#it’s about the instinctual understanding of being known

[angstandhappiness]

DUDE

so much of how much spiderverse connects with people, and why it has so much heart, is because it boils down to understanding other people.

i remember being so excited about spider-gwen b/c i relate to her so much. there’s so much people can relate to, things involving being neurodivergent, being trans, being gay, being a person of color, being disabled, being a mix of all of the above!

when my friend and i were walking out of the theater, three different people asked us if the movie was good, and we had such a genuine connection with these people, and it’s not a coincidence that one was in a wheelchair, one was a theater employee who’s badge said “they/them” on it.

we’re different, but we’re the same. i see you, and i know you.

[fettuccin-e]

It's About Power, Baby

Kinktober Day 26: Face Sitting

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader, afab!fem!reader, cunnilingus, face riding, subby!Marc because he needs to be dominated because I said so (w/c: 903)

A/N: A short lil drabble for some of my late Kinktober stuff. I am a firm believer in switch!Marc okay. He likes when a woman takes control because no one marries Layla El-Faouly without being a little bit of a sub okay, I'm right and you know it!! (For Kinktober I've been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s just something about it that drives Marc fucking wild.

It’s something about the way you grind onto his face, gripping hard into his hair as you chase his tongue and dig your clit into his nose.

It’s in the way you taste, warm and musky and so fucking good on his tongue. He aches to have you like this, begs you for it, even though he never really has to beg for anything.

You can't say you understand it, but you certainly can’t complain when he pulls you down to his mouth, licking into you like he wants to drown in your wetness.

The first time you did this, you’d been so nervous, hovering lightly over his face and refusing to let your weight rest on him.

“Marc, I’ll crush you,” you’d said, swaying slightly on your knees as Marc grazed his hands up your thighs.

“You won’t, baby, promise,” he’d murmured. “C’mon, just relax. I’ll make you feel so good.” He’d nipped lightly at your inner thigh, and you’d moaned softly.

“I have no doubts about that, I just don’t want to kill you with my pussy, Marc.”

“But what a way to go,” he’d breathed, almost dreamily,  and you’d wanted to smack him. But you couldn’t, you’d barely had a chance to breathe before he was using his strength to pull you down to his mouth.

And fuck, if you had known how good it would feel, you would have smothered him with your pussy without a second thought. It’s so different like this, the way you just let gravity do the work for you, spearing yourself deep on Marc’s ravenous tongue.

He moans loud when you rest your weight on him, the folds of your cunt spreading apart on his face and making a fucking mess, dripping down his cheeks, down his chin.

His nose digs into your clit so perfect, so right from this angle, and you can’t help it when your hips twitch forward, grinding into it. His thick fingers dig into your thighs hard enough that the tips of them turn white, and you’ll probably find dark bruises later from the strength of his grip.

But it doesn’t matter, not at all. Not when Marc groans into you and sends vibrations reverberating up your spine, and your hips twitch forward again, dragging your slick pussy across his face.

“Fuck, oh my God, Marc,” you whimper, and Marc only answers with a moan, his tongue working against your dripping entrance, drinking you in. A sharp grind of your hips into his face makes you cry out, your hands snapping forward to grip onto the headboard.

There’s a heady sense of control that flows through your blood, making your mind hazy and the feeling of his mouth against your cunt so much more electric.

“It’s so fucking good like this,” you whimper, your hips twitching instinctually to rub Marc’s nose back and forth against your throbbing clit. You should let him breathe, lift off of him so he can suck a substantial breath into his lungs, but you can’t fucking stop. You can hear movement behind you through the rush of blood in your ears, and glance behind you. The sight nearly makes you black out.

Marc’s hips undulate into the air, an obscene tent in his boxers as he humps into nothing. He licks into your pussy as his cock searches for friction, desperate and needy and so fucking hot you could cry.

Marc is a man who doesn’t like to show weakness, but this? This is clear as crystal, the way his eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste of you on his tongue, the way he needs you so badly he fucks into empty air as you sit on his face like a queen. Marc Spector is not a weak man, but God, he is weak to you.

The knowledge that you are the only one who knows him like this, to have this kind of power over him, makes your head spin.

“You’re so fucking hard, Marc,” you whisper, and Marc grips onto your thighs like a fucking lifeline, whining beneath you. You reach a hand down to curl your fingers back into his hair, rocking your hips into his searching tongue. “Make me cum and I’ll ride you so hard you’ll see stars, baby.” You feel him nod between your thighs, moaning softly. 

Marc tilts his head up beneath you to suck your aching clit into his mouth, and you nearly scream as he throws you over that edge, soaking his face as you tremble and clench above him. 

You practically stumble away from his face as he continues to lick at your overstimulated entrance, pulling back to sit on his stomach. You watch with wide eyes at the way his chest heaves, how he licks at his lips and tastes the cum you left behind.

He lifts his head to look at you, a blush high on his face and his mouth shiny with your slick. He looks fucking ruined and oh so gorgeous.

He sits up on his elbows, wordlessly asking for a kiss, which you gladly give him, even though his lips taste like you. 

“My turn,” you murmur, grinning against his mouth, and Marc’s chuckle quickly morphs into a moan as you squeeze his neglected cock. You smile.

He looks pretty damn good at your mercy like this.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any headcanons for the bots' fears/phobias? Specifically TFP

The only one I have is that Bumblebee is, ironically, afraid of bees for no reason other than I thought it would be funny. I'd like to hear your takes!

Hmm I think their fears would go something like this:

Arcee: Terrified of blood.

She's seen too much energon over the course of her long life. Watching so many good mecha die and losing both her partners has left her with a strange apathy to energon. She's grown used to it. But blood? Human blood is vibrant and so different and yet so similar. When she sees blood, it ignites old horrors and memories she's long tried to suppress. Her servos shake when one of the children ends up getting a cut large enough for her to notice. It's all too similar for her to handle.

Bulkhead: Afraid of Deep Water

Bulkhead is a big mech, one lacking in serious dexterity. He's a combat and manual labor unit and he knows it. When he was young, he fell into a solvent pool, and while unharmed, he was so heavy that he couldn't get out on his own. He was trapped there for almost a whole cycle, and now that he knows what lurks in Earth's waters, he's terrified of falling in and possibly being crushed to death by either the pressure or something that lurks in the deep. He hasn't fallen in any deep water yet, but he's terrified that it may happen and much prefers the desert.

Bumblebee: Scared of Being Alone

The fear of being alone stemmed all the way back from Bumblebee's sparklinghood. Growing up in a time of war meant that he was often left to his own devices cooped up in a base or safehouse while the grown mechs went off to war. He came to despise being left alone, and so joined the war effort both to help and to be with them. The fear of being alone only grew after he lost his voice to Megatron. When he's alone, he sometimes hears the Warlord taunting him. This can lead him to spiral badly, and so he relies heavily on others for support. This is part of the reason he bonded so well with the children.

Ratchet: Paranoid of Biological Agents

Being a Doctor, Ratchet has seen many things. Not a lot bothers him anymore, save for scraplets. But in his mind, that's not even a fear. It's common sense. But with that said, the Cybonic plague awoke in Ratchet a fear he'd never realized lurked within him. After that great plague, he now fears biological agents above all else. Not necessarily germs, but anything that could become a weapon of war. Contaminated items especially. In that regard, he is an increadible germaphobe when it comes to his supplies and will grow frantic if anything is brought into his medical bay that reeks of disease.

Ultra Magnus: Fear of the Dark

Being inside the Magnus armor means that Ultra Magnus, or perhaps Minimus, is entirely reliant on the armor's optical systems to see. The fear of the dark developed the first time he lost his sight and was completely incapable of maneuvering the armor, effectively leaving him open to any and all attacks since he couldn't use his personal field or even his senses to navigate. He has told no one about his fear, but when the lights go out, he often panics and instinctually enters a state of fight or flight out of a pure primal fear that something may harm him even within his armor. The team doesn't understand. Only Optimus knows why Ultra Magnus goes to recharge with a nightlight.

Smokescreen: Frightened by Fires

Smokescreen's fear stems from his time in the Archive. It is a new fear, one he has not fully realized. But seeing Iacon burning and the Archive coming down around him, destroying the home he'd known for so long... it changed him. At the time he was too busy being enthralled in the thrill of potential battle to care. But now, whenever he sees fire in close proximity, he automatically flies into a combat position, often lashing out at the first thing that moves simply because he associates fire with foes. Anything greater than a candle unsettles him.

Wheeljack: Unsettled by Connections

He doesn't talk about it. Ever. However, from what Bulkhead knows, Wheeljack got very attached to his ragtag family back when he was young and promptly lost them all one at a time. He tried to get attached to fellow workers before the war, but every connection fell through. Now he doesn't bother and actively flees anything that could feel like it weighs him down. He's scared of caring enough to actually cry when someone dies. Bulkhead is a rare exception to his rule of no connection, and it is simply because Bulkhead has lasted this long and all but demanded friendship.

Optimus: Petrified of Being Lost

The fear began when he was still Orion Pax. At the time, he got lost almost every time he travelled, and often, he ended up in frightening back alleys and dangerous situations. The fear evolved after he became Prime and now Optimus does not fear being lost in his journeys. Rather, he fears becoming lost within the grasp of the Matrix and the madness of war. It is such a real fear that often, Optimus will throw himself into days long studies after patrols, reviewing everything he knows about Cybertron and the corruption of the Council just so he can reaffirm who he is.

Just so he won't lose himself to the tempting thought of letting go of his morality.

[patolemus]

Here’s a little thing that’s been bugging me for a few weeks.

Summary: Stiles is a demon. This is common knowledge. At least, he was under the impression that this is common knowledge. He should have known better than to trust Derek Hale to figure it out.

————————————

Look, in his defense, Stiles was sure they knew. At least, he was sure Derek knew, and if Derek knew, then the rest of the pack knew. That’s just kind of how it works, when they aren’t hiding threats from each other.

(He’s not pointing fingers. It’s just that Stiles sometimes gets fucking tired when the pack does not tell him shit and then he ends up having to figure it all out by himself so they don’t get themselves killed. It wasn’t funny the first time Scott tried it back in sophomore year. It hasn’t gotten any funnier since.)

(Alright, so he is pointing fingers. Sue him.)

Stiles is a demon. And okay, before anyone gets mad and starts saying shit like ‘no he’s not, he’s just a bit chaotic’, he… well, Stiles will admit to being chaotic as a general rule, but that is more of a character choice. He’s being for real when he says he’s a demon.

His parents couldn’t have children. It’s just how it goes sometimes. But Claudia was a very powerful witch, and she knew a thing or two about making pacts with demons. So when the doctors told her she could not carry any children, she figured the next step was obviously to summon a creature from down below and make a deal with it in exchange for a child.

That’s where Stiles comes in.

Claudia probably wasn’t expecting a demon child to come to her when she did her summoning, but personally? Stiles thinks she lucked out. Stiles is a friendly demon, as far as those go, and his policy regarding humans is more ‘see what makes them tick’ rather than ‘make them burst into flames spontaneously’, so all in all, she could have done a lot worse.

So that’s kind of how he ends up as Stiles Stilinski, son of John and Claudia Stilinski. Claudia and John are the only ones that know Stiles’ true name, though only Claudia can say it right. John tries his best, but they all collectively decide that Mischief is a rather good alternative.

In exchange for being the best son anyone could have, Stiles gets to spend an unspecified amount time on the mortal realm. Claudia doesn’t put any restrictions on him, on the understanding that Stiles can’t go and kill people for kicks. Annoying them is fair game, though.

That’s fine. Stiles has never been particularly interested in needless violence. He’d much rather learn everything there is to know about humans. Such interesting creatures. Truly fascinating.

And that’s how he spends the next twelve years of his life. He makes one singular friend - humans tend to get this instinctual need to get away from demons, but Scott doesn’t have any survival instincts at all, so it works out fine - and spends most of his time enjoying the admittedly mundane life of a human child.

Stiles knows there’s a pack of werewolves living in town, but he never runs into them, and then they die in that terribly suspicious fire and the survivors leave. The town quiets down a lot after that, and Stiles tries not to mourn the loss too badly. The energy they gave off was very pleasant.

Then the werewolves come back to town.

Stiles doesn’t intent to get involved. He doesn’t. He’s a demon, he doesn’t care for mortal affairs no matter how amusing they are. So he doesn’t do anything when he feels the presence of an Alpha in Beacon Hills after seven years. A not his circus not his monkeys kinda situation. But then Scott gets turned into a werewolf, and Stiles doesn’t care for mortal affairs but he does care about Scott, so really, it was inevitable.

There’s also Derek Hale. Derek Hale with his lickable abs and his chiseled scowly face and that angryhurtsadmiserable aura of his. Stiles acuses him of murder, Derek shoves him into walls. How is Stiles supposed to not become completely obsessed?

Anyways.

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended up in a pack of werewolves of all things - demons are lonely creatures, they don’t get packs - but he can probably blame Scott for that. It’s pretty alright, even if he gets dragged into every possible supernatural matchup imaginable. At least no one is busting out the holy water. Not that it would work, that’s a myth. Stiles had that phase as a kid where he went to church every Sunday morning and received the sacrament of Eucharist just for kicks. His dad didn’t find it funny, but Stiles still thinks it’s fucking hilarious. Now he uses the name of Jesus Christ every time he can. It’s blasphemous and Stiles thinks it’s hilarious too.

Back to the point, Stiles never bothered to hide he’s a demon. He doesn’t advertise it, of course, but he doesn’t go out of his way to mask his scent or whatever. He’s powerful enough that he can take on mostly anything that comes find him. So he thought Derek knew, and was just being chill about it and not mentioning it.

Apparently not.

The bitten wolves, he could understand. They still mix up deer and rabbit after years of being bitten when they’re running in the preserve. But Derek’s a born wolf. He was trained since he was a kid, and it’s not like demons are hard to sniff out. Hell clings to Stiles like a second skin.

Well, it turns out Derek is the ultimate failwolf, because after four years, he still had no idea. It takes a run in with another demon - this one does like to set humans on fire, unfortunately, so Stiles has to banish it back to Hell - and even then Stiles has to practically spell it out for him. Stiles is only a bit disappointed in him. Mostly, he’s still a bit confused on how Derek even missed it in the first place.

“Dude, can’t you smell it?” he asks, and they’re alone in the loft because everyone else has gone out to buy celebratory donuts while they try to get the scorch marks off Derek’s wall. It’s not going as well as they hoped.

Instead of an answer, or a growl, which is his primary method of communication, Derek does something unexpected and fucking—blushes.

Huh. Okay.

Wait, no. Not okay. What?

“It’s not considered polite to act on the way people smell, Stiles,” and Derek’s voice is strangled, like it hurts him to get the words out. He’s always been bad at talking but Jesus Christ, this is excessive.

(Heh. Jesus Christ. It will never not be funny.)

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve sniffed out other supernatural creatures or people’s intentions. It’s what you do. Other than rip out throats and creep around my window, obviously,” Derek’s scowl makes an appearance - there it is, Stiles was getting worried for a second - looking back at the scorched wall like it’s going to magically clean itself with the power of his rage.

Stiles could probably do something like that. Maybe. His magic is chaotic on a good day, so he can’t really call it reliable. Destructive, definitely. Offensive, if he has to pick between that and defense. Stiles is terrible at that.

He’s really getting off track here.

“That’s different. You’re not a supernatural creature,” Derek says stubbornly and what?

“What?”

“What,” it’s impressive how he always manages to ask questions that don’t sound like questions.

“What do you mean, I’m not a supernatural creature? Are you—“ Stiles looks at his Alpha with narrowed eyes, mouth open mid sentence as it finally downs on him that they’re talking about very different things. “What did you think I meant when I asked you if you smelt it?”

Derek stubbornly refuses to say anything. That’s fine. Stiles is the king of stubborn, he can out-stubborn anyone at any given time.

“Tell me,” he presses. Derek doesn’t say anything. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—“

“Jesus fuck, Stiles, fine!” heh. Stiles knew he’d break. “I was smelling that you’re horny. All the time.”

That— that’s not what Stiles was expecting. Um. Okay. So things got awkward very fucking quickly.

“Oh,” he says, and now he sounds strangled because he thought he’d kept that little tidbit of information hidden quite nicely. It turns out Derek was just being polite about it.

God, does it mean the betas can smell it too? Oh, no, no no no no.

(Heh. God. Stiles is so funny.)

(He really has to stop unfocusing like this.)

Stiles is officially mortified. Turns out even demons get prudish after spending so much time in the mortal realm. Who knew? It’s okay, Stiles will just find the nearest bridge to throw himself off from. If he has any luck he’ll die instantly and won’t get back to Hell so he doesn’t have to live with this knowledge forever.

“It’s okay. I know it’s not personal or anything,” Derek’s still not looking at him. He’s grabbed back his rag and is valiantly rubbing away at the wall. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell him that if the mark hasn’t come out already, it probably never will. He’d know, he’s burned plenty of walls before.

By accident, if his dad ever asks.

“That’s fine and all, only it’s very personal,” and Stiles is just making a bigger hole to bury himself in, but his mouth is faster than his brain. It’s an ongoing issue. “You don’t think I’m horny all the fucking time, right? I mean, demons do have that hyper hormonal stage at my age but assuming it’s all the time is a bit excessive. I’m not a succubus. This is completely a you thing.”

Derek’s face does that thing where it pinches in between his eyebrows and his eyes narrow a bit, lips pressed together tightly. It’s his Stiles Just Said Something Deeply Upsetting face. He uses it a lot.

Alright, time to backtrack.

“It’s really okay that you don’t feel the same. Really, I get it. I wouldn’t feel the same about me either. So let’s just ignore I ever said anything, and we can go back to trying to clean this up even if we both know it’s not going to come out,” he offers Derek his most winning smile. Derek’s face just gets even more pinched.

Stiles’ senses are pretty dulled here on the mortal realm, but he doesn’t need them to know his Alpha is probably very pissed. At him, specifically.

So it’s Tuesday, then.

Stiles takes a step back, just as a precaution. He doesn’t think Derek will throw him against a wall - he stopped doing that a couple of years ago. Stiles refuses to acknowledge he kinda misses it - but you can never be too cautious. And Stiles did kind of just confess his undying horniness for him.

Imagine if he’d also told the guy he’s utterly and helplessly in love with him. That would have gone fantastically. Not.

“You’re a demon?” Derek’s voice comes out more high pitch than Stiles has ever heard it. He’s surprised. Why is he surprised? This is what they were talking about, before Stiles stuck a foot in his mouth. “Since when?”

“Since always? Seriously dude, can’t you smell it?”

It’s like they’re back in square one.

So. Turns out Derek truly had no idea Stiles is a demon. No wonder he’d looked like Stiles had grown a second head when he banished that fiend back to Hell.

On the good side, Derek apparently also returns his feelings, after they go in circles a few more times and Stiles gets across that he’s not just horny, he’s in love. A happy ending, in Stiles’ opinion.

(“How did you end up as the son of the Sheriff anyway? Is he a demon, too?”

“Hmn? Oh, no. My mom just did this summoning ritual for a Prince of Hell to get them a child, and I showed up. It was kind of a two for one deal,” he waves his hand dismissively.

“You’re a what?”

Oh, boy. Stiles knew he was forgetting something.)

[dontbelasagnax]

To understand Obi-Wan, you have to understand that his reputation of being demure or a bitch are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I would say you can't have Obi-Wan without at least a little of both.

Obi-Wan is someone who always has a remark on the tip of his tongue. It's just his instinctual first reaction. Always some quip or bite of sarcasm. But the thing is, he knows when to rein it in. He knows when his choice words are appropriate and when they're not. And if he feels particularly compelled to be bitchy when he can't, he'll phrase things in a way that will be scathing without the target ever realizing what hit them.

He's known as the negotiator. He knows his way around words. Now, it's my understanding that we so rarely see him utilizing this particular skill set in canon because that's not what the story was ever about. It's demonstrated in other ways. How he's regal and more reserved amongst figures of respect to downright maliciously petty while facing foes like the Sith.

Take Anakin's perception of Obi-Wan. He sees Obi-Wan as a perfect, stuck-up, unflappable Jedi. This competes with the fact that Obi-Wan is particularly catty and playful with Anakin and routinely chides him for behaviors... yet does many of the same himself. He's far from perfect but obviously wants Anakin to know what's best and do better than him.

Anakin has this perception of Obi-Wan (not only because it seems he's never good enough for him) because it's how he perceives Obi-Wan's station in the world based on how Obi-Wan is treated by others.

To really get into Obi-Wan, one must talk about how his self worth issues constantly war his ego. Constantly building himself up only to tear himself down again. Going around saying Sith Lords are his specialty (having never actually defeated one lmao) yet finding himself shocked and deeply honored when Mace calls him the master of soresu.

His moments of grandeur are sharply transposed by his feelings of insignificancy and inadequacy.

He's a complex, multifaceted, hypocritical human being like any. He's elegant and bitchy and yes, at times a sopping wet cat.

He's all these things because he's Obi-Wan

[planetxiao]

# MORNING LIGHT

𖤐 bachira meguru ; mikage reo ; nagi seishiro x reader

⟢ fluff, headcanons // things they do in the morning that make the sunlight feel just a bit warmer <3

𖤐 BACHIRA MEGURU

TRACES YOUR LIPS TO WAKE YOU UP.

On the very very rare occasions that Bachira wakes up before you, it takes him a second to realize you’re still asleep. He’ll mumble a sleepy “G’morning…” before instinctually leaning his head toward you, awaiting a kiss. Upon noticing the lack of response, he’ll crack his eyes open to see you slumbering peacefully next to him. After admiring your pretty features within the sunlight that slips into your bedroom, Bachira will trace the shape of your lips lightly with his fingertip, utterly entranced by how soft they are.

The look in his eyes could be described as one of a lovestruck fool, completely taken by your soft breaths and glowing skin; though, he finds your lips to be the most irresistible both in the way they look and the way they feel. His gaze is always drawn to them no matter the time — whether you’re talking, smiling, focusing on something, etc.

His amber irises follow the path of his fingertip on your lips, memorizing the dip of your cupid’s bow and curve of your bottom lip. It only takes a couple rounds of tracing to make you stir, your eyes scrunching briefly before fluttering open. When your eyes meet his, Bachira is quick to plant a kiss to your lips with a small “G’morning, hun’ bun.” You respond with a peck to his temple — the one he had yearned for all morning —and with that, your morning routines had been completed.

𖤐 MIKAGE REO

LEAVES YOU LOVE NOTES ON THE NIGHTSTAND.

As a professional soccer player, Reo often has to leave for training just as dawn breaks. His stacked schedule makes it so that you’re able to fall asleep within his arms, but wake up in an empty bed. Though you haven’t complained about this, Reo still feels guilt when he leaves you without so much as a greeting. So, Reo does what he feels is the next best thing: he writes you little love notes to wake up to.

The notes are full of words he wishes he could exchange with you before leaving; love confessions, reminders to take care of yourself, letting you know he’s thinking of you, etc. Messages that look like “Morning, my love. Remember to eat breakfast! I’ll be thinking about you all day. Be home soon. I love you. xx, Reo.” Each day it’s a different one, but they all hold the same kind of sentiment.

It’s the least he could do, he thinks, since he is rarely able to share the morning with you. He’ll place them on the nightstand and press a kiss to your forehead before leaving, hoping his written words can somewhat make up for the missing morning greetings and cuddles. And to you, they do. They never fail to bring a smile to your face when you read them. In fact, you have an entire box full of every note he has left you.

𖤐 NAGI SEISHIRO

PRESSES A KISS TO THE BACK OF YOUR NECK.

Nagi is quite hard to wake up in the morning, ever the sleepyhead and lazy boy; this is something you have known since you started dating. You pull out every method to coax him from his slumber, but sometimes all you get are groans in return. Instead of finally giving up and opening his eyes, he’ll pull you back down into bed with his chest pressed to your back, a gentle kiss being placed on the back of your neck that makes you melt into his arms again.

It had taken a bit of time, but you started to understand Nagi’s nonverbal language that he uses from time to time. In this instance, the kiss on the back of your neck meant, “Stay in bed with me a little longer,” and the way his hold on you would tighten only confirmed it. After such a soft gesture, you find it hard to fight him. He has this weapon to overpower your initial motives, and it works every time.

In some ways, Nagi Seishiro annoyed you with the effect he had on you. Even if you wanted to get back up, his warmth was just too inviting, his small snores too cute, his hold too comforting to will yourself away. Stay in bed with me a little longer, a silent request that you can’t seem to refuse. So, you relent, letting your hand find one of his and interlocking them as you let your eyes flutter back closed, Nagi’s breath lulling you to sleep once again.

note: still trying to get their characterizations down, but omg mothe actually wrote something!! wow!!

[raptorish]

On Sapience, Longing, and the Lack Thereof

Written by Max on August 12th, 2024.

So I was at Othercon 2024 this past weekend - and like many who attended, I came out the other side with a new piece of my identity to chew over. This essay is me chewing over my thoughts on archaeosapience, as it connects to my velociraptor paleotheriotype, and why I genuinely don’t feel like I fit the label.

One of the panels I attended and thoroughly enjoyed was “Not Humans, Still People: How Inhumanity Interacts with Personhood,” by Goratrix bani Tremere of the Draconic Wizard Workshop and Chaiya Askari-Vykos of the Treehouse System. During the panel, Goratrix and Chaiya argue that personhood is different from humanity, defining personhood as, essentially, sapience - the ability to understand oneself, to make rational choices, to comprehend the world in not only physical ways, but also the abstract and symbolic. All humans are people, but not all people are humans - nonhuman personhood is experienced by many, many alterhumans, and this is an important distinction to keep in mind.

Another panel I adored, presented by Sivaan of Candlekeep, was “Archaeosapience: To Awaken as Ancient in a Modern Age,” in which he discusses the label and the intricacies of his own experience as an archaeosapien. Once again, nonhuman sapience is a key feature here - as Sivaan writes in xyr coining essay, “[t]he “sapience” in archaeosapience exclusively refers to our awareness of our existence as ancient beings,” as opposed to an inherent connection with the species Homo sapiens. Archaeosapience does not require one to be human.

An archaeosapien is defined as “an individual whose alterhuman or nonhuman identity is intrinsically rooted in prehistory, antiquity or mythic accounts of history.” And funnily enough, here lies my personal disconnect with the term, even though I identify as a velociraptor - a prehistoric animal well known to be extinct. To experience archaeosapience requires personhood, requires sapience, an understanding of oneself as an ancient being. And this is one thing that my theriotype utterly lacks.

Now, I’m not saying that I lack sapience. I am a person, one who reads and writes and learns about the world around me. I also identify as human, separate but intertwined with my personhood, and my humanity is as important to me as my animality. Both of these core parts of myself contribute to where I stand today - as a prehistoric animal person who is, somehow, completely at home in modernity.

Throughout this essay, I’m going to refer to my raptor self in the third person - it thinks this, it wants that. I separate myself from my theriotype in this way because I do not feel like I’m myself in a mental shift. My raptorial mind is not a person, but an animal. It is incapable of understanding abstract concepts or philosophical thought, living in the physical world where it gets food, water, rest, shelter, and enrichment. This does not make it any lesser than my sapient mind - it does mean that it has a different way of understanding the world.

My raptor brain, the instinctual animal side, does not feel like it’s an animal from another era. It doesn’t even know what time is, beyond the regular cycles of day and night. It doesn’t understand common features of modern human society, like computers or elevators or money - not because those things didn’t exist back in prehistoric Asia, 75 million years ago, but because it’s an animal. I could be a gecko from the modern day and still feel the same mentally shifted apathy and confusion about the things I need to live day to day as a human being. The raptor doesn’t know or care about its status as a long-extinct relic, because as far as it’s concerned, it is alive and well, healthy and fed and comfortable in a house with people it knows.

In fact, my raptor brain doesn’t even feel attached to a habitat. Early on in my awakening, as someone who knows where velociraptors used to live in the spacetime continuum, I felt a sort of connection with deserts - I’d look at them and think, that’s like the place my species lived! This was the part of me who’s a person, putting a label to a place that I’ve never been, thinking fondly of it despite never having lived there.

The part of me that’s not a person, that knows nothing but pavement and grass and many-walled shelters keeping out the wind, looks at the desert and bristles with distaste. It doesn’t like the idea of being somewhere it doesn’t know, with sand and scorching sun and no food it knows how to catch. It knows its home territory, a place with cooling wooden floorboards and a comfortable nest of mattress and blankets and a cache of good food that never runs out, and it likes its territory. It doesn’t like the desert or understand the significance of it. It can’t comprehend the idea of wilderness enough to miss it. It doesn’t want to be wild and free, it wants to live in a building with air conditioning and clean freshwater from the sink.

As you can see, my raptor self is perfectly content to be a modern animal. How about my human self, the part of me that can think about my theriotype and know that it’s a prehistoric animal? Do I long for ancient deserts, grieve and yearn for a world I never experienced because I know it might have once been home?

Well… no. I don’t. For better or worse, my humanity feels inexorably linked to modernity, to cities, to technology. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without running into electronics. I use the internet every day of my life to learn, entertain, engage with the world around me. I couldn’t imagine living a life where I didn’t have it. There’s no disconnect from the modern day for me, no longing for the past - only the sense that I’m right where I want to be.

As a person, I’m content with where I am today. As an animal, a raptor can’t yearn for a time it has never lived.

[whereserpentswalk]

You've been on a generational ship your entire life. There's about a million people on the ship, the population doesn't grow or shrink at all. Your entire life is and will be defined by a limited amount of room, a small space, barely large enough for everyone there to fit, that has become your entire world.

The humans that exist on generational ships are very alien to the humans that exist on planets. Your job is to maintain the ship and carry the culture of humanity but you don't need a human lifestyle to do it. Because reproduction needs to be done through artificial wombs all humans are neutered, with sterile sexless bodies. Everyone's job is determined by ship authority, and very dark things happen to those not able to perform some sort of duty. People spend the first fifteen years of their lives in virtual reality, learning about humanity in a simulation until they're ready to live as adults. Everything is so alien from the earth that you read about in books.

It wouldn't be so hard if society wasn't meant to resemble earth, meant to resemble the most conservative and traditional of earth. The American flags hanging up on the walls, despite everyone alive on board having never known America. The way the pods you live in have astroterf lawns, and fake blue skies painted above them, and the facades of American suburban homes. The way resources a distributed from things meant to look like family run stores, despite the monolithic power behind the economy. Even as monolithic as station authority is it still must dress as democracy, and must preach capitalism in a world with no markets, and patriotism in a world with no nations.

Despite your sexless body you're not free of performing gender. You wear dresses over your breastless neutered body, are expected to act feminine, to carry gender rolls into the planet you're going to. Your husband is expected to do the same for maleness. You love him but your situation feels like a performance with no audience. Despite having neither the instinctual desire nor the physical apparatus to you try to be physically intimate with him, it's what everyone does with their spouse, it would be weird not to.

Space isn't as empty as earth thought it would be. There are things that lurk in the void between stars. Nobody fully knows what they are, where they come from, even if they all come from the same place. Sometimes they put the ship in danger, sometimes the authorities make deals with them. But nobody is allowed to know. You're just all told to be afraid of them but not understand why you have to be afraid. The nightmares between stars aren't delt with with knowledge but with ignorance, they do seem creepy from the little you've seen of them but everyone kind of knows their power is being used for something by the station. Patriotism is always helped by having monsters beyond your borders.

Your entire you've dreamed of blue skies and stars and fields and forests and oceans and all those pretty things you've never seen, that you never will see. People always dream of being so high ranking they'll have access to suspended animation and life extension technology, but so few ever reach that rank. You've read all the classics they allow, read Dante, and Milton, and Homer, tried to let poetry bring you to earth but that planet is alien to you now. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you weren't raised in a world that copied earth, if you were accepted as a member of a race that lives on a ship, that exists so liminally. Would there still be such a longing. Mabye you shouldn't have been expected to meet a standard from another world. Mabye you weren't born to long for anything. Does it scare you to think you wouldn't want earth if they didn't tell you to?

[002yb]

I was reading your jaybin time travel posts, got to thinking about how you usually write Damian as having his own feelings for jason, and now jaybin/Damian is trying to take over my brain

To love Jason is a universal constant, an anchor point. It is an unyielding truth persisting through time and circumstance. In every lifetime, for every iteration of them, Damian knows that it will always be this—them. The capacity doesn't matter, though there are times where his greed gets the best of him and he wants; when his feelings betray him and he hopes.

There is nothing dignified in his pining, but he accepts it for what it is. A star crossed love reduced to youthful folly. A fleeting infatuation that is the truest and most persisting thing Damian has ever known.

There is no one after Jason.

There is no one but Jason.

Too often his steadfast devotion is spurned. His fidelity discounted because Damian is a boy not yet a man. Too wrought with trauma to understand that the love he perceives is nothing more than 'an instinctual response to find safety when his circumstances were otherwise unstable,' 'a persisting coping mechanism because life, still, feels unsafe.'

It's nothing so complicated. Simply put: Jason is challenging. Jason is difficult. He is fight and fire, with split knuckles and blood in bared teeth. All biting wit and sharp tongue; an ornery menace. Capable, competent. More than that - Jason is kind. He is rough edges, jagged in a way that cuts, but he is sensitive and vulnerable in spite of it and the strength in his compassion is breathtaking.

A fierce protector. A gentle caretaker. A brilliant mind with a beautiful heart. With perseverance and fortitude. With tentative benevolence and foolhardy hope.

It doesn't matter that not many others understand nor care to. The mechanization of the universe is too fickle for the comprehension of fools. The universe gives him Jason because there would be nothing without him - not after Damian tears apart worlds and timelines to have him back.

Damian will always fall first; he'll always fall harder.

Unbecoming though it may be to be so hopelessly lovelorn, he pines with grace. It's an unspoken compromise that he will not have more than this. In that same vein, he will not have less. It's something that Damian makes his peace with.

Maybe that's why he feels at such a loss when, due to more Gotham tomfoolery, his Jason is spirited away and replaced by another. It happens abruptly, in a flash bang of light and smoke after Jason pushes Damian out of the way of an oncoming blow. His voice still echoes through the alleys around them, vicious to disguise his panic. And when Damian snatches his hand out to grasp at Jason, he does not find gnarled scars - only brittle bones.

It's a cruel cosmic joke, he thinks to himself. As if this small wisp of a boy who took his beloved's place could ever compare!

========

'In any capacity,' Damian told himself, led astray by romantic whimsy and youthful folly. Tender sentiments make fools of all men. Damian is no exception.

Although Damian fully believes that any version of him loves Jason, he's stubborn in thinking that his love extends specifically to his universe's Jason and no other

Because the Jason of this time and place is his; everything he needed and that helped forge him into this person he's becoming

Jason is it for him. This pint-sized punk (Jaybin)? Damian is not enthused by him if only because Jaybin took away what was Damian's.

Hence Damian's first instinct being an irrational rage and a cold fear that lances through his heart.

For as familiar as Jaybin's eyes are, it misses something that's inherently Jason for him. It's his smile, so reminiscent of what Damian remembers from the league, that leaves Damian feeling like he's on unsteady ground though. Like he can't find his footing.

Even still, Damian being ornery because this Jason is not his Jason and being determined to feel nothing for him.

Joke is on Damian though because of course Damian falls in love with this boy, too.

He's doomed to this person; there's no escape. Damian will always fall for him because Jason's kindness is such an inherent thing to his person and Damian is so damn weak to it.

Just various scenes where Jaybin endears himself to Damian and Damian going from vicious beast to sourpuss to something reluctantly enamored.

Things like Jaybin being a friend to Damian when Damian is otherwise utterly alone and isolated. Jaybin having a strength of character that isn't spooked by the dark and ugly sides of Damian that turns others off to him. Jaybin seeing beneath all that and Damian being all prickly because he doesn't like being seen through so easily. But also, feeling relieved.

More things with Damian bristling over sharing the Robin mantle. Being content for all of a short while because Bruce isn't keen on letting Jaybin out and about, but Jaybin is so clearly lost at that lost connection with Bruce that Damian caves like a fucking softy (he blames Grayson) and takes Jaybin out, himself.

And Jaybin is so thrilled that there are more Robins. Damian talking all sorts of shit about the Robin!Tim because Tim isn't around at the time to defend himself ahahaha

Oh! Damian being at that point where he likes Jaybin, but stalwartly denies it. Him complaining to Dick about how Jaybin seems drawn to him and Dick laughing because he's been there. At which point Damian sputters with jealousy/possessiveness because what. )<

But yeah, Damian looking out for his predecessor. Jaybin also looking after Damian just as much. And he's just as brutal and vicious and fierce as Jason and it's -- wow. Damian has to tug at his collar because it's hot. The weather, of course. Just the weather.

More stuff maybe with all the Robins? Where Jaybin gets into some trouble and Damian is about to well and truly lose it given the crime. Tim having to hold him back before Damian does something he can't take back. And in coming Dick who fucks shit up for Damian as his proxy.

Omg, Jaybin admitting to his crush on Dick to Damian and Damian being so flummoxed because what the hell - he's been friendzoned? For Dick?? And Jaybin being oblivious. And a little tongue-tied because like. When Dick came in to save him it was whoah. Protective violence and cruel passion. Just nonstop blathering because Dick stepped in to do what Damian couldn't (because Damian has Bruce to contend with). It should be Damian fuuuuuuuuuuuu--

Damian gets due credit though. Maybe a little hooked pinky action that gets Damian all flustered. Because it's such a soft point of contact followed up by Jaybin smiling and thanking Damian, too. For coming after him. ;U;

Other thoughts: Jaybin seemingly friendzoning Damian and Damian comparing that to how his Jason rebuffs him.

Jason being easily flustered, but with steadfast morals. It's always 'not interested,' and 'no i'm not gonna wait,' and 'you shouldn't wait either omg--'

It's a persisting argument with them. It always ends on Damian complaining about how Jason forgets himself, a point he reminds Jason of often. It gets him nagged in turn, but it's a pleasant back and forth that settles them both, Damian thinks.

Even still, Damian longs for him.

He longs for Jaybin, too.

And of course Jaybin has a crush on Damian, too. Their relationship is all innocent companionship and playful flirting and tentative affections. Just touch starved, hurt boys finding comfort in each other and feeling seen for the first time. Because they're both a little broken, a little fucked up; more dark and violent and volatile, but also sensitive and guarded and lost. But with each other it's not so scary. ;U;

Anyway, mutual feelings. But of course Damian has a compromise with the universe, so in that moment where Damian can have him, Jaybin is taken away from him. Because Damian won't be without Jason, but he can't have Jason, either.

And Damian knows this, but it fucking hurts. He bears it well, but Jason would see the devastation Damian tries to hide and ugh, Jason would be so guilty. He'd wrap himself around Damian and just. There's no point in apologizing, so he'd thank Damian instead.

For being there for him. For loving him. ;A;

Damian holding fast to this Jason so that he doesn't lose him, too.

[generalb]

Throughout all my life I’ve always been interested in nonhuman creatures. When I was young and my autism was in its rawest form I would often pit the ancient ancestors of animals against their modern equivalent, either in comparison or in battle(I remember doing a Rhino versus Triceratops once). As I grew older, and the internet allowed me to learn of the creatures of horror movies without being horrified, my attention shifted to that of the alien. I loved learning about the Xenomorphs and Predators, or the aliens from A Quiet Place. Recently, however, a new alien species has taken my interest, though not from horror film, but kinky horror fanfiction. I am of course, talking about the Affini from the Human Domestication Guide, created by GlitchyRobo.

The Affini of HDG are such an interesting species. Despite their peace-desiring nature we have to assume they were the top of the food chain wherever they came from. The strength to do what they do is built into their very biology. Super strength, ability to run absurd speeds, even the regeneration—their origins, whatever they are, were NOT peaceful, guaranteed. Not to mention the biological drugs that exist within them that can be used through either their flowers or needles hidden within their vines that can pierce human skin almost unnoticed. Another noteworthy trait is their ability to mimic or exist as different species of plants, like a fern Affini or a rose Affini. This level of adaptation mixed with the usage of drugs suggests that their origins could have been as prey, which would match with our known plants, unable to move from predators and thus evolving traits to deter them. The strength and speed, however, are things I’m not smart enough to explain away. Once they gained them, however—combined with their adaptation and ability to deceive using drugs, they would’ve been near unstoppable, similar to how ancient humans hunted megafauna and old predators such as the Sabertooth to extinction thanks to our newly evolved adaptive nature.

Their personality is curious, however—for a species in Post-Scarcity, I can understand the want and desire to help other aliens, including humans. But the specific pet dynamic they desire seemingly clashes with their message of helping sophonts(universal term for a non-Affini) be the best they can be. It almost seems instinctual, similar to humans and their pack-bonding ability. They desire other species to be at their peak, but refute certain things that don’t align with their idea, such as humans free will to make bad decisions at the cost of others and/or themselves. While modern human morals would agree with not wanting bad things to happen, the moderate to great usage of drugs the Affini are known for is less than acceptable.

The unfortunate fact is, any and all speculation about the Affini’s origins or why they do what they do is unknown. Given their extremely advanced technology and knowledge, it could be difficult to even know if they were a plant based species in the first place, or if becoming immortal through reblooming as vine creatures was a scientific advancement or not.

Granted, I’m analyzing a species from a hypno kink universe, and I shouldn’t expect crazy world building, but it’s just so much fun!

Edit: @arkkaxe has included a link to a site detailing the Affini in the replies, and it has been very helpful!

It appears that the low gravity environment the Affini hail from caused the evolution of prehensile limbs, and the xenodrugs might be related to their pollen from earlier days of reproduction using “beeple.” Speaking of that subject, their use of beeple lead to the cultural urge of master/pet dynamics, which slightly confirms my original belief that the desire felt more instinctual than purposeful.

I’m glad to be so pleasantly surprised at all the lore of this world! I take back what I said about the world building, there’s obviously enough to get its own website!

[silent-sanctum]

AHH i love your work!! ignore this if you don’t wanna write this but could i request a part 4 jotaro with a surgeon reader? like how they work around eachothers work schedule?

thqnk you!! have a good day/night!! <3

AHH thank you anon! 🥹💖 Lucky for you your request wasn't ignored because I have a cute lil short fic for you! Have a good day to you as well and hope you enjoy! ♡

Professional Love - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 1.8k

He always sort of knew that even if someone was able to succeed greatly in life, earn loads, and establish a famous reputation, there were always downsides to the many rewards hard work offered.

Such as not having enough time to spend with loved ones.

Ironically enough, as someone who likes the solitude of their alone times, Jotaro began to miss being around you. Whether it was because of him hitting adulthood that nostalgia decided to kick in, or some instinctual necessity ingrained deep in him, he’d do anything within plausibility just to talk to you like the old days.

Both you and he were married to each other and were successful doctors in their own fields- You as a literal licensed physician and skilled neurosurgeon, and Jotaro a well-known marine biologist and professor of an Ivy League university with a doctorate.

It was established early on from high school that the two of you had no problems being their own persons. Both of you were independent and had the tendency to keep themselves occupied with work, but never drowning in them too much that it stifled any romantic chemistry between you.

Well… at least that’s the case when they were still teenagers.

Now that they were professionals, work was always mandatory and couldn’t be excused like how a high school student would to homework. Both careers demanded their focus.

On average, you were off either doing rounds or surgery during the day sometimes even at night, while he had the morning and afternoon booked doing field study or teaching college students. At times, there were also the meetings held in other cities or countries that you had to attend to.

By some miracle despite with their hectic schedules, you still held onto the love you had for your husband even if you weren’t around him most of the time. In the hours Jotaro was able to sync up with yours, both of you swore to cherish that short amount of time.

A carefree conversation unrelated to work. Shared time for drinks and snacks. Napping in each others arms.

Anything. He just wanted to see you, hear you, feel you just so he’d have that one moment of intimacy where he’s able to relax and be Jotaro Kujo and not that rigid and stoic Head of Research image he’d put on in public.

This shouldn’t be a big deal for him.

And yet-

As he unlocked the front door to their home, Jotaro sighed as he shrugged off his coat and left it to hang on the nearby rack. He flicked the light switch on and the interior lit up to reveal an empty living room, devoid of anyone living here for hours. No sounds of dishes and utensils, no TV airing a favored show, not even the faintest steps of somebody roaming about.

Jotaro ignored this newfound feeling he’d recognize as “loneliness” and went about the rest of the night.

You were out of country to meet with a group of surgeons in Germany, discussing matters that were too technical and specific to the medical field that he couldn’t understand. You told him that the meeting would take at least a week to finish. Jotaro was in the 4th day and he’d begun to feel… pathetic? Was that the right word?

Getting glimpses of you or engaging with you for a minute to get through the busy day was one thing. Being left alone without receiving at least a single update was another.

He did what always does after a day’s work- Take a shower, prepare dinner, grade papers or review documents, and go to bed. But in the middle of his evening routine, his mind couldn’t help but wander off how tonight would’ve played out if you were here.

Would you greet him late in the dark and chat about your day about someone’s lobotomy? Would you help out in the kitchen and add in another meal for the both of them? Would you lie in bed with him and just sleep to their hearts’ content, hoping an emergency call wouldn't disrupt your slumber at dawn?

Jotaro shook his head and took a sip of his tea. “What are you thinking? You’re acting as if this trip lasts a year.” He scoffed at no one as he took his now empty plate and set it down in the sink for him to clean. “Honestly, why are you like this nowadays?”

As an answer to that, a younger version of himself would’ve denied it with lies and brush it off like as if it’s an intrusive thought, because being anything remotely sentimental would ruin his whole image. 28-year-old Jotaro knew better that the answer was simple- he just missed you. Even if it was just meeting one another at home before leaving for work again.

He sighed for the nth time and walked into his office, where stacks of folders and papers waited for him to go-over and process.

Nothing extraordinary happened the following hours. Just one man with his glasses and pen buried in piles of documents as usual. To spare him the monotony of his evening plus the strain in his eyes from overworking, on his table were 2 picture frames situated just beneath the monitor where he could drift his gaze to from time to time.

One was of him as a child with his mother carrying him with a big loving smile. The other was of the both of you taken during your wedding day- you in your pure white dress, your veil pulled back to show your blooming smile, and him in a crisp black tuxedo with a chrysanthemum brooch pinned to his left chest, a smile of his own clear on his face.

By the time Jotaro finished the last of the load, the only thing left for him to do was to sleep and let the next day arrive.

So he did just that- switched off the lights in his study, went to his room, and got into bed. A king-sized bed that’s supposed to be shared with you. His side of the bed was on the left where the bedside table was with the small lamp on top. Convenient for when he still needed to read a few more books before sleeping.

But in the darkness, he turned over to the empty side beside him. Your side.

Sure you sometimes came home late into the early morning and he had to sleep all by himself, but Jotaro liked waking up to find you next to him, snuggling close to him, tired from all those hours of surgery.

It’s the 4th night without you and he continued to sleep regardless.

Come next morning and the first thing he was able to perceive was the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee in the air and the faint sizzling that came with it. Jotaro didn’t know how he wasn’t able to notice but maybe through his sleep-addled mind, he woke up as he would and trudged his way down the stairs to make breakfast.

Only by the time he stepped one foot down, he was met with a dining table already set with the morning meal and 2 cups of steaming coffee.

“What… is this?”

“Oh yeobo! You’re up!”

Jotaro paused upon hearing that voice coming in from the kitchen. Wait that couldn’t be right. You said the meeting lasted a week and it’s only the 5th day. How was this- He scoffed again, at himself for letting himself think too much of you that he started to hear hallucinations of your voice as early as 7 AM.

He ran his hand through his curly bed hair. “This can’t be happening. I can’t believe this is happening to me of all people.”

“Can’t believe what is happening of all people?”

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Jotaro’s waist and he stilled. Is it really? He looked over his shoulder and in the warmly lit daylight, you were there behind him, smiling up at him with so much love in the world. Jotaro couldn’t believe it. “Good morning, love~”

“I thought you were supposed to be out for a week?”

“Oh about that,” you said. “The meeting didn’t take too long to finish as they had hoped. All we needed were 3 days and got everything settled.”

You pulled away and lead him to his spot by the head of the table with you sitting adjacent to him. “They suggested I take a look around the place for the meantime, you know enjoy the scenery and whatnot. But then I thought to myself,” you looked away momentarily. “I have a couple days free. Everyone in the hospitals I work at, know I’m booked during those weeks. So, unless it's really urgent, I'll just be here.”

“And I… missed being around my husband these couple days,” you said. “And I know you might be thinking I’m making a big deal of this whole “missing each other” schpill, but at the same time, it’s visceral and nagging to the point it’s bothering me even during work.”

“You’re not making anything a big deal when the feeling is mutual,” Jotaro replied without looking at you, feigning nonchalance. Though his cheeks heated and eyes squinting just a bit at the casual confession. That’s to say he’s still not used to being this open to expression. “It’s driving me nuts too.”

You chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not the only going crazy, but Jotaro-ssi?” He paused just as he was about to bite down onto a piece of bacon and you waved at him to you. “I have something to tell you.”

With no hesitation, Jotaro leaned over to you until he was inches away from your face. And in that moment, you cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

His heart skipped a beat or two and the warmth present in his cheeks flared up once more. You were always the teasing type that he got accustomed to.

You withdrew shortly after with a mischievous smirk on your face. “I missed doing these surprise kisses.”

He huffed. “Never failed to catch me off guard.”

“And since I’m free for the next 3 days, how about we do some stuff together?” You said. “Unless you still have work to accomplish-”

“My students are on their field trip this week with another professor and I’ve already made the necessary changes to the research team’s proposals so they can work on it.” Jotaro smiled. “Safe to say I’m free this week as well.”

Knowing that caused you to bloom on the spot- eyes beaming with joy and a blossoming grin showing itself for him to adore. “I can’t wait. Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Genre? Snacks? Say the word so I can prepare. I want to make our first mini vacation perfect and-” He cut you off with a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Anything will do jagi.”

[flowerslut]

what are your headcanons in regards to when alice and jasper first met the cullens? what was the cullen’s reactions? were they intimidated by jasper, confused by alice? how long did it take for jasper to get comfortable?

I mean, alice timing her and jasper's arrival so that emmett and edward weren't around has always been suuuper telling. because like, yeah. I fucking BET that if alice and jasper showed up out of nowhere with everyone home, between emmett's 'act now think later' tendencies and edward being able to see into jasper's head (which I'm sure was full of tense, uncomfortable "if it comes down to it I can just kill them and we can dip" thoughts), in combination with the entire family just taking one LOOK at jasper, it would not have gone smoothly in any way 💀

I mean, in breaking dawn even BELLA perceives jasper as a scary/dangerous threat on an instinctual level that she hardly understands!! and he's her best friend's husband! who she's known for over a year!!! no matter how much he's chilling out the atmosphere there's no way esme, rosalie, and carlisle aren't at least a liiiittle nervous about him. alice could have shown up nude and covered head-to-toe in human blood and i'm confident they would have still been more uneasy about jasper. (don't mind me linking more of g's posts. she's the only person I know who would have all this evidence documented lmfaooo ♡)

but thankfully, because of alice's and jasper's gifts, those two should be able to nail introductions 10 out of 10 times with a 100% success rate! if alice can pick the best possible route to take and jasper can keep the atmosphere light and relaxing, then they could probably charm their way through any 1950s entryway! I highly doubt jasper did the same midnight sun baseball scene camouflage, but I'm sure he did plenty of tension-smoothing.

I personally enjoy that they planned to show up when it was only carlisle, esme, and rosalie home. in midnight sun, alice fucking glomps edward (no, I won't apologize for using this word because I swear to god it's literally what she does) which he only responds positively towards because of their weird, instant psychic connection that lets her bombard him with LOOK-I-SWEAR-WE'RE-GONNA-BE-BEST-FRIENDS-I-LOVE-YOU-ALREADY visions. tbh, I think it's edward's absence specifically that alice probably needed. sure, emmett would've automatically perceived jasper as a threat alongside the rest of the family, but I bet that alice knew that if she could just get jasper through the door, and get carlisle to hear them out, then dealing with edward (and his ability to see what goes on in that nightmare's jasper's brain) would be muuuuch easier.

to answer your more specific questions: rosalie was definitely the very last person to be "okay" with their presence, but I'm sure she was fine with alice first, and that it took emmett to get her to be okay with jasper, too. it probably took jasper ages to adjust to living peacefully alongside 5 strangers—I'm sure these difficulties were probably exacerbated by alice being comfortable and happy right off the bat. and i'm sure the reason that jasper finally calmed down and relaxed into his new life with the cullens had to do with a combination of his trust in alice, his respect for carlisle, and the improvements that vegetarianism had on his mental health (we, as a fandom, forget too quickly that this war criminal has a canonical eating disorder and that's so INTERESTING AND FUNNN)

[thatonebrazilian]

Peace

Summary: How could someone like you ever give her the peace of mind you knew she deserved?

Word count: Around 8700

Warnings: Self-loathing, a little bit of blood and violence, mentions of torture, Weapon Hex!Reader (meaning Reader has both Wanda's and Wolverine's powers).

A/N: First fic after the hiatus. It was cathartic to write this, it felt so different from my usual writing style full off dialog and action. Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

You met her during a raid. More specifically, you met her as she and the Avengers raided the Hydra base where you have been kept.

At the time you didn't really pay attention to her, even if she was the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes upon. Your mind was occupied with the all-consuming fear that paralyzed you, for despite the power that resided in you, you were no warrior. You were a nobody, someone who was taken simply because no one would miss you.

As luck would have it, though, you survived a mix of the most dangerous experiments Hydra has ever made. They called you Weapon Hex, but you were no weapon, you were merely a frightened girl with overwhelming powers.

You had never had much courage, and instead of changing that, your stay at Hydra only reinforced it.

But then, suddenly, your captors were lying motionless on the ground as you crouched down in a corner with your hands covering your head. One of the Avengers tried approaching you, almost as if you were a wild animal. Your reaction was merely instinctual, your magic flared up, throwing whoever got near you to the far side of the lab; your claws came out, and you accidentally stabbed yourself, yelping in pain, feeling your magic explode outwards in response to the well-known stimulus.

"Please, don't hurt me!" You begged, backing up as they tried approaching you again, dragging yourself through the floor as far away from them as you could.

"No one here's gonna hurt you, kid," said the beautiful redhead, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Nat, back away from her, she's dangerous," said a man with a bow and arrow.

"She's scared, Clint." The woman, Nat, replied.

You didn't know that woman, you didn't know those people, but looking in her eyes you felt safer than you ever did since you were taken.

"What are you doing here?" A blond man asked, taking a step closer.

You tried backing away once again, but your back met another wall. You were cornered.

The redhead reproached the blond man with a single look, making him take a step back, she looked at you then and smiled faintly.

"We're not gonna hurt you, kid, I promise. We just want to understand why you're here," the woman said, taking another step closer. You didn't try to back away this time, but you looked hesitantly at the men behind her.

She understood your hesitance, your fear, so she ordered them to clear the rest of the base, and they promptly obeyed.

"Now," she said, "can you tell me what happened?"

And that's how you found yourself telling her everything from the moment you got taken to where you were now; you told her about every single torture session, every single pinprick.

That was the first time you opened up to Natasha Romanoff.

~

You were not Avenger material; you knew that, they knew that, and yet, you stayed. Your powers were exceptional, the overwhelming magic, the super strength that could easily rival Captain America's, and the neverending healing that prevented your body from being damaged for more than a couple of seconds. If you didn't learn how to control it, you'd be exposing everyone around you to danger; that's why you stayed, were forced to stay.

They said they weren't keeping you a prisoner, that once you mastered control over your powers you'd be able to leave. In the beginning you didn't really believe it, but then, little by little, they earned your trust.

Steve started training you to control your super strength, and contrary to Hydra training, he never hurt you; quite the opposite really, he talked to you, made jokes and told you about all the times he kicked Hydra ass.

Thor tried helping you with your magic, but that didn't turn out great. Since there was no magic user on the team, hence no one to teach you practical magic, Natasha thought it best to help you master your self control and willpower in general.

Contrary to Steve's lessons, Natasha's were more strict. She didn't make jokes, she talked only when necessary, and glared at you whenever you were too out of it. You found it was a complete opposite of her normal behavior towards you.

For some reason, Natasha Romanoff, the most intimidating member of the Avengers, was soft on you. Maybe it was because you were the only other girl on the team, maybe she pitied you for your cowardice, or maybe she was a bit protective since you were the youngest. Whatever the reason, though, you were grateful for it.

~

She was troubled, you found. In the dead of the night, she'd trash on her bed, riddled by nightmares, only to wake up startled. You could feel her fears, her nightmares screamed at you from the opposite side of the hall; with your powers, you could feel her every move, hear her every labored breath, almost as if you were by her side.

That was how you found out that she didn't wake up everyday at 4am because she wanted to.

Steve, now one of your best friends, told you they'd run together at 4:45 every single morning, and you had mistakenly thought she did it out of discipline. Truth was, she only did it because she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

That's how you found yourself in the kitchen at 4 am, with two mugs of tea ready. You didn't need as much sleep as the average person, what with your body healing itself every few seconds, so you thought, why not?

"What're you doing up at this hour, kid?" Natasha asked, walking into the kitchen.

You shrugged and offered her a mug "I don't really need much sleep, and I thought some tea would be nice".

You were no spy, no actor, but you honestly thought she would buy that little white lie. You realized how foolish that was when you saw her shoulders tense, an expression of anger taking over her face, one you saw many times before, but never directed at you. You could hear her thoughts, she thought you invaded her privacy, and betrayed her trust.

"You know about the nightmares, don't you?" She asked, taking a menacing step towards you.

Your time at the Avengers tower helped you control yourself better, but you were still the same scared, traumatized girl they took in a few months ago, and upon seeing that expression on her face, that threatening stance she took, your automatic response was to take a couple of steps back and use your arms to protect your face for the inevitable blows that would come.

But no blows came, and slowly but surely you lowered your arms, allowing yourself to see the mix of guilt and surprise written on her face.

She took a couple of hesitant steps forward, you didn't back away this time.

"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice, extending her hand slowly towards you, "I'm so sorry."

And then you were in her arms, head tucked in her neck as she embraced you delicately "I'm never gonna hurt you, kid, no matter what."

That was the first time you felt your heart beating erratically because of any emotion other than fear.

~

You were not emotionally illiterate, you knew what you were feeling most of the time, but the green, ugly feeling that arose in you every time you saw Natasha and Bruce together was somewhat new.

To be honest, you never really had anyone to be jealous of, you never fell in love, you barely had friends, and you and your family were estranged, that was the main reason Hydra took you, actually, because nobody would miss you.

So yeah, when the first person you deeply cared for in such a long time showed so much interest in somebody else, yes, you became jealous.

Weirdly enough, somehow, you managed to become friends with most of the team. You didn't know what they saw in you, you didn't know why they even spared a glance your way, and yet somehow you managed to earn a place in their hearts, which, if you were honest, only made you feel more conflicted as you watched Natasha flirt with Bruce.

They were your friends, for fucks sake, you wanted them to be happy, more than anything, but you couldn't shake the bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

Each time she would laugh at his jokes, each time she would touch his arm, each time he would stare longingly at her, you would just wish them happiness in your head, but the war raging inside your heart told you that you wanted her to look at you that way. You, not him.

The fact that she was so soft with you didn't help matters. Each day at 4:00 a.m. you would have tea together, and each day she would tell you more and more about her past.

She told you about Yelena, Ohio, and the whole mission. She told you some things about the Red Room, although she became a little bit closed off whenever it came to that. It was clear as day how much her past weighed on her, the tenseness of her shoulder gave it away, along with the sleepless nights, the slight paranoia, and the trust issues.

You wished, more than anything, you were able to give her peace of mind somehow, but she was set on achieving it by trying to make up for all the red in her ledger.

Maybe someday you would get the courage to tell her that none of that was her fault, maybe someday you'd tell her that she was the best person you have ever crossed paths with, that she didn't need to make up for anything.

Maybe someday you would outgrow your fears and tell her how you felt.

But then, seeing the way she looks at Bruce and vice versa, maybe that day would never come.

~

It still amazed you the trust the team put in you, the problem was that you didn't deserve that trust.

On your first mission with them, the moment someone pointed a gun your way you froze. Steve dove in front of you just in time for the bullet to bounce against his shield. After that Clint promptly pulled you away from the action.

During your second mission, they deemed it better to leave you on the sidelines, where there would be fewer people trying to kill you. It didn't work out that well, though, for the moment someone came to you wielding a knife, you panicked and your powers flared out, throwing the enemy so hard their skull bashed open when they landed.

After that, Natasha started training you in physical combat along with your willpower and self-control training. Her focus was on you being able to duck and defend because she knew that if you learned to defend yourself, you would probably be less susceptible to freaking out mid-battle.

On the one hand, you did think it was going to help you during battles, but on the other, having her touch your body so frequently made you feel things. And Natasha didn't make things easy for you, she would come behind you and put her hands on your waist to show you the correct stance, and she would run her hands down your back or your sides each time she wanted to show you a new way to duck or dodge, and she would smile that dazzling smile of hers whenever you did something that made her proud.

"I think you're doing better," she said once, with a soft smile on her face "soon you'll be able to hold your own in the battlefield".

At that you retreated a little into yourself, wondering how such a powerful person as you could be so cowardly and selfish as to avoid fighting even when it meant you could save lives, while someone without any superhuman abilities such as Natasha could risk her own life to save others.

"I don't know, Nat" you said then, "I just don't think this will work. How will I even know what to do? I mean, I've never had the courage to follow up on my convictions, as long as danger was near, but now that I was made into this, danger's always around the corner… They say you attract what you are, and I am dangerous. I'm a danger to all of you."

At that, Natasha walked up to you. You didn't even seem to notice what she was doing, too wrapped up in your head, but then you felt her arms around you and your body instantly relaxed. What you did notice, though, was how she seemed to melt against you.

She was such a brave, strong, selfless person. All you wanted was to be able to make her see that too. You wanted her to feel relaxed most of the time, you wanted her to sleep soundly, and you wanted her mind to be at ease. But how could you, of all people, ever give her peace?

~

The upcoming missions weren't as bad as you thought they would be. Granted, you were never in the thick of it, you were never in the center field fighting with the others, but you did help from the sidelines, sneaking up on the enemy and making surprise attacks.

Your reaction to having any weapon pointed at you never got much better, though. You would freeze, tremble, and unwillingly blast magic at whoever tried to attack you. At least with Natasha's help, you learned to contain yourself, and there were never any more casualties when you entered the battlefield.

You wish you could say your reaction to seeing her and Bruce flirt got better, but it was stagnant, the green monster of jealousy never failing to show up whenever you'd see them together.

Steve seemed to catch up on that, and he took upon always offering you a way out whenever he realized you saw them flirting. Thus you began spending more time together, and whenever he tried to comfort you you felt a pain in your chest, for Steve reminded you too much of your late brother, the only person in your family that ever stood up for you.

And as you watched his face fall whenever he saw Tony and Pepper together, you realized you were not alone in your suffering.

At least you had each other.

~

You would never admit to anyone that you welcomed the distraction Ultron's bots gave you at that party. You couldn't handle the way Natasha and Bruce interacted with each other at that bar, and when the robots crashed in, you welcomed the distraction.

But then things started getting so out of control. First with the Maximoff twins, who you have heard of during your time in captivity. You had only heard their names by chance because no one in Hydra would trust you with vital information. You didn't know what their powers were, what they were capable of, or what they looked like. But then the girl used her magic to get into the other's head; she tried to do the same to you, she did, but by then you knew enough about magic to be able to block hers when it came in contact with yours.

The girl was shocked when she realized you had the same sort of magic as her, and then it dawned on her who you were.

"You're the Weapon Hex," she said to herself. You didn't say anything back, didn't have time, because by then her brother had already swooped her away.

You didn't chase after them, though, you turned as fast as you could and ran to where you'd seen Natasha, stagnant as a rock, glassy eyes haunted, staring right through you.

Your fingers touched her temple, and you could feel your magic warring against Wanda's inside her head.

Almost as if you were transported, you could see yourself in a sterile room with a younger Natasha by your side, strapped to a stretcher. She looked at you with no recognition in her eyes, and you didn't know what to do.

When you heard people getting closer to the room you saw a glint of panic in her eyes, so you did the only thing you knew how to do. You hid. And then, when the door opened, you took them by surprise. They weren't fast enough to escape the blinding red light that came at them.

With her captors out, you neared the stretcher, and as gently as you could, you unsheathed your claws and cut the straps holding her down.

This version of Natasha was so much younger than the one you were used to, her eyes were wide as you freed her, her muscles tense as she sat up.

You hesitantly reached for her hand, but she pulled away at the last second. You knelt on the floor, then, and looked into her eyes, trying to show her that in no way, shape or form you intended to assert any type of dominance over her.

"Nat, it's me, Y/N," you said, debating if you should try to reach for her hand again or not. "This is a nightmare, we were at a Hydra base when a witch attacked us. You're not in the Red Room, you're an Avenger, a freaking superhero. You saved a lot of people. You saved me."

She blinked a couple of times, and you saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

"Detka?" She asked, looking at your whole face almost as if she was analyzing you. You didn't know what that word meant, but you nodded anyway. You needed her to feel calmer so you could get her out of here.

Her shoulders relaxed a little and she took a deep breath, you reached for her hand again, then, and the moment your fingers touched, blinding red light emanated from them, taking you both to the real world.

You didn't expect the sudden dizziness, though, nor to feel your legs tangling with hers as you both tried to support yourselves on each other. And with a little shriek, you stumbled, landing right above her on the floor.

Natasha sat halfway up then, elbows supporting her, her eyes looking at you with what you could only describe as gratitude.

"Thank you." She practically whispered against your face, nose almost touching yours, making you realize how close you two were.

You got up fast with the excuse of helping the others. You avoided her for the rest of the day, too embarrassed to even look her in the eye.

~

Clint's farm was a charming place, and you felt a warmth in your chest when you met his family.

His wife, Laura, thought you were a sweet oddball, she took an instant liking to you. Little Lila was ecstatic to see another girl in the group. Upon seeing you for the first time, she asked Natasha if you were a superhero too, and as soon as she heard "She's the strongest superhero you'll ever meet", Lila immediately clang to you like a koala.

On the one hand, you felt a sense of belonging like you never had before, but on the other… it was not safe for any child to be around you, like it or not you were still dangerous, what if you lost control near the kids? What if your claws accidentally stabbed a pregnant Laura?

Overwhelmed by those thoughts, you took the first opportunity to slip outside when no one noticed. You didn't need to stay there at the farm, you could find a place to hide on your own.

As you were stabilizing your magic to fly, Natasha came from the house. You couldn't decipher the look on her face.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

Upon hearing her voice you felt your energy deflate, almost as if she was grounding you to her.

"It's not safe if I stay here," you said.

Natasha crossed her arms and took a couple of steps closer. "So what, you're just going to leave? Find a place to hide on your own?"

You could feel your eyes starting to burn, your shoulders sagging, "What if I hurt them, Nat? Look at me! I am too dangerous to be around children and pregnant women!"

She stopped for a second, almost as if she couldn't believe the words that left your mouth. She shook her head, then, and took a couple more steps towards you, her face showing nothing but understanding.

She hesitatingly extended her hand, almost as if she was wary of touching you.

That, right there, was another reason for you to go. After the whole Wanda fiasco, Natasha seemed hesitant to touch you. Although you two became way closer than before, it wasn't hard to notice her hesitance whenever it came to skin-to-skin contact. And maybe it was petty of you, but sometimes you found yourself wanting to draw away just to give her the physical space she seemed so keen on having.

But right there at that moment, she wanted to touch you, and you couldn't say no. Natasha slowly took your hands in hers, caressing your knuckles with her thumbs.

"You are the gentlest soul that I've ever met, you won't harm Laura or the kids." She said, looking deep into your eyes. "Do you really think Clint would have let you come anywhere near the farm if he thought you were a danger to his family?"

"But there's always the risk… As long as I'm here, there's always the risk of them getting hurt." You said, shaking your head, trying to pull your hands away from her grasp.

Natasha strengthened her hold on you, and with a slight tremble to her body, she pulled you in, embracing you.

"Please, stay, just a bit more… For me." She whispered against your ear, making your resolve crumble.

You melted against her, gripping her shirt in your fists as if she was the only thing keeping you up, tucking your face in her neck as if you wanted to hide from the world.

"For you. I'll stay for you."

~

"You know… it's been going on for a while." Steve said as the two of you sat on the porch, looking at the trail where Natasha and Bruce were walking together.

"What?" you asked, almost as if coming out of a trance.

"The two of them," Steve said, "it's been going on since before she met you."

You turn to look at him with furrowed brows "Is it? I've never realized…"

"They've been spending more time together in the last couple of months, but they don't seem as close as before." He said "Even if Natasha's been more open to physical touch. Well… she's been more open in general. I think it has something to do with you."

"Has she?" You asked "Because from where I stand, it feels like she's withdrawing from me…" you sighed and shook your head "I mean, we've been spending more time together too, but it's almost like she's afraid of touching me."

"I think she is afraid." Steve said, looking at her in the distance.

"What?" you asked, a crushing feeling settling in your chest "Do you really think she's afraid of me?"

"No, not of you. I think she's afraid you're going to leave." Steve replied.

"Why would she think that?"

"You never wanted this life, Y/N, and we always knew that." He kicked a bit of dirt, refusing to meet your gaze "We made you stay for you to learn how to control your powers… and now you have. After we deal with Ultron, nothing is stopping you from leaving us."

You hung your head, rubbing your temple with one hand as Steve gently patted the other.

"I've got nowhere to go, Steve. My family deserted me after finding out I was bi, the very few friends that I had have probably assumed I'm dead by now, I was living in a shitty apartment and working a minimum wage job. There's nothing for me to go back to." You said, then, raising your head to look at the sky "You're right. I never wanted this, and I've never asked for these powers, but that's not going to change the fact that I have them now and that I could do some good with them. But more than that, you guys became my family. I'd never leave you behind."

A huge smile lit up Steve's face, and he swung an arm over your shoulder, hugging you sideways.

"Well, don't let Tony hear that, otherwise he'll want to throw you a party," he joked "But seriously, Y/N, you're our family too. I'm glad you're staying."

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of Laura's voice made you stop.

"There you are!" She said with a mischievous smile on her face, drying her hands on her apron. "Steve, come with me, I need some super strength. Y/N, go get Natasha and Bruce for dinner."

"You do know I have super strength, too, right?" You asked with a lift of your brows.

"Yes, sweetie, but you're also as clumsy as they come. Now, shoo, go get those two idiots." Laura replied, making you laugh out loud.

"Yes ma'am!" You said, getting up and saluting her.

"So bossy," Steve mouthed behind her back. You had to hold back your laughter this time, lest she realize what he did.

You shook your head in amusement and turned around, looking at where Nat and Bruce stood. It could be considered a pretty romantic setting, both of them leaning against the fence, looking at the setting sun.

You really didn't want to go there, you didn't want to see how cozy they felt with each other, you didn't want to witness their mutual affections, but you also didn't want to stress a pregnant woman, so off you went.

They didn't see you approaching, you supposed they were too wrapped up on each other.

"You're the most wonderful woman I've ever met, I care about you too much to ever let you go." You heard Bruce say, your heart feeling heavy at those words.

"You know I find you just as wonderful," Natasha answered, her hand caressing his. "Yeah… Even though I'm a monster," he said barely above a whisper, eyes trained on their hands.

"Hey, there's only one monster in our team, and it's not you." She said, and you froze.

Was she talking about you? You looked at your hands then, seeing the slits from where your claws came out. You remembered the redness of your eyes whenever you were wielding magic, the way the very few serious injuries you'd had during your time with the Avengers healed almost instantly.

Of course she was talking about you, who else would she be talking about?

"That's no excuse, though," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"It's not. I already told you the main reason." Natasha said with a somewhat sad smile. "Bruce, I love-"

You cleared your throat, not wanting to hear her saying those words to him. "Sorry to interrupt," you said, then, not looking either of them in the eyes "but Laura asked me to fetch you for dinner."

Natasha raised a single brow, a smirk on her face. "Fetch us?" She teased.

You still didn't meet her eyes, though. You weren't mad at her for calling you a monster, you really weren't, because how could you be mad at her for telling the truth?

Yet, you knew it'd hurt to look at her right at that moment, so you just nodded, turned around and left.

You didn't make it far, though. Natasha caught up to you, her hand around your wrist. You hesitantly turned to face her, eyes downcast.

"Y/N, what happened?" She asked in a worried tone.

Your eyes landed where your skin was touching hers. It felt so right, but at the same time, so wrong. Natasha was a true hero, a person raised as a weapon, a woman taught naught but evil; lying, deceiving and killing were ingrained in her, and yet she fought against that nature every single day. She was a paragon of goodness.

Her integrity made you feel small and insufficient. It felt so wrong to taint that selflessness of hers with your monstrosity. It felt like you were wasting her honor.

"Detka," she said, hesitating before cupping your face with her other hand, making you look at her.

She had a worried look on her face. You bit your lip. You owed her the truth; of what you had just listened in to, of how you felt.

You didn't want to say it, no, but Natasha deserved nothing but honesty, even if said honesty did irreparable damage to your friendship with her.

You may be a monster on the outside, but there was enough humanity left in you to know that you shouldn't shy away from doing what was right just because it hurt.

"I heard you and Bruce talking…" you said, then, closing your eyes "I knew you were just being nice when you told me I wouldn't hurt Laura or the kids, when you told me I was gentle, but… If you really think I'm a monster, why ask me to stay? Why put yourself and the others in danger?"

A beat of silence. Two. Three.

You opened your eyes and looked at her, and for some reason, Natasha seemed utterly confused.

"What are you talking about?" She asked then.

"You told Bruce there was only one monster in our team." You explained, making her eyes widen a little before a look of pure determination settled on her face.

She gripped your shoulders, then, making you look deep into her eyes.

"Y/N, you are not a monster." She said, her fingers digging into your skin "I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about myself. I told you once and I'll tell you however many times you'll need to understand: You are the best person I have ever crossed paths with. You're just so good. Your heart is pure, you somehow managed to maintain a certain innocence in your soul despite everything that's happened to you. You are not a monster, you could never be one."

You furrowed your brows and gritted your teeth. Your heart did somersaults upon hearing her words, butterflies swarmed your stomach, and yet you felt terribly angry. How dare she talk about herself like that?

Natasha Romanoff was the exact opposite of a monster. She was an angel, a goddess in disguise.

"Why would you say that about yourself?" You asked through gritted teeth "I'd understand if it was about me, because even if you say I'm good, my skeleton is still made of metal, I still have claws, my eyes still turn red and yet I keep on being a fucking coward. But Natasha, despite not having any power whatsoever you still risk your life every single day for people you don't even know. You keep trying to clean up your ledger when you were forced to paint it red in the first place." You said, taking her hands in yours "You're not just any hero, you're my hero. You're the one who made me realize that I could do this, that I could be someone who helps people. You're the one who made me want to stay and become a full-fledged Avenger."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and you thought you went too far, that she'd push you away due to her own realization of your feelings, but then her eyes seemed to water and a smile lit up her face.

Coming to think about it, Steve was right, you never saw her smile as much as she did when she was you, and it made you wonder… maybe you'd never be able to give her the peace she deserves, but you were like a fire and you could keep her brittle heart warm.

"You're staying," she said more to herself than to you, as if there ever was the possibility of you leaving her.

"As long as you'll have me," you told her, then, taking advantage of the small amount of courage that ran through your veins at that moment to take a step towards her, getting rid of most of the distance that separated you and snaking your arms around her.

You were ready to open your mouth and tell her how much she meant to you, to tell her how she made your heart beat faster, how you never felt like someone cared for you like she does, but then your traitor brain recalled the one moment that'd make you pull back.

She was ready to confess her love for Bruce when you interrupted them.

And suddenly the butterflies in your stomach seemed to die, your heart started to ache and your eyes to burn. You couldn't tell her how you felt, you couldn't put that weight on her shoulders. She cared about you too much, she'd be devastated if she knew she was causing you any sort of pain. You couldn't burden her with that.

"Nat, I'm really sorry for interrupting you and Bruce earlier," you told her "and I want you to know that-"

You couldn't finish the sentence with her mouth pressed against yours. Your brain short-circuited, you didn't know what to do, except your body did. You didn't even realize you were opening your mouth to let her in, you didn't realize that your hands were pulling her hips against yours, you were too intoxicated by her to differentiate between up and down.

When her lips parted from yours, a muttered "wow" left your mouth without permission, making Natasha chuckle and bringing you back to the real world, the world where she was about to confess her love for Bruce a couple of minutes ago.

"Nat… what are you doing?" You asked in a small voice as her face got closer to yours again, too afraid to drive her away.

You felt your stomach drop when you saw her body stiffen, the smile on her face slowly dying.

"I thought… I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I'm gonna-" She was already turning away, but you caught her wrist with both hands, too afraid to let her go even if you knew you'd never make her stay if she didn't want to.

"I liked it!" You found yourself saying in a sudden bout of courage "A lot. I've been wanting to do that for a while, but you were about to tell Bruce you love him and I don't know what-"

"What?!" She asked, almost as if you had offended her.

"When I came to get the two of you, you were about to confess your love to him… were you not?"

Natasha's eyes searched your face for a while. You didn't know what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she must've found it, because her smile came back as she took a step closer and cupped your cheeks.

"You're right, I was about to confess my love." She said and you closed your eyes for a second, but when Natasha's thumbs started caressing your cheeks, you opened them to see her looking at you with a very familiar glint in her eyes.

"I was about to confess to him how much I love you."

You opened your mouth, but no words came, you were too stunned, not having expected to hear those words.

"What?" You asked then, dumbfounded, barely above a whisper.

"Bruce and I had this unspoken thing before you came along, and the more I spent time with you the more I drew away from him." She said, and to be honest, you never realized that, because your main focus was always her. "He asked me to give us a last chance, and I tried to make it up to him by spending as much time as I could by his side… but what you were about to witness was the moment I finally told him this is not working." She took a deep breath and rested her forehead against yours. "I've been in love with you for months, it wouldn't be fair to any of us if I chose him, knowing that I love you."

You felt tears pooling in your eyes, and your heart was beating erratically, but you never felt as happy as you did at that moment.

You pulled her mouth to yours then, muttering between kisses that you loved her too.

~

After that, you felt a strange sort of confidence you've never felt before. Maybe it was because little by little you were becoming more courageous, or maybe it was because you knew Natasha would be by your side no matter what.

You didn't change overnight, no, but you didn't shy away from things as much as you did before.

Natasha made you want to be better.

There was no label to what you two had, it was all too new, too fragile. You didn't want to spoil anything. The only thing you knew was that things with her felt… common, mundane, but not in a bad sense, it's just- you could be yourself with her, and she didn't have to put up any walls with you.

Even in the midst of all the hectic dangerous day to day of an Avenger, you still felt at home with her.

~

Taking down Ultron was a piece of cake compared to having to deal with the Sokovia Accords.

Of course you sided with Steve, and you had to admit it broke your heart a little to see Natasha taking Tony's side, but you couldn't accept being controlled by anyone anymore. You wouldn't.

Tony's side had no chance against you and Wanda together. The two of you immediately became friends after meeting; Vision attributed this instant connection to your powers, both coming from the same source.

It was almost as if you could feel her, and all you felt was sadness and pain. You felt yourself wanting to be a guiding light in the poor witch's life, even if your own was pretty much miserable before the Avengers.

Natasha took it upon herself to help you make Wanda feel at home, and your love for the ex-assassin only grew. You wondered how someone who was taught only evil could be so inherently good.

It didn't take long for Wanda to become one of your best friends, second only to Natasha.

Whenever you and the witch fought together you were unstoppable and, when the time came to fight against half of your new family, it showed.

Rhodes laid half dead on the floor, Vision had a couple of sparks leaving his body as if he was overworking himself, the Spider-Man stood trapped in a magical cage, and Tony's suit got destroyed in the blink of an eye.

The sight of Natasha going against T'Challa, taking a stance on the right side, made your heart swell with both pride and affection.

Of course, things wouldn't be easy in the future, both of you went against the law, and you were officially fugitives, but in your eyes, it was worth it.

You helped Wanda escape with Vision after Steve and Bucky left, and you promptly took Natasha's hand and flew away from the United States.

It was a couple of weeks later when you found yourself in Norway with her, living the quiet life in a trailer.

~

The quiet life didn't even last a whole night.

You were nervous about sleeping in the same bed as her; the two of you were taking things slow so both of you could learn to navigate each other's trauma and, hopefully, heal together.

The night after her first confession you had decided to ask Natasha why she was drawing away from you so much. You learned of her views on physical touch, and of how she acted when her feelings became too overwhelming. She told you she drew away from you because she was scared of her feelings, as she never felt for someone as much as she felt for you.

For her, physical touch was something superficial, trivial, something she was taught to use as a weapon, as a means of manipulation, so when she found herself so enamored with you she didn't want to sully you with her touch.

It took a while to make Natasha realize that her hands were clean, not a single drop of red in them. She more than made up for all the things she was forced to do when in the Red Room. It took time, but she finally started seeing how she was more than deserving of your touch (which was ironic, for you never felt deserving of hers).

So, yeah, you were nervous about finally spending your first night sleeping in the same bed… that didn't happen, though.

First came the Taskmaster, then Budapest, Yelena, the prison break, and finally Melina. And weirdly enough, her dysfunctional family became a supporting system for you, almost as much as her.

~

You always knew what Natasha was capable of, but after seeing the Red Room first hand you finally understood why.

Somehow, someway, Dreykov and his Widows found out about you, and more than that, they found out about your relationship with Natasha. Now he didn't want just her, he wanted the two of you.

So there you were, strapped to a chair, with cuffs that somehow inhibited both your magic and your super strength. And as if that wasn't enough, the Taskmaster held a strange gun in her hands, a gun that, according to Dreykov, could bypass your healing factor.

Things seemed dire; you were incapacitated while Natasha couldn't really do anything against Dreykov, nor could she attack the Taskmaster (otherwise Dreykov's gun would be tested for real). But your Natalia was a smart one, thus when Dreykov lost the battle of wills and attacked, Nat acted as if he was actually hurting her, and finally, when he punched her face for the last time, she threw herself to the floor near the chair you were strapped to.

With hands moving almost faster than your eyes could follow, she broke you off of your chains, and in a flurry of movement, she severed her nerve by bashing her head against the chair.

With the two of you free, she flung herself at Dreykov and you used your magic to blast the gun away from the Taskmaster, sending the girl you now knew to be Antonia right through the wall.

With red eyes and unsheathed claws, you used your magic to bind Dreykov's hands and feet apart, making him float midair as Natasha approached him slowly.

"You know, you were all safe, hidden in the dark," Nat said, each menacing step she took made Dreykov's eyes widen a little bit more "but you messed up. I bet you never realized my sister took after me."

Natasha was now face to face with him, her eyes full of a hatred you had never seen before "And as if your own mess up wasn't enough, you had to go and threaten the woman I'm going to marry someday; that's when you painted a big fat target on your sorry back"

You could feel Natasha's satisfaction as she punched him in the face, again and again, and again. She procured a knife then, and buried it in Dreykov's gut with a finality that only came from fulfilling a long, overdue mission.

But then you saw a red beam of light coming straight her way, your eye identified Antonia's gun on the girl's lap, pointing at Nat.

Your body didn't freeze this time, quite the contrary, it moved almost as if on its own accord, not that you'd ever do something different. You've always heard that love was for show, but you loved Natasha Romanoff so much that you'd die for her in secret, with only her's and Antonia's gazes as witnesses to your sacrifice.

You jumped. The bean hit you.

Even if you didn't survive, it would be ok, after all, just the knowledge that Nat loved you as much as you did her was enough to have made life worth living.

~

Your burial was scheduled in a secluded place, Nat reached out to all the other Avengers, and even the ones who signed the accords declared a truce in honor of your memory.

Steve knelt beside your coffin and cried his eyes out, for you were the sister he never had. Pepper held Tony and he buried his face in her neck in a failed attempt to hide his tears. Yelena petted Natasha's back as the redhead cried hunched over your body.

Nat blamed herself for not being able to break Clint free in time for your farewell, but she couldn't stand seeing your unmoving body anymore. She'd had Melina examine you, then she called in a couple of favors and got you to the best doctors money could buy. No one was able to even tell what had happened to you. Not even Antonia, after she got out of her mind control, could tell what was that ray she blasted you with.

"Nat," said a voice she knew well, but she didn't want to deal with him, she didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I do not know who you are, but now is not a good time" Yelena said with a little bite in her voice.

"My name's Bruce," he said, "I just wanted to say my condolences… When did…" he trailed off, not knowing how to say it.

"It's been a week, give or take," Natasha managed to say, pulling away from your unmoving body.

She gritted her teeth when she saw the frown on Bruce's face, she didn't want to deal with whatever the problem was.

"I'm sorry for being crude, but her body's in perfect condition, shouldn't it be in process of decompos-"

"Are you being serious right now?" Yelena gritted out.

"She's dead, Bruce, we took her to the best doctors." Natasha spat out.

Bruce didn't say anything, he just took out a small switchblade and slashed your skin, making Natasha pull him away and Steve punch him hard enough to make him fly all the way to the lake nearby.

"Holy shit," said Tony, "look at her arm!"

There, in front of their eyes, your skin slowly, very very slowly, knitted itself back together.

"How's it possible her powers persisted if she's dead?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head "because she's not dead!"

Natasha Romanoff never felt her heart beating as fast as at that moment. You weren't dead. She'd have you back by her side.

~

You remembered all the nights when you'd hear the sound of tossing and turning, you could practically feel her uneasiness through the walls each night. The nightmares haunted her frequently and at that time you didn't know how to make them stop.

After everything went down, Bruce and Tony managed to find out that the ray basically made your heart stop, but your powers kept your organs alive, according to them you were hibernating. They took a couple of days, but your friends got your heart beating again. Now, after breaking the others from jail and safely evading the police, you and Natasha found yourselves in Norway once again.

See, you expected your first night sharing a bed with Natasha to be somewhat hurtful. You expected to see with your own eyes the extent of her nightmares, you expected not to be able to properly sleep due to the tossing and turning. Turns out you really didn't sleep, not because of her, but because you wanted to be awake, to be able to comfort her just in case.

A part of you found it weird that she didn't show any signs of bad dreams since you imagined that sleeping beside Natasha would be a testament to how haunted she was; you imagined the mumbling, the sweat, and the expression on her face that would show you what you always knew about. Her dreams were haunted by her past.

You imagined she'd twist and turn every night, you imagined you'd use your magic to soothe her.

As the days went by and you saw no sign of her night terrors, sleep came easily to you.

One particular morning she woke up before you, the light of the morning sun filtered through the window and bathed you in sunlight. You were facing her, your eyes closed, your hair a beautiful mess. She knew then and there that she'd never be able to live without you, that if one day you really left her behind, she'd promptly follow you.

You opened your eyes slowly only to see her already awake, looking at you as if she wanted to remember every single detail.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile.

"Hi," she whispered back, beaming at you.

You crept closer to her and tucked your head in her neck, basking in her smell, her warmth. You didn't say anything more, and neither did she, and that brought a lightness in your chest that you could only hope to be replicated in hers. There you two were, relaxed, tranquil, basking in the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, when there's strong enough a bond to form a family. She was your family, and it showed in the way you looked at her, in the way you touched her, in the way you always thought of her first. It showed in the way you interacted with her family, in the way you became thick as thieves with her sister, whom you now see as your own.

But there was just one thing that always bothered you…

"Will it be enough if I can never give you peace?" You asked her then, because you couldn't give her that, and Natasha Romanoff, more than anyone in the world, deserved peace.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, but it was a rhetorical question. You furrowed your brows and pulled back a little to look at her.

"You went through so much, Natasha; more than any other person I know. You, more than anyone, deserve to just be relaxed and not have to look over your shoulder; you deserve to sleep soundlessly and not be hunted down by any nightmare; you deserve not to feel the weight of everything that was forced onto you. I can't give you that." You said then, barely above a whisper, your eyes looking deep into hers. "I can't give you peace."

"Detka," she said, caressing your face, a small smile lighting up her beautiful features, "peace is not something you're normally able to give to other people… but if there's someone that does it for me, it's you".

You couldn't have heard it right, could you? How could you, of all people, offer it to her?

"What?" You asked then, perplexed.

"You helped me with getting my family back, you made me see that I made up for everything I've done under the Red Room's name; With you, I never have to look over my shoulder, I feel relaxed enough because I know you're always going to look out for me; I never have to worry about my enemies getting ahold of you, because you defied death itself; there's also the nightmares, I haven't had a single one since I first slept by your side. And of course, the love. You make me feel loved, truly loved, I've never thought someone could love me so wholly, but you do, and I love you just as much, and our love, in and of itself, it's peace."

You felt tears in your eyes, you felt butterflies in your stomach and bubbles in your chest. "I want to give you my all. Give you my peace, give you my wild… give you a child. I want to live the rest of my life by your side, Natasha Romanoff."

She smiled as she kissed you "Shall I buy the rings, then, my love?"

Turns out you didn't need to know if it'd be enough if you could never bring her peace, because you are her peace.

Natasha Romanoff taglist: @strangegardentaco, @madamevirgo, @Lovelyy-moonlight, @agent99galanzo

[leggerefiore]

cw: April Fools fic, pranking

pairing: Larry/Reader

Larry blinked.

He was not going to claim to be any kind of expert on birds, despite them being a type he specialised in. The only thing he felt confident that he could ever call himself an expert in was dealing with passive-aggressive work emails. His eyes narrowed at the pokemon that came out of the pokeball.

Staraptors did not look like that, he believed. The bird tilted its head at him and let out a cry. That also did not sound like a Staraptor. His hand reached out to feel the plumage of this unknown fellow. Larry could confirm one thing. This was, indeed, a bird. Not his bird, but a bird nonetheless. His head tilted, navy feathered beast leaned forward to try to soothe his hair. It was friendly, at least.

Where was his Staraptor? The question went into his head, but there was not an obvious answer to it. Seriously. The pokeball for this pokemon had been left in his suitcase, so this was not some kind of accident. Debating it brought no answers, so he just allowed the bird pokemon to rest on his arm while he looked around the area. Nothing around seemed to give any hints as to what happened.

“... I guess… My boss will have to deal with me using you for today. I hope you don't mind,” he told the creature. The bird just chirped. It did not seem to mind, at least.

~

Later, an answer finally came. During his lunch break, a familiar face popped into the Treasure Eatery. Larry truly thought nothing of it at first. You tended to show up, either to watch his battles or just enjoy a meal with him. There was nothing terribly odd about seeing you… Until you challenged him to a battle. He thought that he had misheard you, but you quickly repeated yourself. Instinctually, he almost told you to do his gym test. That would have been unnecessary since you had it memorised.

He begrudgingly relented, wondering why this otherwise plain Monday was tormenting him in so many odd ways. Standing at his place on the battlefield, he tiredly sent out his Komala. You sent out one of your pokemon and the match was on. Everything was half-hearted on Larry's part, which made it easier for you to quickly gather the upper hand and reach his last pokemon.

Usually, it was his Staraptor, but today it was the unknown bird pokemon. It teratillised into a normal type, so he could not really complain about it. The bird let out a fierce cry. You seemed to take on a mischievous grin, however. Larry cocked a brow up at your reaction. Did you know something? He would need to ask you after the battle.

You had plans to answer his unexpressed questions during it, however. You changed out your current team member for a familiar one. A grey plumage with a single streak of red came into sight. Its known cry echoed off the walls of the restaurant. Staraptor. Larry felt his tiredness deep into his bones. The battle grew a bit more intense.

In the end, you had won. Both of you stepped down from the battlefield as he kept an eye on you. A pokeball that he knew all too well was held out to him. Larry wordlessly took it while offering the unknown pokemon's own to you.

“April Fools,” you finally told him. He blinked. April… Fools… His mind rushed to the date of the day. Well, of course. He realised that it was April first.

“... What kind of prank was that?” Larry did not really understand it.

“I replaced your flying normal type with another flying normal type,” you explained. He nodded. That explained why the pokemon seemed on his level, then. “Have you never seen a Swellow before?”

“No,” he shook his head, “... It wasn't all too bad.”

He would not mind hanging out with the Swellow again.

[terapsina]

let there be light, let there be darkness - elejah fic

---

ao3

---

She had withstood the nagging of Damon and Stefan in their war to break the wall protecting Elena from her humanity and the chains that went alongside it.

She had withstood the pleas from Caroline and the pained eyes from Bonnie.

How unfair that what got her in the end was her own damn curiosity.

Elijah kissed her - as she was she didn't even care if he knew that it was Elena he was kissing - she didn't -- and the blood in her veins sang from every spot his body touched hers. And yet it was a distant vague sound, barely pleasant, barely anything.

And Elena had always wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by this particular man - had, in truth, wondered just a little too much for it to be simply an innocent attraction - so she parted the veil, just a little, just to be able to feel the heat of his hand across her back, pulling her flush against him; feel the hunger behind her own instinctual response, as the eyes rolled into the back of her head and she started kissing him back.

She wanted to let in just a trickle of solid emotion. Something she could enjoy for a minute or two, and then stopper with a patch of mortar.

And for a few moments, it was a glorious success. Pleasure rippled like heated air across her skin, a little smile threatened the corners of Elena's lips at the nearly sub-vocal growl Elijah let out from the back of his throat when their tongues joined their lips in the kiss.

But emotion was insidious.

She had cut a hole into the dam, and emotion refused to obey, cracking the solid stone like a crystal figurine. Until the wall was more like a sieve, letting humanity pour back into Elena with a vengeance.

And with humanity came-

"No," she whimpered, freezing in Elijah's arms as he pulled back at once, a worried look overtaking his expression.

Damon had- stop.

Jeremy.

Jeremy was dead.

Grief almost paralyzed her - oh god, her brother's body, burning with her house - but if she let that loss encase her there would be no focus left in her to fight off-

She began trembling, straining to put everything back. But it was no use, Elena wasn't strong enough, not right now, not against this.

She needed-- she needed help.

And at once she remembered exactly whose hand was still in place against her back.

"Elijah, please," she gasped, desperate, seeking his eyes.

"What has happened, Elena? What-"

Elena. He knew she was Elena. Had he always known, or had her breaking switch tipped him off? But she couldn't let herself think about that now, she didn't have time for relief; or confusion; or indignation.

"Make me turn it off," she begged, knowing how small the window of opportunity to convince him was.

Already she could feel herself getting lost, being buried by someone else's will, beginning to drown in the subtle slavery that had chained her to the desires of someone else.

"Your humanity switch," Elijah's face cleared in understanding and filled with sympathy "you need to let it-"

"No!" she gasped and grasped desperately at him, tearing against the edges of his suit, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt collar. "You don't understand, I can't. You have to help me turn it off."

And, oh, the irony. She hadn't wanted to halt her grief for her brother, hadn't at all wanted to obey Damon's last command; had in fact, felt a surge of betrayal that had lasted only the single fraction of a moment between the point where the sire hold had loosened with the tides of her humanity going out and the complete absence of all feeling.

But now she would do anything, promise Elijah anything if only he would compel her free again.

Something she knew Elijah would never do on his own. They had broken so many deals, and yet he had never been anything but respectful of her autonomy.

Sometimes it felt like he was the only one who was.

But there was no autonomy in her humanity.

Only a sire who hungered for her to choose him - which was strange, wasn't it? Of course, she would always choose him, she loved-

No!

"Please, Elijah," she almost whispered, terror overtaking her with buckling knees as she was caught and then carefully lowered to the ground, leaning against Elijah's chest, still clutching his shirt collar in her clenched fist. "I can't go back, don't let him take me back."

That brought him to a pause. His eyes narrowed, something dark and ominous picking up its head behind his eyes at those words. He was listening. Elena could have wept in relief.

"Who?"

Why was she trying to fight this? It was real, her feelings were re- no, he had said he wanted them to be real.

It wasn't the same thing.

"I'm sired to Damon," she forced out past clenched teeth.

Elijah froze, fury visibly overtaking every inch of him.

"What has he made you do?" he asked, voice full of the same darkness that had once been in his voice moments before Elena had watched him tear off Trevor's head from his shoulders, only... that had seemed impersonal, a chore Elijah was dealing with.

A moth he had to squish.

Here and now, Elijah was anything but impersonal.

He looked... he looked like he had when he'd been planning to kill Klaus because he'd thought his brother had sunk the rest of their family to the bottom of the ocean.

His eyes bore into Elena, trying to see what exactly Damon had done to her.

Elena's eyes fled to the side, unable to quite look at him. She could barely acknowledge everything Damon had taken from her to herself, could barely let herself remember the way he'd taken what Elena wouldn't have given if she'd had the ability to do anything other than what Damon wanted - though, she'd wanted it too? Hadn't she? She couldn't quite-

No. No. No!

Elijah's jaw clenched when all she could do was open and close her mouth. Her silence apparently answer in itself.

She saw him close his eyes from the corner of hers and breathe for a few moments before he opened them again and looked at her. Gently, he ran his hand over the side of Elena's face, turning it to face him.

His eyes were both enraged and soft - the rage encasing her as the softness embraced.

"Turn it off, Elena," Elijah said, voice hoarse.

Elena had been compelled before.

She knew the feeling but somehow this time was different. Hands giving strength to her own, helping Elena brick herself into a safe space inside her mind, instead of fingers clenching against the back of her neck and moving her like a doll into position.

In a few heartbeats, the last cracks started to heal.

Relief. She let out a deep breath as the half-locked chains unwound from her heart and pulled back behind the wall along with everything else.

"Thank you," she managed with the last traces of gratefulness before that too slid obediently back behind the gates that protected Elena from the sire bond.

She blinked as familiar apathy took the place of terror and loss and the last sense of tingling from her lips.

Well, that had been unpleasant.

It seemed she needed to be careful about indulging her inconvenient fascination with Elijah too. Talk about a bummer.

He was still holding her, though she noticed he'd stopped running his fingers over the side of her face and hair.

He was still looking at her though. Full of irritating sadness, and less irritating danger lurking behind it.

It seemed she might have just killed Damon.

Huh.

Would that help?

Or would the next time Elena's humanity switch faltered she'd jump straight to spending the rest of her eternity trying to resurrect her sire?

That would certainly be troublesome.

"I want to make a deal," Elena said, perfectly and unnaturally calm again.

"Do you?"

"Yes. Katherine wants you to make a deal between her and Klaus with the Cure." Not a hard guess, now that she knew it was Elijah she'd come here to meet. "I don't want the Cure as long as you keep it out of Damon and Stefan's hands. Though you should know, I promised to help Rebekah get it, so if the opportunity presents itself I will try to keep my word to her."

She wondered if she should specify that she also wanted him to give his word not to force the Cure on her but... it felt a bit pointless. She already knew he wouldn't.

"I see. And what do you want?" Elijah's eyes never left hers, intrigue and something nearly amused pushing back the simmering darkness her recent stumble - and all it had revealed - had inspired in him. There was something sharp too, something careful about the way he paid attention to her every twitch of facial muscle.

But that was fine, there would be none.

"Help me break my sire bond."

Elijah bent his head, thoughtful, and ran his hand over the colored strand of hair he'd complimented before he kissed her.

"That would be my part in this deal, lovely Elena, what about yours? What are you negotiating with?"

"I don't know, what do I have to negotiate with?" Elena threw back, eyes just as sharp as his. He had revealed quite a bit in the last few minutes too after all and Elena had a nagging suspicion that she might know exactly what it was Elijah Mikaelson wanted.

He smiled at her a little ruefully and shook his head like he knew where her mind had gone.

"Not that," he promised "never that. No. I will help you break your sire bond, and you will give me your word that once you are free of it, you will turn your humanity back on."

She froze. Glaring at him.

"Your compassion is a gift, Elena," she quoted straight out of his letter, making her words just a taste mocking, "carry it with you, always-"

"-and forever," Elijah finished, "I do remember my own words, Elena. And I meant them."

Elena sat very still, certain that if she looked too deeply behind the look in his eyes right now they'd be back right where they started again.

Instead, she made herself consider this deal.

She didn't particularly want to flick that switch again - but without her bond to Damon... well, without it, it was just pain of grief to fear, and grief was an old friend to Elena.

It would disembowel her, of course, but that was not the reason Elena had been clawing tooth and nail to remain unfeeling.

"I give you my word," she said, reluctant but resigned.

"And I give you my word that once your bond is broken, Damon Salvatore is going to be removed from this world quite... painfully."

Elena raised an eyebrow. "Was that part of the deal? Could swear I don't remember adding that."

"Consider it... earned gratuity," Elijah hummed and leaned forward to press his lips between her eyebrows.

Elena let her eyes close, feeling... a pale, distant warmth that couldn't quite touch her and yet comforted her all the same.

"A deal then?" she asked, in a whisper.

"A deal."

[crazylittlejester]

sighs. thinking about your modern au lu crossover has grked my brain. not only just like face value differences from one chain to the other but the shift in dynamic how the chain in lu are literally intentionally years apart barring time travel cause. thats. RAUGUGHGHGUH

time being twis fucking ANCESTOR instead of just His Dad is going to fuck the BOTH of them up for sure and the stark difference in how they treat wind cause hes YOUNGER but also more In The Group??? and he knows how to wield a SWORD???? the instinctual WHY DOES HE HAVE A KNIFE but the understanding that if he doesnt have that hell get killed and and and theres MAGIC ????? ITS REAL??????? AUGGHG. brain worms. ok bye.

not to mention the fact that the LU boys are going to realize that while they’ve only known each other for a short while, the Modern AU chain has known each other for YEARS. a lot of them basically grew up together, like Wind and Four, and Wars and Wild (and Time and Malon raising Twi). and the LU chain are going to have to say goodbye to each other when the journey ends but the modern chain just… won’t. They’ll have each other for life, they don’t have to worry about being separated the way the LU boys do

and the Modern AU chain still has people like Marin and Mipha around, Modern AU Sky still has Fi he can go call on the phone whenever he wants, MIDNA is still there

aughh

but also the modern au chain would genuinely lose their minds over the magic and the swords and the princesses and the demon lords (AND WOLFIE BEING TWI AND NOT JUST A STRAY DOG TWI FOUND)

i want Modern AU War to show LU Time a tiktok because i think it’d shut his brain off, i think a tiktok edit of a fictional man could kill him /j

edit: i just saw a ‘hopecore’ vid of frozen jeans leaning against the side of a house. THAT would kill any of the LU boys