#i don't care how many years may pass LOL

[bobokitty]

Was thinking about my two idiot children (affectionate) and doodled them on my lunch. But ahhh, sticky notes kept curling up so I pinned them to the office wall and um, think I'll just keep them there LOL

[mayordea]

Happy birthday to the number one princess in the world!! 💖

~from her biggest fans :)

ramble of my scattered thoughts on the piece under cut as usual cuz i love talking 😋

This has been an idea I've been cookin for a while, and it was so cluttered and unlike any other ensemble piece I've made... and I decided I oughta do it anyway. I love Miku, I love Vocaloid, and I wanted to do something really ambitious and crazy for her anniversary. Crazy that she's turning her "canon" age this year TwT

I had the idea floating around since like, May...? And then finally started acting on it around June 18. I'm terrible with deadlines, obvious with how I can never make a silly birthday post in time, so I started wayyyy ahead to make sure I have some room to be lazy lol, especially with an idea as ambitious as this.

This was finished on July 12! So I had to sit on this for an annoying amount of time. Very difficult for someone like me who just wants to talk about everything I'm working on to the masses. But at the very least, that gave me the time to work on the draft for this post.

~~~

Here's some ~behind the scenes~ scribbles leading up to the finished piece!

Left is the chicken scratch plan i made in my handy dandy notebook (whenever things are getting real and ambitious, i always made a rough ROUGH plan in there. Usually I'd do a rough pass of the full thing, but this was too complicated for me to do traditionally. I majorly benefited from digital tools to make this possible). CyberDiva and CyberSongman were considered, but I ended up cutting them cuz I just didn't feel like drawing them sorry-- (just pretend they're off to the side. They gave Ruby and Clara the pizza lol). Right is the "final" completed sketch (before I decided to include Chika mid-way through coloring and VY1 and VY2 near the finish line). I started by drawing the main "groups" separated on a different canvas so I can plop them into the main canvas for easy rearranging and transforming. However I got lazy and ended up drawing everyone in the bottom right corner directly on the canvas since I liked seeing the big picture of everyone's positions. Y'know.

Almost excluded Chika! But I like her design so much that I just felt like including her last-minute. You win this time, Chika fans. VY1 and VY2 were very close to being cut! I added them when I began doing the banner and thought "eh why not". I figured their non-human designs would be pretty easy to include pushed back in the bg. Ik VY1 is more commonly associated with the fan design, but I referenced the hairpin cuz it was simpler and the fan looked very annoying to draw 😭

Sorry to the fans of many Vocaloids I had to cut because this composition was insane enough as is. I promise I wanted to include fellas like CUL, LUMi and Sachiko 😭 I will admit I was a little biased on who I wanted to include over others. Like, I don't normally care for Bruno and Clara, but I wanted to get some more international 'loids in the mix. Also wanted to stick in the realm of official designs and not fan-designs since, as much as I can appreciate those, are just a whole "wait who is that guy supposed to be" situation I didn't wanna deal with. I also did wanna include even more character references through the balloons, but they ended up being kind of ugly and overcomplicated the BG :,) (Oh, and while this was originally planned to be a Vocaloid-only piece, I did end up including Teto, Neru, and Haku 'cuz those are Miku's besties dude!!! They may not be Officially in the club but they're her girls and it would be criminal to not invite them to her birthday).

Anyway, this project marks the first time I've drawn a lot of Vocaloids. Lily, Piko, Rana, Yuki, Yukari, Miki, Maika, and many more lol. All of 'em I've heard or seen in passing, but now I actually drew them, and some have really cool and fun designs!! I got into a habit of drawing Merli after this since I just love her design for example. And I'll probably be drawing more lol!!

Oh and the last thing I'll add for now!! The cake is indeed made up of various song references!! I wanted to reference the "big four" producers, just absolute icons in Vocaloid history. The pink/black checkerboard is "World is Mine" (Ryo), the crescents on the side is "Rolling Girl" (Wowaka), the smiley faces is "Matryoshka" (Hachi), and the three hearts on the side is "The Vampire" (DECO*27, which is sort of a symbol of his whole Mannequin album tbh). I know "The Vampire" is a bit modern but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head. I'm a fake DECO fan I know 😔 "Matryoshka" was originally going to be referenced in the colors of the candles but believe me it looked like shit so I just went for something else last minute 😭

That's all I have to say!!! Hope you didn't mind the text wall if you made it here. I hope you like it as much as I do!!!! Happy freakin' birthday Miku!!!!

I have to deal with tagging all these characters now for my page,,, in the drafts my tags got cut off after a certain point so I think I'm massively breaching the tag limit 😭 um... I'll figure that out later...

not losing sleep that i can't tag everyone, even for page organization purposes because some characters have pretty generic names and some are a little hard to see in full yknow. If you're one of those people who tag every character in the art piece you reblog... I am very sorry.

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 19: Spirit

Contents | Prev Part | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) A year and a half has passed and Ellis has moved on, but the universe never seems to let her forget her past.

Word Count: 8.3K (It's another hefty one lol oops)

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, alcohol consumption, smut incl: penetrative sex, 'quickie', rough, no aftercare. Readers must be 18+

The world never stops turning, no matter how unfair it may seem. We crash our cars yet the radio still plays, traffic lights keep changing as we sit in the wreck, red then amber then green, and back again. Daffodils bloom as dreams wilt away, and the sky still glitters with fireworks at the end of the worst year of someone's life. We are passengers on a train with no stops, and the options are limited; embrace the journey or get dragged along behind it. 

Eighteen months had passed since you'd let the light back in. A year and a half of laughter and growth, of new friends and milestones. Granted, you still couldn't drive. Still had terrible posture and a knack for saying the wrong things. But those that loved you didn't care, and you were finding it easier to love yourself because of that. 

You were four hours from home, sitting in the passenger seat of Rav's car as he drove you through the most quaint, scenic town you'd ever seen. It was like an illustration; thatched roofs and Tudor cladding, ivy on brick and winding cobblestone lanes. There was a milkman driving a float in front of you, an old lady setting up tables outside a café as a policeman strolled down the street, smiling and waving at passers by. 

You turned to Rav. "Did you ever watch Midsomer Murders?" 

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, smirking like he knew what you were about to say.

"This place is just too idillic," you said. "Feels like Jessica Fletcher's somewhere investigating a suspicious death." 

"That was Murder She Wrote." 

"Oh. Well, still..." 

He laughed, craning his head to see around the milk float in front. "Fucking hell, first the tractor, now this." 

"It looks like he's going that way." 

"Woohoo!" he cheered, speeding up as the float turned the corner.

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Lewis Hamilton, slow down." 

"Oh, I'm sorry, for a second there it sounded like you were criticising my driving. You, Ellis Weiss, the woman whose name alone strikes fear into the hearts of driving instructors everywhere." 

You hit him on the arm.

He laughed, before squinting to read the road sign ahead. "I'm not seeing any directions for this place yet, are you?" 

"No. And I still don't have any signal so I can't Google Maps it. Why don't you pull over and we can ask someone for directions?" 

He gave a reluctant hum and kept driving. 

"Rav, just pull over and ask." 

"Hang on a second, let me see-"

"Why are men so opposed to getting directions?" 

"I'm not opposed, I just-" 

You reached a dead end. He rolled to a stop as you glared at him. 

"Y'know what, it's fine," he said facetiously. "Who needs marriage anyway? This isn't the 1920's, we're a progressive society."

You laughed. "May I remind you, you were the one who proposed."

He pressed his mouth into a straight line, jokingly rolling his eyes before turning the car around and driving back the way you came. 

You drove a little while longer, finally spotting a spire in the distance; the tall, stone point peeking over a row of houses.

"Is that the one?" asked Rav.

"I think it is." 

He got closer, turning onto the street where a large church stood proudly at the bottom. Perfectly kept grass bordered the beautiful stone building, winding paths and an elaborate sign near the entrance. 

"St Joseph's," Rav read. "Yeah, this is it. Thank fuck for that." 

He pulled into the carpark and you felt a strange wave of discomfort ripple through your stomach. It didn't seem to matter how many churches you visited, how much time passed; the memories were like a scar, healed but never fully gone. 

You climbed out into the cool, spring breeze, drying your sweaty palms on your trousers. 

"Here we go, church number three," said Rav. "Third time's a charm, right?"

"Well this isn't falling apart like the last one, so we're off to a good start," you replied.

You walked together down a long path, climbing the steps and pushing through the doors into the foyer. It smelled musky, smoky; frankincense and myrrh, wood and incense, rose and beeswax. There was a man pinning signs to a noticeboard, his back to you as he whistled happily to himself. 

"Excuse me," said Rav. "Are you the priest?"

The man turned. "Hm? Oh no, I'm just a volunteer." 

"Oh sorry. We were hoping we might be able to talk to the priest about possibly having a wedding here. I don't know if you might be able to... Erm..." 

"Ah, well I think he's in his office. I'll go and grab him for you." He smiled kindly. "You can come in and have a look around if you like? I'll only be a minute." 

"That's great, thank you." 

The man hurried away, disappearing through a nearby door that led to a long corridor. You walked with Rav, tentatively stepping into the chapel and looking around at the bright, vast space. 

He turned to you with an excited grin. "This is nice, isn't it." 

"It is," you said, looking up at the windows, the artwork on the walls. 

"Look." He walked down the aisle, pointing to the pews either side of him as he went. "Flowers here, right?" 

You nodded, watching as he jogged the rest of the way to stand at the altar. 

He held his hands out, gesturing to the space around him. "Yeah, this is nice. I can picture myself standing here. What do you think? Is the aisle long enough? Quick, Ellis, go there and walk down, see if you can picture it." 

You laughed and waved your hand at him, wandering over to a display of flowers instead, touching the petals gently to see if they were real and leaning forward to smell them. 

"Hi there, sorry to keep you," a voice echoed through the chapel. 

It sent a chill down your spine; the deep, rich tone seeping straight into your bones. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening in shock as the priest walked right past you, the sight of him leaving you frozen, staring at him as he met Rav in the middle of the aisle and reached for a handshake. 

There was a moment where you thought you were imagining it. The tall frame, dark curls and pale skin nothing more than a ghost, a mirage, a sign you needed to get some sleep. Then he introduced himself, I'm Father Benedict, and you knew he was real.

"Rav, nice to meet you." He gestured over to you. "And this is Ellis." 

He turned to look at you; his smile lines melting, lips parting in a stunned silence that seemed to last an eternity. But it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before he cleared his throat, forcing a smile and making his way over to you.

"H-hi..." he said breathlessly, reaching out his hand. "Nice to meet you." 

You glanced down at his trembling fingers, conceding after a moment with a weak handshake. 

Rav began to talk, but his voice was nothing more than a muffled buzz in your ears. Your eyes glazed over, losing focus as Father Benedict walked back over to him.

"Yeah, I apologise for showing up like this," Rav said. "I know it's a shot in the dark that you'll have an opening at such short notice. But the church we were supposed to be having the wedding at burned down." He laughed in disbelief. "Like literally burned down to the ground. Talk about a bad omen." 

Father Benedict chuckled. But the sound was shallow, half-hearted, his eyes flitting over to you every few moments. 

"Yeah I can- I can have a look. What's er, what's the date you're after?" he asked. "I'll check my... erm... my... calendar- book- diary. Diary, that's the word." 

"June..." Rav hesitated, looking over at you.

"Seventh," you said. 

"Seventh, right." 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Okay," Father Benedict nodded. "Okay, let me just go and erm... Have a- Let me check." 

He walked out of the chapel, and it felt like you'd been holding your breath the entire time. You blew out a soft, shaking exhale as Rav walked over to you. 

"He's alright, isn't he," he said. "Better than the priest this morning who kept staring at your tits."  

"What? No, I liked him. Made me feel wanted." 

"Fuck off," he laughed, immediately covering his mouth in regret. 

You gave a weak smile. 

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a bit... I don't know." 

"No I'm... It's just... I think I might be getting a cold or something. Bit headache-y." 

He gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

Father Benedict returned, his eyes focusing immediately on Rav's hand on your shoulder. He fell silent for a moment before snapping out of it, shaking his head and looking down at the diary in his hands.

"S-sorry, could you just remind me of the date you wanted again?" 

Rav nodded. "It's June..." 

"Seventh," you said again.

"Okay, right, er..." Father Benedict cleared his throat, flicking through the pages. "So I do already have a wedding on the seventh. But Friday the sixth is open, or if you really want a Saturday, the following week is a possibility; the fourteenth?"

Rav looked at you, then down at the ground as he thought about it. "Yeah, no either of those should work. We know the owners of the venue so we should be able to swap the dates around. Could I... Can we get back to you?" 

"Yes, yes no problem." He closed the diary. "I er, I have somewhere to be, shortly, but if you want to come back tomorrow morning, we could sit and go through everything. Usually we'd need six months notice but, with the... fire and what not, I'm sure we can work something out; squeeze in your preparation, Saturday day, talk about costs and everything." 

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." Rav looked at you, as though seeking approval. 

You gave another weak smile.

"No problem," Father Benedict replied, glancing at you again. 

You began walking towards the exit, and you couldn't quite believe that was it; a quick conversation, a handshake, a 'nice to meet you' as though you were nothing but strangers. You weren't sure what the alternative would have been; a hug, tears, a blazing row? Perhaps it was best to leave it like this, to run without another word, just like he'd done to you. 

But all of a sudden, there was a rush of white noise above you, growing louder until it was deafening. You looked up at the ceiling in confusion, then over to the windows as rain began to stream down the glass. 

"Oh my god," you muttered. 

"You can't say that in a church," said Rav. 

You groaned. "We parked so far away." 

"Tell you what, you wait here and I'll go and get the car. I'll drive it right up to the door."

"What? No it's fine. It's just rain-" 

"Don't be stupid. Wait there, I'll be two seconds."

He ran off before you could protest any further. You huffed and crossed your arms, hovering in the archway between the chapel and the foyer. You could hear Father Benedict moving around behind you, but you refused to turn around, as though not looking at him meant he wasn't actually there. 

You felt like a stroppy child, balled up, head turned, teeth clenched. When he first left, you'd have done anything to see him again, to hear his voice, smell his aftershave. But there was something painful about finally knowing where he'd been; knowing that for eighteen months he'd been just four hours away, starting anew like you were just an old VHS he could tape right over.

"Ellis...?" he said softly, tentatively. 

You exhaled through your nose and turned slowly, looking up at him with a heavy brow and glassy eyes. 

"Hi," he breathed, like he didn't know what else to say. 

"Hi," you replied bluntly, turning away again. 

He paused for a while, but you could hear him getting closer, feet shuffling tentatively across the floor. "H... How are you?"

You turned back and glared up at him in disbelief.

He sighed, dropping his head. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't," you interrupted. "Just don't." 

He seemed reluctant to give in, standing there staring down at you, anxiously biting his lip as he deliberated with himself. But finally, he yielded, turning in defeat and beginning to walk away. 

You watched him leave, your breath quickening, lungs bubbling with anger and confusion, sadness and grief. 

"You just... Left," you blurted out. 

He stopped, turning back to look at you. "I know." 

"No word, no explanation. You just..." You struggled to find the words, eyes darting around the chapel as they welled with tears, before finally giving up. "Why?" you whispered.

He took a long pause, head stooped. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, forcing himself to look back up at you. "Because I was falling in love with you," he said simply, his voice nothing more than a breath.

You stared at him, the blue of his eyes so vibrant against the red in his waterline. 

"And..." he continued, taking a step towards you. "I know without a doubt that if I'd stayed, I would have just continued to fall more in love with you. And I would have loved you... more than... anything. More than..." He gestured to the church around you before shaking his head, his lip quivering. "I couldn't. I just- I couldn't..." 

"I wouldn't have ever asked you to." 

"I know that. But it wouldn't have stopped it from happening."

You pressed your mouth into a straight line, sniffing sharply and steadying your voice. "I was falling in love with you too." 

He nodded, like he already knew. 

You swallowed the urge to cry, taking a deep breath and shrugging. "Well there you go. What can you do."

He dropped his head, closing his eyes like your words hurt. 

You turned away, leaning against the frame of the archway as you waited for the beep of a car horn. 

"You're going to make a beautiful bride, Ellis," he said solemnly.

Your stomach tightened. Then you looked at him again. "I'm not the bride." 

His brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Bridesmaid," you said, pointing to yourself. 

"Oh..." he whispered. 

"Rav's fiancé had a dress fitting so she couldn't make it. Asked me to come with him instead because she didn't trust him to find a new church on his own." 

He exhaled a shaking breath, the corner of his mouth twitching with a relieved smile. "So you're- So you're not... Seeing anyone?" 

You shook your head. "No one's been worthy of me yet..." 

He gave a subtle smile, but your face remained stony. 

There was a loud beep and you turned to see Rav's car waiting near the door. You glanced back over your shoulder. "Good to see you, Father."

You rushed outside without waiting for a reply. The rain was warm, falling so hard it hurt as it pelted your skin. You tried to keep your breaths even as you hurried towards the car, a painful lump lodged in your throat. 

"Ellis! Ellis, hold on!"

You stopped at the passenger door, turning to see Father Benedict running down the church steps after you. He halted at the bottom, chest heaving, eyes wide. 

You stared at him, waiting for him to speak. 

"I..." he stammered. "I felt the urge to chase you but I didn't actually think through what I'd say once I got here..."

You blinked at him.

"D-do... Do you- could we maybe talk? I've got some work this afternoon but-" He pointed to a pub across the road. "We could get a drink, maybe? This evening? If you're not busy...?" 

You looked at the pub, then back to him.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, wiping the rain out of his eyes. "But if you could give me... an hour of your time..." 

You sighed and shook your head. "Yeah," you finally said. "Yeah, okay."

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding with a slight smile. "Okay. Okay, erm... I can be over there for eight?" 

"Okay." 

"Okay."

You pulled the handle and got into the car, slicking your wet hair back with your hands. 

"What was that about?" asked Rav. 

"Oh, nothing, he erm... he just needed me to remind him of the dates again." 

He began to drive and you sat in silence, shocked, shivering. The church grew smaller in the wing mirror until you could no longer see it all, the rain easing, a double rainbow emerging in the sky above you. 

Rav glanced over at you. "Are you alright?" 

You nodded, staring out of the window, the quaint town looking entirely different to you now. 

The Poplar and Dove. Why did pubs always have such odd names? What did trees and birds have to do with beer, fruit machines and sticky carpets? 

You stood under the awning of the pub, wringing your hands nervously as you waited for 8pm to come. You'd gotten there earlier than you'd meant to, and though you could have just gone inside, you couldn't bring yourself to seem eager. 

You wished you'd packed nicer clothes than the t-shirt, long denim skirt and trainers you were wearing. But as a man stumbled out onto the street in oil-covered overalls and work boots, you almost felt overdressed.

It was 8:01 when you finally drew in a deep, anxious breath and went inside, the smell of beer hitting you like a boozy cloud as you pushed through the doors. It was quieter than you'd expected; a low hum of conversation as a television played quietly above the bar, an old song drifting from a jukebox in the corner. You slipped through a group of men, their hands and faces smattered with motor oil like the one you'd seen outside.

You tried to not make it obvious you were looking around, standing at the bar as you scanned the room quickly. What if he didn't come? What if he'd changed his mind at the last minute and stood you up? You'd have no one to blame but yourself; already dreading telling your sister you'd agreed to this at all.

"Ellis!"

You turned to see him in the corner, pointing to a drink on the table in front of him and waving you over. You couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, pushing through another group of people to get to him. 

"Rum and Coke," he said as you sat down opposite him. "I hope that's still...?" 

"Yeah, yes. That's great. Thanks." You hooked your bag onto the back of the chair and took a sip - the rum was spiced, your favourite kind. 

He was even more beautiful than you remembered, and it annoyed you greatly. His casual shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he clasped his long fingers together in front of him. His curls were fluffy, falling slightly over his brow and framing his eyes. 

Those eyes. God. You took an extra sip of your drink. 

"Thank you for showing up," he said.

You gave a halfhearted smile.

"I know I don't deserve it..." 

There was a lull; an awkward pause as you both shifted in your seats. There'd never been an uncomfortable silence between you before. Even in the moments no one spoke, it was always pleasant, content. 

"So, what's it like around here?" you asked. 

His eyes rounded for a moment, like he was taken aback, not expecting you to make small talk. You weren't expecting yourself to make small talk either. 

"It's, er, It's- Nice," he said. "The parish is a lot bigger, so more work. But the town itself is... It's quiet." 

You nodded. 

"Why did your friends choose it for their wedding?" he asked.

"Camilla - the bride - grew up here." 

"No way," he laughed softly. "How did you meet her?" 

"Through a work thing. And Rav's my downstairs neighbour. I introduced them." 

"Ah, so you're basically Cupid." 

"I expect they'll be naming their first born Ellis," you said, unable to resist a smile. 

You'd planned to walk into that pub with fire in your belly, venom on your tongue. You'd gone over the things you wanted to say in the shower, practiced arguing with him in the mirror as you got ready. Yet there was something about him, like a sedative, that made it impossible to do anything but talk. 

"So Camilla's a photographer?" he asked between sips of his drink. "Editor?" 

"Oh, erm, no. I don't work at the studio anymore," you replied. "I'm a freelance book cover designer now; met her at a publishing thing." 

He smiled proudly. "You always wanted to do that." 

"I did." 

"Congratulations." 

"Thanks." you said shyly, bringing the glass to your lips. 

"Is that a tattoo?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." You lifted the sleeve of your t-shirt to reveal a small, fine ink design on the inside of your upper arm. 

He leaned forward slightly, squinting to look at it more closely. 

"Why?" you asked. "Is it like... A cardinal sin or something?"

"No, I just couldn't see what it was." He laughed and relaxed back into his seat. "I like it." 

"Thanks. I've got another one as well, but if I tried to show you that we'd probably get kicked out." 

There was a subtle glint in his eye, making you realise what you'd said.

"I didn't mean for that to sound so..." You shook your head. "Sorry."

He chuckled quietly. "There's a guy in my congregation; biggest, buffest guy you've ever seen. Bald head, covered, and I mean covered in tattoos. And when I tell you he is the sweetest, gentlest most devoutly catholic man I've ever met, it's incredible."

"I bet he gives really good hugs."

"Oh absolutely."

You clinked your nails against the side of your glass, filling another awkward silence, letting the last of the nervous energy out through your fingertips. 

"How's your sister?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, she's good," you replied. "She actually just had another baby."

"She did? Oh that's wonderful." 

"Mhm, a few months ago. Another girl." 

"What's her name?" 

You glared at him, pressing your lips together reluctantly. 

"Oh come on, it can't possibly be more out there than Soleil," he laughed.

"Eulalie." 

"You-lay-what?" 

You giggled. "Eulalie. It's French as well, apparently." 

"Well, they certainly love a unique name, don't they." 

"I know. I'm going to have to call my kid Keith or something, just to restore the balance." 

"Ah, little baby Keith." 

You lifted your glass, speaking before taking another sip. "What's the worst name you've ever baptised?" 

"I'm sure we've had this exact conversation before." 

"I don't think so." 

"We have. The woman with the twins?" 

You shook your head, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to think back. 

"I definitely told you. Don't you remember? We were lying in bed one night and..." he faltered suddenly, losing his train of thought and pressing his fingers to his mouth to disguise it. 

You wondered if the memory of you in his bed was too painful, or perhaps it was just embarrassing, an uncomfortable reminder of how close you once were. 

"Were they called something like Paco and Rabanne?" you asked. 

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing again. "Dolce and Gabbana." 

"That's it. Yes, I do remember. Those poor children." 

He smiled before shifting in his seat, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and pulling out his wallet and keys. He placed the keys on the table and opened the wallet, sifting for money.

"Are you still driving the old car?" you asked, gesturing to the keys.

"Nope." He grinned. "And this new bad boy I've got has - get this - a working passenger door and air-con that actually blows cold air."

You gave a sarcastic, impressed whistle. "Living the dream." 

"I know. It's funny, when I bought it my first thought was 'Ellis would love this'."

"Why?" 

"Because it's an automatic so you wouldn't be able to stall it." 

You rolled your eyes. "Well actually, I have my license now, and I drive a Lamborghini, so..." 

"Really?" 

"Obviously not." 

"Fuck sake." He burst into laughter. "Do you want another drink?" 

You looked down at your rum and coke, surprised to see how much you'd already drank. You promised yourself you'd only stay for one. Yet there you were, nodding and watching him walk up to the bar to buy you another. 

It was hard to connect him to the man who'd left you broken and confused eighteen months ago. Hard to accept that as he laughed at your jokes and asked about your family, there was a part of him that was capable of such carelessness and cruelty. 

"Here you go," he said, placing a new drink in front of you.

You looked down at it for a moment, then up to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" 

His face softened, the smile he'd sat down with falling away. 

"Come on, you knew I was going to ask at some point." You shrugged.

He remained quiet, rubbing his mouth in deliberation. "I..." He inhaled through his nose, letting it out again slowly. "I didn't decide to leave until that last night. I know that doesn't make it any better, but I swear to you it wasn't some big, thought-out departure I'd planned ages in advance. I just... I got scared." 

"Scared of what?" 

He paused. "There was a moment that night when we were sitting together; I told you there was nowhere else I'd rather be than with you. And suddenly it dawned on me; Fuck, I am falling in love with this woman. I've made a vow of clerical celibacy, a vow to devote myself to the church and to God and to put that before anything else in my life. Yet here I am, wanting to be nowhere else but with her..."

You stayed quiet, watching him fidget with his hands as he spoke. 

"I knew then that I couldn't stay." He lowered his voice. "So I did the terribly selfish thing of giving myself one last night with you. I made love to you, I kissed you before I left the next morning, and I suppose in a way I convinced myself that that was the goodbye." 

You swallowed. "If I hadn't randomly turned up here today, you'd have let me live the rest of my life not knowing any of that..." 

"I know. And trust me, Ellis, not a day has gone by where I haven't hated myself for it. But the way I would have loved you.... I have no doubt it would've eclipsed everything." He tilted his head to catch your gaze with his own. "I had to get away." 

You wrapped your hands around the glass in front of you, straightening your spine and clearing your throat. His words were like whiskey; his confession a painful burn, the truth a soothing warmth. Your only fault had been that you were loved, and you couldn't help but wonder how much easier it would have been to know that; perhaps you wouldn't have spent so long sitting alone in the dark. 

"Do you not think I deserved to know that?" you asked.

"Of course. But would it have made it any easier?" 

"Well... I'm not sure there's any easy of way of hearing someone say they'd rather be celibate than with you."

He shook his head, chewing his lip to hold back a smirk. "That's not fair." 

"I have a year and a half of pent up anger inside me. Let me make jokes." 

"Fair enough." 

You scanned his face, finishing off your first drink before moving swiftly to the second. "Are you happy with the decision you made?" 

He opened his mouth to speak when a sudden, roaring cheer erupted through the pub. You looked over your shoulder, watching the group of men celebrating a goal on TV. They bounced around, throwing their arms around each other as lager splashed over the rims of their glasses.

When you turned back to Father Benedict, he was smiling at them, laughing softly as he watched their roistering from across the room. But there was something melancholic about his expression; no lines in his cheeks, no crinkle between his brows or at the corners of his eyes. 

He returned his attention to you, realising you'd been watching him. "Not as happy as that," he said. 

You exhaled a laugh. 

"Ellis, I... I can't tell you how many times I've thought about what I'd say to you if I ever saw you again. The truth of the matter is, I don't know. I don't know if I'm dedicating my life to a God that doesn't exist. I don't know if any of it's real, I have no proof. But I really fucking hope it is. And what I do know is that I chose to become a priest because it allows me to help people, and inspire and encourage and share that hope with them, every single day." He paused. "I just never predicted I'd meet you."

You picked up your glass, swirling the ice around, making the liquid bubble and fizz. Then you sighed, meeting his gaze again. "I get it," you said. "I do, I get it. One of us would always have had to give up a part of themselves to be with the other. Either you would've had to leave clergy, or I'd have had to concede to being someone's secret lover for the rest of my life. And let's face it, neither of us would've expected that of the other." 

He looked sad, brows curved upwards over glistening eyes.

"Right person, wrong... everything else." You shrugged. "Our paths just crossed too late." 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving you. 

"I just hope you know that the collar you wear isn't what makes you a good person," you said. "You gave me hope when I really needed it. And that had nothing to do with God or church or sermons... It was you." 

He smiled, before dropping his head and clearing his throat. "You're being far more gracious to me than I deserve." 

"I know."

The TV above the bar was muted, the jukebox switched off. A strong smell of lemon disinfectant drifted through the air as a barmaid pushed around a mop bucket, another collecting glasses and wiping down surfaces. There was no one left, the lights raised to full brightness, chairs stacked on tables around you like the battlement walls of a castle. 

You'd talked through the end of the football match, through the noise of drunken punters and the bell for last orders. You'd talked as the crowds dwindled away, as the sky turned black beyond the windows and your glasses emptied to dregs of melted ice. 

It was like no time had passed since he left. You'd never understood that expression before; how could absence not change things? How could a river erode with time and water still flow the same way? But you got it now. With every joke he laughed at, every facial expression he understood and insignificant detail he remembered, it was clear your bond had never severed. It had just been frozen, lying in wait until something came to thaw it out. 

He was covering his face as you spoke, shoulders shaking as he laughed into his hands. 

"It's true!" you said. "They called the police and everything." 

"They did not call the police!" His laugh grew heartier, tears forming in his eyes.

"They did! I had to sit and explain to two uniformed officers that I hadn't meant to walk out of the shop with the coat on."

"Why were you even wearing it?" 

"I tried it on as a joke because it was so fucking ugly. Then Soleil decided to turn into Usain bloody Bolt and run outside at full speed into the busy street." 

A tear spilled onto his cheek. He wiped it away, still chuckling to himself. 

"I told Mara she was nuts for trusting me with her child," you said.

"Maybe next time try a soft play centre or a park, y'know, instead of a high end clothing shop." 

"Well you just have all the answers, don't you." 

He smiled, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Just giving you some advice so you don't go losing Keith in a Selfridges one day." 

You laughed. "Keith will be kept on one of those baby leashes until he's eighteen." 

You could feel a hair on the side of your nose, rubbing your finger over it a few times. He began speaking, but you couldn't concentrate, the itch on your skin too distracting. You tried to wipe it away again. 

"Because then I went-" He stopped. "What's the matter?" 

"There's something on my face, it's driving me mad." 

He sat forward, gesturing for you to lean over the table to him. You did as he instructed, watching as he brought his face close to yours, examining the side of your nose for a moment before seeming to lose focus, his eyes softening as they trailed slowly from your eyes to your lips then back again. 

"Father," you said. "I'm going to say something you used to say to me all the time." 

"What's that?" 

"You need to stop looking at me like that..." 

He dropped his head and breathed out a laugh. "I apologise," he said, gently pressing the tip of his finger to the side of your nose, holding it up to show you a small black wisp. "Eyelash." 

"Thanks," you replied, sitting back down. 

"You know you can just call me Ben, by the way," he said. 

"I know, but, I don't-" You shrugged shyly. "I only ever really called you that when we were..." 

"Ah." 

"Yeah..." 

"Excuse me, guys," said one of the barmaids as she approached your table. "We're going to be locking up in a few minutes." 

Father Benedict glanced around the deserted pub, the wet floors and stacked chairs. "Oh, god, sorry. We didn't even realise-"

"It's okay," she replied kindly. "You looked like you were having a nice time, we didn't want to disturb you." 

"Thank you, we'll get out of your way." 

You stood up, grabbing your bag and hooking it over your shoulder as Father Benedict lifted his chair onto the table, making his way around to yours and doing the same. The women behind the bar smiled appreciatively as one of them unlocked the door to let you out. You almost felt embarrassed that you'd let yourself get so carried away, talking so far past closing time, your conversation the only sound inside the empty pub. 

You stepped out into the dark, chilly night, light rain falling in a mist that glittered under the streetlights. You crossed your arms over your chest to hide your nipples, suddenly very aware of how thin your t-shirt was. The street was quiet, the church nothing but a dark, imposing silhouette on the other side of the road. 

"Where are you staying?" asked Father Benedict. "I only had a couple of drinks so I can drive you wherever you need to go." 

"Oh, no, don't worry. My Airbnb's not far from here so I'm just going to walk." 

He furrowed his brow. "They have Airbnbs around here?" 

You laughed. "Yeah, it's just a little cottage, nothing fancy."

"Well I'll walk you." 

"Are you sure? You really don't have to." 

"Of course I'm sure, come on." 

You walked most of the way in silence, your impending separation like a thick cloud in the air between you. Were you to simply say goodbye? No hard feelings? See you in June for the wedding?

The cobbled roads glistened like oil in the gentle rain, the houses quiet, as though the entire town had gone to sleep. You kept your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes straight ahead. When the road was on your left, he would walk on your left, and when it was on the right, he would move again, always keeping you on the inside despite there not being a single car. 

You pointed to a row of small terraced cottages at the bottom of a steep lane. "That's me down there." 

"Which one?" 

"Hanging baskets, right at the end." 

"Wow, you weren't joking when you said it was small." 

You exhaled a short laugh. "It's all I need. Only staying two nights." 

When you arrived at the cottage, you stopped at the gate, placing a hand on it and turning to look up at him. 

"Well this was... weird," you said.

"Very," he replied. "But also really great." 

"Yeah." You paused. "Thank you for the drinks, and for walking me home." 

He smiled, but the expression quickly grew forlorn as he stared down at you. You kept your hand on the gate as you waited for him to speak, a part of you willing yourself to just go inside, while another needed to know what he was thinking.

"What?" you asked. "Do I have another eyelash on my face?" 

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "I've missed you," he said, his voice almost a whisper. 

You sighed. "You can't say that." 

"Why?" 

"Because it's not fair. You've known where to find me... This whole time, you've known exactly where..." Your voice trailed off. 

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "I told you why I couldn't come back-"

"And I said I understand. I do. But you made a choice. So you... You don't get to tell me you've missed me." You remained gentle, calm. "You can't act like something's been keeping us apart when the thing keeping us apart is you." 

"The thing keeping us apart is my vow."

"And so go and live by your vow, Father. Go and live your pious, solitary life. I am truly sorry I ever jeopardised that for you." 

He scoffed slightly. "There's no need to be sarcastic." 

"Wh-? I'm not. I'm really not." You pulled the gate shut again, turning to face him fully. "But surely you understand how much it hurts to know you see loving me and worshipping God as some kind of contradiction?" 

"I see loving you as the most easy thing I could've ever done." His voice was harsh yet quiet, frustration laced in a whisper. "But choosing to leave the clergy, to break the promises I made when I was ordained; that would've been the consequence of it."

"And I've already told you I wouldn't have expected you to do that. I understand your decision-"

"But you don't, Ellis. Not if you can stand there and tell me I don't get to say I miss you." 

You slowed your breathing, calming yourself before looking up at him. "If you truly missed me, it wouldn't have taken me randomly turning up here today for you to realise it." 

"I didn't have to realise it, because it's never not been the case." He took a step closer, speaking with more passion, intensity in his eyes. "Not a single day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. Where I haven't questioned if I made the right decision. You asked me earlier if I was happy with the choice I made, and the truth is... I don't know. Because my resolve has wavered so much more over the past eighteen months than it ever did before I left."

"And what changes now that I know that?" you replied. "Nothing. You're still going to go back to that church and I'm still going to go home on Friday. Alone."

"I don't- I don't know, I just... When I saw you there today in my church, there were ten or so minutes where I really, honestly thought you were marrying someone else," he shook his head. "And I wasn't happy for you, Ellis. I was... devastated." 

"And when you realised I was actually single, how did you feel then?" 

He blinked a few times, brows coming together, forming a crinkle at the bridge of his nose. "I felt..." 

"You felt...?" 

"Ellis you know that's not fair to ask-"

"But everything you've said to me in the last five minutes is fair?" 

You were getting angry now. The rage you'd planned to unload on him in the pub bubbling in the base of your chest. He ran away from you. Tore you apart and left you strewn across the rectory flowerbed in pieces. Now you'd finally bloomed again, and here he was, plucking at your petals. 

"Do you know what, I don't want to do this anymore," you said as you opened the gate and stepped through. "I knew meeting you tonight was a bad idea."

"Because I told you I've missed you?" he called out behind you.

You stopped and spun around. "Because everything you're saying is for your own benefit, not mine! To- to- to make yourself feel better, to unload how you feel onto me even though you know it doesn't change your decision." 

"So what would you prefer I do, Ellis? Not say anything? Walk you home and leave without another word?" 

"I'd prefer you to just fuck off," you snapped, taking in a sharp breath, stunned by your own words.

"You want me to fuck off..." he replied in dry disbelief, taking a few steps down the path towards you.

"Yes. Fuck off. Go away." Your voice quivered. You waved your hand at him dismissively and walked to the front door. "Just... Let me forget about you."

You fished through your bag with shaking hands, finding the key and struggling to push it into the lock. His eyes were on you, you could feel them, like a hand around the back of your neck. You unlocked the door and pushed it open before looking over your shoulder at him. 

"There's a reason you haven't walked away yet," you said, stepping into the cottage and turning around, placing your hand on the door and preparing to close it. "You want permission. You want to hear me ask you to choose me. But that's never going to happen. I have too much respect for myself to ever do that." 

You took a step back and swung the door shut, but there was a hard thump as it hit something on the other side, stopping it from fully closing. You pulled it back to see him standing there, palm planted against it, foot halfway over the threshold. His chest was heaving, nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. 

You stared up at him, unable to resist giving an insolent shrug, a brattish shake of your head. It seemed to annoy him even more, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

"Wh-"

He interrupted you with a sudden kiss, his hand gripping the back of your head as his lips pressed firmly against yours. You lost yourself for a moment, swept away in the passion of the unexpected rush. Your mouth began to move in time with his, hot breath and sweeping tongues, but then you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and gently pushing him away. 

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to quell the anger rising up your throat, before glaring at him through your lashes. His face was still close, lips parted, eyes glassy. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn't; any sense of logic you possessed clouded by impulse. 

You gave in, letting your body take over, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a fevered, forceful kiss. He curled his fingers into your hair, holding it in fistfuls as you stumbled back into the cottage. You slammed the front door, grabbing him by the shirt as you moved in a mess of teeth and tongues, fingernails and clumsy missteps through the small, open living space. 

Your backside made contact with a dining table first. He gripped your hips and lifted you onto it as you continued to kiss with unwavering ferocity. You began pulling at your skirt, working impatiently to drag the heavy, stiff material up your legs as he used one hand to unbutton his trousers, the other helping to push the skirt over your thighs. His breaths were heavy, laboured, pouring into your open mouth as he freed himself from his underwear, like he'd been aching, desperate for release. 

You reached down and slid your fingers into your underwear, the thin cotton so wet it gave little resistance as you moved it to one side, parting your legs wider to let him stand between them. His lips broke away from yours, just long enough to spit into his hand, coating the head of his cock before sweeping you back into another kiss.

He slid the tip along the seam of your pussy, using his hand to guide it inside you. You gasped at the stretch, the dull burn and intense pressure. You'd only slept with a couple of people since he'd been gone; a one night stand, and a short-lived fling that fizzled out after a few dates. Neither of them matched up to him. Not in size, nor skill. So much so that you'd almost convinced yourself he wasn't as good as you remembered. 

You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he sank his full length into you, the walls of your pussy moulding to the shape of him, softening, lubricating to welcome the intrusion. His throat rumbled with a groan, a hum falling from his lips as he kissed you, fucking you with a hard, steady rhythm. You whimpered into his mouth, sliding your hands down to grip his backside, encouraging him to thrust harder, deeper. He planted a palm on the table beside you to steady himself, pressing his chest against yours as he moved with more force, each snap of his hips sending a jolt through your core, making the table rock and creak beneath you. 

Your mind was blank, clouded and hazy as your body welled with pleasure; a tingling in your clit and a deep, intense pulsing in your core. You were going to be swollen after this, bruised, sensitive. But you didn't care; there was an anger inside you that you had to extinguish, and with each slam of his body against yours, you were getting closer to putting it out. 

Your body began to tense and tighten, each slide of his cock met with a growing resistance, making him breathe quickly as he worked harder to maintain his thrusts. Your thighs came together, squeezing his hips as waves of electricity began to thrash in your pelvis. He growled and grabbed your legs, forcing them apart again, and you let out a heavy moan as he sank deeper, hitting the spots that sent you floating on the precipice between pleasure and pain. 

Your back arched, and with another brush of his cock, you fell apart. He hid his face in the crook of your neck as he buried himself completely, giving in to his own orgasm as you came around him. You were shaking, your bottom lip chattering like you'd been caught in a blizzard. Every time he shifted or twitched, the echoes of your climax would ring through you, making you shudder, goosebumps pricking your arms. 

The room was suddenly so quiet in the clarity, only the rushing of your breaths and the pulse pounding in your ears filling the silence. He lifted his head and carefully pulled out of you, your centre immediately feeling tender and raw in his absence. You glanced up at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye, and you suddenly felt nauseous. 

You slid off the edge of the table onto your feet, readjusting your underwear and pulling your skirt back down. He stayed beside you, buttoning his trousers as he kept his head down, staring at the table and pensively biting his lip. You looked at him again, and when he finally looked back, you knew; the same remorseful expression you'd seen so many times before. A face full of regret, shame, disappointment in his own lack of restraint. You sighed and shook your head, walking off into the next room, trying to ignore your shaking legs and the lump in your throat. 

You stood in the small sitting room, looking out the window into the dark back garden. You felt a tear fall down your cheek, the droplet tickling your skin as it clung to the edge of your jaw. Your lip wobbled, but you bit it to keep it still, sniffing sharply.

"Ellis...?" His voice was so soft and gentle, his footsteps light as he entered the room behind you. 

"Just go, Ben," you replied weakly, too numb to even try to turn around. 

He paused at the sound of his name on your lips. Then he took another few tentative steps towards you. 

"Please, just..." You sighed. "You... broke me. Not just when you left, but every time you treated me like a mistake." 

"You're not a mistake. You were never a mistake." 

"Was that a mistake?" You turned around, nodding towards the other room. 

He hesitated. 

"Exactly," you said. "Getting over you was the hardest thing I have ever done. And all it took was one day for me to end up right back where I started." 

"It wasn't a mistake," he whispered. "I just... I suppose I wish I'd been more... forbearing. Made it mean something, y'know. I don't regret what just happened. I regret the way it happened." 

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to cry. But another single tear betrayed you. 

"Please don't cry," he said softly. "I can't- I never wanted to-" He sighed, walking over and wrapping his arms around you. 

You resisted at first, but you quickly yielded, letting your head fall on his chest, your arms tucked in the space between your bodies. He cradled you in his large embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I love you, Ellis." 

You closed your eyes, his words stinging as much they soothed. 

"Right person, wrong everything else," he said. 

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara @dude-where-s-my-tardis @run-clever-boy @j3mj3rrica

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

[skyeslittlecorner]

Rough timeline of Hell

Tldr: devils are such grandpas.

Has anyone managed to write down the timeline in hell yet? Because for now I'm slowly catching up on what I wasn't there and I have to write everything down so I don't get lost. I've done some math before, trying to figure out how many years have passed since Solomon disappeared. I will quickly refresh this information a bit - Most things haven't changed, but I should mention that we now know that time in Hell and on Earth passes at different times and rates. So today a minute may pass, and tomorrow a year may pass.

For the sake of keeping some data, we'll stick with the average I calculated earlier, because I haven't found a better point of reference yet. So - one year in hell is 6.6 years on earth.

Quick proportions: 365*365/6.6 =~56 days

That would mean MC has been in hell for about two months.

Possible? I guess so. I don't remember MC's exact time in hell being given anywhere, but I haven't read 6Ch yet. Devils believe that for them practically no time has passed, but they are long-lived, there's no point in believing them. This is of course the time of the main storyline.

Now it's time for something worse. Two months is a piece of cake - now we'll be playing with years. Let's start with the order in which the kingdoms were formed.

Tartaros - Definitely the first, judging by little Mammon's event.

Hades - I'm betting on the latter, because when Satan formed Gehenna, Levi was already on the throne. We know this from both Sitri and Amy events.

Gehenna - After these two, I think the third one is Gehenna. When Satan found Sitri (which was during his takeover of Gehenna), the other kings also showed up and had their eyes on him. Mammon and Levi. Beel didn't show up then.

Avisos - Continuing, Beel may not have appeared because he didn't care, or because he wasn't king. I have no information on that. So I'd put him somewhere between Hades or not far after Gehenna.

Abaddon - no information. From Asmodeus himself and his behavior I would think he could have taken power quite early, but who the hell knows.

Niflheim - I haven't gotten to that event yet, but from what I've seen of people's mentions, no one really knows what to do with them. Rather leaning towards one of the younger countries. It makes sense that Belphi simply didn't feel like it lol

Paradise Lost - The last of the countries, what we know from Luci's event.

Why did I present this? So that we could have some first idea - because now comes the math. Again. Yay.

Sitri, Amy, and Levi allow us to roughly (very roughly) count how much time has passed since the founding of Gehenna to the arrival of the MC. Thanks to the fact that events overlap with the main plot. Long live backstories.

311 years passed from the moment Solomon disappeared until the appearance of MC.

Solomon lived in hell from 100 to 150 years.

Sitri spent almost 100 years in Hades studying.

Sitri and Amy met every five years at Gehenna meetings so regularly that they made a fandom. It's quite modern, post-Solomon times. We can assume about 50-100 years. That's not a problem for now, because…

…They have known each other for hundreds of years, which ranges from 200 to 999 years.

All these events create a timeline something something like this:

We need to assume something to be able to operate on numbers.

For minimum: 100+200+311-50 = 561

For maximum: 100+999+311-100 = 1310

So the average is: (561+1310)/2=935,5

This would mean that somewhere between 561 and 1310 years passed from the founding of Gehenna to the appearance of the MC. With probability leaning closer to 935 years, since we have nothing better than an average.

I think these assumptions are enough for now. Especially since we have no idea what the truth is. As you can see, there are a lot of maybes and ifs. But still, I think it's interesting to at least try to grasp how older our sexy boys are.

Of course if you have something to add, add it! I could be wrong on so many levels that I don't even know if it's worth posting this, but I had too much fun writing it (and maybe I'll learn something more from you!)

.

.

.

.

.

Aren't you tired yet? So, I have another funfact. It falls into the category of conspiracy theories are my passion. (They are as you see.)

From the moment Solomon appeared in hell to the moment MC appeared, approximately 461 years passed. If MC lived a similarly long life, that's a total of 611 years. In terms of Earth years, the entire cycle, from when Solomon appeared to when Solomon's descendant disappeared, would take about 4,000 Earth years. (611*6.6)

What's interesting about this, you ask?

Let me quote something: "The chronology [of the Bible] is highly schematic, marking out a world cycle of 4,000 years."

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_the_Bible

That would be an interesting symbolism. Our ancestor started a cycle that began to change hell, and MC, his descendant, would end that cycle, giving hope for a new, better era.

[gilded-sunrays]

Hello 👋🏻 um.. I wanted to say I really like your writing style and I hope you doing well.😊 I'm quite new here, and I'm rather shy with communicating with people... I wanted to know are you accepting requests ?

If so I would you mind if I asking of scenario of yoriichi with a extremely kind hearted and affectionate fem/reader from his childhood, Who just like to care for those around her giving gifts and try to somehow make them happy.

I want to know how would he react around her? How would he confess to her? You could also make it a short headcanon I don't want to trouble you.

Oh I'm sorry if I talked already too much!!! you don't even have to answer me if you don't want to. Just Thanks for reading my nonsenses😅. I hope you have a good day and I wish for you and everyone a happy life and 😄 take care👋🏻🙏🏻

¡! ❞Confession.ᐟ

|| Pairings: Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi × Reader || 𖤐 Masterlist

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi had always sensed a special bond with you. In a world where his own family had turned their backs on him, your presence was the only one that felt welcoming. 

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi admired your kindness and gentle spirit, how you would go out of your way to assist strangers, share your groceries with neighbours, and do those small, thoughtful things just to bring a smile to others faces. 

▪︎And although he may not have felt worthy of all your selfless kindness, he made every effort to reciprocate it. Whether it was cooking your favourite meals when you got back, assisting you with chores, or simply tending to you a massage.. and whatnot

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi just adored the moments spent with you, with the adorable little creatures that just seemed to gravitate towards him. You two would take some food along to feed them—bunnies, squirrels, little birds, and whatnot. With him around, they even felt calm around you.  

▪︎Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi was a man of few words, often wearing a calm expression when in company, yet he became surprisingly chatty when it was just the two of you.

▪︎While Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi still remained mostly quiet, his attentive listening made it clear that he cherished every word you shared. His face was usually stoic, with only a hint of smile passing through, but you had gotten used to reading his expressions.  

▪︎As time went on, you both had matured and grown into adults. Living together and managing a home as literal children had made you two an unstoppable team.  

▪︎Having each other by your sides, there was no task that seemed impossible—taxes (did he even pay taxes living high up in the middle of nowhere though..?) cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, or budgeting. Over the years, it all became second nature for the two of you. 

▪︎As this bond grew, so did Childhoodfriend!Yoriichi's feelings for you. In his eyes, you were flawless, like an angel—a light that simply kept him from withering away in his life. 

—And you were the light that he vowed to protect for many years to come

"Y/n.." he began softly, as you both sat by the pond where your paths first crossed.

 "My soul has traversed far and wide to find yours.. In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours."

 He continued, lost in memories of you as he reminisced about your beautiful smile and your pleasant aura..

 "..and In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.." 

As he took his rough hand and gently cupped your cheek, leaning in closer, his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered— 

"I love you.. y/n"

|| A/N: Tysm for requesting <33, I sincerely hope you enjoy it! And nah, its not nonsense, infact-- my inbox is pretty much always open for anything, so feel free to send in whatever..lol!

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men: The End - Review

Book 1: Dreamers and Demons

In one of Chris Claremont's many ill-advised returns to the X-books, he set about writing a hypothetical and non-canon end to the series. Set about 15 years in the future, the story travels to every corner of the X universe - if briefly - so if nothing else everyone gets an answer for where their favourite character ends.

Greg Land did the cover. I hate Greg Land.

I praise it mostly on a conceptual level. Pretty much every long running corner of the MU received a 'The End' mini, but Claremont split it up into 3 separate miniseries. Captain America and Iron Man both got 5 issues, KISS (yes, the band) got 3, the X-Men got 18. As someone who always wanted characters to die, grow and retire but was often foiled or undone by fiat - I respect that he'd want to do it properly. However, more is not always better. It's fun, cringe, and nonsensical at times. A LOT of people die unceremoniously. Don't take it too seriously.

The first few pages sets up that that 15 years have seriously passed. People are dead and retired, some have kids that look exactly like them, the never aging kids grew up. The Shi'Ar are killing X-Men, like a lot of them, except they're doing it in disguise. Jean Grey has returned as the Phoenix and is hanging out with (kidnapped him while he was doing Letterman lol) Nightcrawler, Carol Danvers' hologram, and Aliyah - the child of Bishop and Deathbird.

Here she is going for an expository jog down memory lane.

We spend a little time getting to know her, as she's the closest thing to a viewpoint character. She's inexperienced and way out of her depth, but her heroic instincts are sharp. Interestingly she 'doesn't really care about the Shi'Ar.' Aliyah lives on the Starjammer with a pretty impressive holodeck, she's never met her dad, her mum is holding the Shi'Ar empire together and her best mate is holo Danvers. Lilandra is apparently 'mad.'

Immediately Kree slavers approach Chandilar and Claremont begins clearing the board. Madrox and Siryn die for real, Nocturne is a hound and Aliyah manages to knock her out and take her to the ship. Phoenix comes out of nowhere and begins wrecking shit and the Kree do the same.

Also, WarSkrulls.

If it sounds like confusing nonsense, that's because it is. The first third of the miniseries is about establishing Aliyah and checking in on various X-Men before killing most of them. Seriously, it's easier for me to list who lives rather than who dies. It's confusing but I think it works as front loading the deaths so books 2 and 3 have a more manageable cast of characters. If you plan to stick the landing, it's going to be easier to trim the decades of bloat/worldbuilding the X-books have received.

We get a brief overview of Earth stuff before they start to die, though everyone in these panels lives (mostly hehe). Kitty Pryde is running for president with Rachel as her campaign manager! Storm and Logan live together and he's her full time caretaker. Emma and Scott have two kids. Cable hunts terrorists apparently.

Here's the Summerses. A lot of people wear speed dealer sunnies in the future, with Cyclops even saying SPEED right there. Coincidence? Also their children are boring.

You'll note the daughter may as well be a clone of Emma (she isn't but you know what I mean.) The baby is called Alex after long dead Havok, definitely tempting fate there. I'd sooner call my child Omega Red, but I'm not a parent. Chuck pokes his big bald head in and Emma tells him to beat it. Scott checks in with folks all over the globe, many of whom die. He is concerned of course.

Told you. Rogue and Gambit live and they definitely saw The Matrix. This isn't plot relevant - this is just how they roll apparently.

Hank and Cecilia McCoy live and they do *something* in Africa. Doctor stuff I think? This book moves so damn quickly. They live but everyone around them dies. Hank is right about the mutant problem. The named X-Men body count is at 18 by book 3.

Hey Yukio! Come to homoerotically kill Ororo, huh? DW, she wins despite full paralysis. Don't fuck with Storm. At this point we find out ALL these assassins are WarSkrulls sent by the Shi'Ar. Storm's powers have wrecked her body btw to the point Logan feeds her and she kinda wants to die. 😭

Madeline Pryor, Stryfe, and some weirdo I don't know come for the X-Mansion. Dust dusts Maddie Pryor. That dude getting punched by Not!Stryfe is the son of Colossus and Polaris. Yeah he looks exactly like Colossus. Nice to get confirmation of Polaris' awful taste in men. She does have a dope butch short hair look that slaps, so it's not all bad choices and emotionally stunted communists.

Nearly everyone else not pictured is dead as a doornail, ash and bone at best. Claremont was pretty damn thorough - 90% of the X-Men and their allies dead. Apocalypse bit the dust too, in a pretty embarrassing way. Of course Sinister lives because he's working with the Shi'Ar but has his own agenda, as usual. They're starting to realise that the Shi'Ar sent the WarSkrulls, but the preemptive strikes were super effective. Book 1 ends on the Starjammer with the passengers realising Cassandra Nova has been Lilandra all this time.

I'm sorry, CHUCKY sends me. No cap. I could write an essay on this panel and invite speculation.

The last page has the Xavier Institute's singularity power core exploding after that lot end up also being WarSkrulls sent by the Shi'Ar - looks like having the school be built mostly from Shi'Ar tech backfired. The school is definitely gone - along with at least the state of New York but I suspect much more - then a smash cut to this masterpiece. Callisto with fucking tentacles for arms saying 'Chucky?' as Chuck is overwhelmed by grief. I'm assuming they're in a polycule with Mags over here, but it must gall him to be the third most dramatic person in a scene. It's just too much to respond without some kind of levity, but if it wasn't clear by now - the stage is being cleared ruthlessly. Northstar was at the school, so maybe some people survived but Claremont is not half arsing it. This is definitely a whole arse situation, maybe even more.

DUN DUN DUN 🫠

Wait what? Chuck's evil twin, the Mummudrai? Hectic! So we know we've just seen Cassandra Nova send many WarSkrull strike teams after X-Men in the form of people that will hurt them psychologically and it was very successful. Hmm... it's 15 years in the future - does that mean she's been leading Bird Gang this whole time? No Xandra in this timeline but the X-Men interact with the Shi'Ar a lot. That's some wild patience for Cassandra Nova, and the notion that she's been preparing all this time is terrifying. My God, all the X-Men are going to die aren't they? Maybe, though I can't stop thinking about how Lilandra Nova would have handled a booty call from Chucky. Ughh gross.

I think it's worth saying that the high amount of action is a YMMV sitch - I personally can do without no punching at all in a book, and get frustrated when a mandated and arbitrary fight happens just because that's what cape comics do. Just because action has to be special to wow me doesn't mean I don't recognise its value, mainly I believe we can demand more from our comics - as an evolved art form instead of the pulp it began as. What I said earlier about front loading the death applies to the action too. I suspect your enjoyment of this book will come down to your feelings on action or ability to appreciate it ironically/unseriously.

I'll leave part one there, though I want to point out that Sunspot is whitewashed so badly he looks like Shawn Mullins. At least he dies - I love Bobby Da Costa but I'd prefer no Sunspot to dorky white guy Sunspot. Stay tuned for part 2 and thank fuck that's over. Spinning a coherent narrative from a book without one is a challenge, especially with only 10 pictures to work with. I considered counting and listing all the deaths, but I got to 30 and realised I wasn't enjoying it and doubted anyone else would. I'm not a wiki, and hopefully I've done my job while leaving some meat on the bones for folks who still want to read it. Don't worry, Kitty's presidential run is still live and it's implied she won the primaries. Independent? As if. Definitely a democrat, because the X-Men are mostly centrist bitches. Still, I hope she wins and First Lady Rachel and her achieve something.

I haven't been doing much long form lately so I welcome any feedback you might have. 💜💜❤️

[ya-zz]

oou, if ur down for it how about bitter ex!Ram who's realized Genji's trying to ask reader out :0 he still holds this bit of possessiveness towards reader and it's even worse because it's "his brother's pet human" - so like there's this undertone of Genji being a "replacement" in Ram's perspective. you can try to connect this to canon, but this is more of like an imagine, like 'if x and x did this, how would x react-'

also i don't mind if you decide not to write this :b i just like seeing characters i'm currently obssessed with in different situations LOL

happy holidays! (if u celebrate) and a happy rest of your december!

May have went down a little more... possessive route for this...

Ramattra x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1071

The omnic had been watching for awhile. Too long, almost. He watched you from the sidelines, the way you grew, the way you healed past the relationship he once had with you. It pained him at how well you moved on in the last few months.

When a certain cyborg came along and started flirting with you, however, something began to grow within Ramattra’s circuits. Something dark, hateful… spiteful.

Ramattra still wants you, that he cannot deny no mater how many times he tries to think otherwise. He needs you by his side. You were the only person who was capable of loving him and he just had to fuck things up. 

Back then, he wanted you all to himself. Who wouldn’t? You were the best thing that had ever happened to him and to everyone. You made hearts flutter and smiles warmer. Ramattra, dare he say, was obsessed with you. 

He still is. 

His systems would go back to the nights he shared with you, hands roaming bodies, static moans and cursed whimpers all but filled his receptors. Many nights he would sit and watch everything like it was a movie until it went back to the fateful day you had packed your belongings and left him. 

You wanted no part of his liberation. Despite trying so hard to convince him that there were thousands, if not millions of humans out there who cared for and adored omnics, Ramattra wasn’t convinced and so went ahead with his war.

Years had passed since then and here he was, sitting down in the garden meditating alongside Zenyatta whilst you and Genji were training across the field. 

“Does he always watch over you?” The ninja asks you, peering over to the omnics sitting away from them. 

“No. I think Zen asked him to join him on some meditative stuff.” You shrug. 

“I mean- he’s watching you.” Genji gets a little closer, voice getting quieter. 

“You can tell behind the faceplate?” 

Genji nods. “I picked a few things up from Master Zenyatta.” He picks up on how Ramattra’s hands clench on his knees and he knows exactly what’s going on. 

“Huh.” You look over at the omnics before shrugging the thought off. “He can watch all he wants, I don’t care.” 

The cyborg chuckles, moving his focus back onto you. 

Ramattra couldn’t pick out the conversation as the wind rustled within his receptors, only seeing you and Genji turn to look at him, lips moving but muffled voices. He knew that you were talking about him though, and that only made the anger rise within his circuitry. 

…

…

The larger omnic had picked up on several mannerisms with the ninja. The way his face softened when he was with you, the ghost touches, the way he laughed when you told a joke. Ramattra was slowly but surely figuring it out that Genji wanted you. 

Whether or not it was to spite him, he didn’t care. The fact that Zenyatta’s pet human was flirting with you was fuelling this hatred inside of him. 

He found you wandering the halls and stopped you. 

“I see that ninja has taking a liking to you.” He states. 

“That is none of your business.” You spit back, clearly frustrated at the sudden interaction. 

“He is not good for you.” Ramattra crosses his arms over his chest, his tall stature looming over you in an almost hostile way.

“Oh, like you’re any better?” You stand your ground. “At least he didn’t start a fucking war.” 

He vocaliser clicks. “I had my reasoning. You did not listen to me.” 

“I listened. How could I not when that’s all you were going on about for months!” Anger began rising within you. “That was all you focussed on.” 

“I needed you.” 

“No. No you fucking didn’t.” You speak through gritted teeth. “All you wanted-”

“What I wanted was peace for us omnics.”

“By brainwashing them?” You cock your head to the side. “I may not be the fucking brightest around here but I do know that the way you used those poor omnics was not right.” 

Ramattra keeps his optics on you. 

“You used your own people!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I ended it with you because I couldn’t stand the way you were thinking. You were too wrapped up in that.. that… liberation of yours that you never had any time for me!” 

Something inside of Ramattra begins to hurt. 

“So help me god, if you get in the way of anything, of my happiness, I will fucking end you myself.” The tears finally spill as you storm past the omnic who stands there almost dumbfounded.

Never once had you raised your voice at him, let alone in the hostile tone just seconds before. Ramattra had to take a moment to process your words, to process what you just threatened to him. 

He turns around but by that point, you had long left him. 

…

…

The next time you saw Ramattra, he had pinned the ninja against the wall by his throat. His tone was angry, no, he was seething with rage as he threatened to end Genji’s life. 

You didn’t hear how it started, but you certainly ended it by pulling Ramattra away from the cyborg who then fell to the ground gasping for air. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You shout, coming between the two men and staring the omnic down.

“Putting that ninja in its place.” Ramattra scoffs before turning and walking away from the scene. 

“Are you okay, Genji?” You ask, kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” He coughs. “Didn’t think he’d come for me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He still wants you.” Genji looks up at you. 

“I know, but that does not give him the right to attack you like that.” 

You help the cyborg up, helping him access the damage before escorting him to the med-bay.

Meanwhile, Ramattra was sitting in his room feeling rather content with himself. The jealousy was all but rising within him the more he knew you were hanging around with his brother’s pet human. He still wants you, he needs you. 

The omnic could only sit back and wait as his plan starts falling into place. He will get you back by any means necessary and if that means turning Genji on you, then he will do just that.

[dxy-drxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Kaeya has a lot of things he enjoyed about you. Or, well, admired, to be frank.

CW/s: tooth rotting fluff, short drabble, kaeya is a hopeless SIMP (/silly), tbh he's just a silly guy who can't confess if his life depended on it (and... It did lol), can be interpreted as platonic or romantic (it's both, but it's a slow transition from platonic to romantic hehe)

NOTE: hi, this drabble is for @ryuryuryuyurboat for @ecrin-de-litterature's "kiss (don't tell)" event! I hope you enjoy a drabble of Kaeya being a hopeless simp because as much as I'd like to write a full blown date with him, I've been busy since college and I want to curl up and pass away. orz.

Kaeya never says a lot about the person he admires.

For him, the Cavalry Captain had more than enough to take care of. Maybe it was due to the job that kept him busy, or even because of how life gave him a batch of lemons that he needed to deal with.

But when it comes to certain people like who he's seen now, it made him feel as though he became but the same child when Cyrus adopted him all those years ago.

He still remembered the first time you two met—you were one of Lisa's attendants. An assistant, one could say. You're always available whenever Lisa isn't feeling the urge to check in the library, which is often, and Kaeya had decided to try and see what you're like.

Sure, you may have panicked and treated him like a stranger, but it wasn't long for you two to get close. Soon, you're treating him like you two have been friends for years, joking and laughing over certain things.

Kaeya couldn't help but smile. He always liked seeing others express joy when he couldn't.

Though, little by little, the dynamic seem to change. Others pointed out to him that you and Kaeya had been together for quite a while now, always speaking and chatting over the most mundane things.

Petty drama from the knights, Lisa's recent books and those who borrowed arriving late, the many foreigners that came about when the traveler would be busy in another region... You two had a lot to talk about, and sometimes, he didn't notice how much you two could never stop speaking of such things.

It was stupid, he's aware, but he wouldn't lie and say he didn't like it. On the contrary, he enjoyed that time being spent on something he considering to be enjoyable.

You made his days less unbearable. Like he can wake up one day and think that things will be fine.

He admired that charm from you. You make it seem so... natural.

There were even moments that the two of you shared. He remembered your first Windblume festival with him, the first time you've spent working for a year with Lisa (it was your work anniversary, he joked to you once), and even down to when you two travelled to different nations together.

He's seen it all— your highs, lows, and even the turnarounds. He's heard you rant and ramble of the nations, and yet he felt his pride raise when you'd return to Mondstadt, still calling it your home.

It was clear that you have seen that place, out of every nation, as the best. In return, he did his best keeping it safe. Although, there had been moments he would mess up.

He may act confident, but when alone, he'd feel like he's a lost child again. He loathed that feeling.

The first time you've seen him act like it was when you two spoke of each other's pasts. Kaeya has told you what happened between him and Diluc, and he could never forget the way you hugged him for hearing his voice crack.

He cares for Diluc, like how he cares for you. However, how could he say the same for his adopted brother? Would he ever do the same thing you did to him?

... Perhaps. Perhaps not, even.

Still, he couldn't help but think how much he can even handle this feeling. It's a secret he's kept that your actions made him feel like he can be free, yet he kept himself trapped by will.

He was trapped in the feeling of admiration and envy, clashing and fighting against each other. It made his heart soar and ache when things happen, both because of you and because of himself.

He felt envious of you. He wanted to say that to you, but seeing you smile got rid of that envy.

...

It was a strange conundrum. One that left him sleepless for nights on end... And that's when it clicked.

He realized that it was a form of self-sabotage.

Kaeya didn't want to ruin the relationship you two had as friends, so he kept it under lock and key. He threw the key away, denying that he felt something to you. Denying that he felt as though he loved you that way. He couldn't. He didn't even know the answer.

...

It was stupid to worry. It truly is.

But now? How could he not worry?

He's done this to himself. Even if others told him to say it, to utter those words he forbade himself from speaking, he kept his mouth shut. You two are friends, and he's far too used to admiring you and your acts from afar.

He's craved to admire someone that would make him feel this way, and he got what he asked. Although, he couldn't bring himself to hate you for charming him like that.

After all, that is what makes you you. And he doesn't want you to lose the only thing that fits you perfectly.

@.dxy-drxxm | do not republish, repost, or copy my works anywhere | 2024

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Hi, could I have a Bucky/reader fic where she is the youngest triplet of Wanda & Pietro (they are all legal) and her power is strength. The three of them are already part of the Avengers when The Winter Soldier takes place and the rest of the Avengers know they aren't just siblings but in love but don't care as they realise the three of them grew up with only the other two to depend on. When the Winter Soldier attacks, reader is the only one who can fight and best him. He realises when she is near, he feels less like the soldier and more like the Bucky that Steve claims he is so when Steve offers help, he takes it to be nearer the reader. He makes it obvious he is interested and she is too but makes it clear that if anything is going to happen, he has to be okay with Wanda & Pietro who are fine with it because they know she still loves and will never abandon them. It takes a while but he soon realises that she does care for him and while he only cares and is attracted to/loves her, the four of them become their own little group. Bucky still has moments where he loses control but they are fine as they know as long as reader is with him, things are fine. Hope this was detailed enough for you and thanks.

Trial By Fire

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Maximoff!Reader, Pietro Maximoff x Maximoff!Reader x Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: i kept a lot of concepts from the original requests, but changed a bit of it, implied sibling incest, triplets, mentions of past torture, mentions of past abuse, pietro is alive, polyamorous, jealousy, cheating?, bittersweet, angst, mdni, canon character death mentioned, ooc pietro?, still adjusting to writing for him lol

Words: 3169

Nothing shocked you anymore. Not after the life you've had.

Living in Sokovia, there was constant political and military strife that wrecked havoc in the city you and your family resided in. While the mortar shell that killed your parents, it was something to be expected. Many of your school friends didn't have parents anymore. Tragic but there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing that ten year olds could do at least. Were it not for Pietro moving fast to pull you out of the way, you would have been hit by the collapsing ceiling above.

Even HYDRA's experimentation on you and your siblings lost its shock value. They'd been experimenting on people for decades prior to the Maximoff triplets falling into their possession.

Maybe nothing shocked you anymore because of the presence of your siblings that who were never far from you. Wanda always told you that nothing bad could ever truly happen to any of you as long as the three of you stuck together. No one else was worthy of your trust except for Wanda and Pietro.

You never did mind how small your world was before the Avengers changed your lives. You had each other and that was more than enough.

Siblings

Protectors

Lovers

Lines were blurred, ultimately erased over time so that you and your siblings weren't conscious of right or wrong.

It was impossible for you to love anyone else. Pietro and Wanda were your everything. Loving each other unabashedly despite the taboo of your relationship. Why should that change who you are as people? In your core, you and your siblings were good people who may have done wrong things in the past but were on the path to redemption.

You don't remember when it started.

Definitely a little before you and your older brother and sister joined HYDRA.

There were vague memories of the orphanage that you were forced to live in after your mother and father's death. Once you were legal and kicked out to live your own lives did all three of you begin your own. . . experiments with one another. With how you grew up, it was difficult to trust anyone else outside of your trio. Uncomfortable even when someone who was interested in either of you made a pass. You were extremely hesitant and Pietro and Wanda were even worse off with their own jealousy.

Originally when the other members discovered the truth, there was tension. Starting with Tony flirting with you and Pietro getting possessive, being the eldest of the three of you. He took the protective big brother role to the next level.

In the blink of an eye he had Tony by the throat. That was when the truth really came out. Even Wanda's scarlet magic flared in the irises of her eyes. Scarlet that glowed and vibrated all around her. She'd placed you behind her outstretched arm. Her eyes illuminated in red as she glared at the Iron Man.

Natasha was the one to become comfortable with the idea first. She was the last one who would ever judge the circumstances in which people fell in love.

Quite a few avoided you and the other two-thirds of your trio. It hurt to see their initial rejection after all of the times you'd saved their lives. Was it not the Maximoff triplets who stopped Ultron? You'd started as villains, that much you would never deny. HYDRA brainwashed you with propaganda at a young age; disadvantaged by your age and subsequent naivete.

In spite of the oddity of your triplet relationship, you were able to make a comfortable home among the Avengers. It felt like the world was your's. You had things that you never had growing up.

So why did your heart skip a beat when the man known as the Winter Soldier was inducted into the group?

There was no such thing as love at first sight but you feel like this was pretty close. Rather, there was an immediate spark of attraction ignited between the two of you. The moment his steely eyes land on you, you were a goner. He was beautiful in a dark, tattered kind of way. Both weapons that HYDRA created. Corrupted by their instruments of pain and given a new, morbid life with fantastical power.

Understandable that you would be wary of potential amorous intent from Bucky's part. You first didn't get why someone other than your siblings would reciprocate your feelings. For so long you'd had just Wanda and Pietro. It felt wrong somehow to even daydream about Bucky.

When someone new joined the Avengers, the atmosphere was always strained. The dynamic of the team having to accomadate another hero. Letting the pressure settle until there was at least a comfortable silence and brief greetings.

You tried not to stare at him. Even tried to ignore his own staring in your direction. If you paid him any attention, your siblings might catch on. And while they shared you between the two of them, they were not quite so ready to share with anyone outside of your family group.

"He's interested in you." Wanda flippantly mentioned when it was just the two of you chilling out in your room. All three of your rooms were connected by adjoining doors, never liking to be too far from the others. Your's was in the middle.

Saying it, Wanda doesn't look up from the tiny brush that paints your nails. You could tell she didn't like it one bit though. Her jaw was tensed and a tendon in her throat juts out. Faint whisps of her scarlet magic lick at her fingertips.

"I'm just friendly to him. That's all. I want him to feel welcome here. He's a lot like us, you know." Tone neutral, your thumb swipes across the screen of your phone. Trying to distract yourself with meaningless social media content. Plenty of pictures of Tony Stark floods your feed making you roll your eyes and finally set down your smart device. "You and Pietro should actually get to know him."

Her eyes immediately flick up to drill into you. "Do you like him?"

"Wanda."

She shoves the nail brush back inside of its bottle and tries to gently place it on the table's surface but you can hear it clink slightly as her hand trembled slightly.

You felt the shift in the room, the only notification you got before Pietro stood in front of where you and Wanda sat.

"What was that?"

You groan and shove yourself out of your seat, not even caring if the polish on your nails was still wet. Switching from English to Sokovian "Both of you need to relax." Holding down Pietro's heavy eyes, you feel ridiculous having to justify being nice to someone.

As a child, you'd never mind the sometimes overbearing affection of your siblings. Especially when they fought for your sake. Whether it be bullies or an evil artificially intelligent android.

They feared losing you like one feared death.

Your dynamic was set in stone. For it to come crumbling down was indeed a terrifying thought.

Then came the day of your assigned mission where Bucky was supposed to be your partner. Sam was also assigned with the both of you.

Prior to that day, you'd never personally seen the Winter Soldier in action. You'd seen all the his portfolio had to offer: grainy soviet era videos, black and white photos of him in a military uniform, and old documents with a typewriter-style font.

Honestly, you were horrified when the switch flipped in him- where he momentarily phased into the Winter Soldier. A merciless killer. He'd even turned on Sam in a moment of clouded confusion

By pure instinct drilled into you by the same facility that Bucky came from, your hand immediately struck out to grab Sam's elbow and with the god-like strength you possessed, threw him behind you. Taking on Bucky's brute force as solid as a shield.

You grapple with Bucky, taking him down to the floor so you could put him into a hold of submission. Sam watches wide eyed as you effortlessly knock out the Winter Soldier with a simple squeeze of the arm that was around his thick neck. Slowly, Bucky's wild eyes dull before closing as he loses consciousness.

Both you and Sam sighed in relief that neither of you were harmed in that moment.

After Bucky regained awareness, he couldn't stop apologizing to you.

"It's alright Buck."

"No, it's not alright." The undertone of his words were coated with frustration. "I'm still. . . HYDRA has stained me."

You frown, not liking how he spoke about himself. You can't help but reach out and grab his metal hand. Gray blue eyes widen in disbelief. You'd always thought he had the most beautiful eyes. Thumb smoothing over cold, metal knuckles. What did your touch feel like to him? Did it send the same electric jolt up his arm the way it did with you?

"HYDRA has not stained you."

When your gazes catch the other's, the urge to kiss him damn near fried your mind.

Plaguing you to later in the day, you were even unable to reciprocate a kiss which Pietro was trying to initiate as he leaned down to you on the bed.

When Pietro notices your reaction, he pulls back in confusion. "Are you okay?"

No you weren't. "Sorry. You surprised me is all." You release a weak chuckle before placing your hands on his face to bring his lips back against your's.

Nagging thoughts banged against the barrier of your mind: "How do Bucky's kisses feel?" "What does his tongue taste like?"

That night when you were nestled between them in bed, you stare up at the ceiling. Unable to fall asleep.

Down the hall, Bucky was going through the same predicament.

Fair that his sleep schedule was in general a mess, now it seemed damn near impossible.

He'd been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for hours. Your touch seared the metal of his arm to where he could still feel its presence.

A lump develops in his throat when he thinks about it again. The pads of your fingers pressing against his knuckles. Something of the old Bucky resurfaced in him. The Bucky that used to take the hand of pretty girls and kiss it with his panty dropping smirk.

When he first met you, Bucky had no explanation for the warmth that flooded his system. Even with you being flanked by your siblings, you shined brighter than either Wanda or Pietro. Perplexingly, he was forced to admit how smitten he was from just that first glance.

Something in the vast and mysterious universe connected the two of you with an invisible tether.

And when he saw you the next morning, hair mussed from sleep and eyes still droopy, Buck thought you were the most spectacular sight.

You skitter to a halt, coffee mug in hand. "Oh! Good morning." Sheepishly, you try to hastily rub the crusts out of your eyes.

He can't imagine how you would look in his bed early in the morning. Like he'd ever get the chance. Not when Pietro glared at him with the fury of a thousand suns. Wanda was no better. Every time she was next to you, Wanda had either a hand or an arm on your persons' as if to send Bucky a message.

Pouring your coffee, his presence over your shoulder is too much to ignore. "I'm sorry if yesterday got a little weird. . ." You murmur, focus on not spilling searing hot coffee all over yourself.

"What do you mean?"

You purse your lips. "Emotions were high yesterday and I may have gotten too. . . familiar with touching your hand. I overstepped the boundary."

When he scoffs, it makes you turn around. He's leaning against the island in the kitchen. Dark hair tied back indicating that he'd worked out prior.

"If it's you, then you're allowed to touch me anywhere."

The mug in your hand nearly falls. "Wh. . ."

His voice has your core waking up in response. Enough to make your knees wobble inward. Bucky received a brief pulse of delight from the rounding of your eyes as you gawked at him.

Standing his ground, Bucky would wait for you to make the next move.

Certainly you were mistaking his playfulness with flirting. That did tend to happen between the two of you. As was the confusing need to feel him close to you.

Steely gray turn a dark, sultry shade as he lifts his chin up a little to look down at you.

You were never one to back down from a challenge.

Finally getting to lay in his arms, bare skin against skin, you realize you'd just created a huge problem. Cue your post-coital panic attack.

As you had calmed Bucky down during your mission, he did the same for you. "Hey, deep breaths. Did I hurt you?"

"No. No it's not you." Wringing the bedsheets between anxious fingers, you cast a worried glance his way. Bucky's lips were red and bruised from the force of your kisses. "Bucky. . . There's something I need to tell you. I-It might make you hate me though."

"I could never."

Once the quiet shock passed, Bucky leans against the pillows. "I already knew all of that."

Detecting the signs of infatuation coming from his long time friend, Steve took it upon himself to give Bucky a heads up about you and your siblings. One of those 'company' secrets that everyone knows but pretends it doesn't exist. Steve came off as embarrassed when he told Bucky. While he supported the Maximoff triplets, Steve still thought it was abnormal.

"Your life in HYDRA must not have been easy. For you or your siblings." He's coaxing you back into his arms, the cold metal of his arm helps reduce the burning of your body. Tentatively you release the weight of your head to lay against the muscle of his chest. He felt like home already. You want to bury yourself in him.

"So. . . What now?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That depends on you, doll."

By the grace of some feminine instinct, Wanda seemed to know the moment you stepped into your room.

You attempt to reassure her that everything was fine before her scarlet magic starts to flare in her eyes.

Desperately you grip onto her hands, refusing to let go as you felt the slight sting of her power against your palm. "I love you. I love Pietro. I always will and I will NEVER leave you. But I also want to give Bucky a shot. He knows about. . . us. He knew even before I told him."

"He's taking you away from us." Her face was starting to redden with the effort it took her to keep her tears at bay.

A meltdown was imminent.

Quick in pleading for Wanda to just listen to you, Wanda simmers down.

Nothing was to be finalized until Pietro was brought in. At the end of the day you were family first and foremost. Pietro didn't take the news any better than Wanda had. You couldn't get a word in above him yelling curses in Sokovian.

Being the protective brother that he was, Pietro insists on having a talk with Bucky. He promised there would be no fighting. That did nothing to calm you as you sat with Wanda and continued to talk to her more about the Winter Soldier.

Bucky was expecting him. He'd felt the tremors of Wanda's magic; a warning. Any other man may think you weren't worth it and give up pursuit. Not Bucky. When the two of you kissed for the first time, Bucky's fate was sealed. He had to keep you in his life. You'd become the shield of his heart, a tender caretaker who'd keep his heart safe and sound from the world outside.

Pietro squares up to him, nearly standing the same height as Bucky. Conceding that Bucky possessed that extra few inches that, Pietro hardens his demeanor. On the silver haired hero's face was almost a disgusted curl of his lip when he looks Bucky up and down. This was the man that was pulling his sister away from the intimate fold of the triplets. An unwelcome interloper.

"It doesn't bother you that she's had relations with both Wanda and I?" Pietro intently watching any sign of discomfort from Bucky but found none.

"If you're trying to scare me off, it's not gonna work." Bucky folds his arms in front of his barrel-like chest. Hating to admit this even to himself, Pietro deflates a bit at the sight of the Winter Soldier's muscles. In a contest of strength it was clear who the winner would be. "Your sister has been the only one in decades to be able to take me down when I get into Winter Soldier mode. If being with her means accepting all of this. . . it's a price I don't mind paying. She's made it clear how important you and Wanda are to her. I don't think she's ready to let either of you go. Not over me."

There's almost a twitch of a smile from Pietro. His steam has evaporated. "We have some negotiating to do then."

You were more than surprised when Pietro and Bucky walk into your room. Wanda shoots confused glances at her brother; bristling when Pietro has Bucky sit next to you on the loveseat.

Your brother ignores Wanda's rueful glares and looks you in the eyes. He spoke in Sokovian. "Are you sure you want to be with him?"

"I want to give him a chance. He's. . ." Helplessly you take a quick peek at Bucky who offers you a warm smile that has fireworks blasting off in your time. Hastily you return back to your brother. "I really like him."

On your other side, Wanda melts when she hears the tender tone of your voice. If she put up anymore of a fight, she may actually lose you forever.

And maybe because you were the baby of the triplets, Wanda felt it impossible to at least try and give this interloper a chance if only for your sake.

She sighs wearily; your happiness was everything to her and Pietro. If you were straying from their protective walls, then that meant you were ready to brave the world by yourself. To try things that might be terrifying for the lot of you. It also meant that HYDRA no longer plagued your memories.

Her palm curls softly against your cheek and you hold it there, closing your eyes. "Alright, imp. If you think this man is worthy of you."

"He is." You beam at Bucky who matches your expression before looking back at Wanda. You bring her close to you so that your foreheads press together. "You'll never lose me. You are my blood. No one can change that."

[seriousbrat]

How do you think others perceived Lily and James' relationship once they started dating?

Many people seem to believe the main obstacle was that Lily hated James, but both the author and other characters clarify that this wasn’t true. It’s more likely that she found him too immature at first, but not that she actually hated him.

What I like to focus on, however, is the idea that the real challenge in their relationship may have been tied to blood status and the societal pressure that came with it. I can see how some people who weren’t purists themselves might still harbor biases against Muggle-borns, leading them to distance themselves from them in an attempt to evade the attention of real purists. People might see it as foolish for these two to be together. Others, especially those who had crushes on James, might wonder why he would choose a Muggle-born when he could easily be with someone who is half-blood or pure-blood. The most extreme ones would gossip and say hurtful things that no teenage couple would want to hear.

It’s been mentioned multiple times that Harry, at his core, takes after Lily. We see how he broke up with Ginny to protect her, so I can imagine that, while Lily may not have wanted to break up with James in the same way, she might have been hesitant to enter relationships. During the time they lived in, being friends with a Muggle-born is one thing, but dating one is another.

There isn’t much information about the Potter family, but James’ black-and-white woldview likely came from them. To him, you’re either opposed to blood purity, or you’re on the wrong side. The Potters have a long history of being open toward Muggles, and there’s some great meta on Tumblr that explores James’ grandfather, Henry, and his support for Muggles during World War I. The theory suggests that if Henry lived in Godric’s Hollow, surrounded by Muggles, he might have formed friendships with them and watched as generations of men he knew were lost to the war. This could explain his disappointment with the Wizengamot’s ignorance to Muggle suffering. That frustration may have carried over to his son Fleamont, who later passed it on to James. Therefore, I think that James's parents were more familiar with Muggles than Weasleys, and that's why they had no problems with Lily

Another thing to consider is that Lily and James were asked to join Voldemort when they came of age, which in wizarding society is 17. This would place them in the latter part of their sixth year at Hogwarts. While it’s harder to pinpoint exactly when Lily was approached (and even more puzzling as to why Voldemort would recruit her), we know from the prequel, set in 1977, that James and Sirius were already being pursued by Death Eaters at that time.

On a subconscious level, James likely felt a sense of security in his status, which would have been completely shattered by the attempt to recruit him, especially since Voldemort had a habit of killing those who refused him. Moreover, it would be a harsh blow for him to realize that the Death Eaters even thought someone like him could be persuaded to join them.

the real challenge in their relationship may have been tied to blood status and the societal pressure that came with it.

I mean, I think this was something that was definitely operating on some level in their relationship, as well as class-- the Potters were very wealthy, while Lily was from a working-class Muggle family. I think these two things caused some difference between them and possibly some friction or argument, but I don't think it was a HUGE challenge in their relationship, exactly.

I had another anon mention recently that they thought Lily would have been very careful around dating purebloods because of her Muggle-born status (and I didn't address it because my reply was long enough lol) but I don't see this as particularly true, honestly. Not for how I see Lily's character-- generally trusting, determined to see the good in others-- but also not for the way I think the general culture at Hogwarts is in canon, even during the first war.

Similarly, I sometimes find it a bit exaggerated in fics when everyone at Hogwarts, including Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, openly despises and shuns Lily for being Muggleborn and goes around insulting her. Not only do we know she was popular at school, personally I think that's also a bit of an oversimplification of what we see in canon. That's not to say bigotry didn't exist among non-Slytherins; I'm going to try and explain this as well as I can because I think it's quite complex, and also quite complex to portray.

The way bigotry against Muggle-borns functions in mainstream wizarding society appears to be in general quite subtle, largely rooted in apathy and a sort of seemingly "benign prejudice," the "Cornelius Fudge Mindset," if you will. Unless you're in a very particular pureblood supremacist context, it's not socially acceptable to openly call someone a Mudblood, as we see in the Gryffindor team's reactions to Malfoy using the slur in CoS. Your average Hufflepuff is likely not going to be actively hostile towards Muggle-borns-- remember that those three houses include and have always included plenty of Muggle-born students.

Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott, both purebloods, are very fierce in their defence of Justin Finch-Fletchley in CoS. In OotP we learn that Ernie's family, who definitely lived through the first war, has similar views to his, which is where he probably learnt them. I think simply growing up in a house alongside Muggle-born kids helps with this immensely.

Open bigotry has festered so acutely in Slytherin because Muggle-borns are NOT allowed to be sorted into the house (ik people differ on this but I understood it as the Hat physically cannot sort them into Slytherin by design.) Any half-bloods like Snape probably learn quickly to downplay their Muggle side.

As I said, though, bigotry still exists, even among non-Slytherin purebloods, and the subtle nature of it doesn't make things any less difficult for Muggle-borns. I brought this up in my fic when a pureblood girl on the Gryffindor team, who has a crush on James, can't understand why he'd date Lily because 'they don't have anything in common.' But James has to drag this confession out of her, and she's (rightly) very, very ashamed of herself immediately upon expressing it in public. And this sort of prejudice can be much harder to see and combat, because it usually goes unspoken. It exists, though, and it's the reason why anti-muggleborn propaganda was accepted so easily in DH. (though per Arthur, not by everyone- most are just too scared to do anything about it.)

Many purebloods might assume that Muggle-borns are less talented at magic like Slughorn does, but I think most normal people wouldn't generally say this to a Muggle-born's face, and on some level they'd recognise that this belief is shameful (as Slughorn appears to do: "You mustn't think me prejudiced!") Even if they believe it, it would simply be impolite. These people wouldn't consider themselves bigoted, they might even have Muggle-born friends and colleagues. But ultimately they wouldn't do anything to actively address the struggles that Muggle-borns face (especially out of fear during the war,) nor would they stop to question the world around them. They might not question, for example, why Muggle-borns are passed over for job opportunities, because it works in their favour.

After the Ministry coup in DH, Voldemort puts a great deal of effort into a propaganda campaign against Muggle-borns, but this hadn't been done previously, at least not on that level. As I said, he's able to take advantage of existing "mild" prejudice very easily, which is precisely what makes it dangerous. But even during the first war, I don't think Voldemort's or the Blacks' view on Muggle-borns was supposed to have been the mainstream-- not at Hogwarts under Dumbledore, and not wholly at the Ministry either-- and I think expressing such views publicly would be generally considered impolite. Outside of Slytherins, I don't get the feeling that admitting that you think Muggle-borns and purebloods shouldn't date would be very socially acceptable at Hogwarts, even if it's what you secretly believe. Now, obviously Slytherins would be saying this, but at the point that James and Lily got together, they're not setting much store by what any Slytherins think.

James is VERY openly pro-Muggleborn, as is his family, as is everyone he surrounds himself with. He and Lily were both popular, they were Head Boy and Girl, so largely due to social pressure (also knowing how strongly James and Sirius feel on the subject and how jinx-happy they are) I'm not sure that many Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws would really dare comment, especially not to their faces.

All this being said, I can imagine certain people, maybe even acquaintances of the Potters, thinking that Lily's 'taking advantage' of James for his wealth and the safety of his pureblood status, especially as she probably wasn't working while in the Order. I will actually deal with this in my fic too, though it appears to have more to do with class than blood status. Of course, we can't forget that those things are in many ways intertwined in the wizarding world, so there is an underlying bigotry there even if it's not intentional. I can definitely see Lily struggling with this a bit, especially because James would be more than willing to support her financially and buy her things, which might make her uncomfortable. And James not really understanding this (because he wants to make her happy and has never struggled with money himself) might be a bit of an issue, but one they can overcome I'm sure.

I know this reply is already incredibly long, but I wanted to say that, like you, the fact of Voldemort trying to recruit Lily has always puzzled me. I've dealt with it in a way that makes sense, I think. Perhaps if Voldemort really wanted James onside he'd realise that James wouldn't join without Lily, so he made a concession, especially since Lily is also a capable witch herself. I've no doubt it would have bothered James to be asked, but his immediate reaction was probably to loudly, clearly, and angrily refuse, and to spit in Voldy's face basically. I had a lot of fun writing that scene actually heehee

[thecinematicalgorithm]

Can't Catch Me Now: Lucy Gray and Katniss Story-Tie Analysis

I have not been on Tumblr much over the past couple of years but with the coming film The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes on its way I knew I'd be dusting this old page off. The Hunger Games series is one of my all-time favorite book series and the films are some of my favorite book-to-film adaptations, so to say I am pumped for this upcoming movie is an understatement. And to top it all, I have been obsessing over Olivia Rodrigo's new song Can't Catch Me Now, which if you've read the prequel, you'll know that it perfectly ties Lucy Gray's story to Katniss' journey. As always I want to warn anyone who might read this that spoilers for the upcoming film and Suzanne Collins' novel lie ahead. Also fair warning, this is super long cause I don't know how to be concise.

In preparation for the prequel film I have re-read TBOSAS and I am currently re-reading the original THG series (I am currently on Catching Fire, if anyone cares to know lol). I am also planning on a movie marathon the week of the prequel release, which I fully intend on subjecting my boyfriend to as he recently admitted he has only ever seen the first (and I simply cannot let him continue living life with no clue on how wonderful Peeta Mellark is). With that said, I have had a few thoughts, which I wanted to share before the release knowing that I will certainly have more thoughts after I have seen the film.

Honestly, I am going to be ridiculously obsessed for the next several weeks. I also know I wrote a couple of analyses on the differences between Snow and Katniss and the early games vs. the later games, which I will re-post so people can read them if they haven't before.

Enough chit-chat though let's get to it.

The parallels between Katniss and Lucy Gray are quite extensive and beautiful despite the characters being in many ways polar opposites. There is the saying that "Lucy Gray Baird is a performer made to hunt while Katniss is a hunter made to perform". This is a great summary of their overall character profile, and while I may at some point do a breakdown of Lucy Gray vs Katniss, I first want to write about how Lucy Gray and Katniss' story are far more connected than some might have realized. Part of the realization for me actually came while listening to Olivia's new song.

The chorus of the song reads as:

But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze

My footsteps on the ground

You'll see my face in every place

But you can't catch me now

Through wading grass, the months will pass

You'll feel it all around

I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere

But you can't catch me now

No, you can't catch me now

In terms of Katniss, I think it's been obvious for sometime that Snow particularly despises Katniss because she is a strong reminder of Lucy Gray Baird. She is a girl from District 12. She stood out during her Reaping, and swept the Captiol off their feet during her time in his city. She not only sang in the arena, but she sang a young girl "to sleep" with the very song Lucy Gray sang Maude Ivory to sleep. She used the Captiol's berries to save herself and Peeta, just as Lucy Gray used the Captiol's snakes to save herself. She wears a Mockingjay pin, the very bird which Snow undoubtedly relates to Lucy Gray and rebellion (far before it truly became the symbol of rebellion).

Katniss may not be like Lucy Gray in personality, but to Snow, Lucy Gray's spirit must seem very much alive in Katniss, and just as he tried desperately to rid the forests surrounding District 12 of mockingjays, this is one Mockingjay he wants to destroy.

The second verse of the song goes:

Bet you thought I'd never do it

Thought it'd go over my head

I bet you figured I'd pass with the winter

Be something easy to forget

Oh, you think I'm gone 'cause I left

This verse summarizes Snow's mindset at the end of TBOSAS, as we know he thinks he is safe from the threat of Lucy Gray. Her games have been erased, as time passes "there will be a vague memory that a girl sang in the arena" and even that too shall pass. However, where he goes wrong is when he fails to understand the deep connection and love the other Covey share for Lucy Gray. Despite not seeing how the story ends for them, or even having a solid explanation of Lucy Gray's ending, we at least know that Lucy Gray and her songs were not wiped from existance. Whether they believed, as he supposed, that the mayor was responsible for Lucy Gray's disappearance does not erase their connection to her.

Snow may have chosen never to allow love to control him again, but he did not erase the love those children had for Lucy Gray. Her music became all they had left of her so you can bet they continued singing them and sharing them, even if they had to do it on the down low. (I also share the common fan theory that Maude Ivory is the grandmother to Katniss Everdeen, and I'm hoping the film confirms this). Either way, Katniss clearly learned those songs from somewhere, which for Snow would have been a siren's call from the great beyond that Lucy Gray did not pass with the winter and she was not as forgotten as he had hoped.

Then we go into the bridge of the song where Olivia sings:

You, you can't, you can't catch me now

I'm coming like a storm into your town

You can't, you can't catch me now

I'm higher than the hopes that you brought down (repeats)

This is my favorite part of the song. Not only is it moving and emotional but it ties so much of Lucy's story to Katniss'. Both girls were like storms in the Capitol, sweeping the people and the nation into their stories so they could not help but be invested. Both were near impossible to control, despite Snow's best efforts, and both had a spirit of hope greater than Snow's ability to crush the highest of hopes. There's also something deeper, which intended by Olivia or not, makes this song perfect for the series. The lines "I'm coming like a storm into your town" and "I'm higher than the hopes that you brought down" is sung from the point of view of Lucy Gray. Both bring to mind images of the rebellion in THG: Mockingjay. The rebels stormed into the Capitol and their hope was higher than the hopes and lives which Snow had already destroyed in an effort to quell the rebellion.

However, just like Katniss becoming the Mockingjay, or the symbol of the rebellion, Lucy Gray had become her music. She was the anthem of the rebellion. If Katniss inspired hope, Lucy Gray was that hope. The hope of freedom. Dead or not Lucy Gray was finally free and her song reflects that truth and the rebels clung to it. Dead or alive they would be free.

Furthermore, Lucy Gray's song not only led to the freedom of Panem, but it also led to the freedom of Peeta's mind from the lies and brainwashing inflicted on him in the Capitol. Remember, Katniss always associated Peeta with hope until Snow brainwashed him. And if you'll recall, Peeta's first true breakthrough in regaining his memory of Katniss and his love for her was when he heard her rendition of "The Hanging Tree". Lucy Gray not only stormed into the Capitol but she stormed into Peeta's muddled memory, and her music was higher than the hope Snow had brought down. Lucy Gray's song led Peeta and Panem into freedom, and it helped to restore Peeta as the hope and love of Katniss' life.

Lastly, the ending of the song greatly foreshadows Katniss' journey:

There's blood on the side of the mountain

It's turning a new shade of red

Yeah, sometimes the fire you founded

Don't burn the way you'd expect

Yeah, you thought that this was the end

Of course, we all know the end is far from over for Snow. As Lucy Gray told him once, "The Capitol show isn't over until the mockingjay sings". Katniss' story ends with her singing Lucy Gray's lullaby to her children. Katniss was the fire founded by Snow, and despite his best efforts, it didn't burn out or even burn the way he expected it to. The line "the fire you founded" is also perfect to describe Snow and Katniss' dynamic because in many ways Katniss was only a threat because Snow threatened her. It's the same dynamic as Harry and Voldemort's. If Voldemort had left Harry and his family well alone, Harry never would have been the perfect enemy to thwart him. In the same way, if Snow had left Katniss and her friends and family well alone, she may never have come for him the way she did or joined the rebellion.

Interestingly enough, if Prim's name had never been called not only would the rebellion most likely have been avoided, but Lucy Gray's music may very well have been truly forgotten. Assuming Katniss is the only one left who actually remembers the songs, we know from reading the books that Katniss does not like or want to sing simply because they are painful reminders of her father. If Prim had never been threatened and Katniss had never been a contender in the games she would have been subjected to a life of mining and may have let the songs fade from memory as she lived out her miserable slave life in District 12.

But as we know that's not what happens, and instead the memory of Lucy Gray and her music is forced from Snow as Katniss is forced onto this journey proving the memory of Lucy Gray is very much still alive except this time Snow can't catch her now.

Thank you for reading if you made it this far! Please share your thoughts if you'd like!

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ iT'S A WRAP ₎⁠₎

PAiRiNG ?! ex!kylian x black!femreader

GENRE ?! angst

SYNOPSiS ?! he didn't believe you when you told him that if he fucks up one more time, it's over. now here he is, grovelling for redemption that he's never going to get.

CW ?! swearing, kylian is relentless and desperate

A/N ?! first football work on this acc after i abandoned it for like nearly a year lol. anyways this is inspired by my current obsession 'it's a wrap' by mariah carey. i love this song too much, LISTEN TO IT 👹

anyways enjoy !! and requests are open hehe

~°~

"told you one more time, if you f'd up it's over."

~°~

"why are you here, kylian?"

your voice was unwavering, attention elsewhere as you focused on pouring a glass of champagne. you thought of pouring him one too, but his presence was already irritating you, and you were counting down until you shoved him back unto the cold streets of paris.

city of love your ass.

he ignored your question, walking towards you before leaning against the counter, mere inches away.

"pour me one."

"no."

he scoffed, you know it's playful, but you weren't tolerating his bullshit to play games. to act as if everything could've been shoved into the forgotten pit of your memory and forgiveness could be served

"kylian," then a sigh, exhausted and prolonged. you sat the bottle down on the island and it's silent.

he seemed to seek for words to say, but truth be told, had no idea why he was standing in your apartment, as if he didn't have training early the next morning. the thought triggered a yawn from him and it's then you finally look at him.

it may have been months, stretched upon its days because you truly felt every single hour that passed without his presence, yet you couldn't deny how his straining muscles or boyish grin had your mind doing laps.

"it's late, kylian. go home."

"i'm not leaving until i get you back," his tone was assertive and, laughably, certain, and you couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped your throat.

"get me back? please."

you slipped the slim champagne glass between your fingers, walking away towards the open living room. lit with candles that kylian had bought you, but their scent (and the memories that came with them, but you would never admit that to yourself) still kept you hooked. didn't have it in you to throw them away.

even if you did, it's not like you would.

"i see you haven't gotten rid of everything." he had noticed. it wasn't his business to care anymore, though.

you ignore him, and he groaned, exasperated.

"come on, [y/n], don't be like this," he urged, following you like a lost child. he truly did feel like so.

"be like what, kylian?" you huffed. it was 10pm at night for heaven's sake and he wouldn't let his persistence rest.

"we've been over this like- what? 2, 3 times? yet you don't know when to stop."

you sat down. he did the same. your leg crossed over the other, rubbing your forehead.

he tried to take your hands in his, but you slap them away.

"come on [y/n], you're being stubborn," his voice was desperate, "you know we could make it work if we tried. made compromises," he suggested, body turned to you.

you kept your gaze elsewhere, scared that one more look at him clad in that tight black shirt would unravel every wall and support you built for yourself to keep you sane.

"stubborn? don't make me laugh, kylian."

"i'm being one hundred percent serious, right now. i want you back- no, i need you back. i've said sorry so many times, and i will keep on saying it until your forgive me, [y/n]."

his words made you laugh. it's an instigating, mocking dig at him which you felt no remorse for, "keep on saying those sorry's, kylian. i'm not accepting them."

your words triggered a frustrated groan from the man, a hand rubbing down his face.

his exhaustion was getting to him. good, you thought, he can see his way out.

"i've been telling you, [y/n], everything i said and did was a mistake. everyday, i hate myself more for hurting you like that and i'm truly sorry for that-"

"sorry isn't fucking cutting it, kylian," your voice was harsh, seething, "i still wonder what was wrong with me, because you," you stab a finger in his chest, "mighty, loving kylian mbappé, said words that i never thought would even come to your mind."

he's silent, and you surged on, "then the night partying. God fucking knows what was going through you at that point," kylian never went out at night unless it was professional, but seeing him absolutely feral on his friends' stories in something that was so obviously a random club plunged you into a state of delirium.

"it happened once, i let it go. i blamed it on your stress and the pressure. i thought that you probably weren't in your right mind and accepted it, though it all hurt like utter shit."

your hands were shaking at this point, and kylian had to push down the impulse to take them in his. normally, it would've sedated you immediately, but now, he knew it would rather fuel a fire he was already giving up on.

"i tried my hardest for you, kylian. lost myself, but had to hold it together for you. your head was up your ass when i told you that 'fuck up one more time, and i'm done'. i hope your realise it now, 'cause," you gesture at the both of you, "look at us."

you could feel your muscles crackle with fatigue, your eyes blinking as submerging you into short flashes of darkness. draining the drink down your throat, kylian's eyes bore into your head, and you could feel it against your skin. it's hot, visceral, and it's then you knew you needed him out.

yawning, you said, "just... leave please, kylian."

sinking, weighing dread was how he could describe his defeat. you had completely gotten over him, cut him off and was ready to move on. but he knew it would take him years, if he ever did, to get over you.

you flowed through his veins with undying vehemence, and kylian had no way to get you out.

his aching limbs arose from the sofa, pausing to stare at you as you remained seated, then walked away to the door.

"[y/n]?"

you looked up at him, "hm?"

"i love you. remember that."

then he's gone.

[way-too-cool-skeliton-dude]

Can you draw more lore of your oc sanses? 🥺

I'll probably respond again with some art of their lore, but this is currently my sans ocs (in order left to right with a brief description)

1. D-DIN/Gill Sans; he started out as D-DIN, a worker for the Multiversal Intelligence Agency (M.I.A) that originally came from a 1950s detective Underfell Mafia AU. He was sent to Regicidefell to better understand the AU, soon being captured by Alphys as a gift to Papyrus and brainwashed into believing he was Sans to replace the original Sans of that world.

2. Scar Sans; from an original world much like Geno Sans, where in a genocide route he dodged too slow. The entire left side of his face is scarred so he is unable to use magic. He wastes his "afterlife" in a M.I.A void under constant surveillance, they're studying him to try to understand his situational immortality

3. Project Cancelled (P.C) Sans; From the same AU as the creator of the M.I.A, being his nephew. He is from the same timeline as P.C Papyrus and is responsible for the havoc that he is causing across the multiverse. His AU fell apart, now being cared for/working for the M.I.A under his uncle's wing. He can't use magic and his face is cracked and green from constantly having to be healed. His soul is extremely weak and he has to use wires to help control some of his motor functions due to how weak his body is. He's also the oldest of the group, being around 40ish years old (Papyrus being early 20s) he's also definitely a pothead and always has been. He also kinda has a complicated relationship with the Alphys of his universe

4. Regicidetale Sans; The tallest of the group and definitely the strongest when coming to health and stats. He has absorbed two human souls because of the difficult living situation in his original timeline. He comes from an original world, but much like Horrortale it was a neutral route (Pacific until Asgore). When Frisk passed the barrier it caused a cave collapse, killing almost everyone in the capital and causing the core to overheat Hotland and the Waterfall. Undyne took the crown after kicking Toriel out, banishing Sans and Toriel to the ruins. He's the only one of the group who has a child (and an actually good/healthy relationship lmao). He was recruited by the M.I.A for guarantee that Toriel, their child (I don't have a name for them yet 😭), and Papyrus to be safe and well fed. Originally working for P.C Papyrus until he was captured by the M.I.A and held for observation. Regicidetale Sans's AU has reached it's conclusion by the time he was taken from it, unlike many of the group.

5. Project Cancelled (P.C) Fell Sans; much like the original P.C Sans, he's in his late 40s. He showed more compassion to his version of Papyrus and played along with the brotherly role, so when another version of his brother (Original P.C Papyrus) said he could make him immortal for the price of his soul, he took the deal. He's now in hiding from P.C Papyrus after betraying him, letting him get captured by the M.I.A for the promise of protection. Originally he would travel the multiverse, collecting souls (human and monster) and DT for P.C Papyrus. He was unable to die unless the snake in his body was harmed, but P.C Papyrus was the only one that could control it. He soon got sick of the chores, deciding to betray P.C Papyrus for an easier life as a guinea pig for the M.I.A

Anywayyy, that's all for right now, feel free to ask questions and let me know what you think^^ I love drawing and talking about my OCS :]] I may do this same format with different OCs because most of mine are original, Toriels, or Papyruses lol

[iamthebestquality]

ive been a kpop fan for a hot minute, and back when i got into it, i thought it was gonna be just some passing hyperfixation-a phase. spoiler-it wasn't a phase lol, and being part of kpop fandom changed my life. it broadened my horizons, and, as weird as it may sound, taught me many important lessons about media literacy, critical thinking, and forming my own opinions about a subject after meaningful reflection.

but, i just can't shake off this persistent ick that i've been feeling down to my bones with kpop ever since all the riize drama started to unfold over the past year or so. witnessing the supercilious entitlement of these insipid, and pathetically delusional "fans" has been hard to stomach, but not because this is something new.

this attitude has never been new to kpop, and it's come in different forms that i've see with tvxq, 2pm, exo, bts to name a few. although, there are many more similar examples of people, "fans," who are so strongly attached to a delusion because they have nothing of substance within their lives, or to offer the world, that they forget that the characters of their tepid fantasies are real people who exist, and operate outside of the shockingly strange, make-believe, mental-illness-manifested prison they've housed these idols, and themselves, in. it's beyond parasocial, it's parasitic. these "fans," these attitudes, these sentiments, have always existed in some way, shape, or form. and not just in kpop. it can be found anywhere, and everywhere.

however, those funeral wreaths were deplorable. the act itself was heinous, and cruel. but the people behind it, and their intentions just reeked so strongly of insecurity, i could smell it through the layers of self-preservation, and deep-seated low self-esteem. it's been hard to reckon with the impact those wreathes must have on seunghan, and the gravity of the entire situation, when i can't muster enough energy to care about, or even pity, the existence of those who waste their money, and capacities on these nugatory moral offences, who don't even live in reality.

the most jarring thing about this entire situation is that, as years pass, these "fans" who were once so steadfast, and committed to upholding their fantasies that they disregarded the humanity of another person in the process, slowly but surely, all the albums on their shelves, the posters on their walls, the merch, and other paraphernalia they've collected, find their way into boxes that sit in the back of a closet. they don't know it, but it's the last time they turn on their lightstick before it goes into the same box. the number of concerts, and fanmeetings they attend dwindle because they have other plans now. maybe they have partners, a family, other priorities. their intense, manic love has evolved into nostalgia, and fondness. their life has moved on. their age has afforded them wisdom to look back on their lives, and wonder what the big deal was, while blissfully ignoring their involvement in the matter. they're gonna grow up, live their lives, and detach themselves from the kpop group comprised of living, breathing people that they used as a half-baked coping mechanism to make their menial lives more bearable. these "fans" will grow up, and move on, while seunghan carries the weight of the insecurities that they unfairly projected onto him for longer than they can comfortably make sense of.

this rant is just a projection of how i feel about everything going on in the world, not just kpop, but this ick has been hard to ignore. it's even changed the way kpop sounds to me. all my favourite kpop songs just unpleasantly nag at me, and all im reminded of are rows, and rows of those stupid fucking flowers covering blocks of seoul. and i don't even stan riize lol

i hope these "fans" grow up well, and i hope their lives develop meaning beyond some kpop group. after seeing those wreathes, i don't think i can stomach kpop anymore unless something changes. one thing's for sure, the relationship between riize, and briize is undoubtedly changed, and possibly the relationship between all idols, and their fans, as well.

[dunmesh]

falin/marcille for the ship ask game 😌

yessss the one and only dunmeshi ship 🥹 loved them since ever theyre the only ones i truly care abt besides chil and his wife ig lol. i was always a sucker for the childhood best friends to lovers trope so they won me over easily. with that said... i feel like i haven't paid enough attention to their relationship in canon? idk how to explain it but it's really easy to kinda assign farcille certain tropes or label them in certain ways and then not think much deeper abt them. i think the first time i started to really Get it was when i thought a lil more abt marcille blaming laios for falin leaving and infantalizing her during their reunion. sure, we know she has a problem with understanding how much falin has grown, but what if there's a part of her that simply refuses to direct her anger towards falin because she can't believe falin would ever choose to hurt her like this? she's the first real friend marcille ever made besides her dad, so it's understandable why she put her on a pedestal. and if falin knows about her father- which i bet she does after over a decade of friendship- then it becomes even more painful. because she's supposed to understand, right? how marcille doesn't want to be left alone? how fucked up it is to leave in a hurry, without any regard to marcille's feelings, without a word, without even the knowledge that falin is alive and well? i mean, do you think falin even thought about sticking a note on her desk before rushing out the window? so then, how many days had passed until falin sent her a letter? how agonizing it was for marcille to wait for some sign that her best friend is still out there? so of course it can't be falin's choice. it's that brother of hers that made her do this, made marcille go through this terrifying experience.

but it was falin's choice. she did this of her own accord, even if only because she had to prioritize her own brother at that moment. and when falin died in the first chapter, leaving marcille behind again- she hurt her worse than ever, and marcille refused to accept it again. but at some point she had to- she had to realize it was falin's choice to leave her like this, and she had to accept how much pain that caused her. she had to, in order to also accept that because of this, she found joy and meaning in things and people she otherwise would've never thought could become so dear to her. and it's a step in the direction, i think, of separating falin from her own idealized viewpoint. she's her everything, the person marcille always dreamed of having by her side and maybe didn't even believe she could actually find after losing her dad. but she's also just meat and skin and bones, and a soul that may never come back. she's not bound to her. but she'll always be a part of her, from the memory of rearranging her bones to the taste of her flesh in her mouth. in short, i think farcille would be pretty similar to marcille's parents in the way it would take a few more years until they can fully understand and appreciate one another. falin needs to grow on her own, marcille too. and they will have to discover each other again, learn and accept these versions of themselves they don't know as well as they used to. loving again and again. anyways yeah i love them

[miru667]

How do you manage to stay in a fandom for so long? I'm always mario jumping from fandom to fandom every 3-6 months

Oh, so many reasons. I think I've answered this before but in a much more concise way so idk what happened here when I tried to answer again from scratch but uhhh I wrote a lot lol?? Long ramble time. 😂

I found this fandom at a point in my life when I really emotionally needed it, so I got really attached to it. I stayed because of the friends I've made in it and because of the OCs I got invested in, both mine and other people's, and every so often something invigorated my interest like a new roleplay I got to join or new concept art that got discovered.

I'm also just a really dedicated person (for better or worse) and I still have ideas that I want to get out there creatively. I don't get a lot of free time, and I rarely have energy for hobbies after work so my time passes slowly in the sense that I may still be in the middle of appreciating a thing, meanwhile everyone else has already sped through and processed it and moved on.

So I've gotta be really careful about choosing what to spend my limited time and energy on. It sometimes takes me a whole month to draw a piece of art that I'm proud of. It would be a huge waste of my time to spend so much energy on a fandom that after 3 months I think I might not care about anymore.

And like, if it's going to take me a month to draw 1 thing, what am I going to choose? Fanart of a character from a show that I just finished that I might possibly move on from in 3 months? Or art of my darling Audrey OC that I've been developing for years and whom I know will always bring me joy for the rest of my life? It's not a hard choice! Like I'm sure it's obvious by now but I really love my oc. It's gotten to the point that I look for her in every media I consume. I like characters because they remind me of her, and I like plots because they remind me of her. When I watch a movie and end up loving it, I'm not going to be drawing fanart for that movie, I'm more likely going to be drawing Audrey Grace in some way that's consciously or subconsciously inspired by that movie. I'm sure other people with beloved ocs can relate to that, too.

Back to media consumption: I'm constantly watching new things, shows, movies, letsplays, and I'm able to love them just fine, but I never participate in their fandoms (unless you count reblogging fanart as participation. I personally don't). I just don't feel motivated to and I feel like it's unnecessary. I shouldn't need to prove anything. You can appreciate media without engaging in fandom. In fact, I encourage it, because a lot of what I see in fandoms these days is just stressful, at least to me. And I don't want that stress. I'm much happier as a person when I don't have to read other people's opinions, discourse and drama over some show's themes or ships or whatever. I can just quietly revel in my own enjoyment of the show without being tainted by anything else, and my love for it is not any less valid than the person who's livetweeting their loud emotions while watching the same show and putting out fanart 1 hour after every episode. Bless them, though.

And I guess that's mostly what I do these days with the Onceler fandom, too. Appreciating it more quietly these days, I mean. It's just that...I have a fandom related oc so I draw her. And I have friends here so we do stuff together and we reference fandom inside jokes no matter what activity we're doing. If I encounter art that deeply moves me personally, I reblog it, just like I reblog art for other media on my sideblog. When anyone has a fandom history related question, I'm eager to answer because I don't want the past to be misrepresented or misunderstood. And also, since it's been over a decade, this fandom has long ago become my daily normal. I can do whatever I like but I can't really "leave" this fandom unless I delete all my social media and cut off all my online friends. And delete my memories of the past 12 years of my life as well. Just become a completely different person.

So I guess I can reverse the sentiment: I can't relate to people who hop fandoms every 3 to 6 months. 😭 All the power to you, but that's just not the way I happen to live my life, nor the way I engage with the media I consume! The Once-ler fandom was the one exception. It was special.

But who knows, anything can happen in the future. I'm not so proud that I'm purposely blocking myself from looking at other fandoms or anything. I just go with the flow! Right now I'm slowly making my way through jjba, an omori playthrough, a Plague Tale playthrough, and urusei yatsura season 2 (the new anime). Probably nothing will come out of any it except for a bunch of Audrey inspos, but again, who knows. XD I'm also going to an idkhow concert soon, and I've bought merch from their store already. Does that count as participating in a fandom? Maybe not. But now that I think of it, even if I "join" another fandom, it doesn't necessarily mean I'd leave the onceler fandom either, so maybe it wouldn't matter haha.

Thank you for the ask and thank you to anyone who's read my entire answer!