#i apologize to everyone seeing this who's messages i haven't replied to

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

The Comfort of Strangers //Padawan! Obi-Wan X Fem! Reader

A/N: Well...Hi! I haven't written in two years! I'll post a little update soon but I was INCREDIBLY horny inspired after seeing the Phantom Menace in theaters! Hope you enjoy this lil smutty Padawn Obi fic!

Summary: You and all of Queen Amidala's handmaidens are stuck on Tatooine waiting for Qui Gon to get the hyperdrive parts you need. With all the stress and anxiety of escaping Naboo, the good-looking Palawan stuck on the ship with you looks like a good distraction.

Warnings VERY IMPORTANT: I know Padme and her handmaidens are pretty young, but for the purposes of this story READER IS OVER 18!!!!! That being said, this fic contains, smut, kinda a hookup, using sex with a stranger as comfort, risk of being caught, P in V action, unprotected sex, pull-out method, handy, some finger-banging action, dirty talk, some implied Qui Gon x Reader x Obi-Wan action for a minute there oop, and probably some spelling and grammar mistakes!

Word Count: 2.8 K

With the whirlwind of events that was the invasion of Naboo, one would think that boredom would bring some welcome relief. They would be sorely mistaken. 

The rush of adrenaline that had flooded your veins as you and the other handmaidens frantically dressed sabé, hands, and hearts a flurry, before chasing you up the ramp of the starfighter with gunfire at your back had finally subsided. Now, with the monotonous heat of Tatooine creeping into the ship, there was nothing but dull numbness left. 

Padme had left over a day ago to experience this strange outer-rim world you all had landed on. That left the rest of you with nothing to do but worry. Senator Vancil regularly sent updates urging Queen Amidala to contact him. Each of his messages was more dire than the last. News of your people in camps, starving, dying, surrounded by those damned battle droids, those disgusting Numoidions watching gleefully from the high walls of the Theed palace. 

You could practically feel all of the handmaidens' hearts sink in tandem with each new update. That young Jedi, Obi-Wan, simply reminded the Queen, (or who he figured to be the queen) to send no reply. Had he no empathy?! Obviously, none of you were dumb enough to risk the safety of your mission, the safety of your people, in transmitting any kind of message but could he not for a moment let down his Jedi knight persona and give you all some grace?

Jedi learner actually, I suppose. You thought to yourself. Curled up in an out-of-the-way nook, the hood of your orange handmaiden dress hung limply down your back. Normally you were grateful for the thick velvet robes in space, but even with the ship's cooling systems still online it seemed that they were no match for Tatooine. The oppressive heat sat thickly in the stale air, leaving everyone on board anxious and irritable. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. Between your fear and anxiety, the sight of that young padawan was a welcome distraction. You were positive you weren't the only one who thought so, you had definitely caught your fellow handmaiden's eyes flick over him from under their hoods. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the cocky banter he had shared with his master, even in the flurry of battle, or maybe it was the way the collar of his Jedi robes opened just enough for you to want to see more. Or perhaps it was the way you could imagine tugging on that padawan braid as- 

“Oh, apologies, I didn't realize there was anyone back here.”

You start, ripped from your thoughts by the man himself. He stood, palm braced against the doorway to your little hideaway. He’d discarded his Jedi cloak, leaving him the tan robes. 

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly. “Just…taking a breather.” Truth be told, in a ship this size there wasn't much space for ‘breathers.’ There's a beat of awkward silence before he clears his throat. 

“I assumed you would be with your queen and fellow Handmaidens in the royal quarters.” You resist the urge to scoff. Little did he know your queen was off in the deserts of Tatooine. 

“I think we’re all just processing that last message from the senator. I just needed a moment to myself I guess.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He turns to walk away and you scramble for anything to keep the conversation going. 

“What’s it like being a Jedi?” You cringe at the question. He looks back over his shoulder at you. 

“Well, Padawan.” He corrects, sheepishly.

“Right, yes. What’s it like to be a Padawan?” He turned to face you full-on, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. 

“It’s a life of service and peace.” He says simply. “I am devoted to the service of the Republic and the force.” You hum in response. 

“What’s it like being a handmaiden?” He asks, a teasing edge in his voice. From this angle, with you still curled up on the floor, he towers over you, looking down at you with a seductive smirk that makes your stomach do cartwheels. 

“It’s a life of service and peace.” You repeat. “I am devoted to my queen, my people, and my planet.” 

“My, my, sounds like we have quite a few similarities.” You crack a weak smile. 

“Why not take a seat?” You offer, motioning towards the cramped bit of floor in front of you. “I highly doubt you have anything better to do.” He raises an eyebrow at you before obliging. “You must live in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, right?” You ask as he squeezes into the cramped space, his knees knocking against yours. 

“Indeed, Coruscant has been my home for as long as I can remember.” 

“I've always wanted to see Coruscant. My family went when I was very small but I don’t remember it. I always meant to visit. I just never thought it would be under such…dire circumstances.” There's another beat of silence. 

“How are you and the others fairing?” You pause, debating your response. None of you had discussed it with each other. Your grief was so profound, deep, and shared in the way only sisters know. There had been no need to speak of it. But perhaps voicing it would help. 

“I think this is going to be the hardest part. At least I, we, were all doing something by escaping the planet, almost getting shot down. But this, just waiting… maker it’s eating me alive.” He nodded solemnly. 

“I understand.” 

“Do you?” It’s not meant to be a cruel question, but definitely a pointed one. “I thought Jedi didn't do emotions?” 

“Jedi don’t do attachments. We are encouraged to feel emotions, they bring us closer to the force, closer to all the living things around us.” Maker, you wanted him closer. 

A part of you hated yourself for wanting distraction, for seeing the first person in front of you, and wanting to find that special kind of escape and comfort. But a bigger part of you craved the young man in front of you, the release from this monotonous boredom and anxiety. 

“And what about…entanglements?” You purposefully tap your knee against his, letting a sultry gaze flood your eyes. He straightened slightly, his quizzical gaze raking you over. 

“Is that really what you want?” His question wasn't accusative or disgusted but genuinely curious, soft, and gentle. The seductive fire in your eyes dies down slightly. Your eyes flick down to the floor.

“Is that so bad?” It comes out barely louder than a whisper. A gentle hand lifts your chin till your gaze meets baby blue eyes, nearly the same shade as the lightsaber you watched him wield earlier. Oh how his hands had moved with such skill and grace, you couldn't help but imagine how those calloused, practiced hands would feel running over your body. Obi-wan smiled. 

“If that's what you feel, then it’s not bad at all.” Abruptly he pulled back, the sensation of him leaving your bubble had you feeling cold even in the burning ship. “Yes, Jedi are allowed to have entanglements.” 

“Oh.” you flash him a sly grin, confidence slowly seeping into you. “Good to know.” 

“Indeed.” His eyes bore into yours, the tension between the two of you was electric.

“Well if you ask me,” You say, placing a hand on his knee. “We have quite some time to kill before your Master gets back with the parts we need, don’t you think?” Obi-Wan’s hand came up to play with the hem of your skirt. 

“I’d be inclined to agree.” 

“Why don't we kill some time then? Hmm?” Obi-Wan’s face lights up in a devilish smirk as his hands glide up to your waist.

“Doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.” 

You lean forward, a soft smile on your lips that matches his before the young Jedi captures your mouth with his. It’s not the quick frantic touches one would expect of a hidden tryst. It’s soft and comforting like you both know you need the solace of another, the soothing touches of a lover not the hard and fast pace of a quick fuck. 

You sigh against him, melting into his touch. Your hands slide over the expanse of his broad chest up to rest on his shoulders. One of Obi-Wan’s hands slides up over your spine, sending shivers through your body before he tenderly cradles your neck. His tongue teases the seal of your lips and you gladly let him in, pulling yourself closer to him as his tongue explores your mouth. 

Pulling you fully into his lap, you can feel the bulge in his pants press against you. Simply the thought of it makes you wet. You grind your hips against him testingly and he hums his encouragement. One of Obi-Wan’s hands moves to your knee. Ever so delicately he slides his hand upwards over your thigh, the hem of your dress pulled ever upwards with his movements. His hand resting on the bare skin of your upper thigh, he gently moves you to grind against him again. 

As you rut against him, Obi-Wan’s lips leave yours to place open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the expanse of your neck, and over the limited bit of collarbone exposed by your dress. You expose your neck to him with a sigh, letting your head fall back into the reassuring weight of his hand cradling your head. 

This was it. What you so desperately needed. The reassuring touches of another that sent electric currents through your body. The safety of being held in someone's arms. Here, in this little nook with Obi-Wan, even if it was for just a moment, was paradise. 

Your hands sneak their way between the two of your bodies. Reaching for his hand that gripped the pillowy flesh of your thigh, you guide him to rest it on your breast. Taking the queue, Obi-Wan gives your tit a gentle squeeze, smoothing his thumb in little circles over the fabric right where he knows your nipple is. 

You practically whine at the sensation, grinding against him even harder. Your hand comes to rest on his crotch. 

“Help me take these off?” Your voice comes out much more sultry than you expected. He flashes you a smile that makes your heartache. 

“Why of course.” Together, you work him out of his trousers so that his erection stands tall and proud, a tiny bit of pre cum already beading at his tip. Your mouth waters at the sight. Without another thought, you spit in your hand before reaching down to grasp the base of him. He sighs at the contact and without missing a beat you begin to slowly move your hand over the length of him. 

“Is that alright?” You ask, his hands slowly wandering over your thighs, ever closer to where you crave him. 

“A-a little harder if you don't mind darling.” A part of you swoons at the pet name, and a bigger part of you smirks at making such a fine, confident man stutter. 

You oblige, squeezing a bit tighter as you work his length and Obi-Wan throws his head back in bliss. 

“Oh yes, just like that.” Seeing an opportunity in front of you, you lean forward to kiss his exposed neck, his padawan braid tickling your nose. A small blush creeps up his neck and over his cheeks as you continue to pleasure him with your hand. 

Obi-Wan’s wandering hands finally reach under the skirts of your dress, his fingers dragging along the center of you, feeling the wetness that undoubtedly stains your undergarments. 

“Oh my, all this for me?” He teases.

“Just shut up and touch me please.” You groan. Obi-wan places a sweet peak to your cheek.

“How could I say no to someone as lovely as you?” If you weren't flushed before that comment certainly did it. His hands push aside your drenched undergarment, letting two of his fingers leave teasing touches across you, never once letting them brush your aching clit. 

“If I’d known you'd be such a tease I would have approached that master of yours.” You tease. Obi-Wan scoffs. 

“I’m not a tease, you’re just impatient.” He replies slightly breathlessly. “Besides,” He adds finally drawing little circles in your clit. He leans in close to whisper in your ear. “You must be very naive to think Qui Gon Jinn wouldn't be a merciless fuck.” 

For a brief moment, the thought of both of them pleasuring you enters your mind. The older Jedi taking you from behind while he instructs his learner on how to fuck your throat. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Obi-Wan capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, rougher than the last, full of need and lust. 

“Obi-Wan,” You pant breathlessly, pulling away from his kiss. “Fuck me.” He groans, taking his cock in his hand to line it up against your entrance. You shimmy forward, knees on either side of him before sinking down. 

You both sigh in unison, inch after glorious inch fills you up, stretching you out perfectly. He’s barely inside of you before you start moving, grasping his shoulder to help lift yourself on and off his cock. He grasps your waist, helping you move as you work yourself open on him. 

the two of you build up a steady rhythm, it’s all you can do to bite your lip and keep from your moans of delight escaping the room. Obi-Wan hits a certain spot inside of you that sends a sudden gasp from your lips. His hand quickly reaches up to cover your mouth.

“Careful now, wouldn't want the other handmaidens hearing, would we?” You whine quietly in agreement. He smirks. “Think you can handle yourself without me keeping you quiet?” You nod eagerly. “That's what we like to hear.” He practically coos, his hand leaving your mouth to work at your clit, heightening your pleasure tenfold.  

Every stroke of his cock inside of you leaves you a bigger mess than the last. You grind against him desperately, hungry for every touch, every current of pleasure he sends through your body, every sensation that takes you further and further from the predicament you’re currently stuck in. Everything was building up, threatening to spill over at any second. 

“M-make, I won't last muc-ch longer.” Obi-Wan sighs. His movements on your clit are frantic, his thrusts sloppy like that of a man on the edge. “Please, need you to cum for me.” He practically begs. He slots his head between your neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Need to feel you come around my cock.” 

He hits the perfect spot inside you as he whispers his filthy words in your ear, sending you right over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body, your cunt squeezing him like a vice, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing. 

“Oh yes, just like that.” He works you through your orgasm, not even ceasing as you slump against him. It’s only when you push his hand away from your overstimulated pussy that he ceases. Reluctantly, you move yourself off of his cock, taking him in your hand and watching with immense satisfaction as he falls apart, spilling his seed over your thighs. 

You both sigh, sweat beading both your brows and the air between you hot and heavy with a mixture of your previous actions and the stale Tatooine air. 

Swallowing dryly you break the silence. “Thank you.” 

“Sincerely my lady, the pleasure was all mine.” He nods to the evidence of such on your thighs which raises a chuckle from you. You produce a handkerchief from a tucked-away pocket and start cleaning his cum from your thighs. 

A content quite settles over the two of you as you tidy up, helping each other straighten your clothing. As you tuck Obi-Wan’s padawan braid behind his ear, the high-pitched beep of a comlink interprets the tender moment. 

“Obi-Wan, are you there?” His Master’s voice sounds through the device on Obi-Wan’s belt. He gives your hand a slight squeeze as he picks up the com with the other. 

“Yes Master, any luck acquiring the part for the hyperdrive?” 

“I'm afraid the situation has grown more...complicated.” Obi-Wan sighs. 

“Why do I sense that we’ve picked up yet another pathetic life form?” Obi-Wan casts you an apologetic glance as his master continues. Tucking your hair back into your hood, you give him a small smile and nod for him to go. With a soft smile of his own in return, he turns toward to cockpit, the comlink in his hand updating him on the situation. 

With a sigh, you turn and walk back toward the quarters where you know the others will be. The dull ache of the tragic events around you was still present, but somewhat subdued thankfully. Who knew you could find so much comfort in strangers? 

Taglist:@rentskenobi @mysteryofkokoro @highpriestessrebek @sarapixieelliott08 @princessxkenobi @dexthtoyounglings @book-hoardingdragon​ @cosmic-rich​ @laserbrains @hugmekenobi @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @profkenobi

[maythearo]

I kinda accidentally been away :(

When I take a hiatus you'll see I don't announce it beforehand because it usually just happens instead of being a planned thing, so I apologize if I made people worry about me (again) but I'm doing fine! A plethora of things happened in the time being, and I feel like it's relevant to mention them here for some clarity. (I didn't intend to make this post so long, I'll crop here so it's easier to navigate)

First I feel like I have been falling out of love with art as a whole. My interest in a lot of stuff has been fading away, I haven't been keeping up with twst for one, and since a lot of my inspiration comes from the stuff I'm hyperfixating on I barely have been creating anything. My uni assigments so far were uninspired at best lol it sucks my mood relies so much on art and vice versa. The only times I feel actual joy is when I'm hanging out with my friends every now and then, I'm mostly alone through the rest of the week.

And it's with this habit of going out that I fluctuated towards using less social media. I don't think I ever liked having a presence online, and that's something I've been doing since highschool for no reason that matters to me anymore. Just quitting isn't something I can do because first, I think it's important getting my news from it; and second, I still want to do commissions, and I'm aiming to turn my socials into something more professional in the near future, rather than the life diary that I had a tendency of building them as. Of course there's nothing wrong with making socials a personal thing, it's just not my style, and with my anxiety of being perceived I realized I can only handle so much of it lol

I also had some personal losses, and it feels like a lot of people around me were having a hard time with theirs coincidentally, so that made me kinda sad too. I won't specify much but I think that's worth mentioning.

The tldr is that I'm lost, I don't know how I got here, and I feel like it only gets worse the longer I stand around doing nothing but I prefer to think that sometimes things get worse before they get better, I know they will get better.

I'm writing all of this from the perspective of how I feel at the moment, the conclusions I'm taking with this kinda depressive state of mind, so I imagine things can still change once I begin to feel brighter again, who knows.

Thank you for everyone who left kind messages on my askbox after all this time, idk if I can reply to all individually but I did read them and I appreciate them very much! I hope everyone is doing well too and staying safe.

And on a side note I'm sorry to the people who asked other things related to my art/blog way before I took this break, I wanted to answer them in a fun way but they've gathered too much dust by now and my inspiration is long gone. I think I'll be cleaning up my askbox since the longer I leave it unnatended the more overwhelmed it makes me feel 😥 I messed it up this time I admit, I apologize again to everyone I kept waiting.

I have a few old drawings I haven't shared here yet, maybe I'll post them if I manage to remember it :)

[forfucksakesniall]

Heyy i love ur writing so much and i got this idea the other day so basically we all know lewis will be such a good dad and so can u do where lewis gets forced by his teen daughter to watch edits of him on tiktok and make him react to it🫶🏻

Change some bits sorry. Hope you still like it! Thanks for the request.

Pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: TOO MUCH FLUFF, Pipes by Christina Aguilera.

"Daddy, can I play, please?" his 7-year-old daughter asked him. "Um... sure, baby," he replied, handing her his phone and letting her do whatever.

She was getting bored from staying in his office all day because mommy couldn’t watch her today, so daddy needed to take her to work with him.

He was on his computer, learning all the data from previous races, and everyone was minding their own business.

For her age, she basically knows how to use it. It's amazing what a kid can learn at such an age.

After a few minutes, she finds the TikTok app and starts scrolling. She suddenly giggles when she sees a video compilation of her daddy laughing like an old man.

Lewis didn’t notice her giggling, thinking it was some cartoon video or whatever.

Then he sees another of her daddy getting caught being himself. She giggles louder than before, which now caught Lewis’ attention. He turns and looks next to her. ”What’s so funny, darling?” he leans closer to see the phone and sees it. ”Daddy is being silly,” she says. He smiles at her and gives her a pinch on the cheek.

”Oh yeah? You think daddy was being silly.”

”Aw!” She pulls away his hand and sticks out her tongue.

He continues watching with his daughter who’s now completely distracted from work. She scrolls down and sees an edit of him from before and after.

“Why is your hair like that?”

”Cuz’ it's an interview I did a long time ago. I haven't grown my hair out yet.”

”Hmmm,” she says with dissatisfaction. ”What? Do you like my hair better now?”

”Well.. yeah,” she says, stating the obvious.

”Since when are you such a sassy pants?” he teases her, tickling her sides.

She giggles and squirms away. ”I’m not!!”

She scrolls again and comes across a thirst trap of him with the song "Pipes" by Christina Aguilera.

He snatches his phone back as fast as he can and turns it off.

”Ummm.. I think it's.. nap time,” he tries to ignore what just happened and not look all flustered. ”Mommy told me about that song, and I told her you were really good.”

”You think so, darling?”

”Yup,” emphasizing the “p.”

“Well, I’m actually writing a song about you.”

”I know..”

”How’d you know that?”

”Because I’m in the next room.”

”Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he laughs and apologizes for that.

Lewis takes his baby to the other room where the sofa was turned into a bed, where she can take her afternoon nap.

“I’m not sleepy,” she says sleepily while she rubs her eyes and yawns widely.

“Just lay down, baby. How about I sing to you?” he says.

“Okay, daddy,” she lays down and cuddles with her blanky.

After he got her to sleep, he gets to the table and sits at the desk with the computer next to the sofa bed. He was going to send you a message that your baby is finally sleeping. He forgot that he didn't close the TikTok app, and as he opens the phone, the thirst trap was playing, and he watches it.

He didn’t realize he was smiling while watching it and was on the phone for a couple of minutes. You, however, called him and ended his trance.

“Hey, beautiful. What's up?”

”Just wanted to know how you guys are doing. I hope she isn't much of a ruckus there...”He looks at his cute baby sleeping soundly.

”No, No. She’s been really good. She's sleeping right now. Actually, she’s been sleeping for...” he checks the time and realizes he’s been on TikTok for at least 30 minutes. ”Lewis?”

”She’s been asleep for 30 minutes now. Wow.”

”That’s good to know. I’ll see you guys later then. Love you!”

”Love you too, babe.”

He then ends the call and contemplates the situation. There's no way he just watched 30 minutes worth of TikTok edits of himself.

Damn.

[dontforgetyourmedstoday]

So you just steal artwork and don't care? Got it. Either that or my ask asking about sources from your posts on April 8th disappeared. Or I guess you could be off tumblr and not have been here for two weeks.

Hi Anon,

I'm assuming this is you:

If it is, yes, I did see your last ask - but life has been a bit shit lately and frankly, I didn't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with an accusatory email that gave me absolutely no details about what you were upset about so I could investigate. So today, despite it being an incredibly long and shit one that isn't over I'm going to reply.

*Takes a deep breath* From this point forward I'm going to assume that, like me, you are just a real-live human with feelings that get hurt and not someone who just likes to yell at people on the internet. So let me apologise that I have used your artwork without attribution, it was in no way my intention. Please take this apology as someone who was just trying to amuse themselves and perhaps help some other people out by reminding them to take their meds too. I absolutely suck at art-type things so in my mind, no one would think I did them or was claiming the actual 'art' part of them as mine. I realise now this is the internet, you guys don't know me, and so I should have been clearer that nearly all of these are edits. (There are a few waaaaay back I actually drew myself). Looking at the 7th, 8th & 9th of April (allowing for time zones and assuming that's when you saw your artwork). All of them except one have a link at the bottom of the image that links back to where I sourced the original image - I don't know if this is visible on mobile so I'll show it below (the bit circled in red)

So I'm assuming this one is yours:

It seems that one doesn't have the link. I don't know why. I haven't made any new reminders for this blog in ages (again - life) - it seems like most of the ones from early April this year were originally posted back in 2021. I got briefly excited about this blog again a few months ago and loaded up a bunch of old ones so this blog was still functional for the people that find it helpful. Going back I have noticed that others seem to not have credit either. It is possible I made a mistake and forgot to add them. It's also possible that Tumblr has a had a glitch/error/weirdness which means it's disappeared. I also used a bunch of images from the editing app I was using to add the reminder message and I wish I could remember what the site was called because I cannot for the life of me remember. Honestly, who knows. I have deleted the post(s) with that image - if it's not the right one please let me know.

I have always gone out of my way to ensure that anything I use is either free use, or non-commercial under Creative Commons. As an aside, I'm an academic and a person who has artist friends and my partner runs a business where our customers are largely designers and artists, so I do actually do my best to give credit. Am I perfect - no I'm not. Part of the reason I stopped making new posts was because of difficulty giving credit even on images that were non-attribution and finding images where I knew what the attribution requirements were (along with trying to remember everything everyone asked me to tag, and doing the image descriptions etc.) If anyone else finds something of theirs in one of my posts and there isn't credit attached please either dm me or send an ask and let me know which post and how you would like to be credited and I'll add it in. If you want it removed, I'm happy to do that too.

Sorry for the long post, hope it helps to clear things up. Finally, let me take this opportunity to say

"Don't forget your meds today my friends"

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Another Level Author Discussion: Hollow Echoes

I absolutely LOVE that so many of you have so many thoughts about the most recent addition to Another Level! This part was incredibly challenging for me to write and I'm so very proud of how it came out and how the emotions came across.

I decided to post this because I was going to end up writing full-length books in the comments replying, and I thought this might be better lol For those who haven't read it yet, I'm putting the discussion below the cut so you can avoid spoilers!

If you haven't already and want to know more, you can find Another Level on AO3 :)

In all honesty, I struggled to write this part a lot because I already had the outcome planned. I knew from the start that this would be their first big fight and it would test them, but that they would come out stronger. I also knew that I wanted to keep Gojo as close to our real Gojo as possible, meaning that he's likely not going to apologize for hurting her. In his mind, he was justified in being upset, so whatever he did or said was justified as well.

You will see some of this in the upcoming chapter for Hollow Echoes.

Something I want to convey in this story as a whole is that people are messy. Humans are filled with lots of emotions, and pain is one of the hardest to work with because people in pain are typically unpredictable.

Gojo is human. And he is far from perfect. While he shouldn't have lashed out the way he did, it's very human of him to direct that anger at the first person he comes in contact with. It's actually why he had isolated himself in the first place because he knows he's not okay enough to be around people when he's like that even if he doesn't know how to say that. He doesn't want to risk ruining the persona he's built of being carefree and nonchalant by taking his anger out on others, so he shuts himself away for a few days to get a handle on his emotions and then slides his mask back in place. She caught him while he was still trying to find that mask again and it threw him off a lot. Hence his lashing out. 

He's also furious with Nanami. More than he's upset with Rinko, actually. Because Nanami overstepped quite a bit here. Well-intentioned, but he ignored the fact that Gojo clearly wanted to be left alone.

We're going to see that Nanami struggles with letting people handle things alone, he is a fixer. It's a trait that's pretty common in a lot of people even if they don't mean for it to be harmful: Your not being okay is making me not okay or is disrupting my life, so I need you to be okay again so I can be okay too. While many times it's because they care about that person, it rarely has good results, and this is a prime example of that.

Gojo missing jobs is disrupting Nanami's life because he's having to pick up some of the slack, and Yaga is getting angry as well. So, he does what he thinks will fix it: have Rinko talk to him. Because Gojo acts differently with her and is softer with her, Nanami thought that she would show up and things would just fix themselves. He's going to keep thinking that without meaning to.

So, while Rinko and Nanami both meant well, they blatantly disrespected Gojo's wish to be left alone.

Should he have communicated that he wanted to be left alone explicitly? Maybe. But they both should have realized that if he wasn't answering, that was him communicating his desire. Rinko did realize this, but she ignored that instinct in favor of listening to people who had known Gojo longer.

Nanami asking Rinko to cross a boundary by invading Gojo's space without permission - and her doing so - hurt Gojo quite a bit. Because it's what everyone else does and he didn't expect her to be like that. It's why she had a key to his place when literally no one else did. Because he thought he could trust her to not do exactly what she ended up doing.

I also made the purposeful choice to have her not mention in her messages that she was coming over. None of her messages even implied such, so he was truly blindsided by her showing up and entering without his permission.

Honestly, I have been on both ends of similar situations and it's really hard, so I'm happy with how this turned out because it starts to convey that complexity just a bit.

So, while being upset with him is completely understandable - and Rinko will be because she's also human and has emotions and is valid in them - his reaction makes sense from a purely human perspective. She also already knows that what she did was wrong, how she went about trying to check on him, and she'll acknowledge it. She knows he's human. Probably better than anyone else in his life at this point, and she understands what it's like to say and do things just because she's hurting.

He is going to admit to her that it's one of the things he likes most about her, appreciates about her. Because she sees a human with too much being asked of him when she looks at him instead of an untouchable god, like so many others do. He's going to tell her such, too.

Because if you'll remember, at this point, there are two people who have worn him down enough to land a hit on him: Toji Fushiguro and Rinko Kurisaki. And they did it days apart from each other, for completely different reasons. Gojo was escorting Riko Amanai less than a week after meeting Rinko. 

This was intentional. And it's a trait that irritates him while drawing him to her more. Her comment to Shoko about him being so different with her because of their first encounter? Not far off. She and Toji are cousins. First cousins. His father and her father were brothers. So, bastard or not, their blood relation is more direct than she ever talks about or wants to admit because it's the same amount of blood they'd have shared were she a legitimate child. And the fact that Toji was actually her first introduction to the Jujutsu world as a kid doesn't help with that.

Rinko has viewed herself as weak for multiple reasons and it's made her rely more on her brain than her cursed energy. After training a bit with Gojo, she's relying on both. 

But think back to their fight in Make a Good Bleed: she knew she couldn't beat him, so she focused on wearing him down and being annoying. And then when she saw an opening, she took it.

After just a few meetings with Toji, without him trying to teach her anything, she realized how useful having no cursed energy could be and learned to mask her own to make herself seem weaker. She is incredibly tactical and it will show even more over time. But what makes it even better is that she doesn't realize just how tactical she really is because she has believed what the main clan has told her since the day they met her: half-breeds are weak.

If you'll remember when she called herself a half-breed to Gojo, he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at her. That wasn't because he didn't like being bested, it was because he didn't like that she called herself that. What did he say to her after?

"Zenin's are strong." He doesn't differentiate that. She has Zenin blood, so she's strong, 'half-breed' or not. He'll hear Naoya call her this once, and he's going to lose his mind.

Does any of this mean he's off the hook? Oh hell no. But, it's one reason she reacted the way she did in how quickly she retreated and blamed herself there at the end.

TLDR: Humans are messy and imperfect, and Gojo is no exception even if he is the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world.

[r1-jw-lover]

Hi everyone, this is r1-jw-lover and I want to talk about a very important issue that happened in the past. I am writing this for the Wickblr community but I want everyone who follows me to see this too.

It has been since three months since I made a terrible incident that I am not proud of and had voluntarily left the John Wick fandom as a result. Up until now, I haven't been completely honest with everyone or myself on the matter and I want to change that today with this post.

CW for mentions of racism and anti-blackness.

For context, somewhere in March 2024 I was invited to join a Wickblr discord server hosted by @/evren-sadwrn and @/tobytheeggo. I was lucky to be one of the first few to be invited and we had a lot of great time talking and chatting about the John Wick series and roleplaying as our favourite characters.

Then, on 4 June 2024, I made an extremely offensive racial insult directed towards @/evren-sadwrn's black oc named Eleanor Sallow. @/tobytheeggo caught me red-handed and I deleted the message ten minutes later. @/tobytheeggo rightfully called me out on it and kicked me out of the discord server.

On the same day, I made a public apology post on my rp account @/shimazu-akira (then I copied the entire text onto my second rp account @/caine-nobody), announced that I will stop participating in JW roleplay, and encouraged people to block and unfollow me as they see fit.

I did try to make a private apology to @/tobytheeggo a month later in July but didn't receive any reply.

Now looking back, I find that the apology I made was quite disingenuous, even arrogant in tone. I was willing to admit fault, but I couldn't set aside my pride when I'd obviously done something wrong and humiliating. I am a person of colour, had reblogged posts about racism on my tumblr blog and talked about racism to my friends on discord, yet I had made a racist insult in that same discord server. I had been a hypocrite.

Calling the incident a "mistake" was minimising the seriousness of what I have done. I thought I was taking accountability but really I was afraid of the repercussions, which was why my first reaction was to delete the offensive message in the first place. This is further evidenced by how I decided to voluntarily leave the John Wick fanbase/Wickblr.

But now I'm ready to face the music. I want to leave behind the old me in the past and start anew. Acknowledgement is not enough, I have to actually own it. I won't be surprised if nobody to whom it may concern would finish reading the whole post to the end (including those who had blocked me), but I will make an attempt regardless and move on with life.

I am sorry for what I had done to you, for disappointing you with my past behaviour and letting you down. Your views of me may not change after reading this, but I will try my very best to show you that I am changing for the better.

[neonbutchery]

just a lil message of encouragement and support! i think you’re really cool alex and i love seeing you on my dash. you make such awesome mods and have great views and opinions ngl. you’re great. i hope you’re doing well!

thank you so much fray! i really appreciate reading this (i know that i'm a few days late with replying, apologies for this).

i'm generally doing well, i've just been very busy with a temporary job + holiday celebrations. besides the job itself, all of the irl socializing is making me very tired to the point that i don't really feel like coming back here that often since i have to mask 24/7 when around my family. i can't do the usual activities i do to get away from them since libraries are closed and it's too cold to spend a lot of time outside. i'm active on discord but i mostly talk to my lovely partner and stick to smaller servers unless i really need something.

once my job contract ends in around a week and i have more free time i might be more active, but i honestly can't say if that's for sure because as of late i feel like posting and engaging in here has become more of a chore than anything. waking up and feeling like i need to like and reblog everyone's posts and catch up with the entirety of my dash or else i'm a bad person who's ignoring my mutuals. for the last three weeks i haven't drawn, written and modded a lot of stuff for myself and i doubt i will even after my job ends because i'll have thesis work to catch up with. that combined with general feelings of not belonging to fandom, or my art and characters being bad, or being cringey, or bothering people whenever i post, or fearing that i'll be harassed for my taste in fictional characters or takes in discourse has sucked all the drive for creating or posting stuff related to bg3 out of me.

tldr: life has gotten busy and i'm tired in general, and even if i weren't tired fandom itself has kinda become draining for me. maybe i'll get back to playing bg3 after this hellish holiday season ends and rediscover my love for it but so far i'm just tired. four more days to go, my last shift is on the 5th and then i get paid, forget about it, and thankfully life can get back to normal and i can have much needed time alone.

[hide-in-imagination]

Hello, hehhhehh, I have to admit that I've been thinking for a long time and decided to write something here and be able to ask something and not be afraid heh. I don't know if my questions will be unnecessary or if you haven't answered them before, so I apologize in advance.

So the first thing I want to ask is how old do you think Benicio is, because this is just my opinion, but I think he looks a lot older than all the members in the Roller Band, and if I'm not mistaken, the only thing we know is that he worked with Simón , but nobody said they were the same age. And in light of this, I also find it quite strange how he was obsessed with Ámbar.

Secondly, I want to ask something about Roller Band in general. The moment they started living in the mansion, Monica and Miguel put blankets in storage for them to sleep in and also joked that Simón was now there legally. They didn't say anywhere that they would also give them their own rooms, but even so, when Lune was talking with Michael in the evening, Matteo came out from the upper floor to the stairs to hear them, but at the same time, when Sharon came there in the evening, Monica told them that it would be best to they didn't sleep in the warehouse, but in Michael's room (but I have to admit that maybe it was just translated differently into my speech and it didn't have to be that way in the original to say, which also leads me to the fact that thanks to the fact that I decided to watch the series with the original sound, I found out that I missed a lot of things about Simbár, because in my talk about her in the second series, he never said that he likes her, but only that he likes her, or when he called her 'bonita' they translated it to me so that he called her by her normal name, and I could go on like this for hours), soooo I'm a little confused if they had their own rooms somewhere in the mansion or notes

And as a last question, I have what you think about how in the first series Ámbar wanted Simon to sing at her birthday party and how they looked at each other while doing it, because I don't know about you, but woouuah, the way was she watching? And how she always looked away when he looked at her? And I also want to ask in which month do you think Ámbar's birthday is? Because I read somewhere on the internet that her birthday should be sometime in August or something like that, but if I'm not mistaken, in the series her birthday was before the holidays, when they were still in school, of course they can have holidays differently than I do in my country, but I still think it wouldn't work out very well for that August, but I really don't know.

And now really as the last thing, I would like to wish you a happy birthday ❤️ although probably rather late, but still. I also wish you a beautiful and relaxing vacation in Canada! Please try to relax as much as possible and enjoy it! ✨️

Hello dear anon! Sorry for the late reply, I was away on vacations. Never hesitate to message me about anything, I really don't mind ^^

About Benicio, yeah, I don't think it was ever stated how old he is, but I think we're supposed to assume he's the same age as Simón, or at most, the same as Pedro (who I think it's one or two years older than Simón.) Yeah, he might look older than the rest, but that's just the actor. We have to remind ourselves that these are all 20-something actors usually playing high schoolers, so, even if the actor looks older than everyone else, we need to ignore that and adjust it so it fits the canon 😂 So, Benicio must be around 20 when Ámbar is 18.

As for the Roller Band living in the mansion, I think that was just the writers being stupid skdnf. You see, when they first arrive, Mónica tells Maggie to prepare rooms and bathrooms for all of them (which they can totally afford to do because they LIVE IN A MANSION, they had hundreds of rooms😂). But then, the guys were playing music too late into the night this one time, so they figured, in order not to bother everyone else at the mansion with the noise, that they could move to the storage room, and that was when they started staying there. (Which I already think it's stupid because they could just go to the storage room when they want to play and then go back to their rooms to sleep, like, why would they need to sleep in the storage room when they have perfectly comfortable bedrooms? 😂 Doesn't make sense.) But anyway, after that, as you mentioned, Sharon showed up, and so Mónica advised them to sleep in Michel's room instead of the storage room because it could be dangerous. Which, again, IT'S SO STUPID. WHY would they all stay in Michel's room when they used to have THEIR OWN ROOMS when they first arrived?? ksjdnfk. It literally makes no sense and I blame the writers but whatever. They were just writing a kids show in Disney Channel; they weren't expecting to have adults analyzing these things.

Finally, about that scene in Ámbar's birthday, soo many people started shipping simbar right then, and that was actually the reason why Simbar became a thing. The writers saw people on Social Media talking about it and they went "Sure, why not?" 😂 This was actually confirmed by one of the writers on Twitter: Simbar was 100% the fans' idea, and that's why we have it today. So I thank all of those people because 1- I hadn't watched the show yet when season 1 came out, and 2- Even when I watched that scene of Simón singing to Ámbar, I genuinely didn't see the sparks you all talk about sdkjfn. I must be broken or something😂 Like, Ámbar looks uncomfortable to me, I'm sorry 😂😂

My headcanon is that Ámbar's birthday is July 30th and Simón's birthday is February 23rd ❤️ I recommend that you don't try to fit actual dates on the Soy Luna timeline because it's no use; none of it makes sense ksdjnf. Like, if you actually count the passing days in season 3, for example, (which I did), everything happens in the span of, like, two months. I'm not joking ksjdfn. Which would mean that everyone was celebrating Día de los Muertos like in May when it's supposed to be in November 🤣🤣🤣 Like, srsly, it makes no sense, don't even try.

Just to give you a reference, every school year in Argentina usually starts by the end of February or the beginning of March. Every season of Soy Luna usually started around the time the new school year started for Luna, so, around those months. So, it would actually make sense if Simón's birthday was either in December, January, or February, because that would explain why we never saw him celebrating it-- It was between seasons. (I choose late February because he's a Pisces in my mind.)

As for Ámbar's birthday, I say July because for me she's a Leo, but really, you all could choose whichever date you want because, as I said, the Soy Luna timeline makes no sense 😂 Just have fun with it and try not to overthink it too much or your head will explode.

Thank you so much for your well wishes 💙 I had a great time celebrating my birthday and during my vacations. Toronto is so beautiful!! 😍😍So many trees!! 😍😍So many squirrels!!😍😍🐿🐿 I would really recommend it to everyone if you ever want to touch some grass connect with nature 🥰🌳 Srly so pretty.

[sassykattery]

Celebrations of the Heart, Pt. 4

Now that that's settled. Who's ready for what's next?

This part was accidentally posted on Wednesday, I apologize for my mistake. You don't know how embarrassed I was. So, if you've read this already, I apologize. If you haven't, enjoy.

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is a demon and poly. Reference to Lesson 16. Kind of emotional.

Themes: Birthday. Romance.

Characters: MC="you", Lucifer, Mephistopheles, all brothers implied, Barbatos, Belphie, Leviathan

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

Enjoy

It was the day before your birthday, and luckily, this year, it landed on the weekend, so you wouldn't have to go to RAD that day, but you had to get through today first. And it started off... strange.

When you awoke, you quickly got up to get ready for the day, knowing it was your turn to make breakfast. Quietly, you went to the kitchen and made breakfast, your usual style, embellishments, garnishes and all, and set it out for the boys.

Except, for each brother that came down, they took their breakfast to go, much to your dismay. They were all early, so it wasn't like when they were late and usually took breakfast on the way, or not at all, so you were a bit disappointed since you were the one who made it. Lucifer came by and swiftly kissed your temple on the way out, barely saying "Good morning," before taking his breakfast with him too.

Decidedly, you shrugged it off. After cleaning, you went to RAD and proceeded with your day. It was mostly normal, at least. Your friends wishing you happy early birthday and the like, hugs and head pats all around. However, you could scarcely get a word in with the boys as they hurriedly went from class to class, barely saying hello when you crossed paths.

"Down?" Mephistopheles said, sitting next to you at lunch. You rolled your neck in at the demon.

"Is hell freezing over?" you asked indignantly.

"Why?" he looked at you, confused.

"You're sitting next to me, that's why," you replied.

"You wound me, MC. Most would fawn over my presence," he said arrogantly, but you couldn't quite tell if there wasn't a hint of humor there or not.

"Whatever," you finally said, defeated. It was better than being alone.

Lucifer walked by at the far edge of the RAD cafeteria and saw you two. Part of him bristled, merely because Mephistopheles was by far his least favorite demon. However, Lucifer couldn't be too mad when it was Diavolo who asked the purple-haired demon to watch over you today as everyone else was busy with other activities. Before you could get a glimpse of your lover, he was already gone again.

The rest of the day was fine, there was no Student Council meeting, so you wandered over to Diavolo's office to see if he was busy. Sure enough, his "Out of Office" sign was up, so you went home in resignation.

It wasn't terribly out of the ordinary for all the boys to act strange near your birthday or other important events, it's just a little disappointing when you pretty much get ditched for the day in favor of whatever it was they were doing. Maybe I could hang out Mephistopheles? You thought, and then snickered. No, I'll pass. I'll just use this as my day to be alone and get some work done.

Once at home, seeing no one was home except you, you went to your room, put on some headphones, and drilled away at your homework and royal studies. Things were processing fairly easily today, so for once, it didn't seem too bad. It was refreshing, to say the least, to finally have something go right with this stuff.

You weren't sure how long it had been, so you looked at the clock to see it was well past dinnertime, and no one had said it was ready. You were pretty sure it was Beel's turn, and he would never miss such an occasion. When you left your room to look in the kitchen, it was empty, much to your surprise. Back in your room, you looked at your D.D.D. and had no messages.

With a sigh, you returned to the kitchen and grabbed a snack, figuring it was better than nothing, and you were too lazy to cook.

After finishing your homework and acing that finances study guide Barbatos made, you were done. It was almost midnight, and you stretched. Your stomach rumbled, and you realized maybe your snack wasn't that filling, so you snuck out quietly to grab another, even though it seemed like you were alone still in the House.

You barely touched the fridge door when the power went out. That wasn't a problem. You could see perfectly fine in the dark, except when a bag went over your head and someone grabbed your arms, forcing them behind your back.

Instantly, you changed to your demon form and used your full strength to fight back, sinking down to the ground to slip out, but your opponent seemed to be as strong as you, so there were three guesses as to who had a hold on you. It was a silent struggle, as you refused to scream in hopes you could get out of this without being knocked out. They instantly pinned you to the floor, and you felt yourself being tied up and pulled back to your bound feet. You heard the noises of a portal being opened, and your assailant pulled you through.

"Barbatos, I swear to the ninth ring if you don't–" You started to seethe once you were still.

The bag was pulled back over your head, and Barbatos smiled. "How did you know?"

"I only had three guesses, and one of them regularly opens portals," you replied.

You blinked, realizing you were in the Demon Lord's castle, in the ballroom.

"What are we doing?" You asked the butler.

"Ah, I'm here to explain today's festivities to you," Barbatos said.

"My birthday needs an explanation?" you asked.

"Indeed. Today, everyone has agreed to spend an allotted amount of time with you. To make things streamline, we designed a schedule for you, and I will teleport you to each person at the designated time," he stated.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "How interesting. Well, okay, I guess I can't say no. Do I get to know the order?"

"Wouldn't that ruin the surprise?" Barbatos asked, smiling.

"I suppose. So, who's first? And why are we starting at midnight?" You asked.

The demon butler merely smiled and opened another portal behind you. "Enjoy yourself, and let me be the first to say, Happy Birthday, MC."

Before you could say anything, the portal came forward and engulfed you, taking you somewhere new.

-12am-

"Hi, MC," a voice behind you said. You looked around, the room was dark, but the ceiling was high and domed. It was almost like the planetarium, but you knew it wasn't the House of Lamentation.

Finally turning around, Belphie stood there waiting for you.

"Happy Birthday," he said. You smiled and approached, hugging him briefly. "Ready?" He asked.

"I guess, I'm not sure what we're doing though," you replied.

Belphie opened the door he was next to and gestured. You went in and saw what looked to be an exhibit, walls lined with panels with photos and paragraphs. All the walls were decorated with stars and beautiful artworks.

"This is the new space exhibit I was telling you about. I rented it out for just the two of us to look at," Belphie explained, standing next to you. You gave him a big smile and hugged him. He reciprocated immediately, savoring your embrace.

He let you break away first, and then he asked, "Shall we?" You nodded, and you two proceeded to look around. It was gorgeous, the Devildom sky. It was different from the human world, with different stars and mythos. You learned about the brothers' designated stars, the ones discovered over the millennia, their star maps. It was gorgeous, and you appreciated the artwork other demons had made in honor of the exhibit and the stars they were dedicated to.

"What do you think? You've been pretty quiet," Belphie observed, still looking at a panel about Beel's star.

"It's wonderful Belphie, I can't believe how beautiful this all is," you replied, in awe.

"Ah, I need to show you this then," he said, walking over to another panel. He pressed a button and the ceiling above you both opened up, revealing a condensed version of the Devildom sky, almost like the planetarium at the House. "Come here," Belphie called to you.

You walked over and watched as he played with a few buttons, and you looked up to see how he could zoom in on certain areas, highlight certain stars and their names. You gasped at the beauty of it all. Walking away, you stood in the middle, neck craned up to see it all. This was what it truly meant to be starstruck.

Belphie chuckled at your reaction and walked over to you. "I have a present for you," he said.

You turned to face him, and he held out a pillow for you. Though at first, it looked ordinary with a black silk case, but when you tilted it around, you could see the Devildom sky embroidered on it, both sides.

"Oh, Belphie!" You gasped again. "It's lovely." You ran your fingers over the embroidery, the sky at your fingertips now.

"Do you like it then?" Belphie asked. "I wasn't sure what to do get you, but this seemed the most fitting. The pillow is nice too, I have one like it now. But the case I had made, hoping you would be reminded of me and the world you're now a part of every time you go to sleep, and I hope you only dream of how happy you are to be with us."

You nearly wept at his words. It wasn't often you and Belphie had moments like this. The memories of him helping you with sleep casts and managing your pain whenever you got hurt or were being dream tortured resurfaced, and you couldn't help but throw your arms around him.

"I love it, thank you," you whispered tearfully.

"I hope you don't mind, but I want to say something else," he added. You pulled away to look at him. "I know you've been struggling, and I want you to know I kind of get it. After the attic, I struggled, you remember. But I made it through, with your help. So, I hope you know, you can count on me to be there for you too."

You nodded at his words, smiling as tears ran over your cheeks. "Now don't cry, MC, you know I hate that," he said jokingly, taking his sleeve and wiping them away. "Now you're probably wondering what we're doing for the next hour," he stated.

He proceeded to lay out his pillow and jacket, kneeling to the floor and patting down the spot next to him for you to join him. You obliged and smiled. It wasn't a moment with Belphie unless you two were napping.

-2am-

A portal opened next to you, waking you and Belphie up. You looked over at him and he smiled, waving his hand. "Go on, go see who's next. Have fun," he said, reclining back again. "Oh, and I'll take your gift home. It'll be on your bed when you get back," he added.

You nodded and got up, walking into the portal. As soon as you walked through, loud music filled your ears. Instantly, you turned as saw Levi sitting on a couch, waiting for you. You recognized the music and smiled.

"Hey, MC! Happy birthday!" He said, standing up. Awkwardly, he stood there for a moment before opening up his arms. You immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, smiling. He carefully reciprocated and then quickly pulled back.

"Are you ready for my turn?" He asked, smiling again after regaining his composure.

"I am, what do you have planned? Though, I have a pretty good guess," you said, looking around the room. It was just you two in a bar that you recognized. "Karaoke? Just you and me?" you asked.

"You guessed it! We're going to rock out to the best anime hits in the last decade, I hope you're ready," he said cheerfully, setting up the karaoke system. You chuckled and nodded, sitting down while you waited.

While he was setting everything up and his back to you, he said, "I just want to say, I hope you have a good day today. I know things have been kinda rough with becoming a royal and all that. I just want you to know I'm here for you. I know I'm a shut-in who doesn't ever leave his room, but you know you're welcome to see me. We don't have to talk, just hang." He paused. "I know what it's like to not feel good enough. But you'll always be good enough to me, so don't forget it."

"Levi..." you started to say.

"And done! Let's do this, MC," Levi said, fist pumping and clearly avoiding what he had said. You smiled and decided to leave it alone.

The two of you jammed out to your favorite anime theme songs, ones with definitely names too long for you to remember but nonetheless enjoyed anyway. Levi planned a whole list, including some of your favorite human world hits he knew you liked, and you two were the greatest karaoke stars to have ever lived, at least, in your minds that is.

After nearly two hours of this, both of you collapsed on the couch, finally realizing you two hadn't done this in so long, you two were out of shape.

"Levi, what have we done?" You asked, exasperated.

"I'm never doing this again," he rasped, his breathing ragged.

You looked at each other and started laughing, though that didn't help how tired and sore you both felt. It was several minutes before you both caught your breaths and sighed with content.

"Oh, yeah, back at home I got you a birthday present," Levi stated. "I got us matching figurines of an anime you like."

"That's sweet Levi," you replied, turning to him. He blushed and looked away at the opposite wall, trying to not freak out.

A portal opened up next to the couch on your side, and you looked back at Levi, "Thank you for everything," you said with a smile.

---

Thanks for reading <3

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @leavesandflowers @itsmeninerz @flemmingbamse @obeymediasimp @marvelous-maniac @frozengoldie

[koffeenet]

hello, sorry to bother you! hope you're well. I filled out a form to join your network on June 5th, and I haven't heard back from you… so I wondered if there was an issue with my application?

thank you, moon (beautifulchris)

hello there! this is kaira, the queue mod of the net! i'm not sure if it's my place to reply, but since the admins are no longer active, i thought i should step in for now :) this post should also serve as an explanation for what happened to the network so that members, affiliates, those who might have applied (and didn't hear back), and those who are planning to apply can be aware. please see the rest under the cut!!

as mentioned previously, both admins are no longer active (one has deactivated and the other is inactive). the last time i heard from either of them was in august 2022, so please bear with me as i don't have very good memory as well.

if i remember correctly, it happened very abruptly. one day, i just noticed that the net's discord server was no longer in my list of servers, so i messaged one of the admins about it. i never heard back from them, then days later they deactivated their discord account. i think i also messaged the other admin, but again, nothing. i wasn't sure what to do since i was only the queue mod, so i just stopped reblogging the members' posts since the admins were pretty much gone without notice and i didn't know if they were coming back. months passed and eventually, one of the admins also deactivated on tumblr.

basically long story short, the network is pretty much closed. i apologize to all the members and affiliates for ghosting (again, i was the queue mod and didn't think it was my place to post anything about the net) and i apologize to those who might have tried to apply since august 2022. i don't have access to the application form, so i didn't know who tried to apply and therefore couldn't have messaged them regarding the situation.

as the queue mod, i don't have any plans to continue the network since the admins have been inactive for 9 months, so i guess you could consider the network closed. the only reason i haven't logged out of the account is just in case the admins come back (and i just haven't gotten around to logging out). again, i apologize to everyone for not clearing the situation earlier. hope this helps! :)

[twistedwonderlandsevenmemories]

Late Nov Update

Hi everyone,

Got a huge break and have been furiously catching up on my writing. I haven't had a chance to check my messages but expect replies sometime before the end of this week.

The good news is that the next Pomefiore chapter is 100% complete! I'm doing a quick check on grammar and stuff, but I'm planning to have it published Nov 26 or 27.

We are heading to the end game, so in terms of arc, we are about 80-85% complete! About five more chapters I would guess.

Thank you for your patience, and expect more updates before the end of the year.

Below is a sneak peek for the upcoming chapter.

Enjoy!

“HEY! Stop ganging up on him like that!”

A rather tall boy came thundering down the paved street. His backpack flapped noisily against his back as he waved his fist in the air. He had white hair with a matching pair of wolf ears and tail.

“Oh, Pyroxene, it’s Jack! Run!” the kids screamed and scampered off. It took a second for Claire to register what the kids had just said.

Wait, did they say ‘Jack’? Oh my god, that’s Jack! Claire’s heart almost squealed from the cuteness as the little wolf boy snarled at the bullies’ retreating figures. Vil, on the other hand, wore a mildly baffled look at the turn of events before Jack turned to him.

“You’re the new kid, right? Are you okay?” Little Jack asked in his blunt way as he brushed his bangs aside.

Despite being two years younger than Vil, Jack already stood a couple of inches taller. He even had some muscle on him, clearly the results from strength training.

“I know boxing and fencing. I’m perfectly capable of handling a bunch of bullies by myself,” Vil said, flatly as he hitched the strap of his leather messenger bag up on his shoulder.

“Oh… I see. Sorry about that,” Jack said, scratching the back of his head. Vil paused as he watched Jack shuffling his feet and realized how rude he was being to someone who just helped him.

“My apologies. You did help me out regardless. Thank you,” Vil said and held out his hand. “I’m Vil Schoenheit.”

“Oh, uh… Jack Howl.” Although he accepted the handshake, Jack looked rather taken aback by the gesture, clearly not used to dealing with such a formal introduction or handshake.

Vil turned his head to the direction where the bullies had run off. “I can’t believe those children couldn’t separate from fiction and reality. They must be quite daft.” He scoffed and shook his head, but his voice carried a sense of heaviness that Claire could feel. It hurt him more than he would admit that he was seen as a villain.

“I don’t watch T.V. a lot, so I didn’t get what they were saying,” little Jack said slowly as he scratched the back of his head, “But isn’t the fact that they can’t figure it out it’s all fake mean that your acting is really good?”

Vil blinked in surprise and immediately chuckled. “You’re right. I’ll get a main character role next time and make them eat their words.”

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

just poppin’ into your ask box to say happy pride month!

no matter who you are, who you like, or how you express yourself, you always deserve to feel comfortable and safe. this is a month about recognizing how far you’ve come, how much you’ve grown as a person, in relationships and in your own identity. you’re so incredibly brave and stronger than you know.

you’re doing amazing, kiddo.

sincerely, the yeehaw uncles, Leo and Yuichi

(don’t feel pressured to reply; this is just a lil motivational message :))

I will be honest I wanted to answer this during pride month... It was... Very hard to figure out what I wanted to answer this with. I wanted to originally talk about how much progress I made about my sexuality and my gender identity and how seen I feel in certain medias.

It took a while to figure this...answer out. Took a lot of emotions to make it as well.

Little uh, little personal talks below the cut about pride month+ drawings

I spent the better chunk of pride month, off by myself. For a while I didn't want to talk to anyone, I don't remember a decent chunk of the first two weeks...I didn't celebrate pride month, I didn't feel like I deserved it. I didn't feel like I belonged.

I lost my relationships...I lost a lot of emotions, because I didn't fit into a certain group of people, the needs that was met I couldn't meet because I didn't fit their pride. I didn't fit, and I tried to fit...and I couldn't. This is not to say they are a bad person, I just couldn't be the one.

Nobody really tells you how hard it is to do things after something like that. The "us" videos on Instagram, the "send this to your partner to see what they pick for you" videos... The way every song feels like them and every song means something special about them. The amount of playlists I have that are just...romance, love songs, songs I listen to about them day in and day out.

How hard it is to breathe without them while everyone is with their own and you are displaced.

I want to apologize to my younger self, we are more true to ourselves than we were when we were younger. And I can't look back at them and tell them we fit in... I can tell them about how many friends we have now, how wonderful our relationships have been and haven't been. The way we got to find out what love languages are and how we have every single one.

How seeing someone so special to you made your heart palpitations kick in and how lying there thinking about them made your breath squeak and your hands flap and how getting a message made you stop everything. How you ran home to Hop on the games, how they didn't force you to play games you didn't feel comfortable but still tried to find a way to play with you.

...and the thing is, I still love them. Even though I do not fit into their needs, I still love them. They weren't perfect, I wasn't perfect. But they were mine.

I guess I should finish this long rant. I do not have pride in myself as of now..but maybe in the future. Maybe in the next pride month I will belong, or be worthy enough to celebrate it. I will find my place and I will keep trying, even though this last month has been hard.

I've made new friends, made a story, run a comp with some amazing people. Though my job is really just to tell a story. I think I will put my pride into that for now.

Every time I've read this ask, I've cried a little or a lot. The words mean everything even though I feel I don't deserve them. I still have to grow it seems.

[lilyevanstan1325]

✨ Astral Lovers ✨

Chapter 16

Lily POV

I find myself directly in the lobby's Tower.

Everything around me is dark and strangely silent.

Where the hell has everyone gone?

I take the shoes off my aching feet and walk to the room that Steve and I share.

A stupid smile keeps appearing on my lips as I look back on my day.

Starting from the shower this morning until the chat with my father.

A whirlwind of emotions swirls in my heart and for the first time I feel really confident about the future.

I love Steve and I love my father.

I am surrounded by wonderful people, loyal friends willing to do anything to make me happy.

Of course there are still many unknowns looming over my future but I am sure that with the support of these wonderful people I will be able to overcome everything.

I open the bedroom door and take off my coat and throwing it on the desk, grab the cardboard box I left on the bed, putting my shoes inside it and then head to the bathroom to rinse my face.

I only realize at this moment that I have forgotten the phone on the bathroom shelf.

I take it and check if there are any calls or messages.

I find two messages from Steve.

They date back to two hours earlier.

I read them.

Honey me and the guys are going to have a drink together.I hope you are enjoying your time with your father.I love you.

I am going to read the second message.

Call me when you are home.I miss you.I love you.

I smile holding the phone to my chest and then I digit his number.

After not even a ring he answers me.

"Hey, honey" his voice is so deep that makes my legs tremble.

"I'm sorry, babe!I forgot my phone in our room and only now I read your messages" I apologize.

"It' all right Lily, don't worry.I'll join you immediately"

"No need, babe.Enjoy your evening with the guys.I'm here, I'm not going anywhere"

I hear his laughter vibrate in my ear.

"I haven't seen you since this morning...I'm on my way" his tone of voice hides sinful promises.

"Oh I look forward, Cap"

"Oh honey, I can't wait to make you scream that nickname" Steve whispers languidly in a scratchy tone of voice.

I blush with pleasure at the many ways he will use to make me scream.

"I am waiting for you.I love you"

"I love you too" he replies, ending our phone call.

I throw myself on the bed looking forward to having my handsome Captain all to myself again.

I get lost in erotic fantasies, daydreaming about the two of us, until a noise catches my attention.

It seems to come from below.

That's weird, the tower is deserted.

What can ever be?

With bare feet I head towards the origin of the sound.

I shiver at the touch of my bare feet on the floor.

I walk carefully and pay attention to the noises around as I head downstairs.

It is very unlikely that any thieves have thought of breaking into the Avengers headquarters.

For two simple reasons.

And second, Friday is the safest alarm in the world.

The first is simply because they are the Avengers, I mean who would be stupid enough to break into their headquarters?

I calmly enter the elevator heading downstairs.

Arrived in the large room where the main living room is located, I look around.

The noise seemed to come from here.

My heart skips a beat and I freeze in place.

I don't notice anything until I realize that from the other end of the room, right in front of the window, a motionless silhouette seems to be watching me.

Waiting for me.

The shadow moves towards me and I automatically take a step back.

"Who are you?How did you get in?"

"I bypassed the building's security system.It was tough but, for maybe ten minutes, we should be fine.I was able to disable alarms and cameras so we can have the privacy we need for a while"

I inhale violently, I would recognize his voice among a thousand.

Doctor McTavish positions himself in front of a pool of light coming from the window.

"What do you want?" I ask full of anger and fear, "Steve is upstairs and..."

Now I can see him.

His face seems more hollow than the last time I saw him, his eyes are surrounded by large black circles.

He looks tired.

"Is this how you welcome me?With a lie?I know very well that you are alone.Your friends and your loved one are out for a drink.And you just got back from a day with your newfound sweet daddy"

How the hell he knows?

I try to stay calm, I won't give him the satisfaction of showing my panic.

I laugh without joy, pretending a certainty that I don't have.

"I ask you one last time.What the hell do you want?"

He watches me closely.

"You know what I want, Elisabeth"

My hands close into fists.

I feel the energy flowing inside me and a slight blue glow begins to reverberate between my fingers.

At his words an unknown fury takes possession of my body.

"I don't want to hurt you" adds the doctor, "And I don't want to hurt your friends either.Nor to your beloved.Unless you force me to do it"

Now in my hands I can see electric discharges flowing, I feel it all over my body.

"Be careful how you talk.I will never allow you to get close to them"

"And I repeat to you that I will not do it unless forced.If you cooperate with me everything will be for the best.You should trust me after I let you go.After all...I raised you for fifteen years.I just want your cooperation and then you will be free to live your life"

I look at him with disgust.

I can't believe he really believes in the words he says.

"Free?How could I ever live in peace with myself knowing that I have allowed you to destroy the world?How can you even think I'm grateful to you?It was my mother who raised me, you've never been there...and now I know why.Because you are a soulless monster and I will do everything in my power to destroy you"

Philiph comes even closer, I step back again.

He smiles, his psychopathic eyes wander all over me and he keeps talking as if nothing had happened.

As if I hadn't just threatened him.

"I don't want to destroy the world.Hydra doesn't want this.Hydra just wants to restore order and put people in charge that deserve this.The US government, S.H.I.E.L.D., they are just a bunch of corrupt people.We just want to bring the world to its former glory"

"And exactly why do you want the Stone?For what?"

He seems pleasantly impressed to my questions.

Maybe he thinks I can take his side.

What he doesn't know is that I want him to talk just to get as much information from him as possible.

Information that could help the Avengers destroy him.

"Because it's a limitless source of power.We could create all kinds of weapons to protect the planet from alien attacks.To repel all forms of non-human life from the earth.To preserve our race"

I roll my eyes.

"Hydra fights for the greater good.And if your life is the price to pay to have the Space Stone, I won't hesitate even for a moment"

"Jesus Christ Philiph!But are you listening to yourself?You're fucking crazy" I scoff at him and his gaze hardens.

We stare into each other's eyes, challenging each other.

"I prefer death.I think I have already demonstrated it to you on several occasions"

Suddenly a metallic noise behind me catches our attention.

Two Iron Man armors float through the door and stand right in front of me aiming its repulsors at McTavish.

Tony's voice spreads through Friday's system.

"Hey, Crazy Scientist you made a big mistake trying to tamper with Friday.And above all, you made a huge mistake approaching her"

McTavish seems quite calm.

"I'm here to talk" he says shrugging as if nothing had happened.

As if he were just a friend who came to visit me.

"Man, if I were you I would run away like hell.Five Avengers are on their way to kick your ass.One of them is particularly pissed off" Tony says.

I secretly sigh with relief.

Steve is on his way.

McTavish raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm going away.Here is my number, Elisabeth"

So saying he places a business card on the sofa next to him.

"Think back to our discussion.I leave the choice to you.But remember Elisabeth, by hook or by crook, you will help me."

As he turns his back, an indistinct figure enters the window gliding in front of the doctor.

Iron Man is here.

Tony is here.

Thanks God!

"Too late, son of a bitch" exclaims Tony opening the helmet of his armor.

He is about to hit him using the repulsor on his hand when McTavish smiles and pulling a small device out of his pocket he throws it on the floor.

A small shiny black metal marble rolls towards me.

Within a moment, a light blinds us and a high-pitched sound echoes throughout the room.

It is so strong that I feel like my eardrums are about to explode.

Tony and I bend over, using our hands to try to plug our ears.

I can't help but scream, I feel a sharp pain explode in my head.

I feel that I could lose consciousness at any moment.

I turn my gaze to Tony.

He is on his knees and he too seems to be in agony.

I blink several times to recover from the light that blinded us and when my vision comes back into focus I let my gaze wander around the room but not even the shadow of McTavish.

Tony seems to be recovering too and staggering towards me.

He's still stunned.

I shake my head as if I needed it to recover my mental faculties.

"Are you ok, little Strange?" he asks me looking into my eyes, "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine.We just talked"

Tony helps me to stand up, I feel a little wobbly but thanks to Stark's tight grip around my waist I am able to get up.

Meanwhile, a terrified Steve enters the great hall.

His hands wander frantically over my face looking for a scratch or a wound.

"Honey!" he screams running towards me, "Lily, are you okay?Did he hurt you?Let me check"

His words overwhelm me without even giving me the time to respond.

"What did he tell you?What the hell he wants from you?"

Steve continues to overwhelm me with questions.

He talks so fast that I feel my head, still confused, spinning wildly.

Bucky seems to notice because he approaches Steve and pulls me out of his grasp.

"Dude, make her breathe.Do you see in what condition she is?"

I take it in my hands and look at it without understanding, I have yet to realize what happened.

I thank Bucky with my eyes and go sit on the sofa, just where McTavish's business card makes a fine show of itself.

Steve looks at me as if he had pure knowledge that I could shatter at any moment.

Nat approaches me handing me a glass of water.

Tony sits on the sofa in front of me, his torso bent forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

He is still wrapped in his armor except for his face, his helmet is on the floor near his feet.

Pepper next to him strokes his hair gently.

A tense silence spreads between us.

Steve looks really scared and angry.

The first to speak is Sam.

As soon as I hear his voice I suddenly turn towards him, I hadn't noticed that he had arrived with the others.

"What happened, Tony?"

Tony straightens up and leans his back against the back of the sofa.

"I'm not sure but I think he used some device, which after exploding with a blinding flash made a sound so high it almost sent our brains into a tailspin"

Tony points his big chocolate eyes into mine.

"Jeez Lily, I feel like my ears are bleeding.And you?" he asks, holding his head in his hands.

Steve immediately comes and sits next to me, his warm hand massaging my back.

"Me too" I can only whisper as another wave of pain strikes inside my brain, I squint my eyes trying to tame the pain as best I can.

I try to recover my strength and turning to Tony I ask him "How did you notice?How did you find out that Friday had been tampered?"

Tony raises an eyebrow with a chuckle.

"Friday is the AI par excellence, it is certainly not infallible but when she was tampered, I received a remote alert that warned me that she had stopped working.So I remotely activated two Iron Legion armors to protect you until our arrival"

"Thanks, Tony.I don't know what could have happened if you hadn't arrived in time"

Tony stands up and grabbing his fiancèe's hand he passes near me leaving me a caress on my head.

"You don't have to thank me.You are part of the family now and we protect the family"

I see him sigh and turning to everyone he says "I'm going to get something.This headache is destroying me"

We say goodbye to the couple who are leaving and silence falls upon us again.

I squeeze Steve's hand, he returns the squeeze.

Sam sits where Tony used to be.

I observe him well, his face is almost ashen white.

Bucky takes a seat next to him while Natasha sits next to me.

"He knew where you were.He knew where I had spent my day" I whisper in fear.

How am I going to go on living my life knowing that that psycho somehow has an ever watchful eye on my life?

Knowing that him could hurt the people I love?

All my friends look at me with a surprised glance, I visibly took them off guard with my statement.

Their eyes are full of concern but my attention is captured by the expression of the former Winter Soldier.

"Steve, brother are you okay?"

Steve doesn't answer, he just pulls his hand out of mine and gets up like a fury.

He strode to the window.

Sam looks sadly at his friend.

Nat next to me squeezes my hand even tighter reserving a sorry look for Steve.

The pain of my sweet Captain is visible to all.

We all know where his thoughts are heading.

It will be a long night.

I get up with a sigh.

"Could you please leave us alone?"

Nat is the first to get up.

"Sure!James, Sam c'mon.Let's go"

Sam gets up and goes to the door disappearing behind it.

Bucky just hesitates.

"I'll take care of him.Don't worry"

He nods at my words, taking Natasha's hand between his.

An automatic gesture that contains an infinite sweetness.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

I shrug at his question.

"For anything don't hesitate to come to us.You can find us in James's room if you need" my best friend tells me.

"Honestly, I have no idea.Physically I'm fine but mentally..." I make the gesture of shooting myself in the head, "Mentally I'm out of service"

Nat and I hug.

"Thank you, Nat" I whisper in her ear.

"You're welcome, sweetheart"

We smile at each other.

In the living room now it's just me and Steve.

He continues undaunted to look out the window.

The snow has been falling incessantly for hours.

"Steve..."

"I should have foreseen it.I should have known that he would have waited to find you alone to approach you"

"It's not your fault, you know that right?"

I feel like an idiot just thinking about such a question but Steve's gaze confirms the opposite.

He truly believes himself responsible for what just happened.

"Steve, please don't be ridiculous.Nobody knew when he would reappear.I can't live with you forever"

I try to smile to soften the situation but Steve's eyes remain serious.

"You're not really thinking this, aren't you?" I ask quite crossly.

"Oh, I don't think Captain Asshole.I won't let you do that to me"

"What do you want me to do then?Only by staying with you I can protect you.You said so yourself.Somehow watches over our every action.How could I ever leave you alone from now on?" the tone of his voice grows higher, "From now on you will never be alone.If I can't be by your side there will be Bucky, Nat, Sam..."

I feel anger boiling in my veins.

His words are like gasoline on the fire.

"I've been through hell for the past ten years.I won't let that happen again"

Steve gasps at my words, he step back as if I hit him in the face.

"That's not what I'm saying but I won't let you limit my freedom.I'll never let anyone do that again.Not even you"

"Are you comparing me to that madman?" Steve hisses, "Are you comparing my love, my protection, to his madness?"

He looks at me with a hurt look.

I'm sorry to talk to him like that but it's the truth.

"I love you Steve but you have to trust me.I am able to take care of myself.I can do it"

Steve snorts laughing at my words.

I sharpen my eyes, I feel like he is making fun of me.

"I am Elisabeth Strange.The future Guardian of the Space Stone.I'm not a little girl and I'm not your doll, you can't treat me like I can't go through all of this.You can't lock me in a case just for your pleasure"

Steve's jaw clenches.

"So you decided not to get rid of the Stone"

His is not a question.

"I never said I wanted to"

How the hell did we come to this?

I thought that once he came to my rescue he would comfort and pamper me.

And instead...

Steve laughs without cheerfulness.

A sarcastic tone dirties his voice.

"I can't believe it!It took him a couple of hours to convince you"

"What the hell are you talking about, Steve?"

"Your father convinced you, didn't he?"

"Oh God!How dare you!How dare you pull my father into this story.He told me absolutely nothing.I decided!Jesus Christ, Steve this is my life!Will I be free to do what I want?"

Steve seems to have lost all sense of reason.

He continues to fight me without even listening to what I'm saying.

"Sure and I should believe it?He always wanted to get you away from me.Bring you to live at the Sanctuary.And I am pleased to see that he succeeded"

I would like to keep yelling at him but it would just be a waste of breath and we will end up saying something we will regret.

So I take a deep breath and I speak as calmly as possible, even if there is the chaos inside me.

"I'm not going to talk to you about this, not now.When you have calmed down and returned to yourself maybe then we could talk"

I turn my back on him because I feel that my mask of indifference is cracking, leaving room only for despair.

My vision is clouding with tears pressing hard to come out.

"But until then, stay away from me.I'm serious, Steve.Stay the fucking away from me"

I walk away with my shoulders down and my heart literally broken.

I wander around the corridor for a few minutes.

I don't know where to go.

I don't know what to do.

I'm scared.

Alone.

I was just looking for a little comfort, for understanding.

I never thought Steve could speak to me like this.

I head to Bucky's room and timidly knock on the door.

After a few moments, a thud of footsteps approaches from the other side of the door.

Natasha opens the door, she is about to speak when she sees my expression.

She pulls me into her and holds me in her arms.

And without speaking, she already knows what happened.

"Shhhhhh...it's all right.I'm here" she tries to reassure me.

"He...Steve..."

I can't speak because big sobs shake my chest making me tremble.

Nat drags me towards the bed and after making me sit down she sits next to me massaging my back.

I rest my head on her soft chest and keep crying.

Meanwhile the door opens, Bucky enters unaware of what is going on.

"Baby, I had the chocolate ice cream but unfortunately the strawberry was over..."

The last word dies in his throat when he notices the scene in front of his eyes.

With a couple of big strides he approaches me, placing the bag with the ice cream on the floor.

"What happened?" he asks softly, placing his big hand in Vibranium on my head.

I sniff and try to speak again.

"Steve told me horrible things"

The sobs start again.

"Don't be afraid, doll.I'll punch him until he regains his reason"

I can't help but laugh at his words.

I calm down a bit.

My friends exchange a strange look.

"I understand why he feels guilty but he had no right to bring up my father" I whimpered, "Accusing him of absurd things among other things"

I look at them questioningly.

It is Natasha who answers my silent question.

"You have decided to become a Guardian, right?"

"Did you and Steve talk about it?" I ask without answering her question.

This time it's Bucky to answer to my question.

"Steve was worried that you would choose this path"

I get up full of anger starting to paces the room.

"Why doesn't he trust me?Does he really believe me so incapable that I can't do it?I was born for this!"

"Darling nobody thinks that much less Steve" Natasha reassures me.

"He's just worried about you" Bucky echoes.

I snort loudly.

Obviously they are on his side.

He's right but right now I don't have the strength to face Steve.

"Listen Lily, you have every right to be angry.Steve was wrong but you must understand that that man loves you so much that he is terrified of losing you, that something might happen to you" Bucky approaches me continuing to talk, "Can you try to understand his point of view?God!You two love each other so much...don't let a stupid misunderstanding keep you apart"

"I don't want to go back to our room tonight.Can I use your room, Nat?You will sleep here with Bucky as well so..."

My friend's hand closes immediately on mine.

"Absolutely yes!And I come with you.Or rather us, me and the chocolate ice cream.What do you say?"

I laugh.

"You don't have to Nat, really.You can stay here with Bucky" I politely decline her offer.

"I don't think so, Lily.I won't let you spend the night alone.Natasha will come with you.I'll survive for one night alone" Bucky talks to me softly as he pet my hair.

"Are you sure?I don't want to be a burden"

Natasha rolls her eyes as her boyfriend laughs.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lily.Come on, let's go"

So she says, she stands up holding out a hand to me.

Bucky gives me a nod of encouragement and I hesitantly accept the redhead's hand letting me drag away towards her room.

Once in her room, Natasha hands me a change of clean clothes and convinces me to take a shower.

According to her, I will feel better afterwards.

I do everything she says, I feel totally emptied that I can no longer make any decision, not even the most insignificant.

Once left alone I position myself in front of the mirror above the sink and observe my reflection.

I am a total mess.

The mascara has run down my cheeks, my eyes are red and puffy, the tip of the nose is red.

I undress and after entering the shower I sit on the cold tiles.

I let myself go in another cry.

I remain numb under the jet of water until Natasha enters the shower and drags me away.

I squeeze my knees to my chest trying to pick up every single piece of myself, trying to pick up the pieces of my heart.

She helps me get dressed.

Or at least I think.

My head at the moment is a confused place, clarity comes and goes.

I am so tired that I no longer understand where I am and what or who surrounds me.

How can such a wonderful and incredible day end like this?

I curl up on my side thinking about Steve, about my future.

I love that man more than anything else in the world but I also want to follow in my mother's footsteps.

My father's footsteps.

I will not allow him to decide on this for me.

I feel the mattress sink behind me, Natasha's hand caresses my hair.

"Hey, would you like some ice cream?" she asks me sweetly.

"No Nat, thank you but I just feel so tired"

She leans down leaving a kiss on my head.

"Rest.I will be here by your side"

The last thing I see before I close my eyes is Steve's face.

More hot tears wet my face and I slowly slide into Morpheus' arms.

Steve POV

I punch the wall in front of me cracking it and staining it with my blood.

"Fuck!"

I run my hands furiously through my hair.

"I'll take that off your pay"

I turn to the man who is speaking.

Tony joins me, an amused smile on his lips.

"What are you doing here?" I answer him a little more abruptly than I intended.

"Besides living there, you mean?Let's say that you and your girlfriend weren't so discreet"

"Sorry, Tony.We didn't want to wake you up with our screams.And sorry for the wall.And for replying rudely"

"Nah!That's ok, Cap" Tony waves a hand towards me as if to tell me not to worry.

I watch him as he grabs two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid from his very expensive reserve.

He approaches me and, sitting down, beckons me to follow him.

"Join me" he proposes to me while without waiting for my answer he fills both glasses.

I sit next to him and accept the glass he hands me.

Tony watches me with his deep dark eyes.

"It's not easy dealing with women" Tony says.

I watch the clear liquid wave in my glass and take another sip.

"She is so...she is so stubborn, Tony!I just want her to be safe but she doesn't seem to care"

The billionaire next to me throws his head back laughing loudly.

"Welcome to the relationship club"

He drinks the remaining liquor in his glass in one gulp.

Then he pours more.

He points to my glass with the bottle but I shake my head.

What do I need to drink for?

I can't even get drunk.

Tony takes another sip then turns to me.

"Steve, you can't complain about her stubbornness since you are infinitely worse"

I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that, Captain.You are the most stubborn man I know and even if your intention to protect her is noble it is not good.You are no longer in the 40s.Women are not looking for protection and a man to get food for them.Today they are more emancipated.Lily wants your love and understanding.She seeks your comfort and support.Telling her not to do something will only have the opposite effect"

I listen to him enraptured by his thought, by his logic.

"There will always be discussions.You will fight an infinite number of times in your life.Even for totally absurd and childish things.It's normal, it's part of relationships.Don't be put off by a skirmish.Go talk to her and apologize to her.Even if she is wrong, you always apologize.It usually works"

I laugh at his latest advice.

"Are women so complicated?"

Tony laughs again.

"Oh, you can't imagine how much Rogers"

I laugh along with him.

Then I get serious again.

"She wants to become a Guardian.She wants to follow in the footsteps of her parents"

Tony watches me without answering me.

"And I yelled at her for it" I admit feeling guilty.

"Well then run to her and apologize, now!"

Tony gets up and slaps me on the knee.

"I'm going back to bed" Stark announces.

"Goodnight Tony.And thanks for the advice"

"Duty, Cap.Between friends we help each other, between men we help each other"

So saying he winks at me and when he finishes his liquor he goes away.

I sit still for a while thinking about Tony's words.

Basically he is right.

Lily is a strong woman, she has been through tangled roads in her life.

I know very well that she will be a spectacular Guardian and I will give her all my support.

I get up and go to our room hoping she is there.

I am much calmer now than I was earlier.

As soon as I reach my door I notice a figure leaning against the wall.

Bucky is standing in front of my room, arms crossed over his chest and one foot on the wall.

His eyes are serious, almost angry.

I put my hand on the door handle.

"She's not here, right?"

"Din Don!Correct answer!You win the jackpot, dumbass"

I sigh irritated by his words.

I enter in the room and my best friend follow me.

"She is with Nat in her room" he informs me as I change my clothes.

I take off my elegant clothes to wear a comfortable t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

"How is she?"

"Oh the list is long...she is angry, scared, sad, mortified.And I could go on forever"

His words hurt me.

I had absolutely no intention of making her feel that way.

The one mortified is me.

"I have to talk to her" I say more to myself than to Bucky.

I head for the door but my friend stands in front of me raising his hands.

"Nat sent me a message a while ago.She wrote me that Lily fell asleep.After crying for another hour.Let her rest, she needs it.And you need it too.Tomorrow with your mind rested you will talk about it again"

I nod.

He is right.

I sit on the bed with my face buried in my hands.

"I'm screwed up everything"

"Don't worry Steve, everything will be fine" my best friend consoles me sitting next to me.

"I'm sorry I told her those things" I admit.

"I know man.And she knows it too"

I sigh thinking about the inevitable consequences of Lily's choice.

"Do you know that she will have to leave?By choosing to become a Guardian of one of the Infinity Stones, she will not be able to stay here during her training.She will have to train initially in some unknown location and then at the Sanctuary.What if I lose her in the meantime?What if she falls in love with someone else in the meantime?"

I feel my heart tearing apart at the very thought of losing her.

"On the other hand, it happened to her mother.Why shouldn't that happen to her too?"

"Steve, you can't compare the two cases.The relationship between you and Lily is something unique.Rare.You are soulmates.Nothing and no one can ever divide you.Neither time nor distance nor another man"

Bucky stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it.

"It will be fine.See you tomorrow morning, all right?"

Bucky smiles at me, a sincere smile filled with immeasurable love.

"Yeah" I reply exhausted, "See you tomorrow, man.Thanks to you and Nat for taking care of her"

"We will be willing to protect her at the cost of our lives.As I told you some time ago I love her as I love you.I would do anything for her.Even kick your ass if I have to" Bucky replies with a raised eyebrow.

I laugh with amusement at his threat.

He goes away and I throw myself heavily on the bed, staring at the ceiling for hours lost in my thoughts.

When I open my eyes it is already day, the sky is gray and a few snowflakes are falling.

Only when my watch strikes 3 AM I able to fall asleep.

I turn to the other side extending my hand on the bedside table in search of my phone, I grab it and check what time it is.

It's 7 in the morning.

Great!

At least I managed to rest a couple of hours.

I get out of bed and go down to the kitchen with bare feet.

I calmly enter the elevator and once I get downstairs I head towards the kitchen.

I will certainly not meet anyone at this time since it was a busy night for everyone, I doubt anyone is already awake.

Just before crossing the threshold of the door I stop suddenly.

Sitting at the table is Lily.

My beautiful Lily.

She is sitting curled up in the chair.

Her small body hunched over itself, her knees pressed to her chest.

Natasha must have gotten her a change of clothes before I went back to my room because she is wearing one of my sweaters.

Her favorite, the one in soft red cashmere.

I love the contrast between that color and the black of her curls that fall down her back.

In her hands he holds a steaming cup.

She is sipping her tea and as soon as she notices my presence she starts, a few drops come out of her cup wetting her fingers.

She immediately returns her gaze to her hands without saying a word to me.

She keeps her head down and her gaze fixed on her hands that convulsively squeeze the cup.

Her fingers tremble.

I enter with a weight in my heart and heading towards the kitchen counter I grab a cup where I pour a generous dose of coffee.

Her indifference kills me.

I lean back against the counter.

I'm behind her, I can watch her as she tries to make herself as tiny as she can.

As if she wanted to disappear.

"I know I was an idiot but I didn't think I didn't even deserve a good morning from you" I speak to her staying behind her.

I see her wince, if possible her head goes down even more.

I feel the anger cloud my mind but I force myself to breathe deeply and stay calm.

If I yell at her, I won't get anything.

I sigh and I put down my cup of coffee on the counter.

I walk up to her and kneel at her feet.

Her eyes are filled with tears.

I take the cup out of her hands and place it on the table.

I squeeze her hands in mine.

Finally she raises her gaze to mine.

"I'm sorry, honey" I whisper to her as I kiss her forehead, "I'm sorry I lost my temper and I'm sorry I said those horrible things to you.Forgive me"

"I'm sorry too, babe.I never want to fight with you again"

I hug her with all the strength I have.

"It's okay, honey.It's okay"

Lily slides off the chair hugging me.

Her hands grind the fabric of my t-shirt.

We find ourselves seated on the floor tight in an embrace that is worth a thousand words.

Lily's body is shaken by small sobs.

I'm sorry she keeps repeating through her tears.

I grab her face in my hands and moving her away from my body, I look at her with intensity.

"It's my fault.I should have supported you and been on your side.I shouldn't have attacked you like that.I was unforgivable"

Her small hands close behind my neck as she brings her face close to mine.

I can feel the salty taste of her tears on her lips.

I press with my tongue, silently asking for access to her mouth.

She compliantly opens her lips so I can deepen the kiss.

My God, how much I have missed her!

She sucks my lips with ardor and my body trembles.

I wrap my arms around her waist and lift myself off the ground pulling her up too.

I go down with my hands on her wonderful ass and I squeeze her flesh with eagerness.

Her legs are sensually laced around my hips.

Our breaths accelerate.

Without thinking twice, I take her upstairs to our room and without ever detaching myself from her lips, I lay her on top of the bed.

I take off my shirt grabbing it by the collar and yanking it off my shoulders.

I return with my lips on hers.

Our lips crashed toghether, she gasps in my mouth.

I feel my body pervaded by euphoria.

I grabbing her hips and pull her to the edge of the bed.

I rip her clothes off and she gasps in surprise at my ardor.

In a corner of my brain there is a little voice that keeps telling me to take it slow, to slow down, but I can't.

I can't do it.

All the fear, anger and frustration are rising and I need her.

I need her body.

My mouth moves along her body as I kneel at the edge of the bed.

When I'm between her thighs I move her panties aside and I finally wrap my tongue around her clit.

Lily trembles and brings her hands into my hair as she pulls them.

I growl like an animal on her tender and sweet flesh licking it, continuing with kissing and biting.

She cum on my mouth and I can taste her sweet nectar on my tongue.

Continuing to kiss her all over her body, I go up to her lips, pushing her upwards so that I can position myself between her legs, which are still trembling for the orgasm.

"I love you, Steve" whispers the wonderful creature that panting under me.

Her cheeks are red, her lips parted.

She is a breathtaking sight.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

"I love you too.I love you too, my love"

She looks at me with her immense eyes dilated by the pleasure and she smiles at me, she smiles at me so sweetly that my heart skip a beat.

I'm a lucky bastard.

I bend down to kiss her again but this time slowly.

I want to be able to send her all the love I can.

I move away from her lips and quickly take off my sweatpants, followed immediately by my boxers.

I rub my erection along her slit and she inhales violently, planting her nails in my back.

I slipp easily through her folds.

She lifts her legs and rests her ankles on my ass arching her back.

"Oh, Steve" she cry out.

I hiss in response, feeling my every muscle stiffen with pleasure.

I begin to move inside her, one hand holding my weight while the other goes to hold her thigh.

I lower my face and bury it in her neck.

It is as if nothing existed around us, as if time and space had stopped and it was just the two of us.

I lift myself from her body using the strength of my arms and observe the point where our bodies are joined, I observe myself moving back and forth inside her tight pussy.

I feel at the point of no return.

I lift my gaze to her face, her eyes are closed and her breasts rise and fall furiously.

A drop of sweat slips from my nose to crash on her right cheek.

Her eyes open to focus on mine.

"I'm taking back everything I told you in the kitchen earlier" Lily gasps heavily.

Her fingers grip the muscles of my arms.

I raise a questioning eyebrow and she smiles slyly.

"I told you that I never want to fight with you again...well if this is the way to make peace I want to fight every single day"

I laugh at her words, the echo of our laughter is transmitted in a curious way in our joined bodies.

I lower myself to her lips, plundering them, taking all that is mine.

Taking everything she offer me.

I feel her sex tighten more and more around my dick.

I put my hand on her clit, teasing and pinching it.

A loud moan resounds in the room and I feel gassed by her pleasure.

Lily cum muttering a choked I love you.

I ride the waves of her orgasm, her pussy made more slippery by her delicious juice drives me crazy.

With two other powerful thrusts I cum too, filling her womb with all of myself.

I let myself fall helpless on her body.

The only noises in the room are our heavy breathing trying to find the right rhythm.

I roll away from her body pulling her with me, her head resting lazily on my chest.

"I am with you, honey.Whatever choice you make, I'll be on your side"

I caress her hair playing with her curls, her fingers instead follow the contours of my muscles and every now and then she leaves a few kisses on my chest.

I want her to know.

I want her to know that whatever choice she makes about her life I will always support her.

"I want to be the Guardian of the Space Stone" she whispers in fear.

My heart squeezes, hearing her so scared as she expresses her dreams makes me feel like a monster.

"You will be the best Guardian that ever existed"

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't believe it...I'm sure of that Lily"

She finally raises her head to look at me.

I smile at her and kiss her lips.

"Steve!" she gasps amused.

"I will be with you always and forever" I tell her kissing her again, "And you'll be the sexiest too!I have no doubts about that" I add giving her a light slap on her beautiful ass.

Then returning serious she caress my face.

"Wherever I go I'll take you into my heart, Steve.It doesn't matter how many miles will divide us or how long we will be apart.I will always come back to you.I'll always come home"

I kiss her softly and hug her to my chest.

I caress her hair and deeply inhale her perfume to impress it in my memory.

"And I will always be here waiting for you.Forever" I reply.

Half an hour later we are all in the kitchen chatting happily.

Lily is sitting on my lap all focused on her bowl of raspberries while she chats with Natasha.

Bucky instead asks me for advice on a motorcycle he intends to buy.

"Where is Pepper?" she asks with curiosity, leaning her head towards the entrance to the kitchen, thinking of seeing her appear at any moment.

Tony and Sam join us and after grabbing a cup of coffee, they sit next to me.

Tony looks at us and smiles satisfied.

Tony sighs.

"She left at dawn.Business never sleeps"

He stops to take a generous sip of coffee.

"I see that you and Capsicle are thick as thieves again"

Lily laughs heartily.

"Yeah Tony, we are thick as thieves again" I replied by wrapping my arms around her body.

Tony smiles at me then and capturing everyone's attention, he makes an announcement.

"This morning, after Pepper left, I tried to figure out how Dr. Foolish managed to hack Friday.I found a tiny flaw in her system and promptly repaired it.From now on, everything will be under control.Such a thing will never happen again"

Then he turns his gaze to Lily.

"I'm sorry, little Strange.My carelessness could have cost you your life"

She blushes.

"I'm sorry" Tony repeats but this time to me.

I shake my head.

The tension around us seems to disappear, laughter and chatter echoing throughout the room.

"You don't have to apologize, Tony" I tell him.

"It's not your fault that that man is totally crazy.None of us blame you" Lily interjects.

I take a moment to observe everything around me.

Tony and Buck gleefully chat about the basketball game that will be broadcasting the afternoon.

Natasha and Sam discuss whether mint or sage is better with lamb.

Lily looks at them amused, debuting that the lamb goes with garlic.

The two look at her as if she were crazy.

I feel a sense of joy vibrating in me that I haven't felt for a long time.

The joy of having a family.

Lily turns to me resting her head on my chest.

I kiss her hair and breathe in her perfume.

I have finally found my happiness and I will not allow anyone to take it away from me.

I will protect all of this at the cost of my own life.

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@deansapplepie

[boydepartment]

Hi, it's been a minute since the last long sheep anon message. :] I can't say I can fully understand what you are going through right now since I've haven't dealt with a major loss in my life yet, but I do hope that you take whatever steps you need to feel better.

I know in my last message I said that I wished I had a manuel on how to live life. But, I also think that people need to live life at their own pace and in their own way. There's no one in the world that can live your life for yourself. If you live your life following what others think you should do, you can't really call that living. So don't let anyone tell you exactly how to live your life or how to feel, because they aren't and can't be you.

I've heard the phrase, "it's okay to cry" before, but what I don't hear a lot is "it's okay not to cry". To anyone who needs to hear this, it's okay to not be devastated over a loss for the rest of your life. People are different and will react in different ways. It is not a betrayal and you're not guilty of anything if you don't feel sad all the time.

A core idea behind my messages is the phrase "you are not alone". Loneliness is a really dangerous emotion that everyone will have to deal with at some point in their lives. It can be incredibly isolating and suffocating dealing with something by yourself. Maybe it's because of my own experiences or its the negative stigma behind crying, but saying "don't cry" has never been helpful for me in the past. So instead of saying don't cry, I'll say that I will be beside you and we can get through this crazy life together. <3

Stay hydrated everyone! Crying takes a lot of energy and water, so make sure to replenish yourself. I've had oatmeal with honey after a long cry and it really did make me feel better. It's so amazing that we get to coexist at the same time and that our paths have crossed, so let's see what the future holds together, okay?

-🐑

Hi sheepie. I apologize it took me so long to reply to this. This week has not be kind to me in the slightest. I did think about this message though for a couple days and I’ve had a few good cries after what happened. I ended up losing a friend this week too, though that doesn’t really have an effect on me. She was really mean to me constantly.

I really hope you don’t have to experience something like this in a long time sheepie. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, it’s really hard and I have too much experience of grieving even from a young age.

Anyways, i hope you are doing well. If this message is all over the place I once again apologize. It’s 5:30am and I woke up an hour ago because of a couple nightmares. I’ll be okay though, I know I’ve been through something similar so I know I’ll get through it. Life just gets hard sometimes. I really hope to hear from you again soon, I’m very thankful for you sheepie :) it’s almost like you’re a pen pal

[tantibusromance]

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