#i am suffering like no one else has ever suffered in the whole history of the universe doing this hobby i chose myself

[delta-piscium]

can not believe i draw a whole sketch and as if that isn’t enough, to color it, i have to figure out light sources and shadows, cruel and unusual punishment

[nothorses]

"the public education system is intently evil and all teachers are abusive because it was the worst experience ever for me personally"

guys, look, I'm legitimately sorry that happened to you. that's fucked up. it shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't be allowed to happen again to you or anyone else. I'm sorry.

public school was hard for me too, at times, and I'm still suffering the consequences for the harsh grading, the arbitrary deadlines, the hours of completely useless-to-me homework. I could name a few teachers who have been pretty fucking terrible. the fact that nobody considered getting me evaluated for ADHD has had an impact on my self image and academic success that I can't erase.

and also.

I grew up in an area where education, in particular, is incredibly progressive-leaning. educators are working really hard to create and try out education philosophies and practices that prioritize kids and their learning, rather than teachers and what they think kids should learn.

My sex ed was comprehensive, and came entirely from school. My gay sixth grade teacher taught me about HIV/AIDs in a useful, accurate way. In high school, I learned about the way orgasms work & I was prepared not to feel shame for normal stuff.

I learned that Communism was not what the USSR actually practiced, and what it really means. I learned about atrocities and, specifically, the genocide of indigenous people committed in/by the US. I learned about the military industrial complex, the school-to-prison pipeline, and I learned about manifestations of racism specific to my local area. I learned about Stonewall, and the intersection of the civil rights movement with gay rights and disability justice.

My creative writing teacher taught us about LSD, and the real reasons we shouldn't do it, after a hilariously ineffective assembly run by some local cops. He spoke gently, carefully, and emphatically about his friends and his own experiences. Later in the semester, he read us a story he wrote about two gay men finding each other in a deeply homophobic environment.

My sci-fi teacher made me feel safe & seen as a kid with "weird" interests. My US History teacher helped me research and put together a 10-page paper on the modern relevance and mission of Feminism. My government teacher made me feel appreciated for the work I put into the class, and the thought I put into what I said in it, even though he disagreed with a lot of it. My sixth grade teacher bought me books to read with his personal money, whichever ones I asked for. My third grade teacher made me feel safe. My science teacher in middle school made me excited for and passionate about science, and saw and nurtured the effort I put into her class.

A lot of stuff sucks, absolutely. But I am seeing new teaching methods being tried out all the time, and I am watching teachers get really excited when I teach their students about the roots of modern graffiti in US black history & to question property laws, and just...

There's hope. there are so many people doing so much work to make things better. so many people agree with you on what education should be, and are trying so fucking hard to put that into action, and so many public schools- not just teachers, but whole schools and even districts- are really doing that work. so much is getting better.

I had more to say, about necessary childcare and trusted adults and outside contacts and time away from abusive family. But like. Please just sit down and listen to more people on this, and please talk to educators and education professionals about what's really going on in this big huge world of philosophy, science, and practice.

[bengiyo]

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo: We Are So Fucking Back

I am glad that we are all having a normal one in reaction to Hwang Da Seul's latest project (@chicademartinica, @dropthedemiurge, @shortpplfedup, @lurkingshan). I'm still meditating on the whole affair, but for now want to get into how Hwang Da Seul feels so compassionate to closeted men, and how I also am stuck on the removal of the cross (@my-rose-tinted-glasses).

Shan already linked back to The Knowing, and I keep thinking about how rare it is to see two boys who've already come to an understanding of themselves meeting each other, and also including a bully who knows himself. What stands out for me with Hwang Da Seul is how old the pains weighing on her characters feel each time.

Dohee has suffered the abuse of his father, abandonment of his mother, and dissolution of his closest friendship, and he's just pushing through to leave all of this. His pain is obvious and lived in. He doesn't have to sit around moping exclusively about how he feels, because it's ever present. Like anyone else living with chronic pain, you just have to do stuff while hurting a lot of the time.

Juyeong is so fascinating to me because his exuberance and passion makes it almost impossible to hide who he is, and I will always be a sucker for the characters who love so loudly that you can't turn it off. I also keep thinking about how he has been communicating his attraction through his eyes so often, and how he's made desire known through all of his careful flirting.

The building romance between them hits for me most because they're paying attention to each other. Dohee made food that he realized Juyeong would like, is careful about hurting him in their sparring matches, and went for the ice cream that Juyeong said he wanted. Juyeong heard Dohee say he wanted to see snow, and so he made snow for him!

Now, back to that cross. Rose's post and one @benkaben posted have been rattling around in my head for hours. We know that Juyeong's mom is a pastor, and that he's being sent here as essentially conversion therapy (as Shan already pointed out). It's not just that he takes the cross off before confessing, which clearly shows that he's setting everything associated with that aside. It's that he's also confessing through a wall. It's such a small detail in how you can set aside the weight of responsibility and guilt associated with your queerness, but you don't lose the cultural touchstones: for some Christians (I was raised Catholic) you confess your signs through a mild layer of anonymity by putting some sort of wall or separation between you and the priest. There's something so subversive about having Juyeong set down his cross but still confess his feelings like a Christian.

I am also curious where Hyeonho will feature in the rest of this story. It's clear that he and Dohee felt something between each other at some point, and that Hyeonho ran from it. He doesn't want Dohee to get hurt too badly, and he's observing the growing relationship between Dohee and Juyeong. I'm so happy this character exists, because it gives us three characters struggling with the pressures on them to be a certain way. If we had to have a character who will make ugly choices around that, it helps for it not to be part of the main pair, and it also shows that these boys have not been the only queers around that they knew of.

Finally, let me just thank Hwang Da Seul for not being precious about the kissing. I like that their first proper kiss was their second kiss, and I like that it was awkward. I loved them false starting multiple times, trying to make sure they weren't observed too closely (considering their history), and I like that they built back to it. I know that kissing early means we're in for much pain, but it's so nice to have a show not dance around the kissing, or have it be especially mild. I like when two boys like each other and go for it.

I'm so happy that Hwang Da Seul is back. Every time I watch her shows I feel like I'm talking to someone who understands what the inside of the closet looks and feels like. I always feel seen by her in a way that feels gentle. She lets me remember how scary and ugly all of that was without it being a triggering or jarring experience. Peak drama season is upon us, because we're also about to get Love in the Big City in just three days. See you all on the other side.

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five (16.3k words) | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making  effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it.  It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it,  much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts  her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject. 

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?” 

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside. 

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp. 

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point. 

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue. 

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?” 

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly. 

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.” 

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it,  then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?” 

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together. 

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip. 

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege. 

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

[askew-d]

Hello again....if you don't mind me asking, can I ask your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters from MDZS? And why you loved them? And your top 5 favorite moments from the novel? Sorry if you've answered this question before....Thanks....

sure! its no trouble at all. sorry i am embarassingly late and thank you for the question, i loved making this list :)

1. wei wuxian, our selfless yiling laozu

alright, you can call me cliché, everyone loves him, right? but kendrick lamar said it’s all about love and hate in the game so let me tell you, i love this man. i love the way that he walks, the way that he kills, the way that he dresses, the way that he mocks others, the way that he protect those he loves, the way he’s unbearably and so utterly good to the core (no irony or pun intended), regardless of everything he’s been through. because let’s come clean: other characters, such as xue yang and meng yao, did have their reasons to be evil, i comprehend them! i validate their motives to be who they are, but it does not, for the love of god, excuses their actions.

and that’s the thing! because wei wuxian has been though hell and back, way worse than them, yet he chose to continue doing good things. it’s just who he is (unbelievable, right?). he is, essentialy, someone who pursues justice. he sought revenge for what he suffered, that he rightly did, but he didn’t lash out on innocent cultivators who had nothing to do with his injuries. and the amount of strength, resilience, kindness and sheer wisdom that resides in this makes my admiration for him grow as deep as the ocean. he’s the ultimate main character of every fictional world. no one’s doing tragedy, revenge, inteligence, selflessness, love and being a troublemaker like him, ok. he’s one for the history books. and with that we go to:

2. lan wangji, our beloved hanguang-jun

i said this before, but i will say it again: i feel like wei wuxian might kill me every time i go around saying ‘lan zhan’ or even start worshipping him too much. however, who wouldn’t worship him? he’s a god among humans; a superhero in a novel about cultivators. if wei wuxian’s considered by some an antihero, he’s the true, righteous captain america right here. and it’s not just the looks, he’s a whole package: a terrific father, a dedicated brother and nephew, an esteemed cultivator, a marvellous husband and a fair human being.

most of all, i dearly love him for the fact that he’s been loving wei wuxian since the beginning and never let that go. this man fought for his love like no one else did. he remembered wei wuxian when no one else did. he tried and tried, for him. he waited thirteen years, for him. in fact, if wei wuxian had never returned, he’d just have been waiting and waiting, living his life in grief, watching the moonlight alone…… but that’s a thought for another moment.

the amount of love this man carries is unbearable, really. it’s who he is too. and i also adore the fact that he has a lot of personas: he’s a serious senior for the disciples, a feral animal in bed, silly in some moments and painfully romantic in others. he’s just unreal!

3. lan jingyi, the most atypical lan that has ever lanned

if this boy was in the modern times, im sure i would make friends with him. hes everyones spirit inside this story. he is one of hell of a representation: he can judge, yell, put some sense into other peoples minds, act even more senseless and tell truths without caring for the consequences (and then crying when faced with the punishment of headstands). and the best part of all: he is, oddly, a lan! i love him! best boy ever (alright, perhaps after lan sizhui, but i relate to jingyi harder).

put him in a modern school. can you disagree with me that he would be the one student lurking in the far away desks acting all angelic when the teacher comes close only to act like a little devil, screaming, laughing loudly and hiding food in his backpack during activities? can you disagree with me that he would be the one to run and jump like a maniac when its time for p.e class and sleep out of boredom when the teacher starts explaining serious stuff? can you disagree with me he would pretend to enact the rules only to receive bad grades and pull the most stupid facades to hide it from his parents?

in some ways, he does have similarities with wei wuxian. but wei wuxian is a genius who wouldnt even go to class when he didnt want to, sleep instead of play-pretend and even so receive the best grades ever, annoying everyone. theres this difference. but lan jingyi isnt a genius, he is just one of us. and i love him for it.

4. wen qing, my beautiful doctor

wen qing, my beloved, you didnt deserve that backlash.... this woman deserved to have a happy family, alright. she deserved a little bit of happiness! she deserved to have her brother with her! she deserved to be well and to not have suffered so badly just because of her surname. if there is one thing i agree with (and i dont remember exactly who said it, but it was from twitter), is that the girls from mdzs are underrated, underappreciated and deserved tons more love. but anyway, let us mention wen qing!

this woman protected wei wuxian and jiang cheng, did a procedure to give jiang cheng a golden core, never killed anyone, ran from fighting in the war against innocent people because she does not share these wicked principles, and still ended up watching her family get tortured, his brother dead and was burned alive. the sheer cruelty of what they put her (and them) through is unbelievable. i wanted her to have a lovely family and to continue being a great friend to wei wuxian, seriously, they were such a great duo. i cannot get tired of aus in which they are rommates or something! she is usually sarcastic, fierce, bossy and so responsible. how could someone not like her?

5. a-qing, the girl who went to her limits and beyond

this girl went over the limits of heaven and hell, in fact. i love her determination and how clever she is! look at how long she managed to trick xue yang! who else who could that? i believe not even wei wuxian could have topped it. she deserved to continue living within that world with xiao xingchen. i also cannot avoid to point out that she was not a cultivator. she was a simple girl, left to struggle in the streets, who still achieved what she achieved. she lived with an esteemed rogue cultivator, manipulated one of the most essential antagonists, returned as a ghost to protect people from this specific antagonist, used a lot of her spiritual strenght to show wei wuxian the truth, continued to give wei wuxian and hanguang-jun directions to find xue yang, and received many support, compliments and faith from the main group of our story.

personally, i cannot think of another female character in the story who did more than her. wen qing did a lot, sure, but she came from a big sect. jiang yanli too. mianmian was a cultivator too. a-qing was not, and nonetheless, this girl rocks! unbelievable. if i went through what she did, i would have lost all will to persist long ago. that is another thing mdzs brought me: the perspective that, even when you are kind and did nothing wrong, you might still have tragedies happen to you. people will die anyway. including you. kindness is important, and sometimes it may save you, but sometimes it may also cause you harm. are you strong enough to have all the kindness and all that tragedy and still endure?

because a-qing, wei wuxian and so many of them did.

well, now onto my favorite parts from the novel! i will try and make this quicker. haha, lets go.

when wei wuxian and lan wangji were stuck (stuck? not actually, i believe, wei wuxian caused it) in that farm and our main character just simply laid on top of lan wangji. and he still dared... to call himself.... not a cut-sleeve. yeah, sure, bro, no homo and all that. and thats definitely not a boner beneath your clothes, huh.

when wei wuxian starts falling real hard and he wonders if he will ever be able to sleep in a bed without lan wangji again, and later on after they have sex, he f i n a l l y realizes that there is no wei wuxian without lan wangji. in a dramatic mood, even. like, seriously, dude?? what a way to pine, but ok. go get your man or something, we all waiting for it.

every extra. i just... love every bit from the extra.

in the scene where lan wangji is drunk and they start playing hide-and-seek. and lan wangji just hides himself behind smth. and shows only a bit of his face. he nods, pouts, begs with his face to continue. i died right there.

the confession. the confession. the tear. the confession. the shock from everyone else. the 'hug me tighter!' after. the confession. the hug. THE CONFESSION.

hahaha i admit it, for me everything is about them. is it not about them? you cannot tell me otherwise. i love wangxian with all my heart. also, your asks are all lovely, i love them, feel free to always send whatever you want :) hope you have a great day and week ahead of you.

[jamsmemes]

( * BOOK PROMPTS !

the girl with the louding voice - abi daré.

❛  i taste the salt of my tears at the memory of it all. ❜

❛  you know how this is a good thing for your family.  ❜

❛  i don’t want to just be having any kind voice. i want a louding voice.  ❜

❛  think how you been suffering since your mama.  ❜

❛ i know it is not what you want.  ❜

❛  think of how your family will be better because of it.  ❜

❛  you will suffer in this house.  ❜

❛  she will tell you that i am a wicked woman.  that my madness is not having cure. ❜

❛  i cannot remember much of what happened to me last night.  ❜

❛  i was too afraid of having a baby so quick, afraid of falling sick from the load of it.  ❜

❛  when i held her in my hands for the first time, my heart was full of so much love.  ❜

❛  my children make me laugh when i am not even thinking to laugh.  ❜

❛  children are joy. real joy.  ❜

❛  this is what i have been wanting all my life, to leave this place and see what the world outside is looking like.  ❜

❛  i hang my head down, feeling a thick, heavy cloth as it is covering me. the thick cloth of shame, of sorrow, of heart pain. ❜

❛  if she wants to dance, she should go to a bloody nightclub.  ❜

❛  god has given you all you need to be great, and it sits right there inside of you.  ❜

❛  you believe, i know you do.  ❜

❛  you just need to hold onto that belief and never let go.  ❜

❛  when you get up every day, i want you to remind yourself that tomorrow will be better than today. that you are a person of value. that you are important. ❜

❛  i wasn’t born into wealth. i have worked hard for my success. i fought for it.  ❜

❛  if you want to be like me in business, you will have to work very hard.  ❜

❛ never, ever give up on your dreams. do you understand? ❜

❛ you are me. i am you.  ❜

❛  there are words in my head, many things i want to say.  ❜

❛  i want to live in this life and help many people so that when i grow old and die, i will still be living through the people i am helping. ❜

❛  we can all be understanding each other if we just take the time to listen well.  ❜

❛  you must do good for other people, even if you are not well, even if the whole world around you is not well.  ❜

❛  who knows what else tomorrow will bring? ❜

❛  the future is always working, always busy unfolding better things, and even if it doesn’t seem so sometimes, we have hope of it.  ❜

❛  i want to shout at the night and tell it to never become a tomorrow.  ❜

❛  rich people have plenty brain problems.  ❜

❛  my chest feels full of birds flapping their wings inside of it.  ❜

❛  tomorrow will come. nothing i can do about that.  ❜

❛  get up. you are needed.  ❜

❛  sometimes even the strongest of people can suffer a weakness.  ❜

❛  anybody can learn.  ❜

❛  sometimes i wish i can just believe for a good life and it will magic and happen for me, just like that.  ❜

❛  it will all make sense one day. one day, things will get better.  ❜

❛  you’ve been through so much, so bloody much, and yet you always have a smile, you cheeky thing, you always have a damn smile on your face.  ❜

❛  i felt a fraction of what you had to endure for months.  ❜

❛  all this bullshit happening to me, that’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. nothing.  ❜

❛ if you can pull it off, then kudos to you.  ❜

❛  who knows, maybe someone will talk about you too one day. you know, as part of history.  ❜

[rapha-reads]

To those of you wondering (aka no one), I finished both The Vampire Armand and Merrick and I have a lot of thoughts and feels. I'm skipping Blood and Gold for now to go directly to Blackwood Farm (I'll read B&G later), but first I'm going to read something else, just to take a break.

TVA thoughts: man, Armand is messed up. And extremely compelling. But so messed up. As always, the theme of faith crisis, which seriously reaches new heights with these bitchy vampires, is not something I can fully immerse myself in, but it was fascinating to see his numerous metamorphosis. I liked how he bridges Western and Eastern Christianisme, especially through art. Now I'm thinking that if Rolin Jones makes him originally Muslim in the show, that could expand even more the conversation on how faith, and especially Abrahamic faith, has been in conversation for thousands of years and could be such a rich, diverse and spiritual, intellectual and artistic theme. I can already imagine some fascinating discussions comparing (not in a superior way but in a complementary way) coming from Muslim faith to Roman Catholic faith, the way book!Armand talks about the richness of his life in Kiev Rus despite the poverty and ascetism, and the richness of his life in Venecia despite the luxury and abundance.

As for Benamin and Sybille... I don't have much thoughts about them. Sybille is one of those female characters AR seemingly favors, not so much human as a nymph or a dryad, "perfectly splendid". And Benji is a caricature of an Arab child. Nuance? 401 not found.

Merrick thoughts: David for the love if everything, shut. The. Fuck. Up. Holy moly. I like David, I do, but damn the entire recollection of his history with Merrick was looooooong. I'm here to see Louis haunted by Claudia and haunting Lestat's coma, not how hard you're pining for the kid you practically raised! Also. ALSO. You're just going to leave that whole thing with the Olmec or possibly another more ancient Mesoamerican civilisation without ever giving us more? That was the most interesting part of it all! The vodoo history, the connection between Louisiana and Caribbean vodoo and old Native South-American religions! More about this, less about Merrick's perfect breasts, I am begging you. (It is at this point that the reader of this post realises OP is 100% definitely ace and more interested in books and witchcraft than breasts and whether a 70yo man can still get it up - also, hey, Anne Rice's vampires are practically asexual and their lust and pleasure is mostly derivated from blood, with some notable exceptions like Armand and Marius, and a love relationship between two vampires is then based on romantic love and blood sharing, so can I hear a hell yeah for some ace representation or are we still conflating eroticism with sex)

Another thing I kept thinking about throughout the book is how Louis is perceived by his fellow vampires. Since basically the second book, since we've lost his own POV, everybody who's ever said anything about him (so Lestat, Armand and David) have insisted on two points: how very weak and meek Louis is, and also how irresistible, beautiful and charming. Granted, I've known Louis first through his portrayal on the show (hi Jacob you're so fiiiiiiine), and then through his own narration in the first book, but I've never had the impression that he was weak. Beautiful and seductive, yes. Weak? I see a human man going through tragedies and still enduring, going through vampiric transformation and then suffering for decades the loss of his humanity, struggling with reconciliating both sides of himself, but mostly I see a vampire who rebuilt himself after losing everything without sacrificing his sense of self. I see Louis as very strong actually (up to the point where resilience breaks, because resilience cannot be sustained on a long term, but that's another debate). He knows who he is, and don't you know how hard that is? He doesn't cling to faith or pride. He knows he's doomed, he knows he's monstrous, he knows there's nothing he can do to change that, and instead of railing against his fate, he goes on about his undead life. He gets his books and he reads them, he surrounds himself with literature and what little comforts he thinks in his shattered self-esteem he deserves (his ragged sweaters and soft trousers); let's not lie to ourselves tho, Louis doesn't like himself, or more exactly he doesn't care about his corporeal body - what matters to him is his mind, and once again, this author is extremely ace and also very aro and very nonbinary, so Louis to me is very much ace and agender coded, though really not aro, because his love for Lestat (and sometimes his fondness, shall we say, for Armand) is the only thing that can rouse him up from his literary slumber.

...

Oh, man, I have a lot to say about Louis, for how little he appears in the books so far. Still have BF, BC and the PL trilogy to devour. So I guess you can say, for as much as Lestat is occupying my entire brain, very much like him, my favorite is Louis? Yeah, that tracks. Melancholy, quiet, dark-haired green-eyed monster with more humanity than humans, preferring his solitude and the company of books to anyone else, hopelessly and helplessly devoted to one person, expert in brooding and grieving, literature specialist, not very attached to his physical self. Yeah. I'm not surprised.

[vashtijoy]

maruki, ren, wakaba: history rhymes

Maruki's journal entries cover an almost three-year period, from 2014/04/09 to 2017/01/01. This overlaps with almost the entirety of canon; Akechi begins working for Shido "two and a half years" before 11/21 (that's 2014/05/21)—which, again, is not too far from this 04/09 date; if you want to hypothesise that he, too, awakens around 2014/04/09, go wild.

Why is 4/9 a significant date for Maruki?

4/9: maruki and joker connect to their personas

According to his journal, Maruki's awakening is a painful, drawn-out process. In February 2014, he's already getting headaches. They worsen until August of that year, when he partially awakens.

His start of darkness is, of course, the murder of his girlfriend Rumi's parents. The killer then attacks Rumi while making his escape, and Maruki is powerless to prevent it. She never recovers, and neither does he:

Apr. 9   I just can't believe what's happened. I'll never see Rumi's parents again... I don't even know if Rumi will ever come back to me. Her heart's been completely closed off ever since that day. Why did this happen? What did Rumi do to deserve this?   Do we really have to just go on suffering these consequences? My headaches are getting worse— I'm even starting to hear things. Am I having some kind of breakdown? I can't lose it... I have to do something to help Rumi. No matter what it takes.

But 2014/04/09 is the first day he feels able to journal about the murder. "I'm starting to hear things," he says; this is likely the first day he hears the voice of his persona. It's also the date he commits to help Rumi "no matter what it takes".

... However. This is also two years to the day before Joker stops at Shibuya Crossing, gets the Meta-Nav from Yaldabaoth—who is lurking far beneath the Crossing—inadvertently enters the Metaverse, and sees his own shadow and the suggestion of the persona it will become:

He is a scary boy when he wants to be, huh? I bet his Palace would have been amazing. Note that Joker, here, will also not awaken right away—but he's seen his persona, his shadow-as-is, for the first time.

8/21: maruki's partial awakening and wakaba's murder

(@notcoolnickname points out that Wakaba dies on 8/21, not 8/22—thanks! I think we can push Maruki's awakening back two days rather than one, so I'm gonna, lol. Because even if it's a day out, or two, this is really too close for coincidence.)

On 2014/08/23, Maruki writes about his visit to Rumi in the hospital. We also see that visit. He talks about "someone" he's recently met who thinks his research has promise, who wants to fund it—well, it's no surprise he loses that funding, put it like that. He talks about how he wants to save the whole world, by changing the cognition of criminals before they act.

Rumi does not take this well; she begs him to help her forget. And he realises that what she needs is not a solution to crime, but to her trauma—and so does everyone else.

This is when he awakens.

He begs Azathoth to help him save Rumi. And Rumi forgets him entirely—almost. But she's forgotten her trauma, as well:

Aug. 23   I still can't figure out what that voice was in Rumi's room. Was it my subconscious? Was it... it feels so strange writing this as a scientist, but... was it some kind of godlike being?

The entry's dated 8/23, but he says he still can't figure it out. So when did the events in the video happen? Were they two days before, by any chance?

What else happens not just on 8/21, but around or on this exact day?

Yeah. On 8/22, Sae places Wakaba's murder "two years ago". The day before, on 8/21, Sojiro commemorates the anniversary of Wakaba's death.

That's to say: if that visit to Rumi was on 8/21, then Wakaba was murdered the day Maruki awakened. The same exact day, or as good as. Like, what the fuck, y'all?

It seems really clear to me that these corresponding dates are either a thematic or narrative link back to Yaldabaoth—who, of course, causes both Joker and Akechi to awaken. Is he involved with Maruki, somehow? Does he have his fingers in more than one pie? Or are all these guys just narratively echoing each other?

Maruki, of course, will ultimately replace Yaldabaoth in Mementos.

other correspondences in the timeline

What else is there? Well, Maruki's first journal entry, when he talks about his headaches, is on 2014/02/02—three years before he meets with Joker and Akechi at Leblanc. But he says he's meeting Rumi's parents "tomorrow". So his 2/3 boss fight is on the three-year anniversary of his first meeting with Rumi's parents.

His entry about his research being shut down, and his need for test subjects—presumably what leads him into counselling?—is on 2015/06/03. Well, 6/3 is the calling card deadline for Madarame's Palace; I don't think that is too significant. But note that, in this 2015 entry, his research has been shut down; in August 2014, when Wakaba was murdered, Shido was still offering Maruki funding.

So why didn't Shido murder Maruki? The answer is that Shido was still actively recruiting Metaverse researchers, even after Akechi was working for him. Something about Maruki made him unusable—his good intentions and general incorruptibility, maybe—but not dangerous; maybe he just didn't know enough. Also note here that Akechi doesn't know there's anything special about Maruki until the third semester.

He journals that he met Yoshizawa and changed her cognition on 3/25—a couple of weeks before canon begins on 4/9. So whenever we see him, whenever he has a counselling session, he's able to connect with, and change, the cognition of the person he meets....

Lastly, he doesn't journal that "I've finally done it... reality and the cognitive world are merging" until 1/1. 1/1 is the day reality starts to go properly squiffy (the shrine is empty, Morgana is missing, Futaba mentions her mom), and it's the day after that odd New Year party, when everyone seems just a little too happy. Joker's dream is on the night of 12/31—Maruki doesn't send him the dream, I think (Joker is in his prison clothes and sees Lavenza as the butterfly) but he talks to him in it.

But Akechi is there in Shibuya on 12/24, barely moments after Maruki gains Yaldabaoth's power; just hours after the blood rain. The first gift Maruki gave with his new power, I always thought. But he seems to only become aware of what he can do after 12/24. We skip from 12/25 to 12/30, so anything could have happened in the meantime....

But what's going on here? Something odd, that's for sure. Is it possible—just possible—that that Akechi we see, on 12/24, who steps forward in Shibuya and turns himself in, is not the one Maruki interferes with or otherwise brings back, but the actual, living Akechi who was there all along?

[literarybaby]

challengers inspired rp plots!

hi everyone! i am not sure if i am alone in this but i have been having deep, deep challengers brainrot. so i thought i would take the opportunity to share some tennis-themed/challengers-inspired plot bunnies with you. with a couple of these, i’ve had the absolute pleasure of playing out or at least, brainstorming with some of my current writing partners.

all titles are from the soundtrack - ty trent r & divider is by @cafekitsune

some of these have more darker and mature themes, but can be adapted to work at any level. all of these can be adapted to work with any pairing as well. and probably sport — if you squint. 

if you’re interested, feel free to reach out about any of these if you'd like to write together.

also feel free to take them and make them your own! enjoy!

𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘

muse a is a young rising star in tennis (think tashi in the first half of the movie). they are on everyone’s radar as the one to go down in history and join the ranks of the past greats. adidas already has them in a campaign. and soon, they’re probably going to turn their whole family into millionaires. however, during a game, they suffer a traumatic and freak injury which looks like it will derail their entire career. muse a is devastated as everything they’ve ever wanted or worked for will come to an end. enter muse b — an older, successful surgeon — who decides to help a depressed and lost muse a. fixing broken body parts is part of their job and they are able to do so easily. even kinder, they support muse a through their recovery and physical therapy. unbeknownst to muse a and everyone in their lives, muse b has been grooming them — giving them treatment beyond what a medical professional should offer. this leads to muse a entering into a relationship with muse b where the power dynamic is totally whack. with muse a recovering and being back on their game, they feel they totally owe it all to muse b’s god hands and want to pay them back with any means necessary. 

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 / 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

muse a and muse b are the perfect tennis doubles tennis partners. so much so, they have corny nicknames like fire and ice. they are best friends, practice partners, and have long shared history. optional: muse a can be more a technically perfect player and muse b is pure, raw talent. unbeknownst to muse b, muse a has been hopelessly in love with them the entire time but is in the closet/in denial. when muse b starts to cluelessly date someone (optional: muse c if you want mumu), muse a is jealous and their friendship slowly starts to deteriorate with muse b frustrated and confused why this is happening. skip a few years, muse a and muse b find themselves on opposite sides of the net as the biggest rivals in tennis. years of resentment, avoidance, and pressure have culminated in this moment. should they repair their relationship? will they ever talk about it? maybe there’s still a chance or will someone end up hurt again?

𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐗 𝟏𝟎

muse a is an older and seasoned tennis veteran. truthfully, they aren’t as good as they used to be and are on the verge of retirement. they decide that this tournament(possibly set at wimbledon?)will be their last and they’ll retire after regardless of the outcome. but during, they meet the young muse b — someone spunky and maybe they have a bad temper like john mcenroe — but they’re not like anyone else muse a has ever met. they challenge them. they intrigue them. however, this romance comes at the worst time as muse b desperately wants to win the tournament and this is a bit of a distraction. so should muse a and muse b embrace the distraction and get caught up in the whirlwind of things, despite knowing love means absolutely nothing in tennis. 

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑

muse a is a down-on-their-luck tennis player. they’re definitely not a ranked player or really famous at all, but this is all they know. they’re still good, and believe they have in them to win a grand slam or a major tournament, despite their age and more importantly, their financial situation. sometimes they are sleeping in their car if they can’t afford a motel on tour, but sometimes, they get even more desperate — which is how they found muse b, on tinder, swiping right on literally everyone until they get a match. muse b thinks they’re going on a date with a professional athlete but little do they know, muse a is flat broke and is only with them for a hot meal and a warm bed. should muse b figure this out? or maybe as they go on the date, both muses feel a connection — does that mean muse a will come clean with their intentions? or will muse b be saddled with supporting muse a’s broke ass? 

𝐋’𝐎𝐄𝐔𝐅

muse a is a young and naive tennis player from a small town/country. they come from a nice, wholesome family. being a professional athlete was sort of by chance too, so they have absolutely know idea how to navigate the pressurized world of fame and fortune. fortunatelyor unfortunately, they get help from muse b — a cut-throat, smart, and cunning sports agent. muse b is able to set muse a up with an fancy apartment, good sponsorship deals, hefty contracts, and soon become the voice of reason for muse a. muse b is determined to guide muse a to the big star lights and away from their country mouse past. it gets to the point where muse a can’t do anything without muse b. will muse a ever get away from muse b? or will muse b abuse their power? could involve isolating them from their family, controlling their spending, and even baby-trapping them.

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐑

muse a is retired professional tennis player and decides become a instructor at a fancy, schmancy country club. they decided to take this job not because for the love of the sport, but to further themselves as the club is crawling with unsuspecting rich people with good connections just waiting to be made. muse a meets muse b, a naive, rich kid who takes tennis lessons. they get on really well and decide to bring muse a to meet their family. through a series of carefully crafted lies, muse a and b get closer and closer until they’re in a relationship. muse b starts asking their parents to get muse a better job, better clothes, and ultimately, a better life. but what happens when someone or something from muse a’s past comes rearing its ugly head and threatens to expose and break this carefully plotted dream life? does muse a confess to muse b, or does muse b dump them? or is muse a crazy enough to keep lying to keep muse b and their perfect new life theirs for good?

"𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖"

muse a is a professional tennis player who seems like they have the perfect life. they’re winning, rich, have a partner who is possibly their coach, and even a child. little does everyone know, it’s not all roses on the inside. their partner is cheating on them and it’s really throwing off all the other parts of their life — especially their game. so they decide to cheat too, with muse b — someone who isn’t part of this crazy tennis world. immediately, it’s steamy and exciting having an affair. it really jumpstarts muse a’s attitude and they start winning again. when muse a’s partner (could even be a muse c) finds out, they could hardly care less and is happy that something is finally getting muse a motivated again. but muse b isn’t satisfied with just being a secret, not when they play such a pivotal role in muse a’s life. maybe they decide to expose muse a and their partner? or maybe they threaten to leave? or maybe they try to navigate this as a threesome?

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐓

muse a is a successful, professional tennis player. they’re winning tournaments. they’re living their best life on the ATP/WTA tour. being on the road is great but is a bit lonely sometimes despite all the cool sponsorship parties and galas. dating is too hard too, as it’s difficult to stay connected within all these time zones and from all these far away places. instead, they use an expensive celebrity escort service and meet muse b. muse b can quell the sting of loneliness on the road and it’s low commitment — only calling them up when they’re in town. however, this last time leads to muse b getting pregnant accidentally. now muse a has to decide if they want to step up to the plate and be a parent, and if they do, how do they explain how they met their partner to the press?bonus points ifmuse bhas slept with other tennis players and their services are not a well-kept secret.

[ecosystem-administrator]

Stamp

Timeline: Early 5.0, spoilers for HW character death and in-character speculation on the identity of the Crystal Exarch

When they confessed their feelings for each other after the liberation of Ala Mhigo, Mayhem promised to write letters to Aymeric as they traveled. This is the first such letter, delivered via pixie from another world.

To the handsome, generous, charming, patient, and ever-so-gallant Lord Speaker of Ishgard,

You asked me to write you of my travels when we confessed our feelings for each other, and while I don’t know if this was exactly the kind of travels you were thinking of at the time, I have found someone who claims they can deliver these letters all the way to the Source. So here I am, writing to you. It’s more difficult than I expected to think of what to say, honestly. Writing to Haurchefant was just an excuse of sorts, a way of keeping some kind of connection alive, pretending he was still there to listen while I learned to cope with a world where he never would be again. The dead don’t judge your words, and the practice turned itself into a journal pretty quickly if I’m honest. But you…if I say the wrong thing, you’re there to be hurt, or worried. I’m not used to considering whether people worry over me. It’s new, so…please be patient with me if I make some mistakes. This is a strange and beautiful land. I arrived in a forest of lavender-pink trees, under a sky that glowed with roiling golden light from one horizon to the other. Soon enough, I learned the terrible truth of this: the light in the sky is unending, unchanging. It’s a world that has known no night or stars for a hundred years, suffering under a surfeit of light aether. Stranger still, the Crystal Tower is here as it is in Mor Dhona, and indeed I’m writing to you from a room in a building near the base of it. They’ve built up a whole settlement of people who came together after the world was nearly destroyed by surging waves of light, working hand in hand to rebuild a functional society. It’s all rather inspiring. Their leader is the one who called me here, a man they call the Crystal Exarch, perhaps due to the crystallization of parts of his body: one hand is fully composed of living crystal the same color as the Crystal Tower, and more seems to be creeping up his neck. However he came by it, it’s clear his connection to the Tower is profound indeed. He apologized for the abruptness of his means of calling for our attention, and for the stealing away of the Scions. Apparently the spell meant to contact me was of his own creation and needed a few attempts at refining, and I can well imagine that few have ever come by the knowledge and power needed to reach across the rift between worlds. Despite everything, he seems quite reasonable, and his people are happy. Besides…there’s something I noticed that I haven’t told anyone else yet. I don’t know if I’m right, but… The thing is, he’s just a little bit shorter than I am. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m pretty short as male-born Miqo’te go, and we’re shorter on the whole than Hyur or just about any other race aside from Lalafells, which he is assuredly not. There is one Miqo’te man I met in the past who was about the same height, though…a scholar and expert on Allagan history, who collaborated on an expedition into the Crystal Tower in our world, and upon gaining a deeper connection to it, locked himself inside it to seal its power away. I don’t know how he could have gotten here. The Crystal Tower and its Exarch arrived on this world shortly after the Flood of Light, so they say, nearly a hundred years ago. Even if time flows differently here, I don’t understand how any of it’s possible, but it’s just too much of a coincidence to ignore. And…I liked that young scholar, quite a lot, when I knew him. So I’m going to take an inadvisable risk and try trusting this man, for the time being. I guess I’m probably not doing as well as I hoped at avoiding worrying you. Other things not to worry about: any weird dreams you might have before receiving this letter. I’m given to understand that the pixie (I hope I spelled that right) who has volunteered to help me transfer objects between worlds travels via dream, and they seem a bit mischievous. It’s probably better just to disregard any strangeness and not think too hard on it.

I love you so very much, and I promise I’ll write more soon,

Mayhem Moondrop

[asetoblog]

You know, Final Fantasy 7 is one of my favourite games ever (my top favs are HZD/HFW, all games involving FF7 and - although it's getting worse - Dragon Age) and I would like to write about something that doesn't sit right with me.

Warning: this post is a Sephiroth apology‼️🌸

So, remember the end of FF7 Remake, where Cloud & Co get to the end of the Midgar highway and they meet Sephiroth? In that exact moment, Aerith tells him "you're wrong", marking the word "wrong". She doesn't mean he's wrong about something, she literally means his whole existence is wrong and he shouldn't have been there or anywhere else in the first place.

Now, that remark rubbed me the wrong way, because Aerith is the only character connected to the Planet in this story and she's supposed to be very empathetic of what and how people suffer. She also lived in the Shinra building during her childhood and she hated it, she perfectly knows how things work there and she loathes - rightfully so - professor Hojo, because she knows what an unscrupulous and ruthless man he is. This would mean she met a younger Sephiroth at some point, and yeah she was still a child, but she must've noticed he was a kind and actually very submissive guy (maybe I'll get to this later???). I think she knows he too was subjected to experiments, just like she was, but this doesn't seem to bother her and she goes straight to saying something on the line of "you shouldn't exist".

In another moment in FF7 Rebirth, you can get a dialogue with Tifa in which she tells you she is "sick of Sephiroth cruelty [...]" and so on. Now, I agree with her, all she got from Sephiroth was her dad's death, wouldn't you be fucking pissed at him and hate him and want him dead? Yeah.

Thing is, I agree with Tifa and disagree with Aerith, but all of this makes me wonder: have they thought what a horrible and traumatic life Sephiroth had until that point?

Sephiroth:

-was born an experiment

-was taken away from his own mother, never met her

-doesn't even know his father

-as a child, he's shy and submissive, never gets any friends, he thus grows up lonely

-he spends most of his life in Hojo's lab, among Mako energy, needles and treatments

-no one ever showed him affection nor love, he was simply raised like a weapon in the hands of the most powerful corporation of the world

-his only two friends, as an adult, abandoned him

-one of his two best friends tells him the truth about him without the hint of some tact, he also calls him "monster" not knowing he's feeding the "insane gene" (let's call it that) in him

-the only new friend he gets, a recruit, jumps straight to conclusions instead of trying to help him

-he always said he wanted a "normale life" and he was forced into that. He also was one step away from leaving Shinra before the accident of Nibelheim happened

There's actually more to point out, but let's just take a step back and think about how an entire life of traumas, deprivation and loneliness can drive a person wild and cause Personality Disorders, Depression and Psychosis. I'm honestly surprised he even endured so much for so long and that would mean he'd be ok if only someone really cared for him and didn't see him as a "hero", a "star" or someone unreachable. His snapping point was reading all the history of Gast and Hojo's experiments and learning more about Jenova. That, sadly, adds up to the trauma he has to face and he even cries about it, meaning he was definitely still (emotionally) sane. Perhaps, it would have taken only one word of comfort but not even Zack was there for him, instead he acted a little harsh, in my opinion.

By this I don't mean things had to go differently, because otherwise I wouldn't have had one of my favourite stories out there, I'm just trying to point out how deplorable Aerith's comment sounds, especially knowing she's so caring and empathetic. I just don't like tha fact that such a dialogue line was written, but at the end I am but a humble Sephiroth apologist.

"You're wrong". No, Sephiroth is not wrong, all the people who surrounded him were.

[thegeminisage]

oh, it's also finally time for the official ds9 character ranking as of the end of s1. i'm not doing minor characters yet (jake, nog, garak, keiko) since they haven't had any major stuff going on and idk if they ever will. rankings in the future may be different.

odo - whatever autistic swag he has going on has charmed and bewitched me. i'm so easy i love little guys that don't get humanity. he seems like the natural choice after spock and data i should have known this would happen. every single thing i learn about him makes me more insane. also, he's so dour and gruff that he is just BEGGING to be given an arc where he gets a child or a love interest or whoever who gets to be the only one able to lighten him up at all. and i know about him getting with kira so i am just sitting here like. PLEASE let that be good. please.

kira - ALL OF HER SCENES ARE SO GOOD. i liked her from the beginning but they have done NOTHING but feed me ever since the pilot. her conflict, or rather, lack of conflict, now that the war is over, is so fucking good. who even is she now that she's not the underdog? how do you just move on once the war is over? she's such a good actress too, she smiles when she's angry and she can cry on cue. you can feel the weight of her history every single time she's on screen, she's fantastic

sisko - the only reason he didn't tie with kira is because we haven't seen as much sisko-centric stuff yet. i thought his intro in the pilot was INSANELY good, it blew my mind, and i couldn't wait to see where he went from there...but then he didn't go anywhere else. that said, i do love that he always backs up his people, especially kira and odo since they're not federation. also i LOVE what a good dad he is and his extremely wholesome jokes about that time he and dax fucked twins or whatever.

bashir - i love to laugh at this guy. he is SO good comedically and i don't know why i didn't expect him to be the comedy character but he is. i know he has some deeper stuff later and i CANNOT WAAAAIT to see what else he is gonna have going on with garak, i'm very excited for his future. i feel like once bashir finally gets a serious storyline it's gonna hit me like a fucking truck because of how silly he is the rest of the time...my favorite cringefail loser <3

o'brien - he would have tied with bashir except again he had less stuff to do. i like him so much better in ds9 than tng and he is SOOO longsuffering but i'm still waiting to see why everyone says he suffers more than jesus on the cross. also, i fucking love his little girl. she's so cute i die. i'm never sorry to see this guy on my screen.

dax - love and light to women and people who are only currently women and genderfluid worms everywhere, so far i feel pretty uncompelled by the dax stuff. i mean, i don't dislike her or anything, but she can't hold a candle to some of the characters higher on this list. her hair is So Big that it's weird to look at but i could forgive this if she was less...buttoned up? she's always very :X except when she talks about how cool it is to be a hot woman everyone likes flirting with, which, like, GOOD for her, but i'd like to know who she is beyond that. her personality seems so fluid she doesn't have one - even sisko paints a more vivid picture of curzon dax than we get of jadzia, which is mostly a lot of blah. i absolutely believe they'll make her more interesting later they just haven't caught me yet

quark - i mean. this was inevitable. i DO like him better than i thought i would and whatever he has going on with odo is extremely fucking funny, but on his own he's not as funny as bashir and he's not got as much depth as the rest of the cast, plus there's the whole ferengi issue of them not being written well in general. he's actually such a huge improvement on all other ferengi ever though that i deeply considered giving him the #6 spot, but dax, while uncompelling, DID at least get a backstory episode that was good instead of that episode quark got that made him hold the idiot ball. so.

[bengiyo]

I can say with confidence that our collective favorite show, between you and me, is What Did You Eat Yesterday?, the GOAT BL, and an exemplary example of a slice of life drama. What are your other favorite slice of life dramas, BLs and non-BLs?

Thank you for this ask. I have been trying to stay out of a bunch of discussions about this, but it seems that people feel really strongly about how people talk about a mid-tier BL produced by the largest producer of BL content in the world, currently sold as a premium product exclusively on a Chinese streaming platform, and currently receiving almost universal acclaim from its viewership on this platform. So, since I am possibly the only person who has posted publicly how much this show doesn’t work for me, I will continue with my task and clear up some confusion I’m having with the discourse.

We Are…Struggling With Definitions

Thankfully, @lurkingshan provided a good framework to discuss what slice-of-life even means. While I am willing to accept that a strong episodic structure is not inherently required for a good slice-of-life drama, the bite-sized nature of an episode lends itself to enabling clear stories about the complexities of mundane human existence. It’s a very popular genre, especially in anime. As I said in an earlier post, this is a mature genre with a long tradition.

Most of my favorite approaches to slice-of-life are from Japan. When America does slice-of-life, you get it more as sitcoms than thoughtful dramas about everyday life. One of my favorites would probably be Midnight Diner. As Shan defined before, a good slice-of-life drama could go on forever, and in so many ways Midnight Diner has. 

I’m actually currently watching Three Star Bar in Nishi Ogikubo because Machida Keita and Fujiwara Kisetsu are in it.

We Are…Already Familiar With Slice of Life QL

We’ve actually had a few QL projects cover the slice-of-life feeling before.

You and I are both big fans of What Did You Eat Yesterday?, a show I loved so much we had to do a whole podcast episode about it.

On the lesbian side of the equation, we have the lovely She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat.

We also had Naked Dining, which I had some mixed feelings about.

There's the gay dads drama from Taiwan in Papa & Daddy.

For people who seem to struggle with non-Thai productions, there’s also Ingredients with everyone’s favorite singer Jeff Satur.

Besides, I argue firmly that Tadaima, Okaeri is the only true slice-of-life BL airing right now. It’s the married gay dads show we’ve been asking forever to get, and it’s even in the omegaverse!

We Are…Possibly Suffering From Recency Bias

It’s surprising for me how hard everyone has fallen for this show, considering the long history of reactions to New Siwaj’s work. He’s been in the genre for over a decade.

I am intimately familiar with this man’s work, and have been a Make It Right Apologist for years. I’ve been with this man since I got into the genre. This isn’t even his first attempt at 16 episodes about boys in college.

Everyone else watched My Engineer at the time, but I watched EN of Love and was not surprised when Love Mechanics got its own full series afterwards. I’ve been with this man working through gay angst in Make it Right, examining intergenerational queer trauma in Until We Meet Again,  fumbling through Between Us, trying for something in Dear Doctor I’m Coming For Soul, hustling in Even Sun, still crying with him over Love of Siam (2007) in My Only 12%, and squandering everyone’s time in Absolute Zero. 

It’s kinda baffling to me that I’m catching strays over not liking New Siwaj works in 2024. It feels weird that the show I’m getting heat over not liking is the least-queer thing I think he’s ever made. I don’t know what that says about current BL tastes. I will say this plainly every time: Queer Truth is Non-Negotiable For Me In a Genre About Boys Kissing Each Other. If that statement bothers you, please swerve on.

We Are…Not the Only Examples of Queer Fun

While we’re here, I wanna talk about how there really is a whole gay world outside of BL. I feel very strongly that Western viewers are extremely rude and often racist when it comes to their disdain of BL. However, there is all kinds of fun to be had in queer cinema if you can handle projects made more than a few years ago. 

If you want silly fun, you can always go to TLA Releasing. They funded an entire gay parody of the American Pie franchise. They’re great for the types who want to see pretty people smile at each other and have sexy times. 

If you’re in the mood for something a bit more serious and heartfelt, you can dip by Strand Releasing. They have one of the best coming-of-age queer films I’ve ever seen. They also picked up a really melancholy Japanese film called Egoist. 

My favorite studio, who shows up repeatedly on my BL Syllabus is Wolfe Releasing. They have my all-time favorite Big Eden (2000), and many others. 

My point is that there is a huge world of queer media out there well beyond the latest mid-tier BL from GMMTV designed to keep the boys working. We also don’t need to argue that some of their shows are more queer than they actually are, especially when Cooking Crush is right there.

Thanks for the ask!

[queenlua]

ugh religion/politics venting

* today i read the latest in the depressingly long series of incidents in the saga of, "the Southern Baptist Convention simping for the goddamn child molesters/enablers in their own church." i know i'm phrasing that in the maximally inflammatory way; i don't care. it's not like there's a whole fucking gross awful history here or anything

anyway i have felt bizarrely emotional about it, for someone who left that church over a decade ago and has no strong attachment to it otherwise. i guess it's like, i read that article and thought to myself "jfc, where are people even going nowadays, like, if your church's senior leadership sucks that much you gotta leave, right." and i was sort of tempted to call up some of my old church-y friends and ask "ok where are you going now," but... (1) hahaha a lot of my church-y friends left all churches whatsoever a long time ago, and (2) the ones who remain, like, i'm not close enough to them to ask, right? if i called them and randomly asked them intrusive questions about their Religious Organization Feelings, they would peg me as the obnoxious chick who left to go become a coastal liberal elite and now is being a dick to them. and i mean i wouldn't be trying to be a dick but i would be being awfully nosy and presumptuous, right

anyway, my wondering about that sent me down a whole rabbithole of "which congregations are actually growing in the US nowadays anyway," and while it's gratifying to see that the SBC shrinking, i don't exactly love the growth of pentecostalism in its place, right, seeing as "pentecostal brainworms" is at least partially responsible for like 50% of my trans friends getting kicked to the fucking curb by their parents the second they Deviated From The Script. so, y'know, fuck that

i did learn that the "free will baptist" denomination skews surprisingly young and, wow, what a kickass name for a denomination. i know nothing else about them but i hope they're as cool as the image in my head

...anyway, all that idle research didn't really do much to assuage how fucking weirdly furious i am over the SBC. like, i sincerely think the SBC mostly sucks and hasn't been redeemable pretty much ever, but it was also a cultural juggernaut in my youth, and one sort of hopes one's cultural juggernauts might find some way to reform into something humane, or at least fade away with grace. it's somehow secondhand humiliating and depressing to see it devolve into what i knew was always there at its core: gross old men power-tripping and protecting their own and never never never coming down on the side of anything that felt good and right in my heart of hearts

* unrelated but since i'm being unvirtuous and Politicsing On Main anyway:

every goddamn thing i've read out of netanyahu's mouth makes me want to punch his stupid face in until his skin is paste and the paste is mush and the mush is fine little bits of organic matter to feed the soil. and still the dude will not have suffered enough. not to be former-southern-baptist or anything but: i hope keeping your precious status & deliberately inflaming the most brainpoisoned rightoids in your nation & all that other shit is worth the fires of hell that await you after buddy!!!!

i don't have a Sophisticated Take on the israel/gaza stuff, but. at the end of the day i have cultivated a caveman's sense of morality, as a reaction to my tendency to over-intellectualize, and that caveman's sense of morality imo has served me pretty well, for instance: when The Big Guy is beating the everloving shit out of The Small Guy, the thing that is happening is fucked and i don't care who started it, it's gotta stop well before, i dunno, "bombing the shit out of a bunch of kids" for fucking starters. this works for an awful lot of Big Guy vs Small Guy scenarios. try it sometime

(i hate that i even remotely feel the urge to caveat it this way but to be clear: bibi & his homicidal campaign != judaism. judsaism rules, antisemitism is bullshit. but no more fucking more kids dying in a stupid campaign, ceasefirenow etc)

[dingodad]

I like your ants a whole lot. Does Rimiduo as a planet/colony still exist? The Grazigazi were relocated to Gracilia, was there a specific reason THEY were the ant race that was moved instead of the other ant races? Was there just more loyalty to the empire in that group or were there maybe cultural factors/demographics that were more compatible with the empire or Gracilia? How different are Grazigazi from the other Rimiduot races? Do the others have Gamos or Polis or Drupes?!?

Plus from what I’ve picked out of your Gracilia tag, If I’m interpreting the info correctly there’s only confirmed references for an example member of the Wieze, Grazigazi, and Flambocca species. Where are the Frujgazi? What’s up with them! All dead? All too interbred with the Grazigazi to tell apart?? I don’t doubt the probability that it’s related to the Gracilia relocation..!

oh and I’ve got a crush on Kathlize 🐜<3

all A+ questions you have done your research well...

there is a kind of cultural narrative that when the alternian hordes descended upon rimiduo, the grazigazi lay their weapons at the trolls' feet and immediately became willing collaborators in the subjugation of their fellow rimiduot. gracilite warriors signed up to the ranks of the alternian colonial forces and earned their imperial overlords' earnest respect as highly efficient enforcers of alternian hegemony, and when it came time to establish a logging settlement on another, similar water world, the grazigazi had simply proven themselves the only right choice for the job.

whether ANY of it really happened that way, it's hard to be certain. but it's probably safe to assume that the true story involved a lot more nuance than what has found its way into folklore. if there really was an alternian-grazigazi alliance, it began and ended at the trolls' convenience; viewed as a whole, it seems unlikely that the grazigazi really suffered any less under alternian occupation than anyone else, and it's ESPECIALLY difficult to believe that the trolls ever felt like they owed any favours to any lesser races.

the trolls needed cheap labour to extract the natural resources from one of their newer colonies, and the seemingly neverending social unrest between the frujgazi and grazigazi was putting a wet blanket over the productivity of one of their old ones - one of the races had to go, with a simple handshake between colonial authorities they could kill two birds with one stone. were the gracilites really chosen because of the deal they'd made with the devil, as the version of events proliferated among the fruj dictates? or was it ultimately a coin toss? it's hard to say whether the grazigazi culture really made them better candidates, or whether their culture has been shaped over time to justify the arbitrarily-assigned atrocities of their own history. i think i'll let the audience come to their own conclusions on that one.............

as for all your other really great questions, a lot of this is still stuff i am thinking about LOL. i was going to save this ask for when i had a bit more to show but i've already gone on such a long tangent answering this one question... thank you for showing interest in the frujgazi though... i've already been cooking up an idea for some fruj content so you will just have to watch this space. for now i will just say that Rimiduo is still a highly active industrial colony, and just because they've been "left behind" doesn't mean the alternian empire doesn't have its uses for the frujgazi too...

(the main reason i haven't formally introduced any frujgaki yet is because i've spent a while figuring out how i want them to look! 2nd from left in this pic was one idea, though i also considered making them look kind of halfway between wieze and grazigazi, like the top leftmost ant in this post. when you do finally see the frujgaki you can probably expect them to look (at least to us and to trolls) pretty similar to the grazigazi, just with their own distinct antennae shape, which i think allows me to inject a lot of variety into their designs without worrying about making grazi who look "too much like fruj" or vice versa. that shield shaped head on the second sprite does look really stylish though...)

KATHY THANKS YOU FOR BEING AN EARLY INVESTOR IN GRACILIAN PALM OIL ! 🐜🍏

[spurious]

some mcshep fic recs

So ever since I answered that ask from Mer about McShep fic recs, I've been thinking about posting more recs. I have been reading, like, so much fic because there just...is so much fic out there? As I intimated in the answer to that last ask, I am...not used to this amount of fic. The last ship I seriously read and wrote fic for has 58 English-language works on AO3, 17 of which were written by me (and another large handful of which were written for me lmao), so it's, uh, kind of amazing to just be able to read and read and read and read and...still have more?

I've been using my AO3 bookmarks, but sometimes bookmarking is simply not enough and you need to scream at people about the things you have read. So, without further ado...let me scream at you about the things I have read!

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1) 264 Hours by Lenore | ~6k, rated E

Set after Seige. The battle is over, except in Rodney's mind.

This one is just some nice Rodney emotional pain content; he’s fucked up over the events of the siege and John is trying, in his opaque Sheppardian way, to help, but it takes a perceptive sex worker and a confrontation to really get through to Rodney. I liked where this went but I almost wanted it to be longer and really draw things out? For the Suffering I guess lmao

2) Long Long Road by Telesilla & padawanhilary | (series) ~50k, rated E

While shopping, two college students run into each other. Literally.

This is an AU (that converges to canon eventually), where John and Rodney meet while at Stanford and find a mutual enjoyment of both each other and kinky sex. There are two branching endings, both of which end happily, the sex is really very very hot and good, and overall there's something that I just find extremely...cozy? About this series? I've read it twice now and I just find it nice and comforting and enjoyable.

3) Sheppard’s Law by Speranza | ~35k, rated E

"Weird? You don't know what weird is. Weird is being in a-- with the-- and the crazy alien--" He stopped, incoherent, hands flailing. "And then your best friend is twelve, and you're his piano teacher. That--now, you're talking weird!"

Honestly the idea of me in the year of our lord two thousand twenty three reccing McShep fic written by Speranza is like...asking someone who likes pizza if they've ever tried pepperoni lmao. NEVERTHELESS. I've now read this fic twice. The first time I thought it was good, but for whatever reason it didn't make that big of an impression on me? I have a feeling it's one of the ones I read before we finished the series when I was trying to find stuff that didn't spoil later season events? So anyway I just sort of randomly decided to reread it recently, and it really wowed me on a second go-round. I think the big-ness of it can be hard to wrap your head around, but when you do it's like...you feel both full and hollowed-out by it at the same time, because it's huge but it's also a collection of these snapshots and small moments that make up the whole. Idk it's just...it's good ok, read it if you haven't!

4) Ritual by lamardeuse | ~5k, rated T

The history of a ritual.

Beer 👏 on 👏 the 👏 pier 👏 As a team ritual, as the story of John’s love for Rodney, and as a beautiful coda to the shrine. John's POV in this is so gorgeously done, the way he's convinced himself of what he can and cannot have and is trying to deal with it the best way he can, even when it's immensely painful. I also like how Jennifer's part in things is handled in this, in terms of her reaction to Rodney's profession of love and how it stacks up against...literally everything else that happens in that episode.

5) Dumbstruck by sgamadison & the_cephalopod | ~30k, rated E

His existence, as he remembered it, began eleven days ago. He knew the word day was what to call the cycle between a single span of sunlight and darkness, but he could not remember what groupings of days were called. He didn't think it mattered much.

Due to...shenanigans, John loses his memories and becomes unable to speak. The thing I really love about this is how well Rodney knows John; how even when John can't speak for himself, Rodney clearly has this mental catalogue of Sheppard Expressions and he can deftly read and describe them. It's just...it's nice.

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Anyway, I'm thinking I might make this a regular thing. I like talking about fics I like!!! Send me an ask or whatever if you have types of recs you want to see? Idk?