last words your soulmate will say to you." I initially thought of "soulmate can't lie to you" for the funny irony, but then my brain went "wait. Wolfgang." He has either that or "timer that marks your soulmate's death." In a No-KG version, Wolfie still has "can't lie" and Eva has the "first words" version instead.

◊ Toshiko (this is the only one that's 100% platonic) gets "matching tattoos." It's on the right wrist, a green snake in a heart shape, with a smaller pink snake within also making a heart ♡ (She insists that it's only fair if they get matching flamingo tattoos once she's of age. Damon Does Not Want To. He does anyway.) (Only semi-related, but imagine that Toshiko also has a dimple but on the opposite side of Damon's)

◊ I considered Diana having "greyscale vision until you first touch your soulmate" but i feel that would make her talent like 1,000x harder to do (i don't use makeup) so i dialed it back to "can't see your soulmate's eye color until you touch"

Kai, Cassidy, and Desmond are also Damon's soulmates, but I haven't come up with anything for them yet. In this AU, people normally get 2-3 soulmates, with higher numbers being increasingly unlikely (and making Damon with his 10 soulmarks a freak of nature, even if most of them end up being platonic).

(as an aside, damon's parents are so happy that their son will have so many people who will come to care for him)

April 10th Edit: Go here for Cassidy, Desmond, and Kai

[yusufalkaysanii]

#2 for smut prompt list no. 3 ? ❤️

send me a prompt and i'll write you a smutty ficlet

2. sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them • 3. fully clothed x stark naked • also inspired by this gifset

Nicky is bored. Maybe that's not quite the word. He's actually restless, anxious for news from Andy and Booker. Anxious for action. Every second they spend in that room is more agonizing than the next. Joe doesn't seem bothered. It's a facade, of course. Nicky can tell he's just as anxious as he is. For the passer-by though, he looks the picture of composure. Nicky watches, fascinated, as he crosses his legs, eyes skimming the newspaper in his hands, seeming oblivious to the rest of the world. His eyes haven't moved from the same patch of paper in several seconds, though. His back is straight as a ruler, shoulders tense. His head, tilted ever so slightly to the left--his ears are trained on every sound outside that door. Joe will be ready to jump to action at a second's notice. A knock on the door startles him. Joe had opened the door and greeted the bellboy before Nicky had even sat up straight. "A post for Mr. Smith, Sir," the boy says, politely, offering him an envelope on a silver tray. Joe thanks him profusely, as he takes the letter. "Have a nice day," he says, giving the boy two golden coins. Nicky jumps to his side, eager for the news. Joe has already opened the letter, eyes raking through the missive at lightning speed. "What does it say?" Nicky asks, peering over his husband's shoulder. "Should we leave?" Joe sighs, shaking his head. "There's been a delay in the shipment and they're still waiting in Berlin." He folds the letter and brings it to the nearest candle. When it burns, Joe drops it on the grooming tray. "We're to wait out the night and then travel alone to Viena." He plops down on his chair, a frown brewing over his lovely face. "Another night where they're alone," Joe says, shaking his head. "They're going to be too open, too vulnerable--" "I don't like it either, but Andy probably knows her situation better than us." Nicky retorts, also taking his former seat on the--granted, beautiful and tastefully picked--hard, uncomfortable settee. "I think we should go meet them," Joe says, rubbing his hands over his trousers. "We shouldn't have split up to begin with." "That's a bad idea, Joe. We don't know what the climate is over there. If Andy thinks it is best we stay out for the night, then we should." Joe crosses his legs again, shaking them furiously. His arms soon follow, crossing over his chest. "I don't want to stay put," he grumbles. "I don't either," Nicky admits, hating the defeated tone in his voice. He watches as Joe starts biting his nails. This was bound to be a long night. Or maybe not. "Perhaps," he says, voice going a few octaves lower. "We could find ways to amuse ourselves until dawn." Joe stops biting his nail, but his finger was still between his lips. God, would he ever stop desiring this man? Would the appeal ever fade? Nicky hoped it wouldn't. "Oh?" Joe says, tone playful, an eyebrow raising. "And what did you have in mind?" Nicky lets a slow smile spread over his lips. "A gentlemen's game, of course." "I like the sound of that. What are the rules?" "You must not make me come until I say so." Joe draws in a sharp breath. He nods, lips parted. "And what of the terms?" "Should you lose," he licks his lips, slowly, calmly. "I shall have you over my knees and spank like a boy."

Joe stares at him for a few seconds too long. Nicky's confidence begins to falter, but he's never backed down before and won't start now.

"Do you accept these terms?"

As if awoken from a trance, Joe uncrosses his legs and sits more comfortably on the chair.

"Can't say that I do, no," his voice, however, betrays his words. It's gone low as well, the vowels are more pronounced, each one rounding up into a lasso confected only to entrap Nicky. "What am I to gain here?"

"You don't feel like touching me is the gain?"

Joe tilts his head, leering. "No, habibi, it's not. It's an entry point, though. I'm afraid you'll have to sweeten the pot."

Nicky's nods, lips drawing down, pulling an exaggerated expression of impress. "Fair enough," he taps two fingers to lips, in a mockery of a pensive pose. "Very well. Should you win," he begins, satisfied with how Joe's eyes are tracking his every move. "You get to fuck me over this couch."

Joe raises an eyebrow at him. "Wasn't that a given?"

Nicky scoffs. "No, it certainly wasn't. But the prize could be yours if you win the game."

"Alright, I agree with these terms. How should we begin?"

"Lock the door."

Joe obeys.

"Now what?"

Nicky slouches over the settee, his legs spreading. He places one over the armrest and brings his fingers to rest over his face. Slowly, they drag over to his mouth, teasing the corner of his lips.

His other arm, he places over his thigh, near his knee.

"'What now', indeed," he says. The arm over his leg slowly crawls up, trailing deeper into his inner thigh.

Joe watches him as a lion ready to pounce. Good.

"You'll hardly win from that distance," Nicky says, frowning. His hand is now shamelessly rubbing his own cock, through light brown trousers.

"Fuck," Joe breathes out, hands opening and closing, clearly itching to touch. When he swallows, his Adam's apple bobs up and down. "How do I win?" He asks, voice rasped.

"On your knees. Come to me."

Joe doesn't do as he's told right away. He makes a show of removing his burgundy, wool frock coat and his pocket watch, eyes still on Nicky. Maybe he was hoping to be reprimanded, but Nicky won't give him the satisfaction.

The gold-silk vest was next. Joe was now down to his shirt and trousers.

"It's a shame to stain such fine linen," he says, sinking down to his knees. "But I guess this will be worth it."

"Isn't it always?"

"Always."

Joe crawls to him and Nicky takes the opportunity to unbutton his pants. When his husband approaches him, he spreads his legs even more, making room for him.

"Your move," Nicky tells him.

Joe doesn't disappoint. He begins his play by inching closer to Nicky and instead of going straight to the end goal, he rests his face on Nicky's right knee.

"The game is rigged against me," he complains. Looking up at Nicky, he goes on, while one of his hands traces patterns over the side of Nicky's thighs. "You never were very good at holding back your ecstasy with me."

Nicky is surprised by own strangled laugh--Joe had pinched under his left knee.

"Aren't you full of yourself tonight."

"It's true, though," he sighs, rubbing his cheeks--his unfortunately naked cheeks. Damn that decade and its obsession with clean shaven men--over Nicky's leg. He places a slow kiss on the inner side, smiling a little too cocky when Nicky shivers.

"Still, I'm confident I'll win this game."

Joe clicks his tongue at him, moving forward up his thighs. He leaves an open-mouthed kiss so near Nicky's bulge he nearly whimpered.

"You say you want your pleasure delayed," deft fingers work the final buttons of his trousers, pulling the fabric down. "But we both know that when I get your magnificent cock in my mouth," he marks his point by kissing Nick's throbbing cock through his pants. "You'll want nothing more than to fuck my throat until completion."

The sound that comes out of his mouth is obscene even to his own ears.

Joe smirks at him. "Like so."

Nicky lifts his hips, pulling his trousers as far down as they'll go in that position. His cock springs out, angry red and proud, bobbing for a second before settling against his stomach.

The night air feels too chilly and Joe is right, he wants nothing more than to bury his cock down that inviting, warm mouth.

"So much talk and so little action," he says, breath catching as he bucks his hips.

Joe indulges him. He makes a show of licking his palm, as though he were a cheap whore servicing him in a back alley.

"You tease."

Joe winks at him and wraps that hand over Nicky's cock, firmly stroking him at first, making sure to draw out a desperate moan when he twists his wrist at the head, only to loosen his grip and slow his pace on the downstroke.

"Knowing every trick your body craves is my greatest accomplishment," he says, his tone casual. Nicky tries very hard not to beg him to go faster, but it's a close call.

"I could thumb that spot under your balls and swallow you to the root and this would all be over now."

"Yes."

"Too bad I can't," he places a soft kiss to the gland. "You see, I really want to flip you, bend you over this couch and fuck you until you scream."

Nicky squirms, hands gripping the couch. "No," he shoots back, but he sounds high-pitched. "You'll lose, and I'll have your ass red as that coat you like so much."

"Is that so?"

Joe then hooks one of Nicky's legs over his shoulder and pulls him closer to the edge of his seat.

"I should get you prepared, if I'm to have you so soon." He places two long, slender fingers into his mouth and sucks them, getting them nice and wet.

"That's a low trick," Nicky laughs, breathless, but he adjusts his position for the cheating move. He plants both feet on Joe's shoulders, his knees touching his stomach.

He's open and vulnerable for Joe now.

Joe teases him at first, of course. Kisses his knee, while his fingers fondle his entrance. It feels nice. Relaxing.

The first finger goes in just when Joe sucks on the head of his cock. Beyond the pleasure of a double assault, is the wet moans coming out of Joe, as if he's the one being serviced.

It's not enough. Of course it's not enough. It's just one finger. It's just the tip. It's not far down his mouth. It's by design, insufficient.

Joe knows what he's doing, he'll give him that.

And yet, though, the thrumming under his skin--which had been bothering him for hours--has simmered down. Replaced now for a quiet heat, an itch that must be scratched immediately.

"More," he pleas.

Joe lets Nicky's cock slide out of his mouth with a wet pop.

"But I don't want to be punished," he whines, his face an exaggerated mask of sorrow. "I can't make you come, remember?"

"Then don't," Nicky snaps, his hands flying to pluck at his own hair. "Just-- more."

Joe chuckles. "Sure, ya hayati."

He adds a second finger, going deep, lightly brushing that wonderful spot inside Nicky that made him taste colors. Still, though, he didn't press or massage it in any way.

For a few seconds, this was all they did. Joe fingering him, watching him like a hawk, and Nicky too worked up to even attempt the ruse of control.

"Your mouth, please, I need it. Anything, I just need--"

"Forfeiting so soon?"

"Yes, just--"

Joe stills his fingers and Nicky feels like screaming.

"Would you like to finish off like this, or should I collect my prize now?"

Nicky sighs, his limbs going limp (but not his cock, unfortunately).

"I don't care. Whichever."

Joe then removes his fingers and gets up to his feet.

"Remove the rest of your clothes," he says, commanding. He's buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves again, which seems odd to Nicky, but he doesn't comment on it.

"When you're done, stand this side of the armrest, facing the window."

"Wait, hold on--"

"We're on the eighth floor, it's unlikely anyone will see us. However, if they do, I want them to get a full view. Let them see how pretty you look when you're taking my cock from behind."

Nicky groans and hurries to obey.

It's not certain if anyone did ever catch that "show". Nicky, however, got a front row seat to his own reflection, buck naked and pale, being fucked raw by Joe, still wearing his white shirt and trousers. Centuries later, it's still one of his favorite memories.

[dandylovesturtles]

Sidelined AU Info Post

Alright, I guess we're doing this

CWs: mentions of internalized ableism, struggles with mental health

Timeline:

all of S1 is the same as in canon up until End Game

however, after Splinter turns over the helmet to Draxum, Draxum does not put on the armor, but chooses to put Leo inside instead, realizing that whoever goes in will probably have something horrible happen to them. that's detailed in this fic

unlike Draxum, who gets spit out of the armor immediately, Leo ends up trapped inside. from Leo's perspective, he is only vaguely aware of what's happening outside (it's a bit sunken place-ish, with him seeing snatches of events like through a grainy television), and he has only small amounts of influence over what the armor does

once Feral Shredder is on the loose, he pretty immediately starts destroying the Hidden City. Draxum realizes that he has inadvertently released a great evil on his people, the exact opposite of what he wanted, and he turns to the Hamatos to help him stop it. obviously they don't want to work with Draxum, but they have to get Leo back so they take the help

it takes them two days, during which the Shredder moves up to start terrorizing New York as well, but eventually they get him subdued. I'm not 100% on what goes down yet or whether Big Mama gets involved (I'm leaning toward not), but Leo fighting from the inside is a big help

Leo is removed from the armor and is in really bad physical shape; meanwhile the Shredder is subdued for now. in the immediate aftermath, the Foot Clan manages to get ahold of the Shredder and take off with him

he's too weak to do anything immediately but he is very much a Looming Threat the family is aware of

Draxum leaves for awhile at this point because none of them want him around and seeing Leo in the aftermath did wake him up to "oh yeah that's just a kid and I did that to him," also he's feeling real bad about that whole "accidentally almost destroying the yokai and also maybe the world" thing

meanwhile, Leo is severely weakened, but there's not anything that the family can do to hasten his recovery. they can only get him hooked up to an IV for fluids and nutrients and wait

it takes Leo a few days to become fully lucid again; during that time he tries to fight anyone around him off or sometimes pushes his family away to "protect" them

eventually Leo does regain lucidity, he tells everyone he's fine but he's Super Depressed. he's also lost his mystic powers completely.

Splinter also retreats a bit at this point, because he feels guilt for handing the helmet over to Draxum instead of trying to find a different way to rescue his boys, which isn't a great thing for him to do but his mental health is also not doing very well (someone get these guys some therapy)

in the meantime the bros and April manage the best they can, they all have different approaches but I'll go into detail about that in the next section

there's no treatment for Leo's condition outside the most boring one: time, exercise, and diet. unsurprisingly he hates this

Healing Bad Times abound, as shown in this fic

eventually the boys have to go out on a mission again. Leo, feeling useless, listens in on the comms from the lair, and ends up catching something the other boys' missed, meaning he's able to save them from a trap or something idk exactly what the point is he makes himself useful

this opens up a new path for Leo, one his brothers very heavily encourage

with a new goal in mind, Leo starts taking a lot better care of himself, actually following his physical therapy routine, spending time gaining new skills, and accepting help in the form of mobility aids. his physical and mental health both start making big improvements

this also helps his dad's mental health, everyone is doing better even if things aren't perfect

Donnie builds Leo a command center modeled after the bridge of Jupiter Jim's ship, he absolutely loves it. whenever the boys+April are on missions, Leo is in his command center helping from the background

eventually Leo has gotten to the point where he has enough strength for day to day life most of the time, he still isn't fighting baddies on rooftops but he can get to a store and back without collapsing on a good day and that's pretty good!

the Foot Clan has been a much bigger threat in this version of S2 and it's clear they're up to something big

of course right when Leo is starting to feel stable and happy again, that's when they launch their final attack

a lot of the finale events go down similarly to how they do in canon, minus Battle Nexus New York. they get Karai back but then she dies, Shredder destroys their home (including Leo's command center :c ), everything is Bad

Leo gets his mystic powers back the same way his brothers do, though he needs a little bit of an extra helping nudge from April/Karai, since he didn't think that was a thing he could still do

everyone getting their mystic powers is emotional but it's especially emotional for Leo. he didn't even know what ninpo was before today, but he knew after the Shredder it was like some part of his soul got locked away, and now that he can feel it again he finally feels whole

it gives him a burst of adrenaline so he can participate in the fight, though he doesn't do much of the actual battling, instead getting his bros where they need to be for the big hits (I mean this is basically what he does anyway haha)

it takes Donnie exactly .02 seconds to figure out how to use his own mystic powers to support Leo physically so that helps

after this, Leo becomes a more constant part of the team in the field, though he still primarily works as support and only gets into direct fights when he feels like he has to

instead of being made leader like in canon, Leo and Raph become co-leaders. Leo's own leadership abilities have improved massively, but Raph has more experience in the field, so having the two of them working together means they cover each other's blind spots, and the division of labor is less stressful for both of them

since Leo's already been through his character development and this tension is gone the movie events play out totally differently but I haven't gotten that far yet lol. I'm sure the apocalypse still happens somehow, though, I'd hate to lose Casey Jr

happy ending whooo

Relationships

Raph

Raph feels a lot of guilt about what happened to Leo; he was supposed to protect his little brothers and he didn't, and now one of them has permanent physical disabilities as a result. add to that it was Raph's idea to be heroes in the first place and yeah... he's not doing great

because of this guilt, Raph's instinct is to essentially baby Leo - he wants to take care of his every need as soon as it arises. this makes Leo feel stifled and infantilized, and drives a wedge in their relationship (the same one Raph is driving between himself and Mikey, in fact)

his and Donnie's distinctly different approaches to the situation also mean that they get into arguments often and can't really deal with being around each other, leaving Raph feeling isolated at the start (and thus pouring more attention and effort into Leo, which compounds the problem)

Raph dealing with his own guilt and trying to find the balance between helping Leo while also respecting his need for independence, boundaries, and dignity is a big part of his journey in the AU, and it also improves his relationship with Mikey and Donnie as he gets better at those skills

Donnie

Donnie is not dealing well with the fact that there's nothing to fix. they can only be patient and work incrementally to improve Leo's condition

he distracts himself by putting all his energy into making the lair accessible for Leo, building him mobility aids and doing everything he can to help

he also has a hard time understanding why Leo won't do the things that will help him (at first), because doesn't he just want things to go back to normal? doesn't he want to help himself? why won't he just do what he obviously has to do, Donnie does not understand

Leo is deep in denial at first, and he feels like he breaks down and starts doing physical therapy and using mobility aids and doing basically any of the things that will help him, that means it's not going to magically get better, it's going to take time and effort and it will probably never be fixed, just improved, and he hates that so much he's choosing to treat this like a temporary cold or flu that will blow over any day now

Donnie doesn't understand that so he takes Leo's refusal as a rejection and animosity abounds!

breakdowns and admissions of feelings will eventually happen

Donnie and Leo together come to grips with the idea that there is no fixing this and there is no return to how things were before but they can work toward a new normal that's just as good

Mikey

this one is a little bit too big for Dr. Delicate Touch and Dr. Feelings

Mikey tries, but he is just a kid, and with their dad emotionally retreating too there's just too many feelings for him to deal with on his own

he's gonna play family therapist until he breaks

he's frustrated because he can see what each of his brothers need to do to feel better but they just! won't! they won't do it, and he doesn't know how to make them

he's really stressed

it's Mikey that realizes that Leo needs goals to work toward to get himself motivated to take care of himself, and it's Mikey who pushes the hardest for Leo's new role in the team

sometimes Mikey will challenge Leo to something silly, like who can make the most throws of a paper ball into a trash can, just to push Leo into exercising

he finds other little ways to help the others too, but he still can't solve the big problems on his own

meltdown ensues

Mikey has to learn to take care of himself, too, while the others have to learn they can't lean so hard on him for all their emotional problems

April

the only one holding on around here. it helps that she doesn't actually have to live in the powderkeg

takes a rationally minded approach to all these problems, kind of functioning like family therapist along with Mikey but in a healthier and more controlled way

helps get them resources from above ground

Leo opens up the most about his feelings about his physical condition to her first, because she strikes the best balance between being a sympathetic ear without coddling him

she's also stressed, but she has an outside support network so she's handling it better

Splinter

fully blames himself for what happened to Leo and has a hard time getting over it

depression in full swing

it means he can't easily get out of bed to help his kids, but then he feels bad because he isn't helping them, which worsens the depression, which makes it hard to get out of bed... a vicious cycle

when Leo starts working on his condition he gets a pact out of his dad that they will both work on being healthier together

maybe they manage to find an actual therapist eventually idk lol

either way, Splinter and Leo grumpily sitting over their plate of broccoli and then Leo says "bet I can eat more pieces than you" and it's on son

he's trying his best

Leo's Condition

Leo came out of the armor severely dehydrated and malnourished, even more so than any person should realistically be after two days; just keeping him from dying of the dehydration was the most immediate struggle

the main issue is that Leo's life force, mystic abilities included, were basically sucked out, leaving his body catastrophically physically weak

his muscle mass can come back with time and diet

the bigger problems are the bone density and chronic fatigue. while Leo can improve these, they'll never be back to where they were before the Dark Armor

his reduced bone density means he has to be careful doing anything physical because the chance he can break a bone is much higher than average, and he stands to suffer more from that break than the average person

he'll eventually get to where he can go through his day-to-day life just fine most days, and can even do some of the physical things he enjoyed before, he just has to be careful and know his limits. he'll never be pulling the 1440 off the halfpipe again, but he can still skateboard as long as he's careful.

even when recovered (as much as he can be), he has bad days and days when the fatigue is really strong. how Leo feels on a bad day is up in the air; sometimes he's at peace with it and generally cheerful, happy to be around his family even if he spends most of the time in his chair or on the couch dozing in and out. other days the depression rears its ugly head and he can get a bit nasty and bitter again. his family is much more patient with him on days like that than he is with himself.

in the beginning Leo also has brain fog and sensitivity to light and sound. these clear up over time, especially once Leo starts making more effort to exercise his brain. he starts reading a lot more and doing puzzles, especially things like sudoku and word puzzles, which helps a lot. thankfully these changes aren't permanent

his inner ears were also damaged a bit, this also heals up largely on its own, sometimes he still has difficulties hearing his brothers if they're whispering or far away but it's not so bad he needs assistance

Leo's Devices

Wheelchair

this is obviously the one Donnie had the most fun building and it shows. this baby is tricked out. Leo also likes to suggest improvements often, some for actual functionality but many just because he thinks it would be cool (like neon lights on the spokes)

it is blue obviously. do you even need me to tell you that?

it's fully electronic but Leo can also wheel it around freely if he wishes. Leo likes to wheel himself when he has the energy because it's good exercise he doesn't have to go out of his way for and he just likes feeling like he's moving himself under his own power. but when he's not feeling up to it he just drives it with the electronic controls instead

it has handles that extend and retract. being allowed to touch the handles is a major sign of Leo's trust and initially it's only for his bros + April + Splinter. Leo hates being moved when he doesn't actually ask to be moved, and he also hates being tipped backwards so his fam knows not to do it even as a joke (and it's so heavy that tipping him is kind of hard, anyway). someone touching the handles or messing around with them without permission gets you immediate backlash from protective siblings

that said Leo has them extended often so he can hang things off them, even though Donnie constantly gripes that that is not their intended purpose!

Sr Hueso is another person who gets handle-touching-privileges pretty fast, and he's also the one Leo asks to move him most often because he thinks it's really funny. he hams it up every time. Hueso is exasperated but does it anyway

(if Hueso adds a few extra wheelchair-accessible tables to Run of the Mill no one has to know)

the chair can also be moved by S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. this is mostly just for emergency situations, or times when the chair is somewhere Leo is not. Shelldon is a very good boy who does not move the chair without Leo's permission.

it has a billion storage spaces and little hidey holes and it can sync with Leo's phone to play music and it also has a charge port for his phone and yeah basically anything Leo and Donnie can come up with goes into this thing. it's a behemoth

Donnie also made Leo a lighter-weight chair with fewer features that he most often uses when he's good using his walker/cane/braces but wants to clear a larger distance first, and eventually Donnie makes him an athletic wheelchair so he can play games like wheelchair basketball

Walker

the walker is also blue but there's nothing particularly special about it

Leo hates using it because it feels like an old person thing. even if realistically he knows there are plenty of reasons people use them, including his own situation, culture is culture and it makes him feel bad no matter what rationality states

so basically once he doesn't have to use it he doesn't

as they all get more comfortable with Leo's situation and he starts openly using humor to cope, jokes about Leo's chair and cane become pretty commonplace in the fam (all good-natured of course). they know the walker is too much of a sore spot though, and poking fun at it is the fastest way to get Leo to do something stupid, so no one does. it's better to just pretend it's not there

Crutches/Canes

he eventually ends up with a variety of these, with different levels of support depending on what he's needing on a given day.

some of the canes are more fashionable than others. this is important to him.

Leo pretty much always has one of these on hand just in case, even on days where he feels alright to walk on his own

he is not afraid to bonk a brother with a cane or crutch but he does so knowing they are free to retaliate

Leg Braces

Leo doesn't need these every day but they're a pretty standard part of his wardrobe at this point

they start out plain but get increasingly elaborately decorated as time goes on because he, Donnie, and Mikey can't help themselves

like the walker, the braces are in the "don't make fun of" zone, though Leo is happy to get positive comments about them and doesn't really need their presence ignored

Other Mobility Aids

Leo has a variety of things to help with his loss of grip strength, difficulties bending over, tremors, etc. all of them are either made by Donnie or ethically "acquired" by April

he drives everyone crazy by leaving them in random places and then forgetting where they are. Donnie starts installing locator tags on everything they give Leo

jokes about these are fine, Leo makes them often himself and has silly names for all of them (this also drives Donnie crazy)

[quinndominion]

ANTHEM

So, I did actually go ahead and alter this cc to be something I could use in my gameplay like I said. Well, okay, I forgot and just did it yesterday (several days ago now - instead of the game crashing it was the driver for my new graphics card that flaked out every time I tried to record this damn video). But still...done is done.

The record player plays records now and not CDs. And, see, still spinning! So, many thanks to @jacky93sims for converting it.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

This is a "Mann's" World...

Rich doesn't dance. But don't be fooled by that outer stoic. Many machinations are afoot behind those eyes.

(Uh, I didn't know about the one video per post thing and I've spent WAY too long trying to embed a playable clip from somewhere else. So, um, there's a picture. He's not moving anyway. Though if you happen to wanna see the shit spinning there's a link in the pic. But really who but me could possibly care?)(Also the full songs are linked under each.)

I do need a third recolour, though. Just couldn't come up with one off the cuff. There is the last line of the last chapter to lead the way, but what follows/will follow isn't really on the same level as the anthems already lined up for Daytona and Rich. (Rich may not be fully aware of his but he'd hardly dispute the sentiment...)

Oh, yes, the point: Open to suggestions for a third song. A bit ambitious of me to ask but, hey, you never know. Left to my own devices will probably have to resort to making a few options for Valentine, but any use I'd put those to is so far off in the future I'll surely forget.

[seleniclight]

[ALNST] Mizi and Luka Parallels

ok, as promised, here are the main parallels I noticed between mizi and luka.

other people's idolization of them.

through other people's eyes (mostly till and sua), mizi's often seen as some sort of saviour or salvation. to them, she represents everything that is good about the world.

on the other hand, luka kind of has the same thing going on for him. except, he represents the epitome of what is seen as a 'perfect' alnst participant to the humans and the aliens. the admiration held for him stems more from this image he (or rather heperu) crafted of himself rather than the genuineness (?) people see mizi with.

this is also what differs between mizi and luka. while people put mizi on a pedestal because of how seemingly 'good' and 'innocent' she is as a person, people put luka on a pedestal based off a false (but still kinda true ig cause of all his actual skill stemming from brutal training) image he created as this untouchable being.

the fate of their loved ones (sorry lol).

think about it though, what do these two have so painfully in common? the fact that both of them have genuinely no one left (ok technically mizi does have till at the end of karma but yk idk if mizi is even alive atp).

mizi - sua (dead in r1), till (it's complicated ig), ivan (dead in r6), hyuna (dead in wiege)

luka - hyunwoo (dead when they were kids), hyuna (dead in wiege)

like i mentioned in a previous post about 'karma', when mizi says not to act righteous cause neither of them deserve to live it's likely because in mizi's eyes, both of them are common factor/catalyst for their loved ones suffering/dying.

the ways they were raised.

this is one part where they distinctly contrast each other.

mizi was the case where shine loved her and cared for her, not actually wanting to have her participate in alnst.

while luka was the case where he was literally genetically engineered and trained to be the perfect alnst competitor (talk about the two extremes lol).

this also severely impacted the worldview that each of them held where mizi was a lot more sheltered (despite the new info we have on her backstory) while luka lacked the ability to communicate with others and see things beyond his gilded cage (and the siblings).

alright, there are probably more parallels but for now this is all i can think of. if i have more to add, i'll either edit this one or add another post. byeeeeee.

[olrinarts]

your animatic has given me severe brainrot. the idea of narilamb having murder-dates where they decide who gets custody of the crown for a while is driving me insane. It's precisely the brand of absolutely nuts thing that no normal creature would do but two immortals who have really odd relations with death, both literal and figural, absolutely would

RIGHT THOUGH

okay so. lazy fic under the cut but i have SO MANY THOUGHTS

(for the record, 'lazy fic' is just what i call it when a ramble accidentally ends up containing a scene or two and the entire time the tone continues to be 'me rambling through an ask/DM with a friend', and if the thoughts get too long, i will separate it into its own post i prommy)

(the lazy fic has, in fact, required a new post. and probably some others, and this has opened the floodgates of letting y'all see my other lazy fics, but still have this part)

new AU is hide/seek AU this is a thing now R.I.P. (animatic, 1 / 2 / 3 / 4)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

so first of all, can i just. scream about the intimacy of it? like yes, it sure is murdering, but the TRUST aspect makes me feral

like the first time they agreed to do this, it wasn't a game yet, and it would've been at least two or three decades on from his defeat - it was an offer Esriaal made freely, and they couldn't know for sure yet that it would work, or that the same immortal trait would be Esriaal's as a mortal, or how to make a vessel work without directly wearing a crown, since Esriaal DID still have a job to do

to say nothing of the work that it would require to adjust the cult to the idea of their gods swapping back and forth, or even Narinder being a god properly half the time if it worked

but Esriaal had spent long enough as a god to know that not only would his help help, it was what they wanted to do and they felt like it would genuinely do a lot of good for the concept and administration of Death itself - like they put a LOT of thought into it beforehand, and Narinder probably had no idea that they intended to offer, let alone that they sincerely wanted to share power

but when they offered, there were still a lot of unknowns, and it required Narinder to be willing to resurrect them after, and considering they were still kinda navigating the aftermath (narinder works on a different timescale, happens when you're several millennia old), there was a genuine chance that he might just. choose not to resurrect them, and take over

but they offered anyway

and narinder, who hadn't expected the offer in the first place and was honestly still struggling with the idea that it might not be HIS cult anymore but that both Esriaal and the cult itself still very much wanted him around (Esriaal having betrayed him in the hope that maybe, maybe, they could resurrect him after, and not having expected him to just pop out already alive), just has to have that surreal moment of realising that they mean it

that they're offering because they sincerely believe there's a chance that not only will he accept but will keep his promise, and they think that chance is worth the risk of him betraying them or declining outright (i mean. there's 0 chance he would decline. but still)

so he accepts, and the first time is kinda unceremonious - the two of them meet one night in the temple, Narinder stabs them with the Crown and down they go, but they don't pop out mortal the way he did

he has to resurrect them intentionally, and boy howdy did he panic a little until they were alive again a few minutes later, admittedly pretty shaken but like. not distrusting, just because they haven't been used to being that kind of dead in thirty-ish years

but he brought them back, the way he promised he would, and he's definitely the god of death, and things worked

they agreed on a month, and the next time was still not particularly ceremonious, but they both tacitly knew it was kinda a whole THING now

shit i'm gonna need a new post for this (i'll edit in a link to the new post when it's up)

[theladycarpathia]

Think I'm just squeaking it in for @harringrovewinterbingo, so I'll post as many of my multi-chapter fic as I have finished. (note to future self - do not decide to do this two weeks before deadline again) Chapter 1/6 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Explicit Tags: College AU, no upside-down AU, enemies to lovers, road trip, explicit sex, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of homophobia, modern au Summary: People shouldn't be allowed to volunteer you for favors. Especially not when it involves giving Billy Hargrove a lift back to Hawkins for the winter break. Sitting in a car with him for hours seems bad enough, and only gets worse when it begins to snow.

Free Square - home for the holidays

It was technically his mother’s fault. 

“Is she serious?” Robin asks, lounging with her feet on Steve’s bed. He’s actually too incensed to scold her for once, throwing things he might need for the winter break into his bag. He’d meant to pack last night but he got invited to a party and woke up this morning in a frat house with a sock plastered to his forehead. “Is she insane?”

“She exists to torture me,” Steve mutters, because right now it feels like it. Parents shouldn’t be allowed to volunteer you for stuff without your consent. And his head is still thumping because it goes to show that you should never drink anything that Jason Carver gives you. 

“Has she met Billy Hargrove?” Robin asks, dropping her head back against his pillow. Steve snorts and snatches his phone charger from the drawer.

“Probably not,” he says. “It wouldn’t matter if she had. You never saw Billy meeting Nancy’s mom. God, it was gross.”

Robin nods, tugging a Twizzler out of the packet. Against Steve’s better judgement, somehow she’s taken over one of his drawers with her stash. “He’s deceptively good at acting like a normal human being.”

“Besides, it was Billy’s mom who mentioned that Billy didn’t have a way to get back to Hawkins,” Steve says, digging in a drawer for his favorite hoodie. “His car’s in for repairs or something…so my mom offered my services.”

“Without asking,” Robin repeats dutifully, because this is all Steve has been able to say for several days. 

“Without asking,” Steve agrees, because he’s been pissed with his mom for three whole days, from right about the time she called and said ‘hey, you don’t mind giving someone a lift home for the holidays, do you?’

And he hadn’t. Until she said she’d run into Billy’s mother at the supermarket and had told Abigail Hargrove that her son would only be too happy to do it. Especially as they lived in the same halls, on the same floor! As though this was some fortunate piece of fate designed by Steve himself rather than the bad luck of being assigned by the college. 

“It just makes sense,” his mom had said crossly. “You don’t even have to go out of your way.”

It’s easy for her to say that. She doesn’t have to spend several hours trapped in a car with Billy Hargrove. 

“He’s a tool,” Robin says, chewing on the end of her Twizzler. “He’s friends with Heather, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Steve says shortly. He has ten minutes before he’s due to leave and the fact that Billy will arrive in the doorway of his room any minute now is putting him on edge. Billy might just live down the hall but it’s not like they interact. Not willingly anyway. Every time Steve goes to a party, he finds Billy’s bare chest in front of him, challenging him to beer pong or shots or dives into the pool. Billy was at the same high school, one year behind Steve, and he’d gotten in Steve’s face the moment he got to college back in the fall.

“They hang out,” Robin continues, with obvious disgust. “Billy’s been in my room.”

“How would you know?” Steve asks, a little bit thrown. “You’re never in your room.”

“I am sometimes in my room,” Robin protests, as though she doesn’t have a sleeping bag stashed in Steve’s cupboard. Thank God Steve has a single, or his roommate might have an issue with Robin appearing most nights to sleep on Steve’s floor. 

Steve gets roommate issues. But Robin’s severe aversion to her room and Heather makes him think that something else is going on. He’s met Heather at parties and she’s pretty cool. Definitely nothing worth avoiding the hell out of the place you pay to sleep. 

“And when I am there, Billy’s sometimes there,” Robin says sulkily, fingers deep in the Twizzlers packet again. She appears to be toying with them, never pulling one out and Steve wonders a little if she even gets why the strangely familiar motion she’s making with her fingers may hint at some sort of underlying reason. 

“Doing what?” Steve asks curiously. He can’t quite imagine Billy doing anything other than being a dick in the most low cut shirt known to man. He sees him elsewhere sometimes - on the quad, at games, in the showers…but these are all places where Billy isn’t exactly at ease. 

“Watching horror movies with Heather,” Robin says vaguely. “Eating doughnuts…not a lot.”

“Are they dating?” Steve asks curiously, because he can’t imagine Billy doing anything in a girl’s room that doesn’t require a sock on the door. And predictably, Robin reacts, scrunching up her face in disgust. 

“Ew. God, I hope not,” she says vehemently and Steve turns so she can’t see his smirk. 

“Heather must date,” he says casually. “She looks like the kind of girl who might have dated the pretty jock type in school. Wasn’t she a cheerleader?”

“She was,” Robin says, as Steve shoves socks into his duffel. He probably has socks at home but he’s never sure. He still half thinks that his mom took him going to college as an opportunity to clear out whatever she thought was too old, too tatty or too stained. Which is probably most of what he left behind when he packed up his car to come here. 

“There you go then,” Steve says, shrugging. His duffel won’t do up so he presses the contents down as far as they will go and then yanks the zipper. “Cheerleaders date jocks. Trust me, I have experience with this.”

“So I heard,” Robin says and bites down with a little more aggression than perhaps a Twizzler requires. 

“What are you doing anyway?” Steve asks, because Robin’s normally his passenger back to Hawkins for the holidays. “You know you can’t stay here for the holidays, right?”

“I don’t have to go home either,” Robin says pointedly. “One of the girls from my film club invited a bunch of us to her dad’s cabin for Christmas. It’s got to be better than my great-aunt making comments about those kinds of people over my mom’s cabbage.”

“Queer girls refuge,” Steve says and nods. He’s not thrilled about going home either, even less so without his partner in crime there. But he gets why it’s even worse for Robin. His family dinners are often stiff, counted down by how many times his dad checks his tablet, but at least no one makes pointed jabs about his life. 

Not many anyway. 

“Don’t think there’ll be much by way of a proper dinner,” Robin says, scrunching up her nose. Knowing what college kids' version of food is like, their dinner will be off-brand ramen and more Twizzlers, but it’s the price you pay for freedom. “But it’ll be fun. Vickie’s gonna drive a few of us later.”

“Have a good time,” Steve says, throwing a few final items into his bag and struggling to do up the zip. He’s not even sure why he’s trying - he’ll end up wearing either what his mom has conveniently slipped into his closet while he’s been gone, or the same pair of sweats all day when his parents are out of the house. “Send me updates.”

“You too,” Robin says, rolling over on his bed. “Let me know whether you survived Hargrove.” Steve snorts and finally gets the zip closed, chucking the bag and his hoodie on his desk chair. 

“Debatable,” he says disdainfully. “I’ll text you.”

The sharp thump at the door is the only warning they get, before the door swings open. Billy hangs in the doorway, like a vampire waiting for an invitation. Steve feels vaguely violated just by the mere presence of Hargrove in his space. 

“Harrington,” Billy says curtly and then catches sight of Robin scowling at him from the bed. “Buckley.”

“Hargrove,” Steve says in return, and looks around his room. If he hasn’t packed something, he can deal. It’s only two weeks. “Can you lock up?”

“Sure,” Robin says, because as expected, she has no intent of returning to her room. She’d packed late last night, while Heather was out, and won’t return until she’s sure her roommate has gone for the break. 

Honestly. What some people will do to avoid facing their feelings. 

“Got everything?” Steve asks and Billy jerks his head. 

“Got enough,” he says, raising the battered duffel in his hand. “It’s fucking turkey and Hallmark movies with my mom, I don’t need much.”

Steve doesn’t comment on the Hallmark movies. It feels too much like a trap. 

“Let’s get on the road then,” he says reluctantly. The sooner they leave, the sooner he can drop Hargrove at home and not see him again for two weeks. 

Oh shit. Is he going to have to bring Billy back to school too? He never even thought to ask, and it feels like something his mom might conveniently bring up in the new year, right before he’s due to drive back. 

“Home for the holidays,” Billy quips, with a toothy grin. “If shitty Hawkins counts.”

“You moved there,” Steve bites out. But Billy’s mouth just twists into an expression that he’s not used to seeing on Hargrove. 

“I didn’t have much say in the matter,” Billy mutters in such a tone that Steve just drops it. Conversations with Billy feel all too often like a minefield, for reasons he doesn’t understand. 

“Nice ride,” Billy says admiringly, when they reach Steve’s car. Steve pops the trunk and chucks his stuff in, gesturing for Billy to do the same. 

“Seriously?” Steve asks, a little surprised. He’s seen Billy’s car and he’d be lying if he hadn’t fucking salivated over it. “I mean, I thought you wouldn’t be into something like this. I’ve seen your car.”

“I can appreciate modern cars too,” Billy says loftily and throws himself into the passenger seat. “Does this have heated seats?”

“Perhaps,” Steve says grudgingly and takes one last look up at the sky. It’s a heavy gray, and something about the color of it is making him uneasy. Snow hadn’t been a certain thing, but Steve’s lived through enough winters to recognise the signs. 

“We’d better get moving,” he says shortly. “Maybe we can get ahead of the snow.”

Billy cranes his neck to look out the windscreen, as Steve climbs in. He’d planned to stop a few times, get snacks, take a piss, but he’s already thinking about how to reduce those stops just in case. The weather may clear, but he’s not going to take a risk if he doesn’t have to. 

“The forecast didn’t say it was going to snow,” Billy says, looking doubtful and Steve remembers all too late that he’s originally from California. His mom only moved to Hawkins a few years ago, God knows why. 

“The forecast is occasionally full of bullshit,” Steve says, programming his GPS and pressing various buttons. Billy’s old Camaro probably doesn’t have a dashboard that looks like a spaceship, but sometimes Steve’s pretty glad for modern technology. They need the quickest route, any way that’s going to bypass the holiday traffic.

“Is that safe?” Billy asks and if Steve didn’t know any better, he’d almost think that he looks worried. 

“We should be fine,” Steve says firmly. “If there was going to be a blizzard, they would have seen that. But even so, I don’t really want to drive in snow.”

“Okay,” Billy says and sits back, even though he looks no more reassured. “You got music in here?”

Steve sighs and reluctantly hands over his phone. Perusing his Spotify keeps Billy quiet long enough for them to pull out of campus. 

“You have some shit in here,” Billy mutters and then wriggles delightedly in his seat. “Fuck, you do have heated seats!”

“Yep,” Steve says. He figures this might be the best way to cope for the next few hours - pretending Billy is white noise. But Billy just chews his lip and then nods. 

“Nice,” he says and goes back to Steve’s phone. He finally picks something to play, apparently having found a playlist of Steve’s that he doesn’t find too offensive. Then he stares out of the window at the passing scenery and Steve lets himself relax a little. Billy doesn’t seem too interested in small talk. Maybe they’ll make it through this trip with minimal trauma. 

It’s quiet for approximately two minutes. 

“Is my ass going to get hot?” Billy complains and rubs his butt across the leather seat. “Harrington! Seriously, is this shit going to melt my ass?”