#i went into it VERY cynical. i kept saying 'see i wish they did more things like this' referring to the greek chorus of high schoolers

[idrils]

finally watched mean girls: the movie: the musical: the movie last night and honestly i LOVED it. i'm not familiar with the actual musical at all (except the song stupid with love), so i only had the original movie to compare it to

i think the ways it was updated for the new 20s (montages of everybody tiktoking about the events of the movie, the burn book was "the thing we did that week they took away our phones" etc) were clever and fun; the performances were largely grounded and entertaining; the cinnamon topography was silly and colorful and delightful; and even though the lyrics are pretty mid, the songs are EXTREMELY catchy. i even liked that aaron samuels' part was really small and his songs were cut! it was never about him and his interiority! he's a trophy! it's going on the comfort movie pile, i loved it

[purpleyoonn]

red string 2

“our connection is determined by a tiny invisible string”

summary: you figured it was too late for your string to solidify, used to the idea of finding someone on your own, who also never got their string. However, your string began to tug when you least expected it, to the last person or people you would have ever thought.

genre: soulmate au, red string of fate au, poly au,

pairing: BTS (Yoongi centered) x Reader

status: ongoing (random updates)

warnings: slight yandere themes, insecure reader, alcohol, talks of jealousy, soul bonds, mentions of past abuse,

chapter warnings: soul pain, first meetings, running away, mc didn’t really want a bond, cinderella-esque plot line, mc is cynical, allusions to past abusive relationship, bad flashbacks, kind-of kidnapping but not really??, soul tug, mc has ptsd, 

I am not going to have a taglist for this fic. I will only be using the permanent taglist as its intended for all of my fics.

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​ @strxwbloody​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @carolinexkpop​  @azazel-nyx​ @strawberry-moonpies​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​ @dahliasbouqet​ @black-rose-29​ @tinyoonsblog​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @stellauniverse​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​ @tinyoonsblog​ @veronawrites​ @tatyhend​ @singukieee​ @m0v3m3ntsblog​ @exfolitae​ @butterymin​ @queen-in-the-shadows​ @anaspectoflife @welcometomyworld13 @slinekyu @ghostlyworld@svnbangtansworld @loisje123 @i-have-no-life-charlie @danielle143 @jcrml@softieyn @kyuupidwrites @friedlollipop @lulu-83​ @tokiodori​

masterlist // part 1 // part 3

-----------------------------------------------

Previously on Red String:

“If Mr. Min saw you carrying her, you would need the medical room.” The guard’s words were blunt, but a little worrying.

“Mr. Min? You don’t mean…” Hong visibly paled as he looked down at you, his mind making the connection you didn’t want to say. His grip loosens as Hyunsoo takes you from his arms.

“I don’t need to remind you of the NDA you signed, do I, Hongmin?” The man who found you shook his head quickly, before looking down at you once more and walking away. You could almost see his body shaking as he did so.

Still unable to move your neck, you grumble into the guard’s chest.

“So, how’s it goin?” You ask, your brain’s defense system seeing sarcasm as its only choice.

The guard assigned to you was immensely stoic; silent in a way you couldn’t even crack a smile out of the man as you grumbled to yourself.

“You know, this was not how I wanted to spend my birthday. I imagined, well, hoped for, a nice drink and take out with a crappy movie I could laugh mindlessly to. Not having fate move against me and trap me against the bathroom door.”  The guard just kept walking, sometimes stopping to adjust you in his arms as your body arguably continued to let gravity do its job, more or less against your will but who were you to fight against fate when it went with your own wishes.

“So, where are we goin?” You asked him, trying to get the man to crack, but he just continued to ignore you. You weren’t going to give up though.

You could vaguely hear the music playing, the concert still happening as you were being brought to your doom. You wondered where the man was taking you, only slightly correct in the idea that you would be brought to a waiting room of some sort. However, you realized you were wrong when you were brought to a very nice room, three big couches taking up the left of the room while a couple of tables and vanities took up the other half.

The guard, and consequently you, only made it a couple of steps in before the door was being opened again. Well, more like the door was slammed open, almost flying off its hinges as the man you were trying to run from pushed his way into the room. You would have laughed at the growl coming from Yoongi’s lips if it wasn’t aimed in your direction, and a shiver raced up your spine. You were practically shaking in the guard’s arms!

Yoongi was surely gone, Agust D taking his place as the dark look in his eyes takes in your figure, resting in the arms of the guard he had assigned to watch you. He couldn’t explain the rage he felt when he saw you in the arms of someone else; someone who wasn’t him! You were his bond, his red string! He could feel the growing possessiveness he held for you, his instincts screaming at him.

“Sirs, I—” The guard tried to explain but began to stutter after being pinned with six other glares that accompanied Yoongi’s; looks that radiated anger and power looked at him, and only then did the guard realize what he was doing wrong. He didn’t understand why the guard was holding you when he said not to touch you.

Yoongi just held his hand up, stopping the man from continuing his apologies, and stepped forward, arms reaching to take you from him. You only grunted, not exactly wanting to be in Yoongi’s arms but unfortunately, the stupid soul tug was still in effect. You couldn’t fight against the idol who now tightened his embrace around you and cradled you to his chest like a lost kitten. Like he expected you to jump from his arms any second and run.

Well, he wouldn’t be wrong.

It’s not like I could make it far anyways. You answered the stupid voice in your head.

You ignored the warmth building in your veins, ignoring the way Yoongi’s touch had your body unwillingly relaxing into his arms as you tried to move your head to see where your strings led.

You had almost forgotten about your fourth string, now split into four other pieces, each leading to the members you had yet to meet. You had seven total strings and each one led to one of the boys.

Man, Lindsey was right.

Let’s not tell her that, though. You internally cringed, knowing exactly how your best friend would react. The words “I told you so” would not be the last thing leaving her mouth, unfortunately. She would never let you live this moment down. Ever.

You couldn’t hear anything Namjoon was saying to the guard who brought you here, only seeing the dragon eyes aimed at the shorter man, and the way the guard was nodding every couple seconds. Within a minute the guard had all but ran out of the door, Namjoon turning to you with a smirk on his lips.

You were about to make some remark to the taller man smirking at you but your breath whooshed out instead when Yoongi turned you around and sat down with you still in his arms. He adjusted you so your head was resting back against his shoulder and you were facing the room, feeling entirely too exposed.

“You’re not very good at running, are you?” Yoongi murmured into your ear, causing that stupid, heated blush to creep up your neck and ears. You could practically feel the damn smirk creeping on his lips.

“You knew I’d be here.” You stated, now having put everything together. They were responsible for your and Lindsey’s seat changes and for the guards keeping an eye on you., making you feel watched and panicked.

“We did say we wanted to speak with you in private…” You turn your head to see Taehyung and Jimin seated on a smaller loveseat to your right. Taehyung had a neutral expression but you could see in his eyes something different, while Jimin was just hopeful, watching your own facial expressions carefully.

You look down at Taehyung’s words, feeling the pain of rejection and hurt all over again. You didn’t think you wanted to have a conversation that would lead to where you thought it was going to, so you wanted to avoid it all together.

It seemed Yoongi could tell where your thoughts were going, moving his arm from around your waist to slowly trail his fingers up your arm and to your wrist, turning your left hand over connecting his palm with yours, intertwining his fingers with yours causing the thick, dark red string connecting you to glow for a couple of seconds before returning to normal. The bond snapping back into place after being incomplete from your first meeting.

The first stage of the bond, the soul tug, was meant to ensure that the bond was being completed. This meant you now couldn’t go be more than a few feet from any of the boys once you had physical contact. By you running, and now Yoongi holding you, the first stage had begun.

You try to leave his grip, feeling the tingling and numbness in your toes starting to disappear, but unfortunately, the rest of your body was not so lucky. When Yoongi noticed your attempts, he smiled smugly, taking advantage of the fact that you couldn’t move or leave him by holding you tighter against him.

“Do you not feel the tug? Do you not feel the way your body relaxes against Yoongi’s touch, even against your own subconscious?” Namjoon’s questions have you tensing again, not wanting to answer his question, instead you stare at your bonds, noticing the tugging sensation and the ripples in color whenever one of them moves.

“Do you not feel the bond you so obviously share with us, the one you continue to fight against?” Namjoon continues, frowning as Yoongi leans back to rest against the back of the couch, your body unhappily following along. Your cheeks grow hot again, your body working against you and showing the way you feel about the answers to his questions, completely giving you away to the intelligent leader.

“Ignoring the feelings you have for the bond; it does not ignore the fact that we are soulmates. Your strings are connected to ours. You are ours whether you like it or not. We aren’t going to let you go and we aren’t going to just let you walk out of here without us by your side.” You open your mouth in shock at the leader’s words, wondering where in the hell he got is audacity from?! The rest of the boys were nodding their heads in agreement, as if they had already discussed this.

Which they probably did, the little voice in your head tells you.

You ignore the voice and you ignore the butterflies in your stomach at Namjoon’s claim. You hadn’t realized how much you would love the idea of being claimed until it was staring you in the face, with a little tilt of the head and a raise of the eyebrow.

Before you could argue against his words, you could feel your phone in your back pocket vibrating. You sighed out in relief and hoped you could use this as an excuse to leave.

Lindsey you are a life saver! You praised your best friend in your head, only to start cursing as you felt Yoongi reaching for your phone, his hand resting just a little too long against the curve of your ass before taking your phone out of your pocket.

“Give me—" You’re cut off but Yoongi pressing the answer button and pressing your phone to his own ear.

“Where the hell are you dude? You disappeared and missed the entire concert! I’ve been looking for you everywhere and trying to think nice thoughts while one of those guards from earlier follows me around!”

“I’m sorry about that. You must be Lindsey?” Yoongi’s voice was soft, like velvet as he spoke to your friend. You were in shock at the change in his voice, from sultry to being as sweet and innocent as can be.

“Who is this and why do you have my best friend’s phone?”

“This is—”

“Is this Yoongi? Oh my god! Uhm, you know what, never mind. Just make sure she goes to bed on time. She gets cranky in the mornings.” Yoongi wasn’t even able to get a couple words out before Lindsey recognized his voice.

Hmm. It seems our little soulmate told her friend about us. And she approves. Yoongi hummed to himself as Lindsey hung up the phone after promising she would give your things to the guard following her, assuming that he was working with the boys and she was right.

“Well, it seems as though your friend is just fine with you coming home with us.” Yoongi’s smile brightened as he watched the others faces light up, Jungkook was especially excited as he knew you were his age. He hoped you liked to cuddle, seeing as the others never liked to stay in bed as long as he did.

“What… I…uh?” You stammered, brain moving too slow as you tried to come up with a way out if this, forgetting the fact you still couldn’t move.

You hear a slap and see Jungkook bouncing in his seat, clearly excited for you to come home with them. He was slapping his thighs and talking animatedly to Jin about all of the things he planned to do with you. You would have been completely endeared by his plan to play video games with you if you weren’t internally freaking out.

“I can’t go with you!” You blurted out, cringing a little at how loud you were.

“Why not?” Hoseok inquired; eyebrow raised as he watched you come up with an excuse.

“I, uhm, don’t have any clothes.” You replied, a little proud of your quick answer only for your smile to shatter at Jimin’s words.

“We can give you some!” You paled at his own excitement, not wanting to crush his plainly obvious feelings of hope. Strike one.

“I don’t have any of my things.” Someone knocked on the door, Jin moving around to reveal a man holding onto your bag making you rest your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, trying to think.

“Look, your bag is right here.” Strike two.

“You guys must be really busy. I don’t want to bother you or anything…” Your last hope to weasel your way out of the situation was destroyed by Taehyung, his smile wide as he counters your words.

“Actually, we planned for you to come with us anyways. We have the next couple of weeks free. You know, we don’t want the soul pain to start.” Taehyung has his own moment of satisfaction as he sees your face pale at his words, knowing all of your plans to leave were thwarted by him. 

Fuck, you cursed.

How in the world did you forget about the soul pain period?

It’s not my fault! I forget a lot of things.

Well, now you can’t be more than a couple feet from them without immense pain. Good job.

You had completely forgotten that when a bonded person meets their soulmate or soul group, completely, for the first time, the string snaps together, leaving each person with only a few feet of leeway to move away. It could last for several days or weeks, depending on the bond and how many people are connected. With your luck and how the universe seems to be against you, you guessed it would be months before you were able to leave.

Strike three and you’re out.

-*-*-

You pouted the entire way to the boy’s home, unable to move even an inch from Yoongi’s arms without the slight pain tugging at your chest making you groan out and want to gouge your heart out. How dare your body do this to you?

The boys, on the other hand, were all making bets on how long you would try to fight them. They could tell this was just some sort of defense mechanism and were all building their own individual plans to make you theirs. They knew it was only a matter of time before you were seeking them out.

“Welcome home, baby.” Jin smiled down at you as he unlocked the door. It made your insides tingle and made your head hurt all at the same time. For a second you couldn’t remember why you were fighting against this, everything becoming jumbled together in your head. You couldn’t remember the fear you felt for the bond, the trauma from your last relationship almost disappearing from your mind as Jin smiled at you.

Your thoughts were forgotten when Namjoon placed his hand on your back, helping you inside, through the living room and down the hallway until you appeared at the entry of a room with a very large, wall to wall bed. It looked like the comfiest cloud of softness you had ever seen.

You were practically melting at the idea of being able to lay in the soft warmth you could only imagine you would feel.

“Why don’t you get changed, baby.” Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk at your face, the way it changed from adoration to a deadpan as you looked up at him.

“I’m not changing in front of you.”

“Baby, I can almost guarantee you’re going to want to strip in front of me eventually…if it’s not me undressing you.” Jungkook retorted, smirk growing into a devilish grin as your eyes narrowed.

“You wish I would undress for you.” You snap back, trying to take a step back only for the tug to bring you closer than before. This makes Jungkook’s grin widen.

“Baby, it’s not a wish.” Jungkook pushes further, an inch away from being able to steal a kiss from your lips, and boy was he tempted!

Until he noticed the fear behind your eyes, causing him to step back and turn around. He was mortified! You had thought he was going to force himself on you?! He needed to talk to the others, but how were they going to do that when the soul tug was active?

When you were finished changing into the oversized shirt and shorts, you timidly tapped on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’m uh, I’m changed now.” Your entire demeanor had shifted, flashback after flashback trying to steal your vision as you forced yourself not to shake. You were scrappy, you knew that, but only to defend your own mind from what it saw as a threat. 

You could not put yourself in a position to be vulnerable again. (But you also didn’t want to let on that anything was wrong. You couldn’t have that conversation. Not right now, hopefully not ever.)

“I’m sorry if I pushed you. I was only teasing.” Jungkook tried to apologize, his hand reaching out to grasp onto your arm but you flinched away from him, the soul tug allowing you a few feet leeway.

“It’s uh, it’s okay.” You rushed out, trying to end the conversation before you could imagine where it would go. But Jungkook was observant, and he could practically feel the pain in your heart. Something happened. Something that had you flinching away and fighting a soul bond.

And he had a bad feeling about it.

[redundantz]

What are your thoughts on how the characters were written for stampede? You sounded kind of :/ about Meryl at one point.

Hello! Yeah it was a bit of a rollercoaster for me personally. ⚠ STAMPEDE SPOILERS ⚠ BUT they really pulled it together in the end i think (for the most part) Since we now know for sure this is a prequel and where its now going after the finale it puts more perspective on things. I have OG Trigun brain so take my own opinions with a grain of salt. I think if people enjoy this new series on its own merits thats wonderful. HOWEVER I still think the series has severe pacing issues and we miss a ton of important character moments imo. And I wish we got to see more interaction with uhh actual humans. After the first 3 eps and then the one with Rollo we basically dont interact with any other humans who live on the planet and its so weird. (also my god we need more fun time in this show was a depression speedrun istg) Have a graph of my emotional journey:

Vash: oh man haha this one is tough. now that the season is over and we got a HUGE payoff with him so I am very happy now but yeahhh. Some parts I was like wow this is Vash he's perfect. But then as the episodes went on I was getting so frustrated. Because he just would stand there giving everyone UwU eyes and not do anything. Especially for his flashback with Knives. Which I understand it was "shock" but he basically stood there with a blank expression the whole time and it was so...??? Being a pacifist didn't mean he is a limp noodle and doesn't take action. Like don't get me wrong he did have a few moments where he fought Livio and the Badlads but that was about it. I think a lot of my frustration might be because he kept using hand to hand combat compared to using his gun which I am used to. again though, they really brought it back in the end 10000% and brought it into perspective so I can forgive some of the previous stuff. Meryl: She was made more cutesy and naïve. Which definitely got on my nerves here and there. But I was okay with it for the most part ( im not immune to cute lol) They got the most important part of her character where she is touched by Vash's convictions, and his love for humanity. She didn't start off jaded and roughened by the planet this time so I think it has a bit less impact in that regard. But I think the best thing they did for her is she is basically the stand in ambassador for humanity and its strength of character. Wolfwood: I don't have to much to say for him personally. but dude needs to have some fun. First ep with him was pretty great but after that was just a lot of angry yelling and nasty looks. Like...for awhile I couldnt even see how him and Vash are friends besides the fact that Vash is nice to him. Him and Meryl almost had more nice moments than both of them. I LOVED finally getting to see more of his backstory though esp with Livio that was so great. But I really wish we got to see how much he cares about kids and him interacting with them. All we would get is NOT THE ORPHANAGE!! but we never get to see it in action really. Besides him giving Zazie a lollypop that one time and the flashbacks but those only included Livio for the most part. Roberto: NGL I loved him he was cynical and grumpy LOL I was pretty offput at first because it felt like he was replacing Milly. I dont think he wasnt really utilized to his full potential though. Especially because he dies later. I feel like we didnt get enough time with him or character moments. I think it could have made his death hit harder. Also just a shame that he was just there to further Meryls arc. But i think he was meant to mirror Meryls drive to help against his pessimism. Milly: millyseason2millyseason2millyseason2!! That's the main group anyway. Thank you for the ask!

[daisyblossomsub]

MAC AND CHEESE | NATE AND DAISY PARA | 03.12

dom-i-nate​:

He chuckled softly at her, “I don’t know about that. I once kept him denied for an entire year. It’s what he wanted, I just don’t know that I’d call it romantic. He was really cute begging though,” he said, his voice starting to shake, but he cleared his throat in an effort to move passed it. His fingers started to drum against her shoulder, leg bouncing as he became more and more anxious, the craving getting stronger. He could lose himself in her voice a little though, he was able to focus on that as long as she was talking. “I did fail, Daisy,” he said very honestly and abruptly. “I had two claims and now I have nothing. I’m not married, no kids and I’m not an Olympic swimmer. Hell I went to two different schools and still haven’t graduated. I absolutely failed,” he pointed out. “It’s not about that,” he said shaking his head, “it’s about all the pain the came from those failures. And how I never wanna feel that pain again. My life is pretty much a revolving door of pain and disappointment, and I’m not saying that so you feel bad for me or whatever, it’s just the truth. And pain like that, heartbreak like I’ve had…I wouldn’t survive it again,” he said honestly, getting quiet as he worried he said too much.

Originally posted by poisonedsoul

Daisy laughed and shook her head. “No, no it’s definitely not traditionally romantic. I was being sarcastic, Sir. But it’s no wonder you’re so skilled at playing out denial in a scene, having stretched it out for an entire year.” She was truly amazed at that feat. Just a couple days ago she’d had such trouble coping through five edges with Danny Andrews, and then today, she struggled after just a little while with Nate. Making it a week was astounding to Daisy, let alone an entire year. Over her internal musings she took note of the shift in Nate’s tone and demeanor. He seemed to be getting upset, and at once, she felt sorry for not redirecting the conversation sooner - until she didn’t. As Nate spoke, she listened, and didn’t interject with any of her own beliefs. She got the impression that what he was saying had been bottled up for a while and was long overdue for a release. By the time he finished, Daisy’s expression was soft, but she wanted to make sure he knew she wasn’t pitying him. “You’ve certainly been through…more than most go through to say the least. The way you handle things, the cynical way you look at your future…it’s all perfectly valid and justified, Sir. I hope you know that. You’re entitled to every emotion you have regarding your own circumstance.” Daisy wet her lips and pressed on. “That said…as someone who’s starting to care about you, I wish you could see how you’re not solely to blame for everything that happened. Most of it, especially the downfall of your relationships couldn’t possibly have been your fault, alone. I also recognize that maybe it’s not the blame that you’re struggling with as much as a residual unwillingness to try again.” Daisy looked at him intensely, hoping he was hearing every word and taking them to heart. “You’re still here. Your story is far from over, Sir. I think you’re much stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for. I’m not naive enough to presume you’ll agree with what I’m saying overnight, but I’m confident that in time, you’ll realize that your so-called failures aren’t reflective of your supposed weaknesses. Rather, they’re experiences that will bolster and fuel your overall strength as a man, and a Dominant who is completely worthy of a claim, love, success and everything else that comes with it.”

[hanibalistic]

#FFD500 | PARK JISUNG.

genre | fluff, meet cute au, strangers au

word count | 1781

warning | smoking ​

with suit and tie, styled hair, minimal makeup, and a heavy name on his back, jisung realized he could not do it. he could not bring himself to enter the main scene of high school prom.

nervous sweat drenched his hands and he hastily wiped away at the side of his hips. the blinking neon lights coming through the small windows of the assembly hall doors, and the loud blasty music that belonged to none other than his very own idol group made him feel isolated in this dark, empty school hallway he has barely walked across since he got accepted into the school.

there was no point in this. there was no point in attending. donghyuck had encouraged him the most when he was debating whether he wanted to go to prom; he said it could help with blowing off some steam, and there might even be a possibility of meeting someone eccentric, like how he did when he decided to attend prom two years back. jisung had believed him, and now he realized he should not have.

he barely attended school because of his conflicting schedule as a worldwide idol. logically speaking, he shouldn't even be allowed to graduate with the number of absences in his record, but he did so with flying colors anyway. he was everyone's friend and he has no friends; there would be no one to talk to inside, and the clear superiority in accomplishment he held might make things embarrassing and awkward for him.

he understood why donghyuck would deem his experience at his prom great. it was because he knew how to talk, he knew how to charm, and he was never shy around people. jisung believed his story when he talked about the student he frantically danced with under artificial lights. for donghyuck, having met someone eccentric was merely a fortunate coincidence, if not a miracle that he met someone exactly like him.

jisung was nothing like that. he knew he was nothing like that. dealing with strangers, let alone the mysteriously off ones, was never his forte. he would just make a fool of himself, he would not be having a good time.

going to prom was a bad idea. he should leave.

"jesus–watch it!"

"ah..." his voice dimmed as he immediately turned toward the direction of where the explosive voice came from. his hurrying steps halted to a stumble before a stop, and he eyed you up and down carefully before he dipped his head. "sorry... i–i didn't mean to scare you."

"i wasn't scared, just startled," you retorted quickly, but your voice was much calmer than your initial snap. tapping the lit cigarette in your hand lightly with your index finger, you mumbled as you eyed him with mild curiosity after your angry brows faded, "you came out in a hurry. forgot you had an award show to attend to, hmm?"

"oh–no, it's not that–" jisung paused abruptly, he wasn't sure why. when you raised a brow at him, almost impatiently it seemed, he gulped down a nervous knot and scratched the back of his head. "sorry, i just.. i didn't think you would know me."

you blinked at him as you swiped your tongue against your teeth, clicking with what jisung could not tell was menace or disinterest. either way, they were both bad. taking a short puff of the cigarette, you exhaled a cloud of smoke before you mused, "who said i know you, park jisung?"

he gulped, visibly distraught and confused.

"you just said–"

"i just what?"

he gulped again when his meek sentence was cut off so quickly. not even his brothers have interrupted him like this before, at least not with the genuine intention to anyway. it seemed that at this moment, he further came to the realization just how well he was taken care of by everyone around him, because could such a simple jab to a social interaction cause him such anxiety if he was used to it?

(he was glad he wasn't used to it.)

"what is a hotshot like you doing here anyway?" you fired the sudden question, looking to him with intrigue.

you were never one to engage in idol activities. you weren't even in this school to become an artist; you were forced here by your parents who stood somewhere in the industry. one day they realized you had the voice and the range to deserve the spotlight, and here you were stuck in those shit-ugly, overdue-banana-colored uniforms, trying to be a star you didn't want to be.

but jisung—you knew jisung. everybody knew jisung. your classmates, the teachers, that random american tourist who asked you for directions in the street, that kpop warrior online who kept screenshots of netizen articles and translating them out of context. everybody knew jisung, but very few knew him enough.

you didn't care much for him, but your curiosity just had to be fulfilled now that you were seeing him in person. what was he doing here, in a suit and sweating through his hair? did he always talked this shyly or was it your typical idol persona act? were you scaring him and should you do it even more to purposefully leave a bad impression?

your stare was confronting in this silence. granted, it was his turn to speak, so he was at blame for your lingering gaze on him. "i thought... i thought maybe i could go to prom," he finally replied quietly.

you hummed in acknowledgment, then you tilted your head. you looked behind your shoulder into the school, your eyes briefly grazing past the colorful doors that were the entrance to literal teenage hell, and you jabbed your thumb toward the direction. "prom is that way, though, dumbo."

"i know that," jisung said, embarrassed. "i just... i don't have friends."

you laughed, and once again jisung couldn't tell if you were genuinely amused or it was a response of mockery. inhaling carefully, you longing exhaled the smoke as your dazed eyes looked past him, with a smile so vague it seemed unnatural.

"what are you talking about? you've got friends. you got friends everywhere!"

"i... i don't?"

"sure you do!" you exclaimed boldly as you stretched your arms out to the sky, eyes ablaze at the stars above. "they are everywhere for you, jisung. you got friends everywhere because everyone wants to be your friend. you have options, you are just not taking them!"

"but they're not–" he licked his lower lip nervously, feeling a sense of sorrow cast over him upon the teenage loneliness he gained in trade for his success. "they're not real friends."

you paused.

real friends?

you paused; motions stopped, arms empty without strength, and eyes hallow with confused questioning. you stared at jisung as if he was a foreign creature who had said something absurd, so absurd you had to decide whether you wanted to ridicule him or interrogate him first.

what are real friends, anyway?

people who love you but do nothing about it, people who say they love you but do not, people who act upon loving you but do not? people who leave you alone at a bad time because you asked them to, people who would not leave you alone at a bad time even if you asked them to, people who knew how to juggle in between? people who comfort you because they understood you, people who advise because they could not understand you, people who try to relate to you because it was what they knew to be comfortable?

which one of those was real? were any of them fake simply because you didn't like it? when did you get crowned the decision-maker?

what are real friends, anyway? why does it matter, anyway?

why does truth matter if the lies treat you so well?

when you made up your mind to do both, you began to move fluidly again. your lips opened to breathe, and you chuckled sardonically at his naivety.

"what do you need the realness for? lies are lies only if it bothers you, essentially meaning you don't really need the absence of lies," you said. "who cares about real friends, you just need friends. don't you think you are expecting too much from humanity?"

there was sympathy in jisung that he did not know had risen. the basis of the situation, of why you came to the conclusion that people were less than gentle and kind, he knew nothing of but he was sorry for. whether something has happened in your life, or if you simply grew to be cynical, the lack of tiny joys in life must be a terrible feast.

he also knew he hasn't the energy and wit to argue himself to victory; his humanism, the desire to prove that people are good because his people have been good, would not be enough to shake you.

"shouldn't you stop smoking?" he asked, promptly changing the subject.

you removed the cigarette from your mouth, brows furrowed in annoyance now that the attention was directed toward you. you exhaled the smoke slowly from your throat, and you tilted your head up to the sky where you gently said, "maybe not. i just can't seem to die."

your god-given voice just wouldn't let off.

"do you plan to go back in after then? smelling like smoke?" he asked.

"don't mock me boy." you grinned with a glare hanging off the corner of your mouth. "and no, i am not going back in. i don't have friends, but unlike you, i just don't have friends because i am a raging asshole."

jisung finally breathed out a giggle, but it was abruptly short. he covered his mouth and lowered his head, only peeking up at you occasionally. "well, if it's any consolation, i don't think you're all that bad."

your eyes fluttered as you silently tapped your cigarette. he was just as you expected but a little more. you could understand why people like him so much now; his innocence wasn’t a drag, it was a charm. 

you gave him a silent but thankful smile before you looked away. "yeah. thanks."

jisung thought you looked less angry now; eyes at the stars, wishful and longing to be above. the blush that blossomed on his cheeks remained despite the faded nervousness, maybe it was because he felt a fondness toward you he usually wouldn't toward the people he spend his time around; you were a classmate, someone his age, someone who could understand him if allowed.

an eccentric stranger that donghyuck suspected he might meet.

maybe it was a good idea that he never went to prom.

[roger-that-cap]

meet me in the gardens

summary: y’all know the drill

warnings: reader is sort of bitter/cynical because of circumstances, unedited, two girls bonding as they should

word count: 4.5k

this is part four! all other parts are available on my masterlist!

The first time you met with Natasha in your gardens, you felt like you were committing some sort of heinous crime. You constantly checked over your shoulder to make sure that no one was watching you, to make sure that no one was going to see that you were heading to meet someone, and especially that no one knew who you were meeting. 

You were quiet as you rounded the area and saw no one waiting for you, your hopes of meeting with Natasha sparking out with more vigor than they had been sparked with, and before you could make yourself turn around, you sighed and then inhaled, trying to keep your nerves at a minimum. She wasn’t late. She couldn’t be late if she was doing you a favor. Before you could get too far in your thoughts, you heard the soft sound of a footstep coming, a stomp so loud that it almost felt intentional. You turned around and saw Natasha approaching, and for the first time, you saw the woman out of her armor. 

  It was like you were seeing something illegal, at first. You almost shied away, almost averted your eyes, but then you realized that you just… couldn’t. She was too pretty. She wasn’t delicate kind of pretty, and nor did she try to be or not to be, but she was just gorgeous. The moonlight, once again, was her ally as it worked to make her features pop, and illuminate her already bright eyes. Her lips were curved upwards in a hesitant smile, almost as if she didn’t expect for you to be there, let alone before her. And then it dropped, like she expected you to lose nerve and leave her there. The small sliver of vulnerability in her eyes made you take a small step forward and offer her your own awkward smile. 

 So, you spoke. “Thank you,” was all you were able to get out, but for the moment, that was enough. You expected her to playfully milk it, to ask you, “for what?”, and have you play some humbling game that was both passive and aggressive and teasing. But all she did was smile softly, as softly as the light was hitting the dew on the grass, and tell you that you didn’t have to thank her. 

  “Have you tried refuting it?” She asked, her voice a little less soft in the night. 

“I told you, it’s useless.” You stood up straighter and walked past her slowly, implying that you wanted to walk with her through your garden. “The High Priest’s word is practically law.” 

“The King is fond of you,” Natasha said, and you gave her a look. “If you ask him to challenge it, he will.” 

“He may, but I doubt he would think differently than any of the others. They think I should be married. They don’t think that a woman should be in charge of all of the things that I am in charge of.” You kicked a rock. “They think we’re useless.” 

“I know.” 

“That’s why I looked at you like that, you know,” you blurted, and she narrowed her eyes at you as she tried to understand what you were talking about. “When we first met, do you remember how I stared at you?” 

“I thought you were going to turn me away.” 

“No, not at all. And I apologize for my rudeness,” you added, and she gave you that curt knight’s nod, the nod that told the receiver of it that everything was fine. That whatever happened could be considered buried. “But I looked at you like that because… I’ve never seen a woman be a knight before. I’ve never seen a woman with rough hands, nor have I ever seen her natural desire of battle be fulfilled. I’ve seen common women get dirty and scoop fertilizer and gain muscles, but never for themselves. Always for the good of the family, the good of the farm. I had muscles on the farm when I was young because I had to, not by choice. But you… you look the way you do and behave the way you do by choice. You chose to be a knight, to be a protector, and to have calloused hands. Unfortunately, I never grew up having choices, but after my husband died, for a while I finally did. But now they’ve left me again, and it’s even worse now that I’ve become a lovesick romantic for the idea of free will.” 

You were more than embarrassed by your speech. You had hardly taken breaths throughout it, but miraculously, your words flowed together and you didn’t sound half as nervous as you felt on the inside after finally revealing a pathetic part of yourself. You waited less than patiently for her response as seconds ticked by with just the sounds of feet hitting and leaving the dirt, and the occasional drag of one foot against the ground. 

“So, you’re jealous?” 

You almost laughed. “Of course that’s what you got from that.” 

“And you were a commoner?” 

 You frowned. You were sure that she had heard it from someone else if not by you. And if not by the sword of someone else’s mouth, you assumed that she could spot another commoner from miles away, beneath all the layers of skirt and manners that you forced yourself to keep. “Of course I was, you can’t tell?” 

“Sometimes you use language that isn’t very… noble, but I wouldn’t have guessed that you were a commoner before.” You hummed and nodded to yourself. Your etiquette teachers always told you that your language and the accent that you  so desperately tried to hide would be your downfall. That, and the way you used to stare at hot food in the beginning like you had never seen a slab of meat in your life. “You seem like you’ve adapted nicely.” 

“I had no choice but to,” you said softly. “I was isolated. If I failed as a wife, there was no one that was going to be able to dig me out of the grave.” 

  “How did you meet Lord Mirellis?” You made a displeased sound, one that caught her attention. “You don’t have to answer.” 

“You owe me a backstory,” was all you said before clearing your throat and continuing to walk, staring at the flowers that you tended to while you spoke. “He saw me while I was working on the farm. I was feeding the pigs, I’ll never forget. He didn't really say much the first time he saw me, just watched and loomed over me like a shadow. I didn’t think much of it at the time besides to give him a curtsy because he was a high lord and I was close to nothing, and then I kept doing my work. I was young, I smelled like mud, and I was feeding pigs from my hand. I never thought twice about the way he looked at me, with his narrowed eyes. I assumed he was looking at me in disgust, like most nobles do to commoners. I didn’t think twice.” 

  “I went back into my house, a little brick thing, and there he was. I remember curtsying a second time, and my hands shook because the air between him and my father was so thick. I remember feeling something in my bones, feeling that things were about to go terribly wrong. So there I was, standing on the hay doormat with mud up to my knees and straw in my hair, smelling like pigs. And then he asked my father- no- told my father that he wanted to take me to his home and wed me, and that he would have it no other way. My heart stopped there. He told him no, and for a moment, I believed that he would keep refusing, until the lord started giving offers.  My heart stopped again, and it died when my father gave me one long look, and then looked at the man in front of him, who was much more powerful, much stronger physically, and able to ruin our family with one stroke of a pen. And then, without even talking to my mother, he told him yes.” 

“Oh…” Natasha said, and you nodded your head and sighed, almost like you were recounting another’s boring tale and not your own. 

“It felt like before I could even blink, he took me home, here, and married me. It was quick and expensive and I remember wearing a beautiful dress on that day, probably the prettiest dress I had ever seen at that point. It was everything I wanted as a child, because luxury was my first choice, even though it had gone unanswered and unfulfilled. And then I learned that luxury and the prettiest dresses that came with it didn’t mean anything if I didn’t have the choice to go with it. It was hard for me to learn, but I learned. But I didn’t learn to settle with my husband. I warmed his bed because I had to, I held his hand in front of others because I had to, I mingled with his family because I had to and because he kept me from mine. But I was never his, like it said in the vows. And he was never mine.” 

“Did you want that?” When there were a few beats of seemingly impenetrable silence, Natasha spoke again. “Did you want a relationship like that?” 

You scoffed, but it wasn't mocking, It was a sad sound, a sound that you wished you could have taken back the second it left you. “Not with him,” you scoffed again. “With someone else. As a girl, I always wanted to be married to someone who loved me, and someone I loved just as much. It was my dream, maybe even more than luxury was. I wanted love. Not true love, because everyone knows that doesn’t exist, but I wanted to fall asleep and wake with someone I could actually stand, someone that made me smile. He singlehandedly killed that dream. I don’t think it can ever be revived, but I also didn’t think that it could die a second time in the form of Brock Rumlow.”

“So you don’t like not having a choice, and a part of you is still holding onto the idea that you could find love?” 

“I suppose that I said all that to say what you’ve said in a few words.” You admitted softly, looking at your hands that used to have calluses. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Natasha insisted, shaking her head slowly. “I asked for you to tell me. I was honored to get the whole story.” 

You scoffed again, covering your arms with your hands as a gentle breeze blew. “You’re… you’re gentle with me.” 

  “Am I?” 

She was. It was something that you thought about, and also tried not to think about. You often caught yourself watching her wield her sword and exercise and walk into the woods only to return hours later, and claim that she was on some soul searching hunt. The look in her eyes was always hungry, always challenging, always looking for something deeper. But there, in the night with you, she looked just as gentle and delicate as the flowers you were both surrounded by. 

“You’re so fierce during the day, I see it. And I can see it brewing under your eyes, and I can hear it under your words. You’re not typically like this, are you?” 

 She waited a minute before she responded. “Why do you ask?” 

 “Because you’re not like this usually. It’s in your nature to be … harsh. This isn’t you.” 

“It is,” she corrected. “But it’s not the way that most people deserve to see me.” 

Your heart constricted. “And I deserve to see you this way?” 

“I think you deserve a lot of things.” She answered vaguely, and you stopped your walking to take a look at her and her face of indifference. “I think you deserve more kindness than you receive. I think you never got it to begin with.” 

“And you’re trying to make up for lost time?” 

“I’m trying to let you know that the world isn’t out to crush your spirit,” she said, sounding slightly exasperated. “You’re so burnt out that you hardly even know it, you know? You’re so tired with the world and the people in it and the wicked ways of both that you don’t even realize that you only have two more inches of rope. You don’t realize that you’re burning both ends of your candle, and it’s horribly tragic. You could be so much happier, if you would just let yourself.” 

 Your mouth could have been shown shut at that moment. Your eyes were bugging out of your head, and you doubted that they were dry. Her words were nearing desperate, tone past begging. Did she truly care that much? It was so odd. Even odder, was she right? 

  “Both ends of a candle, huh?” You asked, the visual coming to rest in your mind and you nodded, trying your best to keep it together. “And if I was? What would you have me do?” 

  “I would have you go and sit alone by yourself, and find what truly makes you happy. The twins would be glad to help you. You don’t have to burn during the daytime when you’ve got a perfectly good sun working. Two of them.” You let out a small chuckle. 

  She was right. As brutish as she seemed, Natasha was proving herself to be correct over and over again. But your head was starting to pound, and you were close to tears again. You couldn’t let yourself cry in front of her. 

Not yet. 

“I think I’ll retire,” you said softly, voice flowing as gently as the breeze as you watched her nod her head. “Is there… is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“I’ll save my backstory for the next time.” 

“Next time,” you repeated, somehow, the words sounded foreign on your tongue. “Okay. I’ll be counting on it by the day,” you said, your voice a little too heavy to be a lighthearted tease, but she indulged you anyway. 

“I’m sure you’ll hardly even make it to four.” 

§§

Natasha was right, you hadn’t made it to four. Next time came in the form of two nights later, after you had cried your eyes out in your room for two days straight all by yourself, not even allowing Wanda in to come and dress you. Your eyes were puffy and your palms had little crescents indented in them from your nails digging in out of nerves and to distract you from the ache in your chest. The moon had barely finished rising in the sky when you trudged out of your room, gave four knocks on Natasha’s door and hoped that she would take the hint, and then took off towards the gardens. 

 While you waited, you couldn’t help but to watch the flowers sway in the breeze. The weather was constantly warm yet breezy in your region of the kingdom, and it had always been one of your favorite parts of living in Riverstone. The moonlight changed their colors, made them look somewhat eerie in the night as you waited by yourself for a knight that may or may not show.

 “I assumed this was what four knocks were for,” Natasha’s voice mused from behind you, and you didn’t even jump. “I assume you don’t just want to-”

“Can you tell me about yourself?” You interrupted, glancing at her and giving her a dejected look that you didn’t even realize you were wearing. “Please?” 

  “Um, yeah,” Natasha muttered, and then she cleared her throat. Her blue eyes connected to yours while she started to tell her story. “I grew up in the slums, you know that. Near the castle, in the capitol.” You had assumed that much. “I grew up watching knights, and I realized that was what I wanted to be when I was young. And unfortunately for me, I never stop going after the things that I want.” 

“That’s a gift,” you said, and she shook her head. 

“It depends on the things that I want. More times than not, it’s a curse.” Her eyes trailed over to a rose that was working on blooming, and then back to you. “Two other kids I grew up with felt the same way, Steve and James, but he always went by “Bucky”. They’re older than me, but it felt like I was always looking out for them. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. They’re knights now, they passed their quests.”

 “That’s wonderful,” you said, and she nodded her head. 

“They live together now, out in the country about a hundred leagues west of here.” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “They- they live together?” 

Just like that, Natasha’s almost carefree recollection of ehr memories was sliced through with an iron tone and a steely glare as she watched your expression, protecting her lifelong friends that weren’t even there to hear anything you could say. “Something wrong with that?” 

 “They- they could be killed for that,” you whispered, eyes fixated on her despite how mean she looked in the moment. 

“That’s why they live in the country,” she muttered, turning her head away from you, and you could have sworn that she clenched her jaw in what looked like disappointment. “I didn’t think that you were the type to judge that.” 

 You weren’t. You were actually judged, especially after some people in the beginning of your stay at Riverstone started to believe that you were having an affair with Wanda. You weren’t, and Wanda was simply your best friend, but that didn’t stop you from realizing how harsh the world was. Sexuality was never your concern, seeing as you never had choices to act on whichever way your heart swayed anyway. 

 But you couldn't deny that you were getting nervous for the way your fickle little heart acted around Natasha. 

  “I’m not, I promise,” you said, and she gave you a long look. “I just… I just know that people have been hurt because of… the way that they love. It’s not right, but it happens.” 

  “And you?” Natasha asked, and you furrowed your brows. “Who do you love?” You knew that she wasn’t talking about a specific person. She was talking about sexuality. 

Men. I love men. That was what you should have said, something along those lines and something concrete. It should have been something that would have convinced her and yourself that you were in the clear, that you loved the way society wanted you to. But instead, like Natasha always managed to, you opened your mouth and told the truth. “I don't know.” 

You looked away before you could see the pure shock flood her face, and then the mask of understanding that collapsed it. 

“It doesn’t matter who you love,” she said quietly, almost as if anything louder than a whisper would frighten you back into being reserved. “Only how you do it.”

“I’m not sure that priests feel the same way,” you muttered, and she snorted a bit. The sound coming from a woman both shocked you and made you grin. 

  “Those same priests abuse children. It’s safe to say that I have no cares for anything they have to say about me and my lifestyle.” You sucked in a breath at that and looked towards her, eyes wide as you waited for her to say something else so terribly true but all you looked over to find was a knowing smile on her face as she looked right back at you, painstakingly gorgeous. Your breathing stopped for a moment. 

“And you?” You dared to ask, but your boldness was erased by the way that your voice trembled. She gave you a look that attempted to convince you that she knew nothing of what you were talking about, but the glint in her eyes gave her away. “Your… preference.”

“I hope my lack of answer keeps you up all night,” she said, and she turned her back to you abruptly, starting to walk away. You sputtered until you could find words. 

“Wait, what?” You reached out to grab her, warm hand wrapping around the cold skin of her arm, and she turned her head to look at you, face so close that you got nervous. Your eyes drifted downwards, and then back just as quickly. Your heart raced in your chest when you thought about her leaving you behind by yourself in the garden, and then it ached again when you really understood what your panic was about. You didn’t want to be without her, being alone didn’t bother you any other time. “What made you want to be a knight?” You asked out of nowhere, and you saw her face scrunch up. “If it’s not too much to ask to know.” 

  “I… it’s not much. I didn’t see anything heroic or watch anyone be saved. There was no knight that saved me either, no knight that I looked up to. In fact, I was the one out of the three of us who wanted to be a knight first,” she said, and you leaned forward, almost like it would make her point come faster. “I read a story… you know the one about Sir Yuriel and Lady Selene?” 

   You blinked. Of course you did. Everyone knew that story. It was a common one that was read to children right before bed, about a time where the crime for falling in love with someone who wasn’t your intended was punishable by death. “The one where they run away from the people trying to kill him together?” 

“Yes,” Natasha said, and you furrowed your brows. It was hardly a positive story. It was a story drilled into young minds about the dangers of not doing what they were told to do, and what could happen if they chose to carve their own paths. 

“The knight dies at the end,” you pointed out. 

“He dies protecting her,” she corrected, but you just shook your head at her. 

“Regardless, he died. Why would you want to die?” 

“I don’t want to die,” she said, and you waited for the other part of her answer. “I want to do what he did, but better. As bad as I might still seem to you, I’m still a girl. And I want to love someone so much that I would give everything for them, and I want them to love me back enough for them to give up all the riches that Selene did. Just like you.” 

You ignored the pang in your chest at her accuracy, and the knowing look in her deep eyes. “Oh, so you’re a liberator? You save women from unfortunate circumstances?” 

“More like I just hate seeing things that are blatantly wrong, and I like to fix them.” 

“Then you’re in the wrong profession. You should have tried for a king’s associate.” 

“The people who are the true menaces listen to swords, not dried ink.” She patted her hip, right where the hilt of her sword would have been if she was in her armor. “I’m right where I need to be.” 

“In the middle of the garden of a widower, who cries herself to sleep every night after learning that she’s to be wed again?” You asked, and somehow, despite the severity of your words, there was a teasing lilt to your tone. 

 “I think we’re both right where we need to be.” 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be something? If the stars lined up kindly for a change.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “I’d get on my knees and pray for the first time in years.” 

Natasha stared at you for a long moment, her eyes calculating something that was completely lost to you as you crossed your arms and looked right back at her, a quiet and tension free challenge hanging in the air between you. “Have you ever even watched the stars to see if they aligned?”

“I don’t have the time or the spirit for that,” you said, a small laugh edging out the hardness in your voice.

 “Interesting.” 

§§

You had a day full of Pietro, an evening just sitting and talking mindlessly with Wanda, and then you got a sharp round of knocks on your door, and though you had never gotten them before, you knew exactly what they meant. 

Natasha was waiting for you, and the sight of her had you nearly choking. She was in a flowy white gown, the material so thin that it could have been a night gown. Her hair that was typically up during the day was down, and the Riverstone breeze was as evident as ever as she stared back at you, either waiting for an action or a few words to come from you. However, the second you opened your mouth, she shook her head. 

“Not a word. We’re stargazing tonight.” 

The part of you that was beaten into being mature was immediately turned off by the idea. Stargazing was something that you hadn’t done since childhood, and being a child never got you anywhere you needed to be. But the other part of you, the one that had been buried in dust just like your hands from that time had been covered in mud, wanted to do it. It both excited you and terrified you, because not even Wanda could make that part of you surface, not like how it was then. 

  You knew, without a doubt, that it had everything to do with Natasha Romanoff. 

You pretended to debate,but on the inside, you were already giving the stars love-eyes. “Let’s do it, then.”

It lasted for hours. Mostly, the two of you were silent, but that hardly meant that the two of you weren’t bonding. Every so often, she would turn her head to look over at you, and you would ignore the electrifying feeling of her blue eyes on the side of the face, vision fluttering all around your face. And then, you would look at her the same way, studying her like your former etiquette teachers would stare at your sewing and your posture. You found that with her being so close, you couldn’t deprive your eyes of watching her.

But when you weren’t looking at her for your own benefit or looking at her watching you, you were watching the stars. You laid under the arch of the gardens with her, a few petals blocking the way of a few distant stars. It felt… right. It felt natural, with the silence and all, and above anything, it just felt peaceful. You forgot everything that was troubling you within minutes of just lying there next to her. Feeling the warmth of her skin and the security of her being near was worth more than a thousand words, and you found that in that moment, sitting in silence with her and looking at the stars that had screwed you over so terribly was one of the best decisions that you had ever made. 

*****

hi guys! hope you liked this installment!! it’s about to be really fluffy and then we’ll get into what i like the most: drama wjjdjjdjdjx

question!!: i have about 13k worth of hades!natasha x persephone!reader in the vault. would you rather me start posting it now or wait for this series to be finished? we’re getting there with this one, ish.

tags! : @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife​

[dxmmymxmmywrites]

Old Flames

Tsunade Senju x F! reader smut

Warnings: cursing, angst at the beginning, oral sex, scissoring

Very excited to be writing for my bi-awakening queen Tsunade 🥰🥰🥰 love her so much, she needs more content AND appreciation

This is also less smutty than I usually do, so I may come back to this later when life allows to add more to the spicy bits

The sky is dark with the coming storm when you make your walk to the Hokage’s office. It’s the perfect environment to match your inner turmoil, broiling over with too many uncertainties for your liking.

You kept away as long as you could. And honestly, it probably wasn’t the best decision. Now you were just angry with yourself for not coming sooner and so sexually frustrated you could palpably feel your need aching between your legs.

You had done whatever you could in your early days as a Kunoichi. You had always been a little power hungry, but with a desire to actuate positive change in the leaf village. It had led you through to an established reputation as a feared ninja across the Shinobi nations, and along the way you had manage to leave some good behind you.

For some, it had to be hard to imagine you as a naive young woman in your youth. You were hardened by the world quickly, but it didn’t stop you from holding your favorite people very close to your heart.

The new Hokage happened to be one of them. Tsunade Senju.

The two of you had grown up with the same peers, and had observed each other from afar when you were placed in your Genin teams. When you did interact more often, you became quick friends and confidants— two hotheaded and insanely smart girls that were ready to encourage the other to take on the world.

It was a brighter time, before tragedy had shaped you both. Tsunade losing both her brother and promised lover nearly destroyed her, and you did what you could to comfort her when you could.

It became a new way to bond with her teammates, as you all took the time to check in on her, but it would shape your view of Tsunade most.

Despite everything, she still held so many qualities you admired despite losing her faith for some time. She was a damn hard worker, brilliant as ever, and had a kind soul once you got past her shell. It made you weak every time you thought about how you realized your feelings for the first time.

It was a classic case of someone falling head over heels for their best friend. With this of course came the companion cliche of not wanting to ruin your friendship by confessing your love in any way. So you kept your thoughts to yourself as long as you could.

And it was painful. But eventually, they came to a head at the worst possible time— when Tsunade was preparing to leave the village.

Although... the outcome initially was not as bad as it could have been.

You convinced her to delay her exodus for a week. That entire time, the two of you were nearly inseparable. And you fucked like raving animals.

It was a life changing event for you— enough to cement the fact that you, indeed, loved women. But most of all, you loved her.

At some point after an exhausting collection of rounds in bed, you had known your time with her was coming to an end. You couldn’t stop the years even if you tried, because in that moment life sucked and it wasn’t fucking fair that you couldn’t keep anything good in your life.

You had been so tired then, but you have vague memories of her holding you close, and her velvety lips kissing your tears away. It made her absence the next day all the more painful.

She had left at some point in the night when you fell asleep, thought she could never tell you how long she waited in the window before leaving you. You had woken up a love in her unlike any other— and it terrified her. She had lost enough people already in her life, so she followed what her heart told her was the best course of action; leave, before you’re broken again.

It hardened both of you emotionally. Everything was a threat, nothing worth letting down your walls for. While she abandoned her ninja way for years, you clung to yours with everything you had. It might have paid off, but what worth did it have when at home you sat by yourself, when your select companions were away?

You thought of her every night all the same. Sure, you could enjoy others from afar as you once did, but no one was her. No one could ever fill the void she did.

And little did you know, when you least expected it, she would come parading into your life again.

You hadn’t thought Jiraya would be successful in retrieving her, as cynical as it may sound. But then there she was, accepting her role as Hokage before the village in all her fame and glory like she was born to do it. And you had never been so proud, and had never wanted her so badly than how you did in that moment.

Even with the time apart, your reunion was not as horrendously awkward as it could have been. You greeted each other as old friends, and within the week you became one of the honored members of her council. No one bat an eye at this, because you had earned the right to the seat three times over. But Jiraya did grin when Tsunade announced your appointment.

And life went on. It wen on. And on. And on.

And it drove you insane.

Your friendship rekindled in a way you had not expected at all. And she never even mentioned anything regarding your week together before her disappearance.

It pissed you off how unbothered she appeared by it. You bickered like an old married couple and defended each other like the war heroes you were, but goddamn it did you want more validation than a fancy new job where you got to eyeball the woman you had been in love with for most of your life.

So onwards you went to the Hokage’s office. You would settle this, and you would settle it that night if it was the last thing you did.

If anyone notice your darker mood, they steered far out of your path as you travelled. It wasn’t as late as it could have been, so Tsunade would mostly likely still be at work in her office. Later in the day was usually when Shizune could successfully corner her to do paperwork anyway.

Inside the building, you begin to hear the echo of rain from outside.

You take the precaution of knocking on her door with the formal greeting, and she allows you in.

She smirks at you and prepare a remark— but you don’t let her start.

“We need to talk.”

Her expression becomes stern instantly. “What’s wrong? Any threatening reports?”

You cock your head at her, then shake your hands “No, no, this isn’t about work. This is personal.”

She couldn’t have looked more confused if she tried. However, she did remain silent, so you continued with your thoughts. And you locked eyes with her.

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened when you left? At all? Or did it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes widened, but knowingness came to them. “I didn’t think you would—“

“Whatever you think I just need to hear the truth.”

“I think that—“

“And don’t bullshit me on feelings—“

“Damn it Y/N, shut up!” Tsunade rose from her desk, leaning over it. Her irritated look is intimidating, but you know better.

A quiet moment follows, but your voice betrays you. “I just need to know,” you admit, sounding more defeated than anyone— especially Tsunade— had probably ever heard you sound.

There’s a part of Tsunade that’s fuming at being interrupted so many times, undoubtedly. But some aspect of her fury is doused when she sees how dejected you look on the other side of her desk. She didn’t think she had ever seen you look so small, and like you wanted to curl into yourself.

She never wanted you to make yourself lesser around her. The thought of you being in pain when she fled...

Emotions were swirling within her like a maelstrom.

“Come here,” she commands. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.

Anyone else would have gotten a snide remark addressing you like that. But you walk until you’re directly in front of the desk, and she pushes her chair out of the way to stand before you.

When she stands fractions of an inch away from you, your heart rate quickens. The intensity of her expression is almost scalding. But it is not angry.

You open your mouth to speak again, but she breached the gap between you. Both of her hands grasp your face in such a mash of assertiveness and tenderness— but what knocks the breath from your lungs is the powerful kiss.

You wish you could say you responded immediately, but you were so shocked all you could do was tremble. Eventually, you felt her hands slink down to tenderly hold your neck as her tongue slipped past your lips.

Part of you wanted to fight her off. To get the last word in, or have the last snappy response. But you couldn’t fight how badly you wanted her to tighten the grip over your windpipe.

“I have never forgotten you,” she pants when gasping for air. “Not even once.”

She dives in for another kiss, and this time you have no regrets about giving in to it. Her hold around your neck tightens, and she’s upon you in an instant. Years upon years of tension and unsaid affection finally come crashing together in an emotional storm akin to the one outside Tsunade’s doors.

Just as she presses her chest to yours, her tongue slips into your mouth and you can’t help but to groan. However, you’re not one to give in so easily— and neither is she. Your sharp nails run over clothed back enough to give her goosebumps, and she reciprocates by sliding her hands into your hair to firmly tighten her grip. In the moment, it’s almost like neither of you need to breathe— your tongues dance in unison and all you can feel is the building heat in your gut as you melt into the other’s touch.

When you finally do part for air, she grins, devilishly.

“I see you still have a dirty mouth.”

You can’t help but turn red. “Shut up and get on the desk.”

That does catch her attention— it had been a while since anyone had the balls to mouth off to the Hokage. It was sexy as hell... and it made her recount all the reasons she fell for you in the first place.

She does step back to sit on the desk, and you follow after her just as she perches like a cat, eyeing you with ample amusement. Just as you set your hands beside her waist and lean in, she pulls at the wrap of her tunic and opens her strong legs.

“Are you going to stand there Y/N?” She purrs. “Or are you going to actually do something?”

It makes your blood boil, but you can’t help the excitement that comes from wrapping your arms around her again. She melts into your kiss the same way you did with hers, but your head starts to swim when you feel her legs wrap around your middle. Who in their right mind wouldn’t let their hands wander to glide up her thighs, listening to her moan, to firmly squeeze her love handles before returning the love to her ass?

You certainly were not going to waste the opportunity. And an opportunity you make it.

And despite being the one above her as you gently push her down against the desk, you melt into her kiss all the same. You throw one knee onto the desk to steady yourself enough to lovingly stroke her sides as you begin to nip marks into her neck.

It makes the grips her legs have on you all the more constricting. She rolls her hips upwards deliciously into yours, leaning to expose as much of her collarbone to you as possible. Any control at that point is abandoned— you nearly purr as you kiss and suck as much exposed skin as possible.

Who would have thought you would have the chance to hear her lovely voice again, much less her tantalizing moans.

“I think I may be one of the only people alive that can say I’ve knocked one of the Sanin on their backs,” you muster with confidence, and give her a sly grin.

There’s a slight glare from her, but she snorts all the same and chuckles. Tsunade raises forward and takes your lips with hers once more, pushing you to climb all the way on top or the desk.

Neither of you can fight the passion between you any longer. Your gasps and moans become louder, and the two of you begin to strip between feverish kisses and gropes. And not a single ounce of self control remains between you when Tsunade peels your underwear down your legs.

It’s like a volt of electricity goes through your body when she unabashedly spreads your legs and licks a stripe up your wet cunt. Her searing gaze locks with yours as she moves her mouth, and your eyes roll backwards when she plunges her tongue directly into your core.

It makes you squeal but she holds your thighs in place as you shake— and there was no way in hell you were getting out of her grasp. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

Her tongue swivels inside you and laps at your insides, stoking every ounce of pleasure out of you that you could think to feel. She remains as unashamed as ever, relishing in the wet noises of your arousal as she begins to thumb your clit and slurp your building orgasm.

You chant her name over and over as she tastes you— ravished you— but in an instant you tap her three times with your pointer finger. Your old signal to stop during sex makes her pause, not just to respect your boundaries. It feels odd to remember an old habit again.

She looks to you for an answer, and you order a smile. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

She grins, but before Tsunade can counter your remark you offer her a hand to pull her up to you. Quickly, you wrap your legs around her middle and shift your weight, putting her beneath you (despite having to save her from nearly falling off the desk.)

Who knows how many people would give their all to be in your position, crawling over the fifth Hokage, trailing your tongue up from her center. Tsunade looks just as pleased, watching you navigate her skin with a hunger you’ve only ever seen her display at war.

And a hunger she proves when she locks her tongue with yours again.

Your bodies writhe against each other with the most tantalizing friction, and you can feel her legs begin to quiver. “Y/n,” she starts, and trails away.

There’s not much you can imagine she would want to say in this moment. “What?” You ask her.

And she smiles at you. The genuine smile you fell for over and over again in your youth, and the one that lingered in your head for years on end.

“I love you. But hurry it up.”

It’s as close to endearing as she would be willing to get, but it still makes the heat in your face reappear. And it ignites the final fuse in your cunt.

You reach to hold the back of her head gently, just as she licks your bottom lip. She practically purrs your name when you put one of your knees beside her waist, and ease to lay your other leg flat.

It’s like electricity across your skin when you finally get to move against her this way. The two of your bare, sloppy cunts squelching together as you both bucked into the other.

You had to touch her everywhere. You could feel the tingle in your spine, and the insatiable desire to lick her and massage her breasts. She was everything you had every wanted, and everything you had ever wanted to fight for.

The gods themselves would have to pry you away from her now.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

What in Carnation? ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU Oneshot

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! Whether your single or in a relationship I wish you a very happy day filled with all sorts of love. 

Summary: The swim team is holding a flowergram fundraiser for Valentine’s day, and you have a secret admirer. 

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, fluff 

Word count: 1763 

Divider by @whimsicalrogers​ 

“Please, please, please!” Wanda begged as she tugged on your arm, guiding you away from the library that you really needed to get to.

“Didn’t I already participate in your fundraiser? I’m pretty sure we have like a box and a half of candy bars that I bought,” you teased.

“That was last semester’s fundraiser. This is a new semester.”

“I gathered. Alright fine. What is it this time?”

“Valentine’s Day flower-grams.”

“Excuse me?”

“You order flowers for people and we deliver them to their dorms for Valentine’s Day,” Wanda explained as she moved around to the other side of the sign up table.

“And who exactly am I sending flowers to. I don’t have a Valentine,” you reminded her.

“I’ll be your Valentine, Y/n,” Pietro offered with a wink.

“Thanks, Piet. But I think a certain computer genius would be awfully upset,” you grinned at him.

His cheeks turned pink at the mention of his crush, Skye, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

“It doesn’t have to just be for a valentine. Lots of people are sending them to friends or roommates.”

“You angling for some flowers, Maximoff?”

She shrugged, grinning at you. 

“Maybe. But seriously you can send them to anybody. Just one or two. Pleeeease.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Alright. Alright. Since it’s for such a good cause.”

“The swim team thanks you, doll.”

 Your eyes widened at the voice, and the Maximoff twins held back laughter at your stunned look.

“Oh hey, Bucky.” You turned and greeted him, fiddling with your pen.  

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Oh you know. The usual. Midterms are kicking my butt. How about you?”

“Pretty much the same. I’m looking forward to the break in a couple of weeks.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“Not really. Probably just binge watching something on Netflix.”

“Sounds ideal. I’ll probably do the same.”

“Nice.”

He trailed off, straightening out the pile of order forms.  

You weren’t sure what else to say, so you started filling out the tags Wanda had slid towards you, relieved when Bucky was distracted by another customer. You sent Wanda and Nat a few each, and one each to Pietro and Thor– all white carnations for friendship.

You were going to just give Wanda a twenty, so you had two flowers left to go. You hesitated, nibbling your bottom lip before sneaking a peek at Bucky. You had had a crush on the swim team captain for a while, but you’d never really worked up the courage to say anything.

In a brief moment of bravery (or insanity) you filled out one last tag and circled the red option on the order form. You handed them over to Wanda along with the twenty dollar bill. She grinned and gave you a thumbs up when she saw the top one.

“Thanks a million, Y/n.”

“You’re very welcome. Now can I go study?”

“Yes, you can. Did you want to grab dinner tonight?”

You shook your head. “I’m going to stay here until closing probably. I’ll see you back in the room.”

“Okay. But at least go get some snacks before you go in there.”

“I’m all stocked up. I’m good.”

“Good. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya. Bye, Piet. Bye, Bucky.”

You waved and hurried away to claim your carrel for the night.

The next two weeks flew by as papers and exams took over your life. But before you knew it, you had successfully navigated the midterms season of your final semester of college. You were in good spirits, and even the prospect of being single on Valentine’s Day couldn’t dampen them.

You picked up a bottle of sparkling wine, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, and a bag of mini donuts on your way home from class. You were looking forward to taking a long hot shower and settling in for a date with your neglected Netflix account for the rest of the weekend, and possibly your entire week off.

The last thing you were expecting was a doormat full of red carnations.

Vision really went all out.

You scooped up the bunches of flowers and unlocked the door. Inside, you set everything down on your desk before putting the ice cream and alcohol away.

They can wait until after a shower. You decided after eyeing the flowers.

You took your time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the stress and anxiety from the last two weeks.

Your roommate was sitting on her bed typing when you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Hey, Wanda.”  

“Oh hey, Y/n. How’d your exam go?”

“Pretty well I think. I felt like I knew everything they covered, but we’ll see. But it’s over with so I’m not going to worry about it.”

“That’s a good attitude.”

“You know, you’ve got a really supportive boyfriend,” you remarked as you sat down at your desk.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, cocking her head at you.

“I mean he bought all those carnations for the fundraiser.”

You gestured to the pile of carnations.

“Viz didn’t buy those. They’re for you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I took mine.” She pointed to the small bouquet occupying an old cookie tin.

You quickly sorted through the predominantly red bundle. The few white ones were from your friends – Wanda, Nat, Pietro, and Thor. But what you hadn’t realized was that the remaining red ones – all two dozen of them - were bound together.

You flipped over the tag attached and read it to yourself.

To: Y/n

Happy Valentine’s Day!

These carnations aren’t nearly as beautiful as you, but I hope they make you smile anyways.

I couldn’t quite find the words in person, but I’d really like to take you out.

If you’re up for it, meet me in front of the fountain at 8:00.

-          Your Secret Admirer

“Who are they from?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“It just says a secret admirer. This has to be a prank,” you frowned.  

“Why would it be a prank?”

“I mean, who would have a crush on me. Brock or someone is probably trying to get me there and then I’m going to end up on youtube, Loser Gets Stood Up on Valentine’s Day. It’ll be ten minutes of jump cuts of  me standing alone set to Wii music.”

“That’s a tad cynical don’t you think? Besides I have it on good authority that they’re really from someone with a crush on you.”

“Whose authority?”

“Mine. He bought them from me.”

“Who is it?”

Wanda shook her head.

“Can’t tell you. Flower gram seller/buyer confidentiality.”

“Not a thing,” you grumbled. 

“Y/n, trust me. This isn’t a prank. And you’ll be glad you went. I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

And you did. She would never lie to you or set you up to be embarrassed.

“So what do I do?”

“Put on your prettiest dress and meet your Prince Charming, naturally.”

You glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven.

“Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

In a surprisingly short amount of time, Wanda had helped you pick out a dress and shoes and helped you with your makeup. At 7:55 you found yourself walking across campus towards the fountain in the quad. You hugged your black and white peacoat more tightly around you, grateful for the headband you’d grabbed on your way out the door and the black tights you’d decided to wear.

 You hesitated a few yards away from the back of the fountain. There were a few people milling about and you were trying to see if you could recognize anyone. You caught sight of someone dressed in all black in front of the fountain, holding a bouquet of red roses and checking their watch but you couldn’t quite make out who it was.

Taking a deep breath, you walked closer gasping when you saw their face.

Bucky?

You nearly turned tail and ran, but he turned and spotted you. The smile that bloomed on his face quelled your nerves and before you knew it your feet had carried you to him.

“You came.”

“I came.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome.”

He extended the flowers to you.

“These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful, Bucky. You really didn’t have to. The carnations were more than enough.”

“I know but red roses are your favorite.”

You cocked your head, surprised by the matter of fact statement.

“You mentioned it once when we were all watching a movie.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember lots of things about you, doll. Shall we get going?” he asked offering you his elbow.

“We shall.” You slipped your arm through his. “What is on the itinerary?”

“Dinner at the Hub. And then I thought we could see a movie.”  

“Sounds perfect.”

Dinner was delicious and you loved how easy it was to talk to Bucky. You’d never hung out one on one before, but he was quick witted and smart and the few silences you had were companionable. You took an Uber to the movies, but decided to walk home afterwards.  

Warmth spread through you when he grabbed your hand.

“Did you know that it was me?”

You shook your head, smiling shyly. “No. But I hoped.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while,” you admitted.  

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while too. The team knew and kept trying to get me to say something but I thought you were out of my league. But then I saw you’d sent me carnations and I got my hopes up.”

“Isn’t it lucky you guys held a flowergram fundraiser.”

“Yeah, lucky.” Bucky’s cheeks tinged even pinker in the cold.

 You smirked and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Whose idea was the fundraiser, Bucky?”

“You know I don’t really remember.” 

“Bucky,” you drawled his name. 

“Alright, mine. I figured even if you didn’t like me. I’d get to give you flowers, and you absolutely deserve flowers.”

“You’re too sweet, you know. And I’m very flattered you planned a whole fundraiser around me.”

“A very successful fundraiser,” he pointed out, taking a step closer to you.

“I bet.”

You grinned up at him.

“Can I kiss you, doll?”

You nodded eagerly. His lips were soft as they pressed against yours and your fingers clutched at the lapels of his jacket.

“Happy Valentine’s, Bucky,” you whispered against his lips.

“Happy Valentine’s, Doll,” he whispered back before kissing you.

And it was. 

 A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! 

Bucky/Sebastian Tag List 

@waywardpumpkin​ @sadanddeadsoul​ @captain-maaarvel​ @isaxhorror @run-your-cleverboy​ @ria132love​ @mbsgr​ @hereisanapplepie  @thejourneyneverendsx​ @stevieboyharrington​ @mywinterwolf​ @jendz33 @aikeia​

Marvel Tag List 

@hdthdthdt​​  @sophiatomlinson23​ @scarlettsoldier​ @acupofhotlatte​ @slender--spirit​ @petitesmate​ @libbymouse​

Permanent Tag List 

@iamwarrenspeace @jayzayy @bexboo616 @neoqueen306 @santheweird @rowenaravencalw @buckitybarnes @prxttybirdz @sergeantjbuckybarnes @captainsamwlsn @nyxveracity @queenoftrash97 @walkingtravesty97 @memyselfandmaddox @lowkeybuckyb @whiskey2011 @averyrogers83 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @beansparker @coralphantomninja @xxashy999xx @ravennightingaleandavatempus @paintballkid711 @whosmarisaaarw @silverkitten547 @yknott81 @thefridgeismybestie @crispy-kitten @greyeyedsmile14 @loving-life-my-way @geeksareunique @rachelsficcollections @captainscanadian @palaiasaurus64 @sea040561 @kakakatey​ @supermusicallee​

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 1 - The Elevator

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None for this chapter

Word Count - 1981

Square Filled - Moodboard ( @girl-next-door-writes )

A/N - *Cracks knuckles* Ta-daaaa! The series is finally here it's already Sunday where I live and I was dying to share this! It's going to be a wild ride ahead. So buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy the ride!

This is also my submission to @flamencodiva's Writing Challenge and @deanwanddamons' 2K Blogiversary challenge (congratulations on your milestone, Sian). Prompts are in bold.

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thanks again, hon❤️)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Throwing her bag over the table, Y/N slumped down on the couch, letting out a sigh. The pressure from the higher-ups, consistent criticism of your work and impending deadlines were weighing heavily on her shoulders and she was in a desperate need of a break.

She looked over to the stack of papers on the table that now lay abandoned. The rejection from the publishing company was the fucking cherry on top. Y/N buried her face in her hands in frustration as she was almost on the verge of a mental breakdown, a few angry tears rolling down her cheeks. Letting her head fall back, she swiped away those angry tears, letting out a long sigh of defeat.

“Why can't I ever do anything right?” She mumbled, her breathing heavy as she bit down on her trembling lips.

In her late twenties, after a nasty break up, Y/N had a marvellous thought that she needed a fresh start. So she had left her corporate job back in Atlanta and moved to New York to pursue her dreams of becoming a writer. She had secured a good position in one of the leading magazine companies and started to write the novel that she had been planning since she was seventeen, but lately nothing seemed to work out the way she wanted. Sure, she was getting paid well but it wasn't enough compared to how much she had to deal with her shitty coworkers and bosses. She had now lost every motivation to continue her novel after the first draft got rejected by the publishing companies enough times to make her feel insecure about her writing.

“Why can't my life just be a goddamn Hallmark movie?” Y/N muttered under her breath as she picked up a cushion and covered your face, letting out a muffled scream.

Her wallowing time was interrupted by the blaring noise of her phone in the awfully quiet apartment, making her nearly jump out of her skin. Another frustrated groan left her lips as she saw the person calling her.

“I told you to stop calling me, for god's sake!” Y/N yelled into her phone.

“Come on, Y/N. One dinner.” The man on the other end pestered. “You know, at work people talk about how uptight you are. Let yourself go, once in a while.”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. Michael- I'm not interested. I told you a hundred times before and I'll say it again. Leave. Me. Alone!” She said. The line on the other side went quiet.

“Bitch.” She heard him say before the call disconnected.

“Fuck off!” She yelled again, knowing fully well he couldn't have heard her now. Y/N finally decided to put him in her blocklist because Michael didn't seem like he was gonna stop otherwise.

It wasn't that she had a stick up her ass for not wanting to go on a dinner date with her coworker. Honestly, she missed the whole first date experience, but Michael was definitely not the guy for her, or for any other girls out there in her opinion. He threw around sexist comments around the office like it was some cool shit and chivalry was definitely dead for him.

Y/N finally got up from her seat, shoulders still tense from the day's events. Opening the refrigerator, she stood there gawking at the leftovers in it.

“Cold pizza….spaghetti….chocolate brownies….” She looked at your dinner options, weighing each one's pros and cons before settling on - “Brownies it is.”

Taking out the chocolate confection , she returned to the couch. She put on Netflix as she browsed through it's movie section.

“Stupid Prince Charming-” she scoffed, biting into the delicious the chocolate chip brownie in hand. Grumbling at the unrealistic standards of Netflix rom coms, she still pressed the play on the film The Proposal.

Finishing her 'dinner', Y/N picked up the comforter, nestling deep into her couch as she watched the coldhearted Margaret fall head over heels for her assistant, the exhaustion kicked in.

“Fuck!”

And that's how the next morning started as Y/N woke up one hour later than usual. She had fallen into a deep sleep on her couch before Andrew even got to propose to Margaret, which was not exactly the wisest decision as the next morning, her neck and back screaming in pain.

The girl knew she was going to be late to work today by the time she had left the house. Hair up in a messy bun, a bag hanging from her shoulder, she tried to smoothen down the creases on her skirt before rushing towards the elevator in high heels.

“Hold the door!” She yelled at the man inside as soon as the door started to close. She sprinted towards the elevator as the man kept looking at her, an annoyed look evident on his face when he slammed the button, taking a step forward to keep the door from closing.

“Thank you!” Y/N huffed, as she got in the elevator. The man chose to remain silent and he pressed the ground button on the elevator. “I am so screwed today! I have never been this late to work!” She babbled on but the man still maintained the stoic look on his face. Y/N slightly turned to face the man of stone. He was probably in his thirties, his dirty blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and light stubble on his cheeks went very well with the crisp grey suit he was wearing. One hand in his pocket, he just stood there, jaw clenched together, eyes focused on the shut doors.

“You know, I should have set the alarm! Stupid-”

“Do you ever shut up?” The man finally spoke, a look of disinterest passing his face.

“Wow. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me?” His voice was hard.

“I said, someone woke up-”

“I heard what you said. I am just not interested in listening to your morning fuck-up story.” He scoffed.

“Woah, okay.” She widened her eyes at his disrespectful comment, “I just-” The elevator reached the ground floor of their apartment building and the doors opened with a ‘ding’.

“I think you don't want to waste anymore time talking since you're already running late.” Y/N gasped slightly at the audacity of the man. “Have a good day, Miss L/N.” The man wished before moving out of the confined space as Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and wondered how he knew her name.

“Have a good day as well, Mr….” She trailed off as she got out of the vator as well.

“Dean Winchester.” He said as he walked away, never once looking back as Y/N stood there, bewildered at what just happened.

Hands balled up into fists in apprehension, Y/N inhaled audibly, as she stood on the other side of the door. She was late to the meeting by half an hour, twenty-four minutes to be precise and nothing annoyed her boss more than tardiness.

“Y/N, it's a pleasure that you finally graced this meeting with your presence on this fine morning.” Abaddon’s words laced with acute sarcasm made it quite clear that Y/N was doomed when she entered the room. The remaining four pairs of eyes in the room were zeroed in on her, as she abashedly took a seat at the far-end of the table. She couldn't risk her job because of her smartass mouth and she was already on thin ice, so she kept quiet and let Abaddon carry on with the meeting cause even Cruella De Vil would be hiding her face in shame if she ever met Abaddon. She was an Umbridge before her coffee and a Regina George after drinking her coffee. There was no way she was going to spare the poor girl today.

“As I was pointing out, our sales have gone down in recent months quite drastically. Readers are saying the contents are not relatable or entertaining enough….”

A yawn threatened to leave Y/N as she listened to Abaddon go on about the poor performance of the company, her mind preoccupied by a certain green-eyed man. She had never seen Dean in the building before this morning. He was annoyingly good looking and rude and Y/N couldn't seem to get rid of the image of him looking dapper in that grey suit. She was barely able to focus on what Abaddon was saying.

With Dean Winchester still running through her mind, Y/N trudged back to her small cubicle after the painfully hour long meeting.

Plopping down on the chair, covering her face with her hands, she exclaimed, “I need coffee!”

“Thank me later.” She turned her head to Meg as she pushed a hot cup of coffee towards her before going back to her own cubicle.

“Black, just like my heart.” She said before inhaling the strong smell of the drink. Taking a little sip, she let out a sigh of content. “Jesus, I needed this badly.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” Meg chuckled, earning a glare from her friend. “Did you even take a look at the mirror today? Honestly, I am not even exaggerating, I-”

“Meg, I’ll forever be grateful to you for this cup of coffee, but please stop talking.” Y/N groaned loudly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Michael walking towards her and put on headphones and turning the volume up, trying to look busy. “Heads up, incoming douchebag.” The brunette said. After the hubbub of the morning and the shitshow of a meeting, Michael was the last person Y/N wanted to see.

“Morning, Y/N.” The smug smile on his face made her cringe. This had been going on for a month now. She thought after last night, Michael would finally back down, but apparently she was very wrong. “My messages don't seem to get through anymore.”

“She blocked you. God, take a hint.” Meg muttered.

“She's right. It's ‘cause you can’t seem to take no for an answer.” Y/N huffed.

“One dinner. Just one.”

“No.”

“She said no. Isn't that enough?” Meg jumped to her friend’s rescue when she saw her fumbling and getting uncomfortable. Michael inched towards Y/N anyway, completely ignoring his colleague’s comment, a smirk evident on his face.

“Y/N, don't be so uptight. What harm does a single dinner gonna do?” He asked.

“It’ll be cheating. I have a boyfriend.” Y/N blurted out, making Meg’s eyes go wide, but it actually seemed to work as Michael moved away from her.

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. We have been going out for a while now.” The said man frowned as he thought the words over before leaving her space with a little nod of his head. Maybe it worked on him without any hassle, but she knew this lie would come back to bite her in the ass if the whole office got to know about it. Oh, and they would know since turning around, Y/N saw Ruby staring at her, a grin appearing on her face as she took in all the juicy gossip. The lie was now gonna spread like wildfire.

“Spill.” Y/N turned to look at her friend who stood there, hands folded, eyes wide, brows raised in utter disbelief. She puckered her lips as she waited on Y/N to explain who just frowned in reply. “Well? What happened? I want all the details, Y/N!”

“Oh come on, L/N. Share the deets.” Ruby snickered. “Who's the man that actually managed to capture your heart?”

“Dean Winchester.” The name tumbled out of her lips so easily and that was how she knew she was screwed.

Chapter 2

Feedback is highly appreciated!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Hello! I was wondering if I could get some childhood headcanons for the mercs, thank you!

I’m taking a break from the longer headcanons - I’m finishing all my existing requests before opening up my headcanons back up - so I’ll do this one to get the gears turning. There are two here, but I will do more if prompted:

TF2 Merc Childhood Headcanons

Spy:

Spy was a shy child. Painfully shy.

His family was poor, so he had to steal most necessities. By the time he was twelve, he could hop or climb over most fences and hide in most buildings.

The entire reason he became a spy was seeing poorly translated VHS tapes of American espionage films. Spy was frustrated that he never looked the part - he had no suit, no cigarette, no girls.

But, not to worry, he would get all of those things when he went to Britain for schooling.

As a child, though, all he could do was pretend.

He had a “gun” made out of sticks and rope, mimed having a tie, hat, and overcoat, and drew a few shaky feminine features onto a pillow (whom he dubbed Mademoiselle Coussin).

This change in play actually helped him socially: whenever he felt nervous, he would just pretend he was a spy instead of a petite, messy-haired boy with freckles. This caused his popularity among the street boys to spike, and they were soon at his beck and call.

However, despite his fulfilling life as a street rat, he turned back into that timid mouse of a boy whenever he was home. He never dared use his charm on his parents. He already caught a flogging when he tried slicking his hair back.

This led to an odd, one-sided relationship with life where he put on two different masks for two different places, but could only be his true self when he was alone.

He learned to stifle and release emotions at will (keeping himself from crying when he was hit and then letting the tears flow when he was fooling unsuspecting tourists), and was cynical about any relationship that didn’t benefit him immediately or at all.

Except for one.

Every Christmas, a specific fruit vendor, an elderly man named Lucas, came to town. He would give one piece of fruit, usually an apple or peach, to every child that came to his stand. They never had to pay - they only had to say Merry Christmas.

Spy only hung around the stand for the first few years - his house was so far away that by the time he got there, most of the fruit was gone - but one Christmas, Lucas beckoned him over.

The vendor reached beneath his cart and pulled out a single orange, which happened to be Spy’s favorite.

“Joyeux Noël.”

“J-joyeux Noël, monsieur.”

Lucas held out the orange, which Spy accepted gratefully and held in two tight hands.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur! Merci, merci!”

Lucas only smiled and waved his hand.

This became a tradition for many more years.

Spy would come to the cart, wish Lucas a warm holiday, and would receive an orange that had been saved for him.

But, one Christmas, Lucas didn’t come. Nor the next one. Or the one after that.

Even though Spy knew he was never going to get an orange from that cart again, he still went to that street every Christmas until he left France.

Now, whenever Spy receives an orange, either as a mandated vitamin supplement or if he happens to steal one from a witness’s house, he puts it in his suit, only eating it in his smoke room.

And if he is feeling particularly nostalgic, he’ll, just like he did when he was a child, eat the peel.

Heavy:

Heavy had a wonderful childhood compared to most of mercs.

His father was only vaguely present - and later absent - but his mother was a huge force in his life.

Though Heavy was never bullied exactly, since he was big even as a child, he was ostracized for his size and general clumsiness.

He often broke things, hurt other kids and even staff, and put holes in the wall simply because he was a pre-schooler in an elementary schooler sized body.

But, no matter how many calls she got from the school, Heavy’s mom knew that he wasn’t violent - all she asked was for him to try and fix what he had broken and apologize to the people he had hurt.

“My child, a bear may be big, but they are strong and beautiful. So are you.”

One day, after a particularly rough week of shattered vases and bruised classmates, Heavy ran from school into a random building, blinded by tears and shame. He ended up ticketless in a large theater, but he was only a child, so no one noticed. They assumed he was just someone’s kid.

He ended up on the roof, breathless and gasping between sobs.

Suddenly, he heard an orchestra beginning to play. He looked through a glass pane built into the roof and gazed at the stage below.

He saw one petite ballerina making her way across the stage, doing a few twirls as she went. Then, a much bigger man, who was almost as big as Heavy’s father was, came from stage right and joined in the dance.

Throughout their performance, Heavy kept wincing, expecting the enormous man to crush the small woman. But he never did. The performer moved with grace and a quickness that the boy didn’t expect.

Something awakened in him - a realization that he too could be nimble, despite his size. As the performance ended, Heavy went back down the stairs, his confidence renewed.

He became fascinated with ballet, and watched tapes of shows over and over again until he knew all the steps by heart. At first, he only moved his feet so his arms wouldn’t break anything. Then, as he grew more controlled, he learned how to dance and step around things.

His mother got less calls home, more and more kids began to trust and like him.

He still wasn’t popular by any means, but at least he could play soccer without breaking someone’s arm.

With that success came interests in all things quick, dainty, and detailed. Heavy learned how to knit, paint, and play a bit of piano. He was never very skilled at any of them except for knitting, he enjoyed practicing his coordination and mitigating his clumsiness.

But, one day, Heavy made the mistake of bringing his knitting to school. It was around Christmas, and he had to finish his sister’s sweater so he could wrap it.

The boys, who now knew that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly, started teasing him mercilessly, calling him a sow (female pig), a bitch, an old crone, and all sorts of other nasty names.

Heavy, with growing frustration, said something along the lines of, “Will it be your dead mother, then, who will mend your shirt when you are old? Or will you willingly catch your death?”

What Heavy didn’t know was that one particular child’s mother died a few months ago.

The boy went into a rage, giving Heavy a black eye and a bleeding nose before he finally took him by the underarms and held him away from him like a rabid chihuahua. Finally, the boy tired himself out. The other kids had since run away, not wanting to get in trouble or get beat up by Heavy.

The bully, after finding that he was helpless to the situation, began to cry, letting out all the emotions he had been shoving down in order to save face in front of his abusive father.

Heavy went straight into protective mode, having dealt with his younger sisters and their own grievances. After the bully calmed down a bit, he admitted his feelings, and how awful his circumstances were.

Heavy didn’t say anything much, but just handed him a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. The boy learned to knit that day, and after Christmas, many other abused boys came seeking the same kind of closure and validation.

He made many friends this way, and it pretty much eradicated his bullying problem - so much so that he was pretty much untouchable to anyone looking to make trouble.

Though violence is how Heavy makes his money now, the merc learned from the very beginning that the best way through life is a gentle touch.

[masterjedilenawrites]

"Youre so full of light, I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it" with crosshair x reader? is that an option?

Awww yesss, I’m happy to write anything for this grumpy toothpick! 🖤

Crosshair x reader | 2k words

“You’re so full of light... I’m afraid I’ll be the one to quench it” from this prompt list.

Crosshair was avoiding you. That much was obvious.

At first you'd thought he was having a bad day and let him have his space. But then it kept happening. Never looking at you. Leaving the room as soon as you entered. Pretending not to hear your questions. You were back to where you'd started with him, all those rotations ago when the Bad Batch had first arrived on your home world to help drive out some troublesome pirates. He'd been a tough cookie to crack, but slowly, day by day, you'd managed to draw him more and more out of his shell. And the more he did, the more you fell for him.

But now he'd retreated back behind his walls again and you had no clue why. Had you said or done something to scare him? You weren't sure, but you also weren't disheartened. You knew someone as special as Crosshair would take time and patience to bond with. You'd pull him back out eventually, you were confident.

An opportunity came when Hunter announced one day the need for the marksman to scout a nearby pirate camp, located in a clearing just beneath a forested ridge of land. You knew the area yourself and convinced the Sergeant you'd be a good assistant for Crosshair's recon mission. The sniper had had his helmet on when Hunter sent you off with him, so you could only imagine whatever salty expression he sported beneath it.

The two of you trudged along in silence for a while at first. Occasionally you'd suggest a path to take, or he'd caution you from stepping on the more unstable parts of the terrain hidden beneath the underbrush. Otherwise, you let him be, and instead focused most of your attention on taking in your surroundings. Even in the midst of trouble, you still made a point to appreciate the beauty of your planet. The curved and knotted trees, each as unique as a snowflake, with their wide leaves fluttering in the grasp of a stray breeze. The tiny beams of sunlight that sliced through the foliage and illuminated the otherwise dingy forest floor. The echoing songs of the winged creatures that danced above your heads, ignorant to the conflict of the more sentient beings they cohabited with.

Eventually you couldn't help yourself, and you started to hum a song of your own. It was a tune you made up as you went, each note created to express whatever new feeling sparked within you as you ventured further into the forest. You were hardly a composer, and you were certain that even when humming you were off-key, but it didn't matter. The song made you feel light and free, a feeling that was rare but welcomed wherever you could find it.

You realized you were being watched, and turned your head to see Crosshair's worn helmet trained in your direction. He quickly averted his gaze, but it was enough to show you he'd been staring for a while. You hid a smile, not wanting to seem like you were teasing.

"Am I annoying you?"

"No," he said, low and quick. You noticed his grip on his rifle tightened ever so slightly.

"Are there any songs you like? I can try to sing if I know them."

He did not respond, continuing to plod alongside you in silence. Well, at least you'd gotten one word out of him.

You soon arrived at a part of the ridge that gave you the perfect view of the pirate encampment below. You nestled in the crook of a large tree while Crosshair laid himself prone on the ground next to you. He used the scope of his rile to get a better look at the camp, muttering details he thought important while you logged them on a holopad for future strategizing.

"Kriff," he growled. You peered around the trunk of the tree, as if you could see whatever had caught his eye from such a distance. You could only make out little dots of tents and people scattered in the valley below, so you turned back to him for explanation. "Children."

You hummed knowingly, which seemed to fluster him.

"That doesn't concern you?" His scope was abandoned as his helmet lifted to face you.

You shrugged. "What, criminals can't fall in love and start families?"

You couldn't see his scowl but you could feel it. You weren't sure why his grumpiness made you want to laugh sometimes, but you hid your amusement with another shrug, not wanting to upset him further, not when he seemed to be more open to talking to you again.

"Well it's going to make this mission much more difficult," he grumbled, starting to pack up his rile.

"Yeah..." you agreed, but you didn't sound as defeated as he did. "We'll just have to get creative. We'll figure it out."

He was crawling over to your spot behind the tree but paused at your words, his helmet tilting as if in thought for a moment. You raised your eyebrows at him, wishing you could somehow read the marksman's mind. You were certain his thoughts were fascinating; they usually were with the quiet ones.

He settled into the space next to you and fumbled around in one of his pouches, eventually bringing out a couple of small ration packs. You smiled in gratitude as you took the one he offered you. You hadn't realized how famished you'd grown from this outing.

"It's not much," he mumbled as if apologizing. He worked on freeing himself from his helmet and you tried not to stare at the face that emerged from it.

"It's still something," you smiled through bites of... well, whatever it was you were eating. It tasted more like wood than food and you tried to believe it at least had some nutritional value as you forced it down.

Crosshair was shaking his head at your words.

"What?" you asked. He only shook his head again.

You tried to drop it, but your patience was starting to wear a little faster than usual. He was so close to you, and yet he felt further away than ever. You were both angled so that it'd be natural to look at each other, but you could see him purposefully looking anywhere else. You moved your knee experimentally, brushing against his and causing it to jerk away suddenly. Even beneath all his armor you could tell his muscles were tense. Something was clearly bothering him and you hated the thought that you were somehow the cause of it.

"Crosshair," you said, trying to keep your voice soft and non-threatening, but still speaking loud enough for him to know you were trying to get his attention. He reluctantly looked at you, his fingers curling around the rile that lay across his lap in clear display of unease. He almost looked sick. "What's wrong?"

His frown deepened, further than you ever thought possible.

"Cross," you said again, even softer now, scooting yourself just a little bit closer. You felt like you were approaching an injured animal. You needed to be careful if you wanted to help him, lest his suddenly snap and chase you away.

"Nothing's wrong," he huffed, still determined to keep his thoughts private. You didn't move closer, only looked him up and down, trying to figure him out.

"If I did something to upset you," you said slowly, "please let me know, so I can try to make amends. I don't want to be a burden to you."

He sighed, but it wasn't as frustrated or annoyed as it usually sounded. He brought his hands up to his face and dragged them down, slow and forlorn. When he spoke, it was so quiet you could barely understand. "You're not a burden."

You squinted at him, summoning back what patience you'd briefly lost before, waiting.

"I'm the burden," he said a little louder. "You, you're so..."

His eyes cast about the forest beside him, as if he might find the words he wanted painted on the trees. You held your breath, unsure what they could possibly be.

"So full of light," he finally said, allowing his gaze to finally meet yours. "And... I'm afraid I'll be the one to quench it."

You blinked as it became clear to you the cause of his turmoil.

"Your response to everything is positive," he continued rather quickly, as if to get his thoughts out before he could stop himself. "All I see is hardship and difficulty. You sing songs and act like everything is beautiful."

"Most things are," you couldn't help but say, which only caused him to glare at you, proving his point.

"This forest is not," he said. "There are a hundred places someone could've hid and got the jump on us. Those pirates are not... They can have as many children as they want, but they are fools for bringing them along to a raid. These rations are not..."

He threw the crumpled wrapper at you and probably would've continued his ranting had you not let out reached out for his hand and stopped him.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said with a slight chuckle, only resting your hand atop his, not yet holding it fully. "I'm an optimist, you're a cynic. So what?"

"So..." his voice slipped back into a growl. But he trailed off, unable to explain why it mattered to him that you were so different from each other. You had a guess as to why now; it had become quite clear to you the sniper had feelings for you that were very similar to the ones you had for him.

"You want to know what I think?" you asked with a smile. You waited for his nod to continue. "I think we need each other. I think you need me to ease your worries, show you that not everything is as difficult as you make it. And I need you to keep me grounded. Keep me safe from all the threats I can't see. We make a good team, you and I. That's what I think."

Crosshair looked at you and it was if the walls he'd built up were slowly lowering down again, just as they had when you'd first gotten to know him. The lines on his face, usually so sharp and prominent, softened as your words began to settle within him. You much preferred seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease.

"You won't ever be a burden to me," you said, now letting yourself cross the gap that remained between you, saddling up alongside him so your sides were flushed together and your hands, now holding each other properly, rested on your thigh. "My entire planet is at war. Most of my friends have left or are dead. I don't even have a home anymore. It's going to take a lot more than your grumpy ass to quench my light."

You rested your head against the stiff plastoid on his shoulder. It wasn't comfortable, but it was more to show him the truth of your words. You trusted him. You enjoyed him. You wanted to be close to him.

He didn't say anything, but then again, he was better with actions anyway. After a beat, he let go of your hand and moved to wrap his arm around you instead, pulling you into the crook of his shoulder and placing a toothpick between his teeth with a contented sigh. You let out a happy sound of your own, humming your made-up song as the two of you rested against the tree.

You knew this probably wasn't the end of Crosshair's insecurities, that you had a lot of work ahead of you to continue convincing him that he was wanted and worthy, that you were strong and safe. But it was a good start, and you were more than willing to keep going, knowing the reward of Crosshair's love at the end would make it all worth it.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

through the green glass door (*) loki laufeyson x reader

+++++++++ Guess who watched the first Thor movie 😁😁

(*) - leads to smut but it doesnt go all the way. but like, its super suggestive lol

Song: lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off by panic at the disco

@cynic-spirit +++++++++

"do you have any idea what the consequences will be if i get caught?!"

i exclaimed as quietly as possible,  my three friends giggling as they huddled around me.

"y/n, youre the most agile person we know. and we've all been dreaming of the fruit off that tree for ages. please."

Lenore said and i rolled my eyes.

"if i get caught im taking you three down with me."

i said, gripping the tree bark on the outside portion of the wall.

"we believe in you."

she said as i began climbing. i couldnt believe id let them talk me into this. but they were right, we had all been wanting the fruit off this tree for a very long time. it was forbidden to any outside the palace walls. something none of us had ever or would ever have the pleasure of enjoying. until now i suppose.

"im at the top."

i called back down to them still on the ground. they all cheered and clapped, jumping up and down as they giggled. but i wasnt triumphant just yet. i could see the tree, barely touching the branches of the one i was in. just over the garden wall.

"youve got this."

i whispered to myself, stepping as lightly as i possibly could towards the wall. there was a creaking and i paused, taking a deep breath. it was fine. this was fine. so i kept going, jumping onto the top of the garden wall as the edge of the branch snapped. i took a staggered breath, still hidden within lots of leaves. but there, like a light in the distance i could see the golden fruit. i plucked one off the branch, its smell as it got closer becoming sweeter and sweeter.

then i saw another, plucking it too and tossing both to the ground below. there i saw the three of them, rushing over and picking them up. i grabbed another that was close enough to reach and dropped it down, so each of them could have one of their own. they all celebrated with happy noises of content as they devoured them. as i looked back up to grab another fruit i noticed there were none left nearer to me.

"drat."

i complained, seeing one of the golden fruits just past the wall, barely out of reach. i knew i shouldn't be greedy but i went through all this trouble, it would be a shame to not have one for myself. so i stepped further, to the edge of the wall. i found a branch sturdy enough and planted my foot on it. i took one step, then another, and so on until i was nearing the trunk of the tree and the fruit i had seen from the wall.

"finally."

i whispered, plucking it off the branch and sinking my teeth into it. it was just as sweet as it smelled and i was glad i had continued on my journey over the wall. that was at least until i took one wrong step, another branch breaking under me. then it was one branch after another, falling straight on my face in the grass below the tree. i groaned, lifting my head and my eyes going wide. there in front of me was a pair of black leather boots.

"um, i can explain."

i started, looking up and pausing again. there in front of me was the young prince, holding a book in one hand and a pear in the other, looking just as surprised to see me as i was to see him.

"im sure thats one hel of an explanation having dropped from the sky."

he stated and i moved to my knees quickly, bowing in front of him.

"yes, my prince. i am truly sorry."

he laughed and i looked at him confused.

"please, stand."

he said and i did as told, bowing my head.

"i have not seen you before."

"my prince?"

i raised a brow, watching him as he leaned against the tree.

"where do you come from?"

i cleared my throat.

"outside the palace my prince."

he laughed again.

"do you think me an idiot?"

he asked and i stopped breathing.

"of course not, how could you? you are but a peasant."

then i drew my brows.

"now you wait just a minute! i may not be of noble birth but that does not mean you will disrespect me. arrest me, for all i care, but i will not be spoken to like a-"

"relax."

he said and i stopped.

"relax?!"

he shook his head.

"what is your name?"

i opened and closed my mouth a couple times. then i inhaled sharply.

"y/n."

he stood off the tree, tucked the book under his arm, and offered me his hand.

"well y/n, i am of the impression that you are in need of a new dress."

i looked at him funny before looking down at my outfit. i was dirty and my skirt had torn when i fell out of the tree.

"you arent going to arrest me?"

i asked hesitantly and he smiled.

"i am not."

he said and i slowly took his hand.

"my prince i, i dont believe-"

"you dont need to believe, just trust me."

he said and i nodded. i followed him blindly inside, walking openly past the guards up the stairs and down a long glimmering hallway. it didnt necessarily feel right, but something about him made me want to keep walking. to keep following him.

"my prince-"

"call me loki."

he interrupted.

"um, loki, right. uh where are we going?"

he squeezed my hand before pulling me into a room.

"my chambers."

he said and i froze, the door closing behind us. then out of nowhere a woman appeared, bowing her head.

"bring us one of my mothers old dresses. my guest is in need of some new clothes."

he said in a suave tone, the woman walking past me and out the door.

"i dare say, my prince, i am not worthy of wearing the queens garb."

he looked at me and smiled, pulling a chair out from under a small golden table and sitting at it.

"i think she would disagree."

i smiled back in amusement and joined him at the table.

"why are you being so nice to me?"

i asked and watched as he took a drink.

"it has been a long time since someone has been able to get over garden wall and not get caught. i admire that."

i raised a brow.

"so you like that im mischievous?"

i questioned and he smirked.

"exactly."

i made a small noise of disbelief.

"i should have guessed. the midgaurdians call you, what, the god of mischief? it only makes sense you would like someone sneaking into the palace garden."

"my lord."

i heard from the door and both our gaze turned to the girl, holding a blue dress.

"ah yes, a perfect choice."

i watched as he took it from her, shooing her away afterwards. and then he started towards me, making me more curious.

"for the lady."

he said, offering it to me and i smirked at him.

"care to help me put it on?"

i made a face, realizing what i had just asked and almost couldnt believe myself for being so bold. but part of me also didnt regret it. and i couldnt help notice the knowing smile across his face as he led me to his bed. there he laid the dress out and moved to help me.

"a bit intrepid for someone who believed me to want to arrest them."

i looked over his face for a moment.

"theres something about you i cant get off of my mind."

"and that is?"

he asked, stepping behind me and undoing the top op my dress slowly. i just stood and stared ahead as he did so.

"though i know we could both be in large amounts of trouble with the king if he were to find out i am here, i still feel like i can trust you."

i said, looking at him over my shoulder and we both examined each other. his face was soft. softer than before. and the golden light peaking in over the terrace railing made him look more ethereal.

"i can trust you, cant i?"

i asked and his gaze shifted down my face.

"you can trust this."

he said calmly before capturing my lips in his. it was gentle and i could feel my heart knocking a my rib cage to be let out. i was kissing the boy prince. the heir apparent. and gods did it feel great.

"loki."

i whispered when he pulled away, looking between his eyes for any reason not to trust him and coming up with nothing.

"do you still wish for my help?"

he bargained and i nodded.

"i wouldnt want anything else."

it was said in such a hushed tone im sure no one else would have been able to hear it had they been in the room. i stood there as he stripped me slowly. He began with finishing the top of my dress, letting the lacing down and pushing the fabric down off my shoulders. as the dress pooled at my ankles i was left there in my sark, a small shiver traveling up my spine as his fingers traced up my arm.

"may i?"

he asked, placing his other hand firmly at my waist, tugging at the fabric. i swallowed hard, almost feeling like i shouldnt be doing this.

"yes."

i said quiet and bold.

"you are quite the woman."

he noted, pulling the sark up over my head and dropping it to the floor with my dress. i should have felt more exposed standing there naked but my back was still to him.

"Thank you my prince."

I said with some form of sincerity. He kissed my shoulder.

"I told you, call me Loki."

He whispered into my ear, sending goosebumps over my skin.

"Loki."

I half moaned, leaning back into him as his hands found their way to my hips again.

"May I touch you further?"

He questioned and I nodded against him, feeling his hand trail up my torso painfully slow. He kissed across my shoulder, up my neck, and onto my jaw before spinning me around swiftly. I gasped at the sudden movement, looking over his face as he stepped closer to kiss me properly. When he pulled away I noticed his clothes had also vanished, gone in a flash of green.

"May I make love to you?"

He asked, barely gracing my lips with his own.

"Please do."

I whispered against him before kissing him, again and again, until my back hit the soft silk of his bedding.

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Some Thoughts on Wilbur and Tommy

Wilbur and Tommy. This resurrection arc is bringing their relationship into greater importance once more. It’s such a fascinating one.

Their relationship is complicated. Tommy stood by Wilbur’s side to the very end. He believed in him, not supporting his actions, but trying to help him and convince him to be better. And until the very end, he believed he’d succeeded. 

Wilbur chose Tommy to be President but Tommy chose Wilbur instead, believing he’d truly changed and was going to be the person Tommy believed in - the one who’d first inspired him. Tommy was very idealistic, always believing the best in others. 

Until the end, when Wilbur betrayed him for the last time, blowing it all up so shortly after naming his best friend President. And Tommy hadn’t been there to stop him this time. He’d failed in his goal of saving Wilbur. 

And then Tommy met Wilbur’s ghost. This ghost was mischievous but very nice. He helped him pull pranks, kept killing him while invisible, helped him make a present for Tubbo and agreed to take care of him and join him in exile if he need it. Tommy and Ghostbur’s relationship is interesting as it’s so obvious Tommy is still deeply conflicted about Wilbur - he spoke most highly of the person Wilbur used to be, but saw the one who blew up L’manburg as the crazy one, like a different person entirely. Tommy has also asked Ghostbur about Wilbur a number of times, such as asking why he made Tubbo President. Tommy talks about Wilbur very little but he is on his mind a lot. It’s pretty evident that his greatest fear was turning into the Wilbur who blew up L’Manburg.

Tommy was closest to Wilbur in Pogtopia, saw him at his worst moments and tried to persuade him to have more hope. And it wasn’t enough. At one point, Tommy joined Wilbur in the button room and convinced him not to press it. But he went there again and this time, Tommy wasn’t there to stop it and Wilbur died, taking L’Manburg with it. So in his exile, Tommy finds help with Technoblade and gets tempted to blow L’Manburg up - it’s not what it once was, it has become corrupted and his friends don’t care about him anymore. Tommy nearly is convinced but upon coming face to face with his best friend, upon yelling that he cares less about Tubbo than his discs and seeing Tubbo go silent and hurt at his words, Tommy realises he’s becoming just what he feared. He’s Wilbur, lashing out at those he should be closest to and he’s listening to the violent Technoblade who wants destruction - Tommy realises he’s in the wrong. He immediately changes sides and afterwards states that his trauma and his pain shouldn’t be an excuse to hurt others, doesn’t justify his actions. I think Tommy’s begun to understand Wilbur more after his time in exile, but remembers how much it hurt to be at Wilbur’s side, watching his fall. 

Ghostbur though, Ghostbur is nice - Tommy asks him about his blue - why the stuff he gives out is already so blue if its supposed to only turn blue after sucking the sadness out. Tommy likes Ghostbur a lot and its clear he values his company greatly. 

So the idea of bringing Wilbur back is an uncomfortable one for Tommy - likely a part of him wants Wilbur back - he never got real closure, but Wilbur is bad memories. Tommy wants to help Ghostbur so when he comes to him asking for ressurrection, Tommy awkwardly agrees but he’s anything but comfortable with the idea. 

Tommy turns up at the resurrection, initially having no idea what’s going on - they’re just recreating a scene for some reason. When they inform him they’re killing Ghostbur to bring Wilbur back, the way Tommy breathes -the way he gently tells the ghost that he likes him more, offering him a carrot. He witnesses, but turns away as Philza stabs the Ghost. After it happens, Tommy is very worried, he’s angry, missing Ghostbur, worried about what will come back. After Ghostbur is back and he seems alright, Tommy offers him his blue back and then leaves, saying he can’t-

Unlike everyone else involved, Tommy is against the resurrection. Everyone else seems to believe this will somehow fix things. Eret believes Wilbur is the key to his redemption and that Wilbur will be able to help the people in a way no one else can, Philza is guilty for killing Wilbur in the first place and wants to absolve himself of this crime, Ranboo’s never even met Wilbur  and is just going along with follow the ghost’s wishes. 

Yet Tommy, normally the idealist who couldn’t ever give up on Wilbur, doesn’t think this is a good idea. He doesn’t want to lose Ghostbur, he values him in his own right, and he’s not sure about Wilbur being back in spite of knowing him best. He thinks they’re all making a mistake (while still being so obviously conflicted himself). It seems like the others are trying to run away from their problems, and thinks necromancy might be an easy solution. Philza’s guilty about Wilbur - don’t worry, we can bring him back to life! Eret’s guilt about his original betrayal, his failure to be a father to Fundy, and all that was lost in L’Manburg’s recent destruction - don’t worry, Wilbur is the answer! 

But you see, what if things don’t go right? What if you bring back something worse? Schlatt’s ghost has also been woken up and we have no idea what sort of Wilbur may return. It’s strange how Tommy is the cynical one for once, the one who’s still not fully dealt with his feelings on Wilbur’s death and yet has held himself responsible for his own faults rather than letting himself go down a more self-destructive path - as Wilbur once did. 

[passable-talent]

i see z nation in your fandoms... 👁 could i possibly request a 10k x reader in which the reader and 10k have a heart to heart about something or in general have a soft moment? thank you... 💕

thank you @dreepiez, the best ever, for the lovely ask 💕, and for being my best friend and knowing exactly what i felt like writing today. I’m so soft for this boy its not even FUNNY.

Eight months since the world had ended, roughly. All things considered, you’re in a pretty good place- definitely a better one than you’d been in on Day One. 

On Day One, you were absolutely alone in the middle of a national park near your home. You hadn’t known that the god damn zombie apocalypse was about to happen, so you were taking a walk- which wasn’t so unusual for little fifteen year old you. 

You’d been ambushed and chased by Z’s, and managed not to die, but walked away with an extremely broken ankle. 

And, that day, you’d met 10k. 

He was leaving the area late at night when he happened across you, in the truck he couldn’t quite drive. Well, an ally with a broken ankle is better than none at all when facing the zombie apocalypse. 

In the months following, you’d stuck together, becoming strong allies and close friends. You’d trust him with your life, and he you. You were the only person, in fact, who knew his real name. In the eight months since his father died, he hadn’t told a single other soul. 

You weren’t like anyone else. You were there since Day One, you’d never left his side. Even when the two of you were found by a survival group, you stuck together. It was the two of you against the world- no matter how many others offered help, neither of you would ever let your guard down far enough to be without the other. Or, rather, neither of you would ever let your guard down far enough to leave the other alone. 

You hated to admit it, but 10k was the only person that mattered to you. In the darkest of nights, when you laid in a bed that wasn’t yours and stared up at a ceiling so far from the home you’d grown up in, when you wondered if survival was worth it, thoughts of 10k would pull you through. No matter what you had to live through, you could never imagine leaving him alone. You’d stay alive, for him, for as long as you needed to. 

Maybe it was a little sad. You’d only known him for eight months, you really had nothing keeping you friends other than necessity; it’s not exactly like the two of you went to movies together. Still, he was the most important person in your life- the only important person. 

Your parents were gone, you didn’t know where. Your friends, from school, you didn’t even think about checking up on them before skipping town with 10k. There was no one left for you, other than him.

Still, you knew that no matter who you met, you’d always come back to him. It wasn’t like you didn’t get along- he was funny, and kind, and loyal, and, uh..

Well. You’re a teenager. And he looks like that. 

You’d never act on it, even though you know he feels the same. Every time he looked at you, chose to eat sitting next to you, wished you goodnight before passing out on a couch, you knew he felt the same. After all, he was a teenager too. He was easy to read.

It was unspoken, really, how much you cared for each other. Neither of you would never dare to bring it up, no matter how much you felt it. Instead, you just showed it, checking up on each other, keeping each other safe. You rarely even talked- with each other, that is. It was a silent companionship, affection obvious through the way you always sat beside each other, even when there was no reason to. 

It confused a lot of people at this safe camp, especially when you first arrived. Why are they always together, people would say amongst themselves, when they don’t even seem to like each other? 

Little did they know that all of your time alone together was worth far more than the time you spent together in the presence of others. 

Camp New World, as it was called among its survivors, was as safe a place as one could ask for. It was situated on the top of a mountain, right at its peak. In the time before day one, it had been owned by a single family, who built three homes on its peak as the generations passed. There was only one road up to the top, which made security from humans quite simple, and there were straight drop cliffs on all sides except for the road, which made security from Z’s easy enough. It was safe, and had been since the day it was made into a safe haven. 

Thanks to its position on the mountaintop, Camp New World had some spectacular views. And thanks to your age, you and 10k were very rarely sent on missions outside of camp, such things being given to adults rather than the two of you. 

And you did love going on adventures, you always had. The word had been well-soured by this eight month long, horrifying adventure, but sometimes you felt just a bit of that love when you sat back from the edge of the cliff and looked out across the valley. You could see to long-away mountains, turning blue with the horizon, and you could see roads crossing the fields that were once bustling highways. Looking out across a world that didn’t seem so much different than how it had been when you were fifteen, you always had just a little bit more to talk about. And with 10k sitting next to you, you always had someone to talk to. 

You glanced over your shoulder, making sure no one else was nearby the two of you. 

“It almost looks the way it used to,” you said, fixing your eyes on the silhouette of a town that must be miles away. 

“What do you mean?” 10k asked, turning his head slightly toward you, but not looking right at you. 

“All of it, out there,” you said, leaning back just a bit onto your hands. “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t know anything was different. The homes are in ruins and the towns deserted and the people scared, but from up here...” you trailed off, giving a light shrug. “You can’t tell.” 

“But you do know better,” 10k said, and this made you look at him. He looked the way he often did- pulled away, reserved. But you knew him better than anyone wandering the earth, dead or otherwise. 

He was comfortable. He was at least happy to be sitting with you instead of splitting wood, as they often asked him to do. He was interested in what you were saying, even if what he brought to the conversation was a little bit of cynicism. 

You looked back across the world, lifting your chin.

“Yeah,” you said, “I do.” Another few minutes passed in silence between the two of you, being serenaded by the October air rattling through the trees that had begun to lose their leaves, and the sound of the raging river far below that was responsible for the steep-cliffed mountain. 

“Still,” you said, “It’s peaceful. I’d be much more scared if I stood down there than I am sitting here.” 

“I’d rather you be here than down there,” he said, choking on his words just after they’d left his mouth. You came to his rescue as best as you could. 

“Well, last time I was down there, I had a broken ankle. I don’t want to be doing that again, either.” 

All too used to it you were, reeling him back from the conversation that neither of you wanted to have. You had to assume that if the situation was different, he’d be a romantic- the way he gave you an extra blanket or let you borrow his jacket made you sure of it. So sometimes, when you were alone, little things would slip out from between his lips, little things that told you just how much he cared for you. 

But caring for someone in this world was dangerous. You both knew it- he, who had had to mercy his own father, and you, who hadn’t seen your parents since the day it began. It was a lesson that held onto the two of you like burrs, hooking and holding deeper every time you tried to pull it away. 

Even though the two of you cared for each other, would die for each other, that little stinging burr kept the two of you from saying it out loud. If it was said out loud, it was real, and that reality would be much more dangerous. 

So you always deflected the attention away from his little confessions. Not maliciously, not to push him away, but to protect you both. It was the least you could do. After all- he’d saved your life, all those months ago. 

You’d returned the favor, of course, a few times. The first being when he drove you back to your home to find your parents, and instead found a Z with its arm stuck to the front door. 

The door was still locked, there was no forced entry, other than this Z on the outside of the front door. But your parents were just... gone. And there was nothing to suggest where they went. 

You scooted a little closer to Tommy, trying to get refuge from the wind. 

“Hey, Tommy,” you began, eyes cast over the edge of the cliff and to the riverbanks far below. “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we’d found my parents?” 

He knew how much it stung that you didn’t know what had happened to them. He knew how much it had hurt you to leave your home town and travel to Camp New World, leaving behind the one place you might find them. But you’d been injured, and young, and vulnerable, and you’d had no choice. He knew that it was a particular crack in your heart that was still raw, and likely would be for a long time. 

So he put his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

He still smelled like the cigarette he’d swiped from one of the men around the camp earlier in the day. At one time, you hated the smell of tobacco. Now, it just reminded you of him.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think about things like that.” His first finger drew little shapes on your furthest shoulder, and you let out a breath. “But I guess I would be a little happier if you didn’t have their loss on your shoulders.” 

That one, you’d let him get away with. 

The sun was near setting, the first brushstrokes of orange and yellow beginning to touch the western horizon. The sunsets from Camp New World were almost always spectacular, thanks to the wide expanse of horizon that one could view.

But you turned your head, laying your cheek on his shoulder, closing your eyes. This was the most you ever let your guard down; when you were alone with him, and the world was safe enough, for the moment. 

“I hope they’re dead,” you breathed out, and you felt his arm tighten around you. “So they don’t worry about me the way I worry about them. Is that bad?” 

Slowly, carefully, you felt Tommy lower his head down, resting his temple onto you. 

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, and you pulled one knee closer to you. “And even if it is, I still can’t blame you.” You let out a heavy breath, leaning further into him. 

If it hadn’t been for the zombie apocalypse, you never would have met him. And maybe you wouldn’t choose him over putting the world back to the way it was, but you’d definitely think hard about the decision. He was a bright side to the blackness that the world had become, the only person who kept you alive, who gave you a reason to stay alive. 

In moments like this, in which you sat with him, felt his fingertips run over your arm; in moments like this, all of the pain, the death, the mercy, all of it- it almost felt worth it.

-🦌 Roe

[syn0vial]

important question number 3 what do you have on boba and sintas vel 👀 - lekkui

i have... some things! honestly, i wish sintas’s portrayal had been a little more solid in the EU. it varied wildly between writers and in certain comics, she had little more characterization than “beautiful, tough bounty hunter chick.” i hope if they revisit her in new canon, they give her a more nuanced, more consistent depiction. also i’ll be ignoring said comics for the purposes of this post bc it’s my blog and i’m too sleepy for salt right now

but yes, onto the bullet points!

for those unaware, sintas vel was a female kiffar bounty hunter who boba tried to start a new life with when they were teenagers. they both got out of the bounty hunting game and settled down on concord dawn, where they got married and had a daughter, ailyn. boba was 16 and sintas was 18 at the time.

one of the things i find most interesting about the two of them, especially when they were teenagers: ailyn was consistently the more logical and level-headed of the two of them, while boba was always more emotional and impulsive. tragically, it’s this impulsivity that leads boba to fuck up so badly and, ironically, to transform into the emotionally detached asshole we know later on.

but yeah, this dichotomy is seen pretty early on in a flashback-by-proxy, in which we learn that the whole romantic run-away-together-and-get-married-and-start-a-new-life-somewhere-far-away plan? 100% BOBA’S IDEA. 

in particular, we get the briefest snippet of an exchange where boba is trying his hardest to convince sintas that this would be a good idea. and, no exaggeration, it goes like:

sintas: “i mean, it’s kind of very obvious that you don’t know what you’re doing--” boba: “THINGS I KNOW: YOU’RE GOOD AT SHOOTING THINGS. YOU’RE PRETTY??? I TRUST YOU A LOT. see this is a good idea :)”

TEENAGE BOBA FETT: PURE OF HEART, DUMB OF ASS

anyway, boba fett and noted-morosexual sintas vel make their way to concord dawn. here’s some things we know about their relationship before everything went to shit:

nicknames! they referred to each other with the first syllable of each others’ names: bo and sin. very cute :)

they got married using a traditional mandalorian wedding vow. neither of them had any idea what the mando’a meant, bless their hearts.

as a marriage token, boba gave sintas a small red heart-of-fire gemstone tied on a simple leather cord. it was the best he could afford which, at the time, wasn’t much. however, it had significance to sintas as a kiffar; kiffars are near-humans whose members possess an unusually high occurrence rate of telemetry, or the ability to read memories from objects. heart-of-fire gemstones were said to be among the best for storing such memories.

SHIPPY FIC WRITERS TAKE NOTE. three words to describe boba in a committed relationship: PROTECTIVE. AS. HELL. absolutely unwilling to tolerate so much as a dirty look towards sintas. maybe even a little paranoid. kind of understandable given how much grief he’d already endured in his short life.

it didn’t save them

ok, fair warning, here’s the point where shit gets traumatic, so if you want to know nothing but the relatively happy stuff, STOP READING HERE. also, CWs for manipulation, sexual assault, murder, and imprisonment, bc nobody in this canon is allowed to be happy :(

last chance to turn back!

ok. onto the traumatic shit.

so! boba and sintas are doing fine. operation stop-being-teenaged-bounty-hunters-and-try-to-pass-for-normal is going pretty well! not only do they have their own functional little family unit, but boba has a job as a journeyman protector. basically think of them as like. mando frontier lawmen. and on top of that, boba has been taken under the wing of his superior officer and son of a local magistrate, lenovar. 

we don’t know much about lenovar (like, is that his first or his last name, for example...) but we know that boba and sintas trusted him and that boba in particular looked up to him as both a friend and mentor. 

however, lenovar was not what he seemed. once he had the young couple’s trust, he managed to get sintas alone and raped her.

in the aftermath, sintas performed some brutally pragmatic mental calculus: lenovar was a high-ranking journeyman protector and son of a magistrate. she and boba were two struggling teenagers with a baby, escaping checkered pasts. retaliating against lenovar would likely destroy them. which meant not only that she couldn’t retaliate against lenovar; she had to make sure boba wouldn’t, either.

so. how do you keep your extremely protective, impulsive former-bounty-hunter husband from flying off the handle and murdering your rapist?

you don’t tell him about it. you don’t tell anyone about it :(

argh just reading this i’m feeling salty that we get so little of sintas’s perspective on any of this. it’s all just “how did this make boba feel? how did it affect boba’s life?” and it’s like GOOD GOD. this woman is now maybe 20 years old, making the absolutely-gutting decision to keep her sexual assault a secret from her closest friend bc it’s the only way to protect her and him and their daughter from being steamrolled by the system. and like, nobody thought to expand on that? 

nope, we just get a comic where she’s needlessly sexualized and drawn to look young enough to be boba’s daughter despite the fact that she’s older than him and ugh

OKAY. enough salt. moving on.

sintas’s plan works for all of a year, at which point boba somehow finds out the truth. and everything goes straight to hell.

boba, finding out that sintas kept her sexual assault by lenovar a secret for a whole year (and remember, boba was probably continuing to work under and look up to lenovar during this time), is utterly furious. of course, he wants nothing more than to murder the shit out of lenovar and is only further enraged when sintas tries to logically talk him out of it. in his anger, he proceeds to verbally torch ALL the bridges in their relationship, at one point even cruelly questioning if ailyn is even his daughter. he then storms off and makes good on his threats to kill lenovar

in the aftermath, boba was branded not just a murderer, but the murderer of his superior officer—an even more serious crime. yet, despite repeated interrogations, he refused to say why he had done it, fearing that doing so would drag sintas down with him. he only insisted that he felt no remorse for killing lenovar and that lenovar deserved to die.

in the end, his efforts didn’t save sintas—the courts seized all of what meager assets they had, leaving them all penniless. boba was then exiled from concord dawn and wouldn’t see his wife and daughter again for fifty years.

after everything that happened, boba was a changed person. it’s as if that spark of optimism and dare-i-say goodness that had survived his father’s death was snuffed out, leaving only a cynical, angry shell, laser-focused on violence because it was the one part of his father’s legacy he hadn’t yet failed.

sintas and ailyn, meanwhile, struggled to pull themselves out of poverty, with sintas reluctantly returning to bounty hunting to support them. ailyn never forgave her father for abandoning them, which led to its own equally-disastrous tragedy some decades down the line.

moral of the story is to listen to your wife and don’t make her sexual assault all about your stupid need for revenge. like, i get that the rapist needs to die but maybe like... work with your wife and make it look like an accident? don’t be an impulsive fucking inconsiderate idiot? maybe realize that your wife probably just endured the most hellish year of her life to protect YOUR dumb ass?

honestly, as frustrating as teenage!boba is, you can’t even be that angry at him bc like... he and sintas were both victims reacting imperfectly to absolutely shit circumstances. lenovar is the real villain here.

never going to be over how tragic it is that these two kids tried so fucking hard to derail their villainous origin stories, only to be forced onto even more brutal tracks bc the one adult they should’ve been able to trust in their situation ended up being a predator :(

[thessaliah]

Reading this lostbelt, from Pepe's viewpoint and issues, and how he described the Crypters. It makes me uncomfortable that FGO is trying to validate privilege and trying to cast the victims of the privileged ones (PHH) as "bad" because they tell them to go fuck themselves and flipped the roles. Or are "good" because accept being destroyed (fucking erased) to validate the "better" (privileged) history. It felt like that from the beginning but Pepe's thoughts nailed this sickening feeling.

I was going to do my character meme answers, but so much THIS. I don't think Nasu thought over this pretty well (or he doesn't care because status quo-sticker), or he took so long his work isn't going to age well in the current context people are more aware than ever about this "competition" between humanity which is absolutely abhorrent and unjust. Even when presenting a side as "hopeless" for their growth, that sounds like you're making excuses to trample it for your benefit, like a typical privileged person would ignore those who rot on the sidewalk.

This is the funny thing. The entire situation as you point is like some of those pariahs said no more and decided to take over with the corpses of their oppressors. Panhistory to validate themselves created the Prunning Phenomena and can't take heat from the consequences of their very system generated? The rich side of this is that all those billions who disappeared actually to validate their existence in the first place set this system that originally walked on the corpses of many untold erased timelines. Because resources were limited (sounds familiar?) only a scant number of timelines could be kept. And this very cruel system was wished unconsciously by humanity itself. Nasu even compared what Humanity is doing to itself to what Goetia did in his booklet of Lostroom as if to frame what is the cause. Crypters, Lostbelts, the "God"? Thematically, they are victims and pariahs who got left behind. They aren't the "aggressors" that shot first. There’s a reason why the theme is revenge and payback of those who were down and stood again. Nasu’s not talking about Panhistory or Novum Chaldea.

Of course, is perfectly good and dandy to have Novum Chaldea look for the survival of them and their Panhistory, but it's not sitting well with me to take them as heroes at all, unlike Part 1. In part 1, the enemy had a problem with suffering, but the suffering caused by death and terminus, which was more a natural consequence of being human that could be delayed but is something nobody denies exists and must be accepted. It was a palatable approach of a Solomon who experienced a mortal life and the system Solomon left behind which took an exclusive "god" viewpoint unable to sympathize until he tasted mortality.

Part 2 meanwhile the core of the problem is that injustice and gap between loser and winners, and it seems to push for us to accept it can't be helped, humans are like this when is a dangerous complacent "Let the better ones eat you, pariah" sour aftertaste. It's also very dangerous because while there's no "pruning phenomena" in real life, there is across history the whole silencing the loser and oppressed by the winners, trying to wipe them out for their own glory and benefit. There's no point to wish fight fact or reform. Novum Chaldea being a passive tool to defend the way Panhistory has conducted itself with rare exceptional "no this waifu/this loli/cute animal" moments don't cut it for me to see them as good. It makes me feel dirty. They never made an effort to do anything but react too unless a said article to protect is at stake. It's increasingly hard to associate or sympathize with them over someone like Kirschtaria Wodime, whatever you think of his plan, he is the only one who made an effort to try to change the odds while embracing hope humanity inherent goodness will carry them out for a better future, better order, better results. While Chaldea's weak arguments against him could be summed up in Holmes' cynical view of how humanity won't change and will always be like that and suffer (which is again a reminder of "don't try to do anything, go with the flow" to suppress revolution and reformers). The arguments were so feeble that the one that stopped him isn't Chaldea, but Beryl's betrayal.

I understand fully the extraordinary context and circumstances of what happened, and what was lost, but those people who disappeared, they also wove a system that did the same to others. It's just an unfortunate plot to me. Nobody denies Kirschtaria was willing to accept the loss of Panhistory (even though if he could, he would have saved those people too) out his inability to save them with his limits, but N. Chaldea is perfectly willing to accept the loss of other lives too (although they also feel bad), are they less worthy? And while Kirschtaria’s passively accepted the loss of Panhistory (because none of the Crypters directly had to do with its blanching), Chaldea is actively now doing the Pruning System work in pulling the plug on others. Not just the Lostbelts but to restore Panhistory is accepting the way it works and how many it destroys. Instead of taking a bet to try something new, in the long run, maybe create something better. Both sides demand terrible sacrifices, but only one is coming with a solution to try and fix what is broken. The other side is just putting a band-aid and pretend is fine.  I don't know if Nasu is going to end it in a satisfying way. Because he's not one to overhaul this system and he maintained since FSN: "the seat of happiness are limited" as if was a natural and desirable message.  

On the other hand, he did say that Kirschtaria's ideals are the most perfect even among "all legends of TM" and that his goal was objectively beneficial for humanity. Even one of the game options lets Guda comment that his idea is desirable, but... (doesn't want to forsake Panhistory... although Panhistory ironically has no problem to destroy and wreck other timelines to keep their flawed Consensus -> what isn't discussed, huh).

I think Nasu wanted to make this about survival instead of good vs evil, which was fine up until Kirschtaria came up with an idea of revision/reform the Human Order instead of proposing something based on survival of a lifestyle because he wanted to minimise the suffering. Which Chaldea poorly answered. At heart, by trying to smooth over humanity’s need to compete with each other by closing the gaps of how they started (and even them), wouldn’t that also affect the Pruning system which is based on this fierce competition of what is the best/ideal timeline consensus? Yes, of course, because that system reflects the present humanity mindset of competition to “survive” and divide themselves in winners and losers. In the long run, IMO, that would have been modified too. Kirschtaria doesn’t directly reference to it, but vaguely alludes to an answer humanity failed to reach which is linked to a lot of what’s happening too, including the “God.” Because Chaldea only had arguments for survival (to the point this is acknowledged by Kirschtaria’s description of what is defeat/victory for Chaldea and for Kirschtaria. To Chaldea, Kirschtaria says that their victory is survival, and to be defeated is to die; while Wodime’s defeat is that the Beast manifested and he couldn’t finish his plan). And business continues, as usual, I guess. It leaves a bitter taste when your supposed POV has no agency or drive to make any difference. It is frustrating! 

I know I was harsh with this, and I also appreciate how Guda and Mash still try to help the people who they see in danger in front of them, but is frustrating because at the same time they are doing things to make themselves feel better knowing they are here to wipe them out. Like, you know, giving a starving orphan a candy to make then happy and go behind their back and pull out the resources of the orphanage they’re in to let them starve to use that money to buy yourself food, something like that. Even if you know they really need that money to not starve themselves for the possibility they can rebuild different orphanages, would you still consider characters who do that the same heroes as part 1? Hard to say, right? 

“Far side is darker than Near side”, yes, but I think Nasu went a little too far. Because even if HF was dark, for example, I completely empathised with the difficult choices, while it’s harder now.