#i just remembered i had all of these in my drafts so

[unholyhelbig]

Can we please please PLEASE have part two of Brackish?

Title: Brackish [Part Two] | Read Part One Here

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 3454

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, mentions of ice baths, cannon typical violence, nightmares, physical testing, murder, KGB conditioning, Horrible grammar I don't proofread!

Summary: Agent Romanoff is sent into an interrogation room to break the only prisoner they pull from a Hydra compound, but things don't go exactly as planned.

[A/n: Totally wasn't expecting the response the first part got, thank you so much! Truthfully this ask and the draft was sitting in my inbox for months. This is just a bunch of fluff. I don't know where to take it from here. Hopefully you enjoy!]

You’d woken up screaming, something that never bothered Daniel Whitehall. There were stretching corridors that were damp from broken pipes and water buildup. It smelled thickly of metal and never offered any kind of warmth. It carried your agony like a music box, or a greeting card. It had amused him- his men. So, you did your best to swallow your distress. But sometimes it was impossible to tamp things down in the bridge between sleep and alertness.

It had been three days and you still expected to be jerked back into the reality. A frigid tub of ice and metal under Whitehall’s hand. You must have lost your grip on reality and the Avengers Tower, Agent Romanoff and her rigid kindness, was all a mental tactic, to account for the trauma. You’d finally been broken.

But no: Right now, as you woke up screaming as the hours rolled into the fourth day, she was there. The bed was too soft. You’d learned, and sleep did not come easy. But you drifted off in spurts and woke with air caught in your throat. Never yelling. Never in such a panic.

You didn’t remember what had startled you, but there was a cool hand against your cheek and another one splayed against your chest and worried green eyes peering into yours. You moved to fight back, wanted to push the limbs away until you realized who they belonged to. Until you breathed in that polished scent.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over her wrists.

She was a busy woman. You’d realized that over the past 72 hours. Agent Romanoff was in high demand, her signature was required on countless documents and many with downturned eyes stalked up to her with a nervousness that you didn’t quite understand but, you were beginning to.

After some persistent pushing from Natasha on the second day, you’d agreed to blood tests, to EKG’s and other medical trials to make sure you were relatively healthy after years of captivity. She’d promised to stay, and she did. While a certain heat and embarrassment colored your cheeks at the unspoken request, she saved your dignity that morning by not brining it up.

Natasha frowned, didn’t say anything but applied a short pressure to your jaw with her thumb before guiding a glass of water to your hand as she lowered herself to the bed. “Sip this, all of it until it’s gone. Don’t gulp, it’ll hurt your stomach.”

You nodded, doing as you were told. She watched you carefully until you finished the glass. You wanted to cower under her scrutiny, but your heartrate had slowed by the time you’d drained the water and she’d taken it the moment it was empty, her hand on your knee as a grounding source. She was like that, you’d learned, attentive and able to read what you needed though you’d not found your voice to ask.

There wasn’t a clock in the guest room. You didn’t know what time it was, but no morning light seeped through the crack in the door and sleep still clung to you like a heavy blanket. You let out a deep breath and pressed your head against the wall behind you, tempted to let your eyes droop shut, but stopped from the fear of another scream ripping through you.

“The nightmares won’t go away. They’ll come less and less, but they’ll always be there.” She swallowed audibly, ran her fingers over a raised pink scar from a blade, or a bullet, or some type of metal that could easily tear skin against her exposed muscle. “What you went through isn’t easily forgotten. You can manage the symptoms, push it to the back of your mind during your waking hours but it’s hard to fight that kind of thing when you’re asleep. You’re guard can’t always be up.”

You nodded, working your hand through your damp hair. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t” Natasha assured “Would you like me to stay?”

More than anything. It felt like crossing a line. There wasn’t a chair in the guest room. It was fairly sparce. A bed and a nightstand and lamp that had bathed you both in a soft golden glow. It would be easier to tell her no, to ask her to leave. But your chest wouldn’t forgive you for that.

So, you scooted over, looked at her expectantly, going as far to peel back the duvet. Natasha huffed out something akin to a laugh and laid in the spot that you had just vacated. You could feel the heat of her skin, the closeness of her as you lowered yourself down next to her. She paid you a mercy by turning the lamp off.

The two of you lay, shoulder to shoulder, breath synchronized. You couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t. Your entire body was wound up. While Agent Romanoff’s presence was a balm, it also wound you up like a spring. You were conscious of every movement. Every twitch of your finger and tense of a muscle.   

“It scares me that I can’t remember things.”

You could hear Natasha turn her head in the dark, the shift against the pillow. Her breath was warm against the side of your face. Your fingers curled against the fabric of your shirt, a stone on the center of your chest. You couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable- this at ease- in a long time.

“Do things come back when you sleep?”

It was her job, you knew, to pull things from you. In exchange for a bed and warm meal, you’d give her anything. She had quiet eyes and a quietness to her that gave away the fact that she was examining you methodically. But there was something else there that you couldn’t pinpoint. Something caring.

You turned onto your side, facing her, curling up more for your own comfort. “More of a feeling than a memory. Being there, I recall everything. Whitehall, his brainwashing, his tests and his tortures. His why’s and his motives are foggy. It was like he just wanted to inflict pain. But at his core. At Hydra’s core, I know that’s not true.”

Natasha adjusted on the bed, turned to face you. Inches apart. Her nose was close enough in the dark to bump against your own. Neither of you spoke for a moment, hands brushing closely like a bridge uncrossed.

“I worry that they changed me in way’s that can’t be unchanged, but can’t recall who I was before they’ve changed me. That they kept me alive because they were… succeeding in something that they hadn’t before.” You let out a heavy breath, it splayed hotly against Natasha’s chest, warmed her. “That deep down inside, something uncontrollable is there.”

Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat that could only be described as a whimper. Tentatively, she’d shifted in the quiet, had found the edge of your jaw in the darkness and traced the sharpness of it with her touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, leaned into it.

Soon, her palm was against your cheek, warm from the prospect of sleep. Her hold soft as she pulled you forward, the initial shock of the swift movement replaced by that detergent scent and the instant comfort. An undignified grunt escaped you when you slotted so perfectly against Natasha’s front.

You’d learned rather quickly that she liked to show her protection.

When your blood had been drawn, the tech on the medical floor insisted of her credentials but quickly blanched with a glare from the Black Widow herself and the assured hand at the base of your spine. You’d shown your strength during the physical trials as they monitored your heartrate during a mile run, and Natasha had watched with a warning stare as another tech adjusted the censors.

And now, she wrapped her arms around your center and hooked her leg over your own. She was tense until she felt the coolness of your nose against her pulse point, the way you nuzzled against her, sighed into her comfort instead of tensed, as if she feared of rejection.

“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice was a rumble, your ear this close to her chest. “Get some sleep. I’ve got you.”  

There was a sensor under your collarbone, one on either side of your chest, and another directly under your ribs. Two more that had been stuck to your abdomen. The adhesive was unbearably itchy, and you had half the mind to tear them away. A huff pulled uncomfortably at you. Another huff earned you a sharp glare from the woman wrapping your hands.

Natasha was on her knees for you. Not for you, but certainly in front of you. Either way it made you blush profusely. She worked with intention, making sure that the next trial they were putting you through was safe enough for you to participate in. A tech had offered to do this for her. For you. But she’d refused.

“Stop pouting, sweetheart. This is the last one and then they’ll leave you alone for at least the weekend.”

“Promise?”

Natasha sighed and her exhale was hot against the skin on your chest, forming a valley of goosebumps. You swallowed back a shiver. “No. Now sit back.”

You did as you were told, all the while, another SHIELD tech kept a keen eye on the both of you. Nameless, faceless, dressed in black. You almost preferred them this way. Whitehall was a constant for you, a villain that always signified a form of hurt and anguish. The constant revolving door of men and women made it impossible to link a test with a face.

Natasha was almost the opposite. You were starting to associate that piney, vanilla bergamot scent of hers with safety. It scared you. Her hands were assured and so were her movements. You were very aware that she had been with you nearly all hours of the day since you’d been pulled from the wreckage of all you’d known for possible years. Stockholm syndrome, some would call it.

You approached it with reckless abandon. You didn’t care. She was warmth. She was opposite of ice baths and frigid water that you choked on until you blacked out. She was lean muscle and healed scars and tender green eyes. She made it easier to think. She gave orders that were easy to follow: To sit back. To Stop Pouting. To Get some Sleep. You could do those things. Those things were easy.

“We’ll start at a weight of fifty and steadily increase until you cannot support the bar any further.” The nameless, dark-eyed man said, not looking up from his tablet. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable during the test, please alert me or Agent Romanoff. Do you have any questions?”

You shook your head, laid back on the cool bench and adjusted yourself until you stared up at the metal ceiling. It looked taller from this angle, impossible to reach. Black weights were saddled on either side. Agent Romanoff’s presence was at your six the entire time. Lingering, watching with careful and apt attention.

“Alright. You may begin. Make sure not to lock your arms.”

The bar was nothing in your hands, a slight nuisance, if anything. Ever-so-slowly the weight was increased: Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. All the way to 700 before another huff left your lungs, chin tipping towards Natasha as you stared up at her. Pouting. You were absolutely pouting.

They were being methodical about this, and that also meant it was taking ages. One of Natasha’s brows was quirked and she worried the nail of her thumb between her teeth as they upped the weight to a solid 1,000. You adjusted your hold on the bar. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no strain, no sweat. No spike in heartrate.  

“Okay. I think we know enough.” Natasha finally barked. “Right?”

“But I-“

“Right?”

Sure, it had only been a few days, but you knew that tone and it was enough for the SHIELD agent to snap his jaw shut and for you to replace the bar before sitting back up. The test, you were sure, was far from over. But there was such a finality in the demand.

You knew you had some strength to you, sure. Daniel Whitehall wouldn’t keep you locked up the way he did, in a steel-enforced cell, if that weren’t the case. The binds you’d sometimes recall were much too thick for anyone that had the normal stamina, someone who could survive his trials. You don’t remember being tested like this before, your limits pushed.

The SHIELD agent tapped at his screen, letting out a non-committal noise “Well, your strength is remarkable. You say you don’t remember a thing? I think you could benefit from some memory recovery sensory therapy.”

Natasha rumbled in the back of her throat, snatching the tablet from the man before shoving him roughly from the room. You watched the display with raised brows, the protective edge to her that you knew was there, but hadn’t been privy to at this degree. He protested, but didn’t’ overtly stop her. Not even when she slammed and locked the door with the waggle of her fingers and the lowering of the blinds.

“The know at all’s from logistics get on my nerves.”

She wouldn’t look at you, instead clicking off the screen and throwing the tablet onto the counter. There was a light blush to her cheeks. You peeled off your shirt, almost in habit now, leaving you in nothing but one of the agencies issued sports bras. The adhesive was getting too irritating.

Your eyes lingered on her. “Uh-huh, is that all?”  

“Yes, that’s all.”

But when those deep green eyes snapped up to yours, the way her breath hitched betrayed her. You’d effectively flustered the Black Widow herself and it brought a sort of heady confidence to you that you quite enjoyed. You ripped the sensor from below your ribcage away, the stickiness making an odd noise as it pulled away.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about, what he was suggesting is out of the question. They’ve run enough tests on you to determine that Hydra didn’t place any type of chip in your brain. They didn’t change your bone density or alter your blood chemistry. With your added strength, your speed.” She closed the distance between you, ripping another sensor off with little abandon, her hands cold against your skin. “We’re looking at an infinity stone.”

You grunted under her touch, fingers soothing over the spot she’d just torn, a silent apology. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Wanda Maximoff, do you know her?”

You shook your head, remaining still as she moved to the next sensor. Agent Romanoff pulled with the same quickness as before, but was softer with her hands, instantly using the coolness of her palm to quiet the sting that soon followed. You’d given up peeling them away yourself. Instead, you peered up with her with watery eyes, blinking and doe-like. They’d melt her if you weren’t careful, and it seemed like you never were.

“Hydra conducted experiments on Wanda and her twin brother Pietro using something called the Mind Stone. A very powerful mineral that ultimately should have killed them, but it didn’t. It changed their DNA and gave them abilities. Pietro super-speed and Wanda the ability to manipulate the world around her.” Natasha’s voice was smooth as she spoke, the final sensor ripped away, you watched her do it, frowning at the red mark it left behind.

After a few moments of labored silence, she dragged her touch feather-light against your jaw and guided your attention back to her own. “They think Whitehall got ahold of the power stone, and they think it was used to torture you for years to replicate the success achieved with the Maximoff’s.”

“I don’t think he was very successful,”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your chin, not enough to wound, never enough, but a soft warning. “Nonsense. You’re more capable than you think.” Her thumb ran over the blush that was suddenly running across the bridge of your nose and your cheek. “Let’s take a break from all these boring trials. I want to show you something.”

There was a basement that resided below the cacophony of spruced up cells in the Avengers tower. You’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Agent Romanoff and watched as the numbers descended. Her scent had soothed you, even as the cold infiltrated the elevator and reminded you too much of a metal tub, safe for the water.

It jolted to a stop before the anxiety swirling in your lower belly could solidify. Natasha led you into another corridor that looked like all the other corridor’s in the tower. She walked with no urgency and you followed with the same pace. Finally, you reached another non-descript door, only accessed by the card on Agent Romanoff’s belt.

You were hit by the sharp scent of decaying paper, quiet leather and dust. There was a coolness here. A dull light that Natasha flicked on. A heaviness that reminded you of a library. There was a history here that told you it hadn’t been accessed in a long time.

Copy boxes lined bookshelves bracketed to the walls, a single table with a few chairs sat pushed in the corner. Natasha seemed to know exactly where she was going, exactly the files she was looking for. “We’re a multi-trillion-dollar organization, yet, all of the incriminating evidence about the Avengers exists in this singular room.”

You flinched, eyes meeting Natasha after she hauled the off-white box to the center of the table. You watched her carefully, not moving from your rooted spot at the edge of the doorway. You blinked at her, mouth slightly agape. She was trusting you with this. She was trusting you with this?

“Natasha you can’t… you don’t have to…”

“I want to. Come, sit.”

The chair was frigid against your skin, the whole room kept tepid to preserve the documents. Natasha sat adjacent to you, your knees brushing in a surge of warmth. Neither of you moved to pull away. She pushed the box to the far end and pulled out the first file, edging her fingers against the manila.

Before she could pry the cover back, you gripped her hand, squeezed it with fervor. “Wait, you can’t do this. Agent Romanoff, if you… if you tell me this, and I’m- if Whitehall did something that fundamentally changed me and I turn around and betray you, then I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“Mm” She hummed, frowning down at the file. “There’s more to you than that.”

“And if there’s not? I don’t even have a name, and you’re about to trust me with everything from your past, everything you’ve worked so hard to scrub. I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not letting me do anything, darling. I didn’t scrub anything, I embraced it.”

Her other hand engulfed the one that had covered the one that had grasped her own. You hadn’t realized that you were squeezing so hard for purchase. Goosebumps covered your entire body, and you were trying not to tremble. It felt as if your bones were trying to claw their way from your skin. You ground your teeth together to keep them from clacking.

Natasha’s hand left yours for only a moment, peeling the cover of the file back, moving it in between the both of you. “I was born in Stalingrad Russia, indoctrinated into the Red Room by a man named General Dreykov. The Red Room was a program designed to create sleeper agents utilized by the KGB. Young girls were taken against their wills and molded into perfect killing machines.”

Your thumb moved over her knuckles, scarred from years of strain. She grasped back, grounding herself.  

“For years, I was just that. Ruthless. Cruel. I spilled an impossible amount of blood because that’s what I was trained to do. It was a cycle. Wake up, kill, sleep. Wake up, kill, sleep. Sometimes they’d throw a little torture in there just to spice things up.”

You knit your eyebrows together, a small whimper escaping you.

 “Tough room.” Natasha gave you a sad smile “milaya devochka, eventually, someone saw through the dripping ledger and what Dreykov had done. They saw me. That made a world of difference when the programming I had was all I’d ever known.”

You swallowed thickly, fingers tracing a raised pink scar at the edge of her palm. You let out a shaky breath. “And you… can be that person for me?”

“I’d like to be.”

[Dt: @ima-gi--na-tion, @l0nelyish, @taliiiaasteria, @ahintofchaos, @redhoodte]

[shikaizer]

PAIGENEXTDOOR p.b x reader PART II

summary : PART I The aftermath of hooking up with your enemy has been lurking discomfort towards the both you, the firm avoidance towards each other and the unsolved feelings has you dumbfounded.

warning : smut 18+, agressive, confusing feelings, degration, slight angst? hair pulling.

a/n : my writing in the first part was kinda ass 😭 as because i was finishing up two drafts at the same time.

eversince what happend between the both of you, you both stumbled upon the akwardness and the avoidance towards each other, therefore, you didn't want to ignore her or whatever, she was making it harder for the both of you by acting like you never exist at all whenever its only the two of you in the same area, she just acts like shes all alone, she would only talk to you when it was you who would inititate a conversation.

you never figured why she was acting like this, because what you remembered, she was the first one to make the move, and all of the it felt like she felt a sudden shame wash over her body.

of course you are enraged by this, you tried to understand, you wanted to but whenever you would bring it up she would dodge the question.

just when you had enough with her constant bypass, without hesistation you have paige pinned, both hands on the counter, glancing up at her, she looked irritated but her eyes is telling you a different story.

"what are you doing?" paige uttured under her breath looking down at you, even though you were small it seemed like you had full control over the situation making paige gag at the thought.

"tell me, why the fuck, your avoiding what happend" you gnarled between words, pressing yourself closer to her your warm breath hitting her face.

"what happend?" she asked makeshift of her confused words, you slammed your hand on the counter aggresively making her flinch

"if this is about that night, forget about it." she states composed as if its not a big deal, meanwhile you on the other hand is going crazy so close to pulling out your hair.

"are you serious right now?" you murmur in disbelief, you backed away slightly and relaxed your shoulders.

she stayed quiet and the both of you just looked at each other for a moment, you hesitated to speak up, but you already took the courage to bring the situation up, so there was no turning back now.

but before you could open your mouth words came out of her mouth first. "i was confused." she state and you scoffed letting out a snort cocking your head.

"fucking confused? you gotta be kidding me!" you yelled at her completely losing it, and she sighed as if you are the one stressing whos in the wrong.

"was that a one night stand then?" you gained composure letting your hands rest on your hip and she looked down probably trying to gather some words to say, "i wanted to shut you up." she mumbled somehow unsure of what she just said

"your fucking stupid, do you have any idea what i feel right now?" you whimpered and she finally gain back her gaze towards you and her face softening when she saw the tears swelling in the corner of your eyes.

"im... sorry.. i was just fazed.. i.. i dont know.." she looked down on the floor feeling guilty as she stammer thru sentence, you clench your jaw your eyes relaxing, and you spoke up again.

"fuck me." you cut her off, she was quick to look back at you her mouth slightly open, stunned at what she just heard.

"what..?" she voiced out like she didn't hear what you said clearly, you walked up to her again this time your fingers had reached for your zipper pulling them down to reveal your bare body, with nothing underneath but just a sweater which you have now threw aside.

you pressed your body against her, your boobs pressing on her body making her let out a small whimper before both hands are now rested on your hips.

she leaned down to your level pulling you in for a kiss, her grasp on your hips tightening as the kiss becomes more rough and passionate.

you moaned thru the kiss when you felt her hand make its way to your tits pressing and squeezing them, pulling away from the kiss.

"cant fucking resist you.." you confesses and she cooed smirking, her lips brushing on your jaw as her hand reaches at the center of your short, she lifted you up with ease placing you on the counter, she looked up at you and moved a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"cant get enough of me huh?" she teased sliding your shorts down and she chuckled amused at the sight of your bare cunt. "not even a fucking underwear, been waiting for this moment are you? slut."

she spat on her hand and rubbed them on your clit making you grunt "fuck yes." you express jerk your hips forward and without warning, she slammed her fingers inside you the only source of lube is her spit and the build up wetness inside you.

"oh shit!" you threw your head back, your hips twitching adjusting to her fingers. "wanted this so bad right? fucking take it." she spat her fingers starting to move faster, her other hand slapping the side of your hips keeping her eyes on you.

she kept her focus on you, entertained at the sight of you and your fucked out face, her current view was enough for her to be pleased.

"look at you.." she cooed scanning your body up and down watching the way you respond to her fingers, you wrapped your arms around her shoulder pulling her closer, she gladly took your embrace by placing one hand on your back the other one working its way to delight.

"fuck fuck fuck.." you cant even think straight, your mind is absent and the only thing your thinking about right now is how deep shes moving inside you.

the curl of her fingers made you yelp arching your back, she took a full of your hairing pulling them for you to meet her gaze.

"pai..paige i love you" you uttured out of the blue and she squinted her eyes taken back from the sudden confession, her pace slowed down trying to process what you said.

her jaw clenches and gained composure slamming inside you again this time it was very rough and deeper, and it seemed like there was a mix of anger in it.

you yelled out pulling her closer to you nails digging on the back of her neck your eyes rolling to the back of your eyes.

you dont even realize that you are close to cumming, and before you know it, you have squirted. paige slowed down and kissed your shoulder.

your cheeks quickly heat up when you felt the wetness between your thighs and you looked at paige, she just smiled at you kissing your forehead.

"lets get you cleaned up." she voiced out lifting you up to the bathroom, completely putting aside the fact that you just expressed your love towards her.

[is-that-your-true-face]

Aww I love this so much, thank you! You even did what I ran out of steam to do and added his helmet back to the scene! Bless. 🙏❤️

Writing isn't my forte but, if I may, I think I can add just a little to that ending from Skull Kid's and Tatl's perspective.

-

Skull Kid noticed Tatl's wings stopped fluttering as soon as Link finished humming, if only for a brief moment, but he didn't think anything of it as he got up and began to recite the melody.

He couldn't work out why Link wanted to teach him a new song now. He should be doing something to help instead of playing music. But this was the Lost Woods. The Lost Woods in a more dangerous and hostile state than Skull Kid had ever known it could be. There was nobody who could help them here. And Link had grown. Skull Kid was too small be able to carry him, even if the Hylian could survive long enough to be reach help.

Skull Kid could do nothing. Making mischief and playing music was all he was ever good for. Immature. Selfish. Useless.

He had begged Link to teach him a song last time. Selfish.

Not again. Not for this. This time, it was his turn to grant Link's wish. And he would not deny his friend.

He would not be useless again.

As he played, he could see Link's remaining eye watching him from behind once-golden hair now stained and darkened. That kind, gentle smile had returned to his face and he seemed to relax and breathed deeper in the soft breeze. Skull Kid couldn't help but smile back as he continued to play.

The draft blew Link's hair across his half-closed eye, hiding it from view. The child took that as an opportunity to close his own eyes and concentrate on the tune to play it as perfectly as he was able. He had been playing the other song too quickly. He would get this one right.

The wind stopped not long after he finished playing and he looked back up, searching for that blue eye that seemed brighter than he remembered it being. All he could see now was a slit of lifeless sky.

He started forward but Tatl beat him to it. She flitted to Link's side, moving frantically like she was looking for something from the now still form.

Skull Kid ventured to speak. ". . . What is it?"

She rested onto Link's shoulder. Her usually loud and blunt voice now so cracked and quiet that Skull Kid strained to hear it.

"It- it 'n't work. . . It didn't work, Link."

Skull Kid could not bring himself to ask what she meant. But he knew what it did not mean. He picked up the helmet he had dropped earlier and set it in Link's lap as Tatl settled against the Hylian's cheek in what Skull Kid knew was her attempt at a hug.

He stepped to Link's other side and joined her. His arms were only long enough to comfortably wrap around Link's head but he hoped it was enough for his old friend that had helped him so many times.

He was too late to return the helmet. But, perhaps, he could protect Link from the darkness that had settled around them. The child shook with tears he could not shed as he held Link's head tighter to his heart.

The breeze slowly returned, stronger this time as it blew in from behind the stone Link rested against. The current that came through the hole in the stone somehow felt warmer than the rest as it brushed his face and enveloped him like an embrace of its own.

The wind continued to blow through the stone's opening in a pattern eerily reminiscent of Link's final gift.

It was soothing.

-

Well that came out about three times longer than I expected, but I hope it's a worthy addition!

Also a few notes people might like:

I can't recall if Skull Kid ever saw what Song of Healing does, but Tatl spent a whole game with Link, so she would recognize it.

MajorLink propped Link again a TP howling stone, not an OoT gossip stone. The gossip stones lack the hole in the middle.

Song of Healing is the first song Hero's Shade ever teaches TP Link (I like to think he was attempting to heal TP Link of his wolf form). TP Link gets that song at Death Mountain instead of in a forest, but, I mean, MajorLink put it right there in epi 1 for the taking.

Also thank you to everybody for your wonderful comments and tags! I'm so glad I was about to make something you enjoy. 🙏

"Can it be your favorite song?" A song that means a lot to you: > Song of Time > Song of Healing

A callback to the scene from episode 1, when Link chose to teach him Song of Time over Song of Healing.

Very much looking forward to seeing what MajorLink and his team actually do for this scene. ❤️

[opiopal]

(I found this old draft from like, early December! I remember it was a practice at writing dialogue and a bit of angst? I just remember sitting in an art class and typing it out lol, But I decided to clean it up a bit and post! Since I haven’t been posting often and I have about 60 drafts lined up, lowkey I can’t tell if it’s any good or not, since idk if my skills have grown since my wattpad days. I would’ve fully rewritten it, but I knew it would’ve been a pain so I just spell checked and replaced a few sentences.)

•

•

(First scene takes place before lesson 16, second scene is during lesson 16. Also this is just a thing I thought of a while ago)

•CW: description of blood and dead body at the end.•

Mc has been staring at him for a while, hugging onto one of their pillows tightly, completely lost in thought. Mammon had brought them an extra cup of noddles, they had both just gotten back from RAD a while ago so they were reasonably hungry, and he apparently made two “by mistake” and just didn’t wanna waste it.(Mc thought it was a dumb excuse, but didn’t want to mention it and just accepted the food.) Though Mc had finished theirs a while ago, mammon was taking his sweet time, awkwardly staring down at the floor and occasionally flicking his eyes over at the human sitting no less then four feet away from him. It doesn’t cross their mind that he may be acting so awkward due to the fact that they have just been staring at him for the last ten minutes, but how could they really tell? Ever since they had made a pact with him, he’d been so awkward that it made levi look like an extrovert. As the seconds go by he wonders if he should question them, maybe there’s something wrong with them?? Why else would they be staring?? Or maybe there’s something on his face? Is his hair a mess? Is his shirt wrinkled? Why in the three realms won’t they just look away???

“do you like me?”

as they finally break the silence mammon chokes a bit, he coughs as his cheeks almost immediately get red,

“H-wh- I- What?!” “do you like me?” They asked it so casually, as if they were asking him if it were going to rain soon.

“O-of course I don’t!”

“then why do you hang around me?”

“because I HAVE to!”

“even at home?”

“yes!”

“how come?” They set their pillow to the side as they stare at him, he stammers

“I- well- because.. it’s… dangerous for you to be alone!”

Mc tilts their head slightly and furrows their brows, ”do you think your brothers would be a danger to me? Am I not safe here?”

“NO! I mean- uhm- obviously you’re safe here, I just.. you know I need to watch you!”

“but if I’m safe.. then why would you need to?”

“well-“ he pauses, his face somehow gets redder,

Mc smiles and scoots closer to him,

“you wanna know what I think?”

he side eyes them as they slowly start to smile,

“I think we’re friends,”

“PFFTT WHAAAT! NO! No. No we aren’t.”

“I think we are!”

“No” ”yes,” ”no-“ ”yes!” ”no!”

“Then I’ll ask again, How come you hang out with me?”

“I-“ as he pauses again to try and think of an excuse that wouldn’t cause anxiety or worry, he doesn’t want them to believe his brothers would hurt them- but he doesn’t want them to know the painfully obvious truth!!!! mc grins and wraps their arms around one of his,

“we’re frriendss~” they say in a sing songy voice, pressing their cheek against his shoulder. at this point he was so flushed you’d assume someone had came in and slathered red paint all other his face.

a bit of frustration creeps in as he yanks his arm from their grasp, and pulls them in for a tight hug as he avoids eye contact with them. If he can’t deny it, he might as well own it.. right??

“Well. I guess you WOULD want to be friends with the great mammon! It’s only natural!!”

a little surprised, mc giggles and wraps their arms around his torso in return,

“oh yeah, that’s totally it.”

“A- hey! Don’t be gettin all sarcastic!”

They turn their head to look up at him, at this point nearly laying in his lap. They stop giggling for a moment to smile at his face red face, they didn’t really mean to tease him, but he didn’t seem to be taking it to harshly. though still they apologize,

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Though you are a pretty good friend.”

“… really?”

his response surprises the both of them for a second, honestly he didn’t mean to say it, that was just an inside thought that managed to sneak out. He adjusts his arm to support the back of their head as he stares down at them.

“yeah, of course, I think you’re amazing mammon… and you’re doing a fantastic job… keeping me safe, that is.”

• •

That moment almost immediately enters his mind as he stares down at them, pulling their body closer into his chest as their blood slowly begins to soak his arms and lap.

he wasn’t doing a fantastic job. He didn’t. He hasn’t. Why would he let this happen? HOW could he let this happen? He’s holding his human, his mc, as his youngest brother laughs.

He can’t look away, his mind re-memorizing their face, their eyes looked straight ahead with no sign of life, unblinking. He cups their face, shaking them gently, wanting them to do something, anything. To laugh at him being so worried, to make a comment about all the commotion, to mumble something about Lucifer, to blink, to BREATHE, To do ANYTHING. he could feel their warmth fading away, they were so cold. They didn’t deserve to be cold.

His brain was so clouded that he hardly took notice of the door being opened and his brothers arguing coming to a stop, his head finally jerking up when someone spoke their name.

[secretlyanimmortal]

Test of Devotion yandere! boyfriend (GN reader)

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

> Synopsis: You've been dating this wonderful guy for a little over a year now. You think you know all his secrets? ha ha! > TW: Stalking, general yandere stuff

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ > your sweet boyfriend, where do you even begin? from the moment you guys first met, it was an instant click. Being asked to a cafe nearby, he shared some interests, but still had his own opinions and passions different from you.

> your sweet boyfriend, who still did the cheesy romance movie tropes with you. Ate ice cream, walked in the park, even went to a New Year's celebration with you, kissing you when the timer hit 0.

> your sweet boyfriend, who was straight out of a romcom series, just the two of you. You were on cloud nine after you were together, any mention of a bad coworker? left and resigned! a karen yelling at you that shift? no reports filed! It was like the universe or him worked in your favor.

> your sweet boyfriend, who would melt on your touch, so kind, so gentle, he would never hurt a fly. The way he could soothe crying babies in public and took care of animals hurt and run them to the vet clinics, a knight in shining armor indeed.

> your sweet boyfriend, who one day in his apartment, asks you to take a little 'test' of his. You've known the cheating tests on social media or even those intelligence tests on news articles. So when you followed him to a secret room- you were only a tad bit suspicious. I mean, your anniversary was coming up, so maybe it was that?

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

> "Love, can you come with me for a sec? I wanna show you something..." You look up, his smile genuine. "Sure, is it a surprise?" standing up, you intentionally close your eyes. > You feel his hand grab your shoulders "...sort of, I just want you to take a test for me". A while of footsteps later, you come to a stop. "Can I open my eyes now?" > "No not yet" he mutters, a creaking door, keys jingling, then an unlocking is heard. Maybe it was a new room? Another close and lock was heard then... > "Alright, you can open your eyes" Your eyes look up in shock, you were in a small dim lit room with candid photos of you everywhere in a wall, sketches of you, framed phots, even places where you once lived were all in a little shrine on a table with your favorite candle. Not only that, but parts of bloody clothes are in a neat little cabinet in the corner, clothes you remember the people you hated last wore. > He hugs you that left you restrained, whispering in your ear "This is my Test of Devotion to you, my love..."

> "Happy one year anniversary, my love"

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

> i made this as vague as possible...

> just a quick idea out to show im not dead! just dying >o< > i am so sorry to everyone for the hiatus!!! this year i promise to post more (i have a lot of drafts i haven't even finished q-q) > hopefully you all are still here, i never expected any part 2 (for any of my fics) since i wanted people to have their own interpretations but who's to say i wont use ideas you guys have? i'm free to suggestions on where to make it more... more! xP > ms. Chari out!!!

[ayukas]

synopsis when lee haechan was fourteen, he thought he'd found forever in the fleeting moments of a summer spent with you. but forever isn’t promised, and he can't seem to let go.

genre angst, summer love au, coming of age word count 1.4k

notes ayukas stop writing for hyuck challenge FAILED... this has been in my drafts for a month loll lightly inspired by this tiktok! i really hope ull enjoy, let me know any and all of ur thoughts but pls remember to be kind!!! :') thanku for reading :D

HAECHAN REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

the way the cicadas hummed in the july heat. the way your laughter would ring across the narrow streets of your hometown. the way your hand fit so naturally into his, as if it belonged there.

at fourteen, haechan felt limitless, as if happiness could be held in his hands forever.

but forever was never promised, and neither were you.

FOURTEEN

haechan met you on the first day of summer, in a town too small for secrets. he was the boy who never ran out of things to say, and you were the one who never got tired of listening.

"you're not from here, are you?" he asked that day, his eyes squinting against the sunlight, his honey skin glistening under the glow.

you shook your head. "just here for a while."

just here for a while. he had no idea those four words would permanently brand themselves onto his heart, a warning he should have heeded. but at fourteen, time seemed endless. summers stretched like golden highways, and saying goodbye was just a story older kids told.

you spent that summer together, consumed in the golden hours of childhood—stealing his older brother's popsicles from the fridge (sorry johnny), challenging each other to jump into the deep end of the river, and whispering about the future under a star-filled sky.

one evening, when the sun had set and the air smelled of dirt and fading warmth, you turned to him and said, "i think this is the happiest i've ever been."

haechan could only stare at you, sucking in a deep breath as a strange ache filled his chest. he didn't know why, but he wanted you to know that he felt the same—that every moment with you felt as if it should last forever.

but forever was always an unsteady promise.

the night before you left, the two of you sat by the river, your feet dipped into the water and the stars spread above you like spilled sugar.

"i'll write to you," you said.

he nodded, but he didn't believe it. he was reminded of the movies, where people always said things like that. they meant it in the moment, but moments didn't last forever.

the day you left, he ran after your dad's car, breathless and desperate, as if his pure determination could keep you from leaving. but wheels don't stop for fourteen year olds with broken hearts.

you waved at him through the window, but all haechan saw was the distance growing, stretching, and widening.

and just like that, you were gone.

FIFTEEN

the first letter arrived a week later.

it smelled like the pages of an old book, as if you'd spent hours hunched over it, your handwriting imprinted deep into the paper. you told him about your city, how it seemed too vast, too loud. you missed the cicadas, you wrote. you missed him.

he wrote back that night. told you about how nothing had changed here, except the fact that you were no longer here with him.

the letters continued, fluttering in and out of his hands. he read them at night, tracing the loops in your handwriting and imagining your voice in the ink.

but over time, the letters became fewer. shorter. until, eventually, they stopped altogether.

one night, he sat on his bed with one of your last letters pressed against his chest, trying to convince himself that perhaps you had just forgotten to write the next one. perhaps it was lost in the mail. you wouldn't just forget about him, would you?

but silence has a way of answering questions that no one dares to ask.

SIXTEEN

the bench where you used to sit was still there, but haechan never sat on it anymore. the convenience store where you spent too much money on slushies still sold your favourite flavour, but he never bought them anymore.

somewhere along the way, he realised he was keeping spaces open for you, in case you return.

but you never did.

he walked past the river one evening and noticed a couple laughing together, their fingers entwined and their faces glowing in the warm twilight. he quickly turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets, his chest tight with something he refused to name.

SEVENTEEN

haechan found himself talking to you, even though you weren't there.

"you'd love this song," he'd mumble, pulling his earphones off.

"you'd call me an idiot for doing this," he'd say, laughing to himself after stealing his brother's favourite leather jacket.

he wondered if, wherever you were, you ever talked to him too.

there were days when he thought he was moving on. and then there were days when he walked past his reflection and saw a fourteen year old boy staring back at him, waiting for someone who wouldn't return.

EIGHTEEN

haechan stopped looking for you in crowded places. stopped hoping that every unfamiliar face might be yours. but the ache in his chest just kept persisting.

it sunk deep into his bones, quiet and constant.

there was a girl who liked him. she laughed at all his jokes and reached for his hands when she thought he wasn't looking. he even let her kiss him once, under the soft glow of a streetlamp.

but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was you.

NINETEEN

haechan's brother often told him first loves never last. that they're just a spark, not a flame.

but what if he never let go of the match?

he didn't say it out loud, but the thought ran through his mind, endless and unrelenting.

on his birthday, he sat on his bed, staring at his phone with your facebook profile on it, half-expecting a message from you. he didn't know why he still hoped. perhaps, because he didn't know how to stop.

TWENTY

you return.

news spreads fast in a small town, but haechan doesn't believe it until he sees you standing there, right in front of him.

you look different, older. your hair is styled in a way he isn't used to. your voice had matured in ways it hadn't before. you're not the same fourteen year old who once held his hand so tightly.

but when you smile at him, even for just a moment, he forgets that you ever left him in the first place.

"hyuck..." you murmur, gasping, like you've seen a ghost. "it's been so long. i can't believe we haven't seen each other since we were fourteen..."

he blinks. his throat tightens. his heart stutters.

and then, almost inaudibly, he says,

"what do you mean? i've been stuck at fourteen."

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN A DREAM AND A MEMORY

haechan finds himself standing in a room that feels like a memory. his old bedroom, but not quite—there's something surreal about it, as though it exists somewhere between reality and a dream. the michael jackson posters on the wall, the messy desk, the slightly broken lamp that flickers every now and then—it's all there, the way it was when he was fourteen.

and sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs swinging idly, is a boy.

a boy with rounder cheeks, brighter eyes and an innocence haechan barely remembers having. a version of himself he hasn't seen in years.

"you're me," haechan says, his voice quiet, almost in disbelief as he stares at the younger boy.

the younger version of him grins, tilting his head slightly. "of course i am."

"why am i here?" haechan asks, his voice wavering slightly. it's not the question he wants to ask, but it's the only one that makes sense right now.

"you never left," his fourteen year old self replies calmly, studying him closely. "you don't want to."

haechan's chest tightens, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. the ache in his heart grows the longer he's in here, pressing against him from all directions. he wants to leave this place. he needs to leave. he needs to move on.

to move on as easily as you did, to forget everything and walk away without looking back. that's what haechan wishes he could do. but instead, he stands frozen in place, staring at his fourteen year old self, a sense of suffocation building in his chest.

and so, with a heaviness that fills the space between them, he finally cracks, his voice barely above a whisper, "help me."

"i've been stuck at fourteen. i don't know how to let go."

[amanda-519]

Ugh, I wrote like so many paragraphs but I had to put my phone down and when I opened Tumblr again my post was GONE. Not even in drafts so I have to write this AGAIN.

but, yes, I agree with you I'm also a huge Cecil apologist

I can understand completely why Cecil did what he did. Nolan almost took over the PLANET and Mark has the potential to be as strong as Nolan is. Of course the director of the GDA would try and come up with countermeasures!!!

.... But I'm also a Mark apologist. Like, imagine being Mark. Imagine growing up and having Nolan be gentle with you, be kind, be supportive. Mark grew up believing that his dad would never hurt him.

In season 1 when Nolan punched Mark, Mark was surprised. As he's on the ground he sounds like he can't believe his dad would actually hurt him. And later actually admits that he was surprised (and scared) that his dad hurt him.

Mark believed that his dad would never hurt him. That he would never hurt anyone.

After Nolan kills the Immortal in front of him, Mark immediately thinks that his dad is being mind controlled. His dad would never kill anyone. His dad LOVES him, his dad loves his mom.

And Nolan betrayed and broke that trust by killing all of those people, and almost killing Mark.

I feel like Mark kinda saw Cecil as a father figure, in a way. He was an older man in a position of power. He was wiser, more knowledgeable, and powerful.

Cecil was abrasive, stern, and a bit controlling. But I think Mark needed that. Nolan was shady, he could turn off his emotions. He could be at the guardians funeral and call them friends, and then come home and call them coworkers and not seem sad at their deaths.

Mark needed someone he felt like would tell him how it is. And I think he looked at Cecil for that.

Which is why Mark argued to work for him. To be on call. Why he trained with Cecil (like how he trained with his father).

Mark believed that Cecil wasn't like his father, on some level. Cecil worked for the GDA. He worked to PROTECT people.

I don't think that Mark's reaction to Cecil working with Darkwing or Sinclair was entirely because they were murderers, I think it was also because, in Mark's mind, he betrayed him.

Mark believed that Cecil was good, that he wouldn't hurt anyone, that he wouldn't work with bad guys (like how his father is working for the viltrumite empire), that he wouldn't hurt Mark (like how Nolan hurt Mark).

But then Cecil did.

Like imagine being Mark in that situation. Growing up thinking the world of your father, that he's a hero, that he loves you, that he loves your mom.

Only for Nolan to betray Mark so badly.

And then enters Cecil. An older man in a position in power, who has never been anything but nice (if a bit abrasive). (Remember, Mark didn't know Cecil was willing to let the giant tentacle thing kill him along with his dad)

Nolan helped Mark. He put him back on the field, made him feel important.

And then Cecil turned around and worked with murders and hurt him. Just like his dad hurt him.

But I can also understand why Cecil did what he did. I bet Cecil feels responsibility for what Nolan did, that he didn't stop Nolan before, that he didn't put in place countermeasures.

Cecil knew that Nolan was lying when Nolan showed up. But he hoped for the best. He was optimistic (naive) about Nolan. That he would help. And Nolan did, for 20 years. And then Nolan betrayed them. Betrayed him.

There were no countermeasures in place for Nolan. The giant tentacle thing they brought out was something they discovered recently. Even though Cecil knew that Nolan was lying when he showed up on Earth, he didn't try to think of a way to take Nolan down.

And it's not like it would have been hard to find a way, the screeching sound is a weakness. And I bet in 20 years Nolan came across something akin to that. But Cecil wasn't looking, he probably didn't pay attention to it.

And I bet that thought keeps him up. The fact that Cecil knew Nolan was lying and yet didn't try harder to think of a way to put Nolan down.

Nolan betrayed both Cecil and Mark, and that betrayal hurt both of them deeply.

I think both Cecil and Mark both, on a subconscious level, saw each other as a "do-over" for Nolan.

For Cecil, he saw Mark as a fresh viltrumite (like how Nolan was a fresh viltrumite when he first came to earth). Except this time Cecil is going to keep Mark on a shorter leash. He's going to put in countermeasures from day one (Cecil put the chip in Mark's brain right after Mark finished fighting his dad).

Cecil felt so out of control with Nolan that he wasn't willing to do the same with Mark.

I think Cecil pulled out the switch so fast because Cecil didn't like the idea of losing even the smallest bit of control of Mark. He was scared, sure, but he was also scared that if he didn't act now, that if he didn't get Mark back into control now, that this would be another Nolan situation.

For Mark, he saw Cecil as an older man he could trust. That was like his father in some ways (powerful, more experienced) but different in others (abrasive, says what he wants).

So when Cecil turned out to be working with murders Mark freaked out because he felt like Cecil broke his trust (like how his father broke his trust).

In conclusion, I can understand why both of them did what they did, lol.

ngl I’m a Cecil apologist

S3 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

like I mean come ON he tried so many times to get Mark to chill and talk and at least respect what Cecil was trying to do. Like no a nineteen year old doesn’t get to single-handedly determine moral high ground just because he’s superboy.

Mark needs to be able to have huge unconquerable disagreements without resorting to violence. Or menace and the fact he can’t check how scary being flown after is to Cecil is giving those six right men who don’t realize yelling at women is INSANELY scary to them for systematic reasons.

the fact nobody in marks life except maybe his mom can go “Mark stfu and sit down we need to talk like adults” without having to FRY HIS BRAIN is scary. Cecil’s job is to keep the world safe. Mark just made it very clear he’s willing to exploit his supernatural abilities when he has a conflict of opinion. That’s not good. What if Mark, like naive young adults do, discovers political extremism? Or idfk, Vilrtumite ideology. Who saves earth when its protector disagrees with the people he’s trying to protect? Who keeps the invincible in check?

[theheightofdishonor]

The fact that Tsukishima doesn't consider it lame to ask Bokuto and Kuroo about his doubts, the fact that he's comfortable with them and trusts them to answer him, the "you don't have fun with volleyball because you're not good at it" from bokuto which is directly tied to the theme of "being good is being free" that noya and and hinata share later on. Tsukishima too finds that volleyball is fun sometimes when he starts putting effort into it and becomes better.

[panharmonium]

OBSESSED with how lorelai calculatedly says the most inflammatory thing she can think of in order to stop chris's parents from targeting rory. this woman is standing in a tank of starving sharks and she dumps the chum bucket over her own head the instant straub makes her daughter uncomfortable. she doesn't cause a scene for no reason; she strategically weaponizes everybody's low expectations of her in order to stop straub from attacking rory and encourage him to attack her instead. and it WORKS. and she just sits there takes it. i see your daughter is just as out of control as ever, richard. but lorelai doesn't care what straub says about her because that was the point; she wants to him to come after her and forget that rory is there. if you'd attended a university as your parents had planned, and as we planned in vain for christopher, you might have aspired to more than a blue-collar position...you might not want to take such a haughty tone when you announce to the world that you work in a hotel.

and then she sends rory out of the room to safety and she sits there and continues to take it. she seduced him into ruining his life. she had that baby, and ended his future! and it doesn't matter because they're chewing on her and not her daughter and that was the point. she played them. they fell for it. and it doesn't mean that the things they say don't hurt her, because they do. it means she's willing to let herself be hurt in rory's place.

you can see the tense disapproval on lorelai's face when the group turns expectantly to rory like they're waiting for her to perform some kind of circus trick, and even though the gilmore grandparents + chris do it out of genuine admiration and pride, they don't understand how terrified rory feels about being asked to demonstrate genius on-demand in front of people who are already judging her for being born. rory looks reflexively at her mother with HELP written all over her face, and one needling comment from straub is all it takes for lorelai to offer herself up as a convenient (and familiar) punching bag.

[sp1resong]

remember my name - mitski

[nieranddear]

Finally getting around to writing about it. Mostly since it would have needed to be contained inside the tags of the main post and there is no way this would’ve fit. It’s mostly just dialog rewrites, trying to keep it somewhat in character at the least, rereading on the characters and then debating over what to do, process of pain, and all that thinking stuff that makes my brain hurt. Typical things I'd put in the tags. Do know it is 1.6k words as a heads up.

I actually had an idea before that was written down the day of, as elaborated inside a post, but it felt really clunky and I couldn’t find the work around for it to make more sense or be natural than just having items go for a specific purpose than it feeling more akin to a decision made because it was a decision rather than a contrivance and necessity. Changed it the next day and did one draft for the dialog and then went into thumbnails. I didn’t think I would put this much effort into it? If I had known beforehand I would’ve definitely had done more time inside the planning stage to have it put out inside a form that I felt more content with. Specifically with the placement of dialog paired with the paneling. Some were fine but it ended up feeling as if it was either too claustrophobic, which I had attempted to fix later on by either condensing or moving some items around, or that it was either too fast pace wise. Hopefully it ended up alright in the end. I can’t quite remember as I didn’t write the exact thought process down but I tried to convey timing and feeling through the sizes of the panel and the background? Also typical comic or the like but I couldn’t tell if it was executed very well which is why it was brought up.

Ahhh the pacing was killing me. I tried to condense it but overall it just felt too rushed or unnatural. It still feels a bit unnatural but passable as simply awkward now. Already established and can be seen here but I tend to speak in a verbose manner. Either when explaining things or just talking in general when trying to communicate. Which also caused it to be drawn out. It was mainly the fact that I didn’t want to force an idea that felt too unnatural to me once more.

Actually interesting things. Dialog. And the two. These two. There was going to be a bit more teasing but it felt a bit off? Not sure. While Netzach did have words that were sarcastic or poking at the situation it was more of a dry, wry sort of thing than something he actually does often. Mostly out of that said hopelessness that was most present inside of LCorp. Though he is still one to complain it isn’t at an expense of himself or others. Along with the fact it was harder to try and find a situation to fit affection? Not so in the way to where it seemed impossible for a dynamic or relationship but more of the fact that typical situations of what I personally perceive to be relationships or romantic just wouldn’t flow. Netzach’s expression isn’t one of being loud. In multiple ways really. Not to say he doesn’t but in general his face isn’t as vividly expressive and his voice is quieter and he speaks inside a lethargic and slower way. This also transfers over to the experiencing of love and expressing of that love as well. Specifically when talking about or discussing the affection he had for Carmen it was a gentle but ever real and present adoration. Simply being content to go ahead and just be near her. To be near to see the passion and life inside of her eyes. But even with that affection the way he goes about to describe it is also very unsure? Not quite unsure but using language that isn’t as strong with the idea of ‘love’. It isn’t as if it is not there but it isn’t as if it was what one would call a typical, burning passion. Words such as ‘suppose’ only followed after a more lengthy pause to the idea of Carmen being his ‘first love’. Then going on to describe the dynamic by using the words provided. Along with ‘Was it love, really?’ to the first probing of the relationship and feelings towards Carmen. It felt odd if I went ahead and had such behaviors written down. Personally. Mostly due to the fact I wanted to try and express that more subtle or quiet showings of affections and adoration. No, I am not projecting. I just happen to be AroAce spec. Hashtag trust. Regardless, the way it was handled really stood out to me so I wanted to try and preserve that in a certain way or try to go ahead and have that shown in some manner. Things like his words about wanting to go ahead and express his emotions quietly down onto a painting. I wanted to try and have him do something like that and to capture that and more openly and physically present those emotions, that work and time, towards Yesod as another showing of affection. Plus the kiss on the cheek. I was debating keeping that in but a kiss is a more universal sign of communicating affection. Wanted to not have it on the lips for a sort of comfort thing? Like Yesod was already written on edge and a bit stressed due to the fact he was simply receiving things inside a showing of appreciation and affection and unable to go ahead and reciprocate or be able to return the favor or having planned to go ahead and physically do something. Adding onto the slight tension from being too close and trying to test the waters of being close. Putting it over here Yesod seems to be fine with space considering he quite literally walks up to Roland to touch and adjust his clothes. But it was more of the factors of getting inside of his space when already tense that I wanted to go ahead and be done. Going back to Netzach, the kiss was placed on the cheek inside a way to go ahead and still express that affection but still have it not be entirely inside of his space. A gentle cupping that could easily be stepped back away from but still a physical gesture. I kept going back to the idea of him wanting to try. Going to go ahead and try and attempt to do things. A whole thing with him is wanting to go ahead and try. Try to live. Try to put in the work. Try and actually put effort in. Which then translated over to wanting him to try and get himself to go and express and show that affection towards the other.

Yesod. Where do I start with you. Well I suppose continuing off of the idea of him being more ahh I can’t find the word. Anxious I suppose? I don’t know the correct feeling or word to adequately identify it. Alexithymia and all of that. But it the sort of feeling you get when you’re unable to do or complete something, causing a sort of restlessness and some sort of discomfort inside. Maybe that is anxiety. Regardless. The prospect of being unable to return or to be able to go ahead and repay inside the one sided exchange of items or words received. Wanted to have it to where it felt maybe wrong? Or the sort to go ahead and receive something without any prerequisite or action to balance it out. Thus having him more on edge and a bit more irritable during the conversation. Yesod himself is rather composed, really. The things he ended up becoming more worked up about were subjects where he was more passionate about an injustice. Even then he tends to collect himself after such matters. Even inside LCorp he was one to go ahead and be able to reign himself in and restrain himself inside his emotions. Even during the meltdown which is a bit funny to think about in an ironic way. Which is understandable considering everyone inside LCorp was far more unstable. But still under a situation that upsets or distresses he ends up expressing a temper that he does have. I wanted to try and have him be physically more stiff? On edge or just more tense at it all. Going ahead and opening up with sorting/rechecking/replacing of the books upon the shelf as a sort of way to soothe and get comfort and also physically actually do something while thinking. Any other thing to add would end up being the notes about trying to get their body language down and what to do with them. A slight tilt on Netzach’s head and shifting of it. General slouching. Was also debating keeping some of the body language in or not or just gesticulations but ended up keeping it in for the sake of it not being visually boring. Yesod with pauses and more stationary bodywise. Mostly only really small tilts or eye movement. 

Other patrons mentioned! I feel like they would be the types to go out and initiate some sort of gift giving. Maybe others responding or doing something in their own right afterwards but those few seemed like the type to have something planned or ready specifically just for the day. Tiphereth as well because despite her more snappy words and ruder sentences she can end up saying which she doesn’t really mean she does care for them all. So I thought it would be nice if Tiph went ahead and wanted to try and express or extend that showing because of that. Malkuth feels like the type to do some trinkets or the sort and more physical showings of affection through hugs and the like. Hod feels like the sort to go ahead and make personalized notes. Also fitting for the floor of literature patron. Chesed because he is a social creature and also likes excuses to go ahead and visit or see others and just chat.

hoptal

[sysig]

Maybe something with Mousey being jealous of Hunter and Smoker for one reason or another? hehe

Day 7 - There might be a reason for that

Bonus:

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[winter-spark]

I don't really have an anniversary that I celebrate but I have only been here for almost two years.

(but I overexplain my getting into a3! timeline as I'm kinda long winded and always trying to fact check myself so...)

I found out about A3! In the February of 2023, via the anime. My sister and I finished the anime by March(one of my earliest a3! posts(still in my draft posts) is dated March 5th where I was basically like "just finished the anime! Here's ideas as to how they could continue the anime" lol) and started looking more into A3! finding out it was a game that had an English version but was shut down. But we were still trying to read the stories.

I'm pretty sure it was around then that I dived into read Citron stories. Like I remember starting Act 5 but I had a bit summary of Act 5 & Act 8 already to an extent because my sister had read about Hisoka's backstory and Citron getting kidnapped. And so reading Act 5 I was like but Citron in Act 8. So I read that instead and then went back to read Act 5, and the rest of year two and it is a bit of a blur and I know I was trying to read at least some of all the troupes' stuff I had a couple of faves in each troupe but I remember scrolling through yaycupcake looking for specifically for events with Citron or Guy on the cover. I wanted to have all the info that I could get.

By late March & April I was headcanoning, writing fanfic and starting essays. By April 8th I was trying to make a playlists. April 13th I started my first Citron pov fic and by June I had a document keeping track of which events were Citron and/or Guy focused and details in about them. And I was rereading Citron events and speculating about his brothers/family life. (I was rereading Citron events before I had even read everything that was available) Then I started a whole a3! Notes document.

Also by June a post had appeared being like "you know it’s super easy to get Japanese games right?" with instructions on how. It was very strange but felt a bit like a sign. I tried to get my sister to get it because she was the one found the fact that it was a game and unavailable for us but she said I should get it(probably because I was reading way more translations of the stories than her and also phone storage space lol). So I did. It was June 13 2023 when I opened the app for the first time (I only know this because I screenshotted a lot lol).

But uh yea. I don't have any celebrations/anniversaries but there's a bit about me getting into A3! and the game and Citron. I guess 2 years isn't new new but I still feel very new.

Mankai March 2025 question 1!

Welcome to Mankai March’s second year running, and the official first anniversary of the event! We have an (almost)entirely new set of 31 questions to ask y’all every day, so let’s kick things off! We’ll start with something pretty simple, since it’s been a whole year and all: Do you do anything to celebrate your own A3!versary(or oshiversary)? When is it, and how many have you celebrated? And if you’re pretty new to the game and fanbase, how long have you been a fan?

[xbraveheartx]

Suddenly smacked in the face by the implication of Romeo's message where he says "I remember you, so there's no reason for us to fight. I suppose."

I always thought the wording was weird, but didn't think too much on it... Until recently after we discussed some datamined stuff in the Carmeo/Promeo server. There's a scrapped line (where P was supposed to speak) that says "I may not remember, but I'm still your son" during the NP fight, and while the scrapped lines are their own can of worms, let's focus on the memory parts.

I had always thought that once a puppet woke up, they would just get their memories back. But the fact seems to be this: There are select memories that come back to give bits and pieces of their past that "wake" them up-- cause them to change, as we see with P and the necklace; As we see from the spliced memories at the Black Seaside. However, it might not be all one's memories that come back. Whether those spaces stay blank or come back over time, who knows.

What I'm trying to get at here is...

Romeo's memories might only consist of Carlo at the time of waking. Carlo was what woke Romeo-- "I remember you"-- He had the necklace, he knew from who it was; He recognized the face P was modeled after. "So there's no reason for us to fight, I suppose"-- there's a lack of confidence in the wording here. Friends aren't supposed to fight, right? That's what his memory tells him, at least.

And the only memories P tends to get in regards to his past? Those in relation to Romeo, his aspirations, and of his own death. Seemingly, these are the things most important to him.

They were the most important people to each other; They remembered each other, just one too late than the other.

[better-call-mau1]

Lucasfilm: Literally every single romance or almost-romance we’ve ever written in the Star Wars universe has ended in tragedy.

Lucasfilm: Han/Leia? Split up after their son went off the deep end. They eventually died broken and alone.

Lucasfilm: Anidala? No match for Palpatine’s plotting, Anakin’s attachment issues, and Padmé’s Sadness.

Lucasfilm: Obitine? Jyn/Cassian? Reylo? Tragedy! Tragedy! Tragedy!

Lucasfilm: At least we gave you Kanera. Aren’t they just so sweet and devoted and —— oh, whoops! More tragedy!

Ezra: I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Sabine, drawing her blasters: They can pry you from my cold, dead hands.

Ezra: Please don’t tempt them.