#its also just not my fault if some of my old posts are cringe as fuck

[helyeahmangocheese]

for roll call purposes: yes, I was here for the mark of athena cliffhanger, the 'good kid' teaser and the following two cast albums, for the mcga/toa book announcements, falafel jokes and cartercy in 2017... and while new fans are not safe from spoilers on this blog you are loved and embraced and very much encouraged to interact

[genericpuff]

i find it funny that one of rachel’s drawings of herself in the afterword that just went up is just fully persephone. is that something she does a lot?

Alright so I've been making it a general rule for myself to like, not harp on Rachel in any way outside of LO as much because frankly the horse is dead now and there's not much left to say outside of what can be analyzed in hindsight. I think despite everything I have to say about her and her work, she still deserves to get away from this nonsense and I don't wanna spend eternity hovering over her shoulder.

But the afterword was posted within the LO series and is clearly meant for readers of LO in the functioning of being an afterword so let's just call it fair game LOL

I will say, on the whole, it does feel very honest and sentimental and I can respect Rachel for taking the time to write out and illustrate her afterword in a way that was personal to both her and her fans. I can understand why she went at it from the angle that she did and I'm not gonna fault her for that.

But there's also something that feels deeply... disingenuous about her approach right from the starting gun. I will say, before I continue, that I'm well aware I am biased towards Rachel as a creator, and I fully acknowledge that I could very well be reading too much into things. This is just my opinion, take it with mountains of salt.

I can get looking back on your own childhood, your past self, whatever, and going "see! it all got better!" because sure! For a lot of creators like Rachel, it must be wild to look back on where they came from and there's a lot of sentimentality on expressing that through an afterword like this where she reflects on where she came from. Though she STILL didn't acknowledge her other comics outside of LO, I can understand if she wants to leave those skeletons in the closet.

But I feel like her drawing herself as a child who's being given an Eisner by her adult self and all that just feels like some gross attempt to disarm any criticism of her because "don't make fun of me, I'm just a sad lonely baby girl!"

She's not a child. Child Rachel didn't grossly misappropriate Greek myth into their own self-indulged vanity project. Child Rachel didn't claim herself a folklorist of a culture's works only to bastardize them completely. Child Rachel didn't create a hostile environment within her fanbase by bullying anyone who she perceived as a threat, sneaking into critical spaces to try and cause trouble, and writing her own clapbacks into her comic. Child Rachel didn't claim to be challenging misogyny and purity culture only to reinforce misogyny and purity culture through her own self-insert baby-virgin-gets-rescued-by-rich-tycoon power fantasy that regularly glorified abuse towards women and the lower class.

30-almost-40-year-old Rachel did though.

At best it comes across as really cringe sentimentality from a Greek-weeb (heh, greeboo) and goes to show how much Rachel inserted herself into Greek myth without ever absorbing its messages or cultural contexts, it was all about her and her feelings as a sad New Zealand girl with dyslexia who thought Persephone's story was about another sad girl being rescued from her "horrible childhood".

At worst it's an active attempt to play on people's heartstrings by drawing herself as a child who people will naturally not want to criticize. I don't want to assume she's doing it intentionally, I really don't want to leave her afterword on a bad foot, as I can definitely understand as both a creator and a person who struggled with learning disabilities in their own childhood how and why she wants to pay homage to her past and where she came from... but let's just say, as someone who's also gotten way too "lost in the sauce" concerning personal self-reflective projects, I think there's a lot to say about how this confirms that Rachel made LO entirely for herself, about herself, without any actual intention to respect the original myths, because she never truly separated them from herself when she was a child. And, in my humble opinion as someone who has Been There with the self-insert OC's and self-reflective angsty plotlines, I can fully attest to the fact that that's not fucking healthy. Even with personal projects, you NEED to learn to get your head out of the sauce, you NEED to learn to objectively separate yourself from the narrative so the story doesn't fall apart under your own hubris and ego, you NEED to learn to draw a line if you want to have any sort of identity as a human being outside of what you make for people. And that's with just normal original stories, this was a story based on Greek myth which doesn't belong to her.

And this goes for a lot of the things she's said and done in the past, so much of her own "sources" even are tethered to things that she read / watched in her childhood and only vaguely remembers, as if she never mentally left her childhood at all, which just... if the point was to highlight her past and the traumas she went through and how they contributed to her present, an Eisner isn't going to validate those experiences. And drawing attention to her past through the lens of her childhood self absolutely 100% does not absolve her of the negative effect her work has had on the modern Greek myth zeitgeist nor the things she's said and done as a 38 year old woman who should absolutely know better.

The community she entered and took from will forever remain changed by her influence and taking, in many ways not for the better. She has the privilege of walking away and never having to think about it again, with all the awards and accolades that were bought for her, the bravado that she built around being a "folklorist" with zero credentials, and the platform she was given over many other creators struggling to even be heard.

That "place" she claims to have now was built entirely on inserting herself into another culture's works and doing nothing but taking, taking, taking, while offering nothing in return but vanity and lip service. That "place" was paid for and brought to you by Webtoons.

[devondespresso]

Wiggly Worm Wednesday!! 🧠🪱

tagged by @little-annie this Wednesday, @pearynice and @hotluncheddie last time, @queenie-ofthe-void (and hotluncheddie again💕) the time before, and @carolperkinsexgirlfriend the time before that. Thank you guys so much for tagging me even when i can't get to it right away 💖💗💝

Lately I've been kinda swamped with fic commitments and rushing stuff last-minute (my own fault ofc 😅) writing mostly romance, so now im just itching to go back to my platonic stuff! nothing against romance, im enjoying writing it for sure, but god i can't wait to work on my Steve Henderson au again

for now tho the probably-never-to-be-written worms are about Steve bunking with the Buckleys post s4. maybe his parents just never came home, maybe they were there and had a big blowup argument with Steve about leaving, but they're not around now and Robins not about to let Mr Walking-Sepsis-Risk live alone for the apocalypse

in my head i imagine the buckleys house is kinda like max's before s4, a smaller 1-story but cozy, and no guest room so Steve stays in Robin's room.

her parents let them but they're definitely a little wary and a little lost but at least a little used to it, both thanking whatever power they believe in that no matter how freakishly clingy they are now, its still world's better than the violently freakishly clingy stobin was right after starcourt, when both of them looked to be hanging on by a thread and that thread was each other.

so they're like. chill. they plow through an awkward conversation about how bad an idea it would be to be up to something right now with steves injuries and robin sees herself out like halfway through, piling all the old stuffed animal onto her bed and keeping them there for the next week to avoid thinking about it. And Steve, abandoned by his partner in crime, stumbles through his own awkward explanation along the lines of 'you don't have to worry about that, i promise' before joining Robin in her embarrassed cringing-party, featuring notable guests such as Mr. Cat, Doodles, and Floppsy Bunny.

Not much of a plot in my head really, I'm just enjoying all the vague ideas floating around this premise. theres lots of details about Steve and his wounds, like wearing button downs that are easier to put on than pull-overs, Mr. Buckley letting him borrow some when Steve only finds a couple (or when he packs his normal clothes not realizing how miserable itd be to take them on and off constantly to check how things are healing).

Also Steve helping around the house and the Buckley's getting to know him better and not just the Polite Steve that they usually see because Steve couldn't risk his best friends parents not liking him (and because usually robin would go to his house, its a lot easier to sneak out than it is to smuggle someone in, especially with freaky upside down nightmares). Maybe Steve gets to actually joke around with Robin's dad, talk real shit with her mom (maybe about the future, hippie mom offering a different perspective on what life can be, how you can figure things out, just try things even if you don't have a perfect plan)

Steve finding safety not just with Robin, but with Robins family. the four of them growing this sweet relationship, not like a second child for the buckleys but more like a second home for Steve. stobin are firmly strange best friends to me (as opposed to siblings), and i like the dynamic of steve and robin's parents as 'my kids best friend' type stuff, not cause there's any less love but more like they're not trying to replace Steve's parents, they just end up filling in the gaps.

oki tagging presumably for next time (tho if you guys wanna do it late anyway you go for it, time isn't real wahoo): @marvel-ous-m @momotonescreaming @puppy-steve @lightoftheseraph @lingeringmirth

@writing-kiki @eriquin @scriptorbemi @sourw0lfs @soaringornithopter

@solarmorrigan @eddiethebrave @steddiecameraroll @imfinereallyy @yabakuboi

@kikidoesfanfic @tinytalkingtina @hairstevington @stellarspecter @sunflowerharrington

[kikker-oma]

Wild Gets Snapchat

The SEQUEL to the SEQUEL

THE FINALE

oh my goodness I cringed so hard reading my older ones but I hope this is better 😅

Oh and I am absolutely destroying Sky in this chapter. I love him so much but I just wanna test out this head canon lol.

ALSO I CAN NOT WRITE MEAN POSTS JUST PRETEND THEIR RUDER LOL. THIS IS ALSO A REMINDER TO ALWAYS BE CAREFUL WHAT U POST ONLINE TO WHOEVER SEES THIS, WORDS HURT AND KINDNESS IS FREE!

____

So maybe he never gotten Snapchat, or perhaps it was the time he messed up with, as the Hero of Time notoriously named, 'Tiktoking'. But this time the champion was serious about this one! He promised!

He could post his food, and get other recipes. What's not to love about the-The champion quickly squinted at the letters, the nights of staring at the slate in the pitch black wearing at his eyeballs. Right he mouthed, his voice a wordless whisper, The Tumblr.

This time, he thankfully learned the old man's password, courtesy of some gentle persuasion (Sorry, Twilight. Didn't mean to give you chocolate). He questioned whether or not Time was forced by Malon to pick said password, but it didn't matter.

"Hey, what are you doing up?" The questioning voice of the chosen hero startled Wild out of his scrolling trance, "That can't be good for your vision."

The fellow hero quickly forced a smile in return, turning over his slate instinctively towards his chest, hiding its contents, "Just looking through some... pictures." The tone sounded hazy towards the end, almost as if questioning his own statement.

Sky didn't give a hint of skepticism from that answer, only placing a sturdy hand on his shoulder before talking, his voice a gentle kind of care that couldn't be matched, "Alright, just get some sleep, 'kay?"

Wild fidgeted his thumbs, clicking the button on the slate to instal without causing alarm, "Okay, goodnight Sky."

And with one last smile, the hero went back to bed.

The next morning, the champion lagged behind the group. His eyes were at work scanning the slate. Different blogs shown up, many that displayed an uncanny resemblance to his adventures, current and past.

Odd.

Looking through more posts, one struck his eye.

I'm starting to regret Hylia's choice of heroes... The writing wrote, intrigued, Wild clicked on the blog.

Chosen_Hero_246

Wasn't Sky the chosen hero? Wild quickly pushed down that question, Sky was sweet. Sky would never do much as step on a fly. Scrolling through the blog, he couldn't help but feel like these... coincidences... were not as much as coincidences anymore.

Smith isn't even that smart, so what if you could hit some metal? I forged this blade too, and last time I checked you didn't go to a proper academy.

Rude. Four is quite the intelligent guy.

Scrolling deeper, he could almost feel the blade of the next words cutting into his heart before he even laid eyes on them.

I think the heroes are getting lazy. I mean, they didn't do a lot of work.

Well, sorry, Tumblr-Sky, didn't know being dead for a hundred years was being lazy. He didn't know having everybody he knew die was being lazy. He didn't know having to carry the award for the biggest fault in the world was being lazy.

And just like that, the slate dropped.

Tears pricked his eyes as he looked down to the now black screen, before a faux-warm presence stood next to him.

"What's wrong?" The voice of the chosen hero that once sounded like a mother holding her child tight felt hollow, yet the ears perceived the voice the same, "You look upset."

"I am upset."

The embrace he received felt as if it was given by air itself. Empty. Nothing. The warmth didn't meet his nerves. The smell of cleaned laundry blown away. The sound of rustling fabric deafened by the wind. The look of comfort now blinded through a salty cloud in his eyes.

"Well, if you need anything, I'm here." His grip felt pinching, nails that once gone unnoticed digging into his scarred flesh.

He couldn't even bring himself to nod back.

Some things were meant to be left inside the head.

Some things were meant to not be downloaded.

(sorry I've been off Tumblr for a few days)

NOOOOOO NOT SKY, THIS CAN'T BEEE

say it aint so😭😭😭😭 not the vent account! I'll throw hands with Sky💥💥💥 but oh sweet poor Wild🥺 yeah sometimes ignorance is bliss. Hopefully sky doesn't actually think these things about his brothers, tho I understand sometimes you need to vent to get out all the bad thoughts.

NOT THE FAKE HUUGGGGG RAAAHHH BLARE YOU HURT ME SO

[dr-spectre]

man i saw your last two posts and i wanted to tell you, you're not cringe, and you're not unlovable

i've had like, one full conversation with you going back and forth on both shared and unshared interests and it had a profound effect on me at the time

I need to unlearn shame, i need to be more open with what i fixate on and what i'm doing (and also the realization i'm definitely on some kind of spectrum), from one chat with someone *loud and proud* like you, how fucking crazy is that?

I hardly know you personally, but it's not hard to gauge how awesome you are, in face of your perceived faults, several of which i share myself, you yap so much but you're so genuine and passionate i and pretty much everyone who sticks here loves to read it, it never gets old, it never gets annoying

you put your whole pussy into innocuous little things about the subject matter, and it's a wonderful thing

you can find friends, you can find love, and you deserve both of those things

this is a little long but it's sentiments i've had for awhile now but no good opportunity to share......

I.... I..... WHA.

WHAT DO I EVEN SAY TO THIS?!?!?! YOU CAN'T DROP THIS IN MY INBOX LIKE THAT!!!

LISTEN... ITS JUST.... I aint awesome!!! Im some 20 year old autistic dude who's too obsessed with a squid woman! How's that awesome!!?!?!? I haven't made an impact on anything... not on the community... not on inkipedia... not on anyone... I have 300 followers... that's nothing...

...or have i?!?! There's no way I could have had an impact on someone... hell even SEVERAL PEOPLE! I just overanalyse stuff that seems so cut and dry but... people are actually positive about my stuff? People say to me that I changed the way they see this important character to me.... BUT THERE'S NO WAY RIGHT?!?!? I still feel like a drop in the ocean. Just a spec of dust!!! I haven't made real change yet... OR HAVE I?! I DON'T KNOW!!! WAAAHHHH!!!

Maybe.... maybe if I have changed one person's perspective, then maybe it was worth it in the first place...

You know. I wanna say that the reason I came to tumblr was because my irl friends aren't into Splatoon and my family gives me a meh shoulder shrug to my interest. It was so difficult for me to explain Splatoon to my parents when Splatoon 3 came out and I picked up the game at launch! So I went here because I felt like it was the best place to express myself. And yeah I'm glad I stuck with it honestly.

I get why my irl friends aren't into Splatoon, they need to buy a multi hundred dollar console that's about to get replaced soon just to play 2 games. And trying to explain to them Nintendo Wii U and Switch emulation is just... I dont even wanna attempt that HAHAHAHA!!!! So I often felt lonely and it felt like I was screaming into a void when talking about Splatoon to them in a discord server. I guess that's where my sense of loneliness comes from.....

I genuinely have NO ONE in real life to talk to about my interests and have someone ACTUALLY listen. I guess that's why I feel cringe and not cool at all. My interests are so nerdy and I'm on the spectrum, my social skills are like D tier. I genuinely cannot talk about myself, i really cant. Its why i have never been in a romantic relationship before.... As a 20 year old dude, that shit fucking stings I'm not even gonna lie. I think about that shit every day. LITERALLY EVERY DAY I'M NOT LYING!!!!

But anyways, I'm getting way too personal on the internet. I don't wanna be some sad sap.

Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I'm not sure if I truly feel like I deserve love but. Thank you anyways. I guess it is a good quality to have that I can ramble and yap and become really focused on something, even if it's not adult things like... getting a job, paying taxes or whatever HAHAHAHA!

[deathwhoregutfucker]

the word “poser” makes me want to recoil in my skin because i see it thrown around on ig reels (which is worse than tiktok and ill die on that hill) all the gd time.

there are a few people in this world who i know for a fact are posers

tx2, don’t even wanna give him any air time. is he an industry plant?? maybe (another conversation that makes me wanna lose my shit). but i also am 99% that he’s ragebaiting. i’m kind of falling for it since im making this post? but i also don’t even bother to comment on his posts or even like them because they are very amusing.

machine gun kelly. i just fucking hate him. he said some weird shit about one of the kardashian/jenner girls when they were young and that was gross. i mean, im not saying you CANT listen to problematic musicians (because look at my blog), but he makes shitty ass music too. even on a mainstream pop punk standard.

kid rock. his entire brand is pandering to the “trailer trash” and “white trash” of america (two terms that i strongly resent for various socio-economic reasons) as well as trumpers. just look up “kid rock house” and there ya have it. also, problematic, and his music is shit. pick a goddamned struggle.

and last but not least, my number one opp, the “king of rock” himself, elvis!!! he just took black music, watered it down, and marketed it to white people!!! forget lead belly and chuck berry, but elvis!?!?? he’s great ?!?

with that being said, i might cringe when i see a nirvana shirt from the american eagle outlet on some 14 year old girl who just thinks its cute. i’m not gonna expect her to know who nirvana is. this is the fault of their PARENTS, not them. it might kill me inside when i see someone with a metallica shirt on when they only know master of puppets and enter sandman. but that’s besides the point. those people are just having fun and i might be snarky about it, but i always keep those thoughts to myself. they’re not doing harm to music, they’re not ripping it from their roots and watering it down like ELVIS (i hate y bro).

just had to rant. really had to.

[bulbabutt]

I'll be honest the worst part of the love triangle in 12 to me (or at least the worst part of the fan reaction to the love triangle in 12) is the people who act like it's somehow Rob Paulsen and/or Mae Whitman and/or Josh Peck's fault that it's like that. I mean, putting aside the fact that blaming the VAs instead of the writers is not cool (and also the fact that Paulsen and Whitman are ridonkers talented as VAs-Paulsen has too many to name and Whitman just needs the two-hit combo of Katara into Amity Blight, Peck I have less to say as because I only really know him from Drake and Josh and 12 itself but he seems alright), they're not the only parts of their characters! Donnie and Casey get plenty of stuff to do outside of that, and while April definitely gets the short end of the stick there I can at least think of a few solid bits here and there. 12 has problems but it's really annoying when Rise ultrafans act like 12 is some blight on the franchise (we have Next Mutation for that thanks). (AND I LIKE RISE I STRESS)

ok first of all people do WHAT lmao thats actually insane, it doesnt even matter if the actors are talented or not, its very bad behaviour to be blaming actors for anything lmao

lemme also say its not even always the writers faults either, cuz something about 12s writing issues i didnt give credit to was nickelodeon or playmates for how they clearly are behind the scenes saying "do this, do that". cuz all tmnt shows are shows made to sell toys and a lot of the time things that happen is also cuz some studio exec is coming in being like "hey! we need more _ cuz kids like _!"

but like if i can be absolutely honest when i say this and this is not even directed at you so like no offence to you or anyone who's got something to say about 12 or rise or whatever this is just like reminding me of the weird inter-iteration behaviour ive seen recently (like i browse tmnt crossover stuff cuz... obvs i wanna see crossover stuff, but lately i keep seeing nastiness)

but i have seen 12 ultra fans, i have seen rise ultra fans, i have recently seen just how weird and over the top toxic certain people who prefer either can be when discussing their non-favorite show and i just. can i just say. all of you guys. just... just stop interacting w the other people's media? if you dont like a rise fic, dont read it, if you dont like a 12 fic dont read it. if you dont like the characterization? the story? you think somethings ooc? like. its okay. its not for you, just let it be. people arent bad for writing it that way, its theirs. make your own art, interact w peoples art you do like!

idk maybe im just too old for this but ive seen people on either side of that whole...............situation. put their entire faces into videos like ripping the shit out of people and naming and linking the art theyre talking about and it seems really mean.

anyway all this to say please dont talk to me about whatever drama has happened between iterations (its always those two) like... the issue is very much just gonna be a generational divide. thats all it is. 12 came out a time when the jokes were a bit meaner, and rise came out in a post steven universe era. both of these shows are good they both are just different genres. people from either side of it have different tastes because of the specific thing they like in tmnt. if rise fans think the 12 turtles come off toxic and you dont thats their business, dont interact w them. if 12 fans dont like how different rise is leave them to it.

specifically please leave me out of it, and just dont be mean to each other. putting someone on blast for their art or their perspective just makes you look like the asshole.

also i unironically enjoyed the next mutation im sorry, im cringe but you can take bonesteel and hot vampire lady and mikeys pirate radio and BEST SPLINTER show from my cold dead hands AHJKSDH

[pawsometoons]

About time I made a proper pinned post

HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF MY MIND!!!

My name is PawsomeToons! (I also go by Pawsome, Paw, Toons, and Circus!)

I'm an anxious 19 year old with autism and probably ADHD (I am undiagnosed but I am 99% sure I have ADHD)

I am genderfluid and go by any pronouns so go off!

I am a sex repulsed asexual, so please do not make suggestive jokes about my posts and please try to keep NSFW topics far away from me.

My current 3 ☆Big Bad Brainrots☆

☆NiGHTS Into Dreams☆

♡Balan Wonderworld♡

◇Gregory Horror Show◇ - (Mainly ♥︎Judgement Boy$)

More about Me!!

I can be pretty easy to become friends with so if you ever wanna talk to me, please don't be afraid to!!

I'm a total cringe ass nae nae baby. I'm not afraid to say it loll. I have so many original and fandom based ocs, I've lost count of em all.

I am a multifandom FREAK! I'm in a whole lot more fandoms than just my 3 Big Bad Brainrots. Those can be found in my blog bio!

I am OBSESSED with crossovers!!! I adore them so much, that I've been in a huge crossover rp with some good long time friends so fine that's been going on for nearly 7 years now called Overrift!!

What is OVERRIFT?

Overrift is a crossover rp me and my friends have been doing for nearly 7 years and ongoing!

The creator of Overrift is @callie-star ! Along with me are @kazoonoot , @man-of-fandoms , and a few others who frequent in this rp! (It is currently heavily private due to past conflicts but I still post stuff about it just to give others a taste of it from my side of the story!)

Please check out @callie-star 's blog, for she is the creator of Overrift and deserves an awful lot of the credit here!

Overrift is an rp with it's main base on logic being Undertale. Which means it has a huge focus on souls, Level Of ViolencE, and narration.

Overrift takes place on an island hidden in between realities, making itself invisible to the rest of the world. This island is called Hyden. The crossover element of this rp comes from the mysterious rifts that will appear in other universes and drag poor souls new people onto the island! Though it's a mixed opinion of those on the island of whether or not this is a good thing on ther part. Some had families or entire whole worlds they'd have to go back to. Some having nothing to go back to and are better off in Hyden.

However, some places from other universes have come with some of these individuals, or even entire civilizations! Such as Inkopolis Square and Plaza which make up Inkopolis City, along with the Splatlands. Another example would be Mobius (aswell as its nearby sister planet, Suarlus [Suarlus is a fan made StH planet I made])! Which doesnt become part of this Earth but appears close enough to it to be part of the universe.

Though, some will say this place is literal hell. That being because of the constant danger that arrives in Hyden. This being most of the time because of the fault of others. But everything turns out okay in the end!... Right?...

Annnd that should be all!

☆See you at the show!!!♡

[decadentrot]

2023 🎉🎉🎉

Ok new year and I thought since this blog is basically an archive of my fandom art, I'd also archive some "milestone" art and archive my reflection for the last year. Basically, I love art and I've always wanted to one day publish my own original comic/graphic novel and I've had this dream art school that I've always wanted to go to and then senior year rolled around and... I didnt submit my portfolio. Partially due to financial reasons, but mostly because I just hated my art (like most artist) and so I decided to take a "gap year" to take online courses and "fix" my art, but then I just didnt have enough money to even finish the courses so i just really gave up yk. I got very demoralized about school in general and thought art would just be a hobby and I should consider getting a "real job" as many of my family members would say, it didnt help that all of my friends were leaving for college and I was stuck at home. And so in my loneliness, I then created this blog because I still wanted someway to do art and be creative and share stupid ideas about my favorite characters and honestly I really really really enjoyed making fandom art. And after getting out of my slump and getting much encouragement from my friends/dad and lots of nights staying up with my anxiety as company, I decided I really should just do it and submit the portfolio and if I get in I get in and I should not be afraid to get loans and not let my financial problems get in the way of my happiness and wants. So I talked to the admission counselor and finally submitted my Illustration (Entertainment Arts Track) portfolio to ✨Art Center: College of Design✨ and a couple months later I actually got accepted woooo

So I'm sharing my accepted ACCD portfolio to by no means flex my art, I mean the anatomy and perspective still needs a lot of work and my traditional art in general isnt the cleanest, but when talking to the admission counselor, she definitely did see my faults but she also pointed out how even if my technical work isn't as polished, thats exactly what school is for: to learn and get better! And to be surrounded by likeminded people who also have a passion for art (and make those industry connections!) And something more eye opening I learned from her was that art isnt suppose to be perfect and "realistic," especially in the entertainment arts industry, what matters more is telling the story and making compelling characters. While knowing every muscle of the human anatomy is useful, as long as you get the message and purpose across, its good! (I mean look at the origins of one punch man).

Corny message aside, for as much as I was stressed during the beginning of this year, I ended up really enjoying it after all. I'm still improving my art and I still have to worry about my financial issues and college, but overall I spent these last couple days with family/friends and doing personal art projects and I'm relatively happy with my art and my OCs. My SumRec comic will probably be postponed by like a week maybe cause I've been busy with family and friends and obviously I haven't been posting a lot of my fandom art due to RL stuff, but when I actually have alone time to work on it and im satisfied, then it will be posted !! So for anyone who read through this post, I hope you maybe get some enjoyment from my art portfolio and also enjoyed last year and I hope this new year will be even better !! (And if your an artist, keep going and creating !!) 🎉

Bonus: Not part of my portfolio, but during my junior year of high school, I wanted to actually complete an animation instead of a bunch of animatics, so I did! Its incredibly rushed and my old art is cringe, but it was my first completed animation of some very old OCs and their potential intro sequence if they had a TV showヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ:

[b100k]

if anyone guesses who im talking about, you are not allowed to tell them about this post because i will die of embarrassment and also this is secret for a reason

hhhhh ok i just found a note on my phone from about march? last year? that has been added to a couple of times since then and it's basically just me ranting about how much i love and appreciate this one person and it's mostly /p but it verges into /r territory and now ive read it and there's more i want to add to it and hhhhh

i only went into my notes app to find where i noted down their favourite type of flower so i could maybe get them some for valentines ?

wait now i think about that's kinda /r

help

here's some of my favourite cringe parts of me being in love /p

"I like being the opposite of a fake dating AU, having to tell people we're not dating, because part of me likes it when people notice our bond and mistake it for more than friends, we have surpassed friendship. God I should have written a poem or something, or done this on valentine's day, but alas, I'm useless and wrote this at 10:19pm oops :)"

"I love you so much I love how passionate you get about things!! I asked if you enjoyed The Batman and while other people would be like 'yeah it was good' you sent a whole paragraph explaining what you liked and what you wished could have happened !! And it was just so sweet and you have such an in depth knowledge of so many things like I know if I asked you to explain the plot of TLOZ or ATLA or explain the history of the red ring of doom Xbox Crash you would be able to just tell me there and then, and that makes me so happy

also you're really pretty and i love you and this was supposed to be an in depth review into Why I Like You but I am genuinely lost for words I cannot explain it.

I'm this close to being like

'i love you man, kinda homo tbh'

but that's a bit forward innit"

"ok so what would you say if I wanted to dance around a big old house / palace / ballroom idk somewhere big and pretty and empty except us and sourceless music"

like fellas, is it gay to want to ballroom dance with someone and also just listen to them talk for hours??

Anyway there we go that's me being gay and realising that maybe its not just admiration and appreciation oops

maybe it's very /r

its not my fault I cannot identify the nature of my feelings!!!!!

(irls I swear if you see this and tell them...

/threat)

[weabooweedwitch]

Oml, no matter how many rebooking or whatnot you have to make, do not touch your motel money! You do not want to be stranded in a foreign country with no stay whatsoever, not only for your own safety and health, but also for border control!

Please know and understand though that these things are out of your control. None of this mess is your fault. In fact, you’ve tried your utmost best to try to solve all these issues and that’s already a lot! You were and still are fighting for it!

This probably doesn’t mean much, coming from an unknown person hiding behind a grey blob, but I am genuinely wishing you all the best for trip and that things will still work out in the end. ;-;

Oh, well first it always makes me feel good when people are concerned and care and I often feel a lot of guilt for how I worry people sometimes and im glad you're rooting for me :) sometimes I do recognize that I really overshare a lot but its often because I don't trust my own judgments and opinions and im trying to bounce ideas off of people which, actually shit those are the symptoms my old therapist described when she diagnosed me with dependent personality disorder

For my motel, all of that is already paid for and has been for a couple weeks so no worries there! This time was purely, I accidentally fucked up my bus ticket via canceling it over a misunderstanding on where the drop off point was, got a new one, that new one was not what I really wanted and could have potentially cost me my motel stay altogether by missing the check-in deadline so it was actually an objectively worse one than before, lost some money with having to cancel that first trip, but I actually managed to cancel the second wrong one and since the wrong bus booking was canceled immediately, they gave me a full voucher coupon thing for another trip worth like $20 which I then used to book basically the original booking that had been right all along for like $5

BUT, ALSO, i had totally completely forgotten until about yesterday or sometime today, but my work has like a service for getting your paycheck early and since I have no shifts from now until I get back from Canada, I went ahead and did it and got over $400 instantly, fee transfer too, so that helps immensely. I hadn't thought of it before since I've never got an early paycheck before, but this came just in time

So. I hit more obstacles, some of which I caused accidentally, and immediately found a solution :) and I also managed to check in with delta over my baggage being shuttled for me from flight to flight and also double checked that I can take my friend his soup (because I know its stupid, its just soup right, but he asked me to bring it and he's gonna cook and part of me is like, aw he has a recipe he wants to share with me, thats really wholesome, I wanna share that experience 🥺)

So. Really the biggest final obstacles now are: when is my voided transaction going through, IF IT IS which it sounds like it should be, and also, fndjfjjf what if I embarass myself and be awkward and cringe. but, there's no time for psyching myself out for that right now. I'm focusing all my energy into making sure i pack everything I need and vigorously studying the arrivals and departures and gates of all my trips so I can have full confidence in what I'm doing

Since it's been such a big event, I will try to keep you guys posted the day of! My first flight is 6am on Saturday to Detroit and then to Buffalo and then after like literally 5 hours of being stuck in the airport, then my bus comes at 5pmish to take me over the border and i have to then decide how to travel to mt hotel to get there before check in ends at 10pm. One thing that sucks is I have to buy an international plan to even use my phone and data in Canada but as long as that refund bullshit doesn't take too long, which by my standards would be Jan 4th onwards, its not too bad to pay for it, and also I will definitely need my phone in Canada because I mean. Its being alone in another country lol, and I'll definitely need it just for checking rides and if I need to make any calls or my mom wants to check in and just using my mobile data when im out and about

[bestofbucky]

Eavesdrop

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none really, enemies to ?

A/N: This is my first time posting something I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much @tuiccim for your help, couldn’t have done it without you.

Being an Avenger is tough. Of course, there are the obvious missions and kicking ass that are exhausting, especially because you don’t have any sort of enhancements or powers. You are just a regular human being, fighting with and against some not so regular human beings. Naturally when you have downtime, you spend it doing things with the least amount of effort. Watching Netflix, listening to music, taking baths, etc, meaning that your social life outside of the compound was, to put it simply, non-existent.

You had just returned from the worst date of your life, well, one of the top five worst dates of your life. Over the past couple of months Steve and Natasha had grown tired of you whining about being single but not making any effort to change it and began sending you on blind dates. Somehow, they managed five different times to find five completely awful people. This time they had set you up with Arthur, a recruit for SHIELD and a good one at that. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him on the elite squad soon, but when it came to your date, he was really blunt and inappropriate, and you had cringed your way through the entire thing.

Once you got back to the compound, you first went to your room to get changed into gym clothes for training with Nat, then headed to her room. On your way you passed one of the common rooms and heard two voices. One familiar but one you didn’t recognise, you decided to check it out and found Steve and another man.

Steve called your name inviting you over to them as they both stood up. ‘This is Bucky. He’s moving in today to begin training.’ Steve explains. You nod and smile at Bucky, remembering Steve told you about him and that he would be living here and eventually joining the team.

You have to stop yourself from gasping out loud at the sight of him. He is a 6 ft something hunk of muscle and beauty and you can’t stop yourself from trying to take him all in with your eyes.

Steve then introduces you to Bucky who looks in your eyes for all of two seconds to say, ‘hi’ before looking down at his feet. He is probably really nervous. Even from that two second glance, you could tell he had one hell of a past. They had you hooked already, you wanted to stare into those eyes and let them tell you the stories of the lifetime they had seen.

‘You were just in Wakanda right? How was it? I have only ever seen it in pictures but I really want to go.’ You let your excitement show, hoping to relax him a bit.

‘Yeah, it was nice. I was frozen for most of it though’ Shit, he curses himself. He didn’t mean to come across so rude but he was really nervous, you are really pretty and it is messing with his head a little. It doesn’t help that he has had to meet a lot of different people today and he is all socialised out. He sees your face fall slightly before you quickly compose yourself, any normal person would have missed it but he has his past of being a trained assassin.

‘Well, Nat is probably waiting for me, she told me she would show me some new moves today.’ You say realising that Bucky had probably been under a lot of stress lately and most likely just wanted to be alone, or with Steve rather than chatting to you, a stranger. At least you hoped this was the reason and it wasn’t that he already disliked you. Saying goodbye to the two of them you head off to Natasha’s room.

Not even bothering to knock, you walk into her room leaving the door open behind you, since you’ll be heading down to the gym soon anyway. Natasha is sitting on the end of the bed braiding her hair. ‘You almost ready?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, just got to finish my hair then put my shoes on.’ She tells you so you take a seat on her bed while you wait.

Meanwhile, Bucky told Steve that he wanted to go get his room sorted. Really it was just an excuse to be alone for a little while. On the way there he walked past a room with the door open and heard two voices talking, recognising them to be you and Natasha. He was just about to carry on walking to his room when he heard Natasha ask, ‘did you meet him yet?’

Bucky assumed she was talking about him and wanted to hear what you had to say. He hoped you would be understanding of his reticence after his taxing morning. 

‘Yeah, I met him today.’ You sigh and roll your eyes.

‘That bad?’ Nat asks, raising her eyebrows with a slight smirk on her face.

‘Yes, I tried to be as friendly as I could but he seemed like a jerk.’ You huff.

‘How so?’

‘He was so blunt he just came across really rude. I had high expectations, especially after hearing Steve say so many nice things about him.’

‘Maybe he was just having a bad day?’ She attempts a defence. 

‘Bad day or not, he should have the courtesy to smile and be polite even if it is fake.’

Bucky was so hurt to hear this. Yes, he wasn’t the nicest to you but your reaction seemed a bit dramatic. He didn’t want to hear you say any more so he rushed off to his room.

‘So, I guess you aren’t going to go on a second date with him then?’ Nat asks.

‘No, I really appreciate you and Steve trying to set me up but seeing as this is the 5th time and none of them were any good, I think I’ll go back to my old methods.’ You smile at her.

‘What, never putting yourself out there and waiting for the right person to just fall into your lap?’ Nat teases and you both laugh when you nod. She finishes tying her shoelaces and you head off to the gym.

The next day you were leading a meeting of recruits who have the potential to be moved up into the squad that worked with the Avengers. The elite squad. Unfortunately for you, Arthur was in the group of recruits and was probably the next one to be promoted.  You finally dismissed everyone and started getting your stuff together to leave as well when Arthur came up to you.

‘What’s the word on who is moving up next, dove?’ You look up in shock, surely, he didn’t just call you dove.

‘Excuse me?’ You look him dead in the eye.

‘I said what’s the word on who is moving up next? I think you might need to get your hearing checked.’ He laughs at his own joke so you fake laugh with him.

‘That’s confidential., we’ll let everyone know when we have made the decision.’ You say and go to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

‘Does someone need a little convincing. If it’s you, then I can think of some ways.’ He whispers seductively in your ear. You pull your arm out of his grasp and frown at him.

‘I’m only joking, dove, come on, you can’t even take a joke?’ He laughs again.

You put on your best fake smile and your customer service voice. ‘There will be no convincing necessary. You are a good agent but you also have good competition. We will inform you all of our decision when it is made.’ You say and quickly turn and walk out the door before he can say anything else. When you get into the lift you ask FRIDAY where Steve is.

‘Common room A, Agent Y/L/N’. You make your way there as quick as possible. Heading around the corner, you slam into a solid object. You hiss at the contact on your fresh bruises, a frown appearing on your face. As soon as you look up to see what or who you bumped into, the frown quickly fades into a smile when you see its Bucky. He is already looking at you.

‘Sorry I should have been watching where I was going.’ He mumbles quickly.

‘No, it’s just as much my fault as yours. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.’ You apologise to him. As much as you would love to stay and chat  with  Bucky, you need to get to Steve to explain what just happened with Arthur and hopefully you can get him kicked off the team.

Bucky had left his room to try and find someone to help him figure out a few things with FRIDAY but as soon as he bumped into you that completely left his mind. You were all that filled his mind ever since he met you. He stood in the hallway for a while before realising he should ask you to help. Maybe this would be a good excuse to make up for his poor first impression. He heads in the direction you went but stops short when he hears your voice.

‘I think he bruised me. The dick.’ You say and Steve frowns at you ‘Come on, Steve. I’m  allowed to be angry. He has been nothing but a jerk to me,’ you explain and shift to get more comfortable.

‘What did you say to him when he did this?’ Steve asks, holding your arm and examining the newly formed bruises in the shapes of fingers.

‘I put on my best fake smile and pretended like everything was ok,’  You joke and Steve laughs, ‘as much as I hate the guy, I don’t have the confidence to actually show it.’ You sigh and Steve pulls your sleeve back down and leans back into the sofa. ‘Is there any way we can kick him off the team?’ You exaggerate batting your eyelashes at him.

‘He isn’t even on the team yet and you already want to kick him off?’ Steve questions.

‘Yes! I really don’t like him. I know he is your friend but I trust him about as far as I can throw him’ You explain and Steve nods.

Bucky had heard enough. He can’t believe you could be so horrible. You had the sweetest exterior and, from first impressions, you didn’t look like you could hurt a fly. But as he heard you say, you clearly put on a fake act to come across as polite and kind when really you are rude deep down. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. Twice now. But he is so glad he did, because now he knows not to waste his energy on you. He knows what you think of him and he has formed his opinion of you. He hurries back to his room.

‘He’s not my friend Y/N, I only said that to you to make you go on the date with an open mind. I’ve only ever had one conversation with the guy,’ Steve jokes and you playfully push his arm, ‘All jokes aside, his behaviour breaks a lot of conduct rules and is a good enough reason to have him knocked down a few squads.’ Steve replies and you sigh with relief. You hug Steve and thank him for his help, he’s taken slightly off guard but hugs you back before you go your separate ways.

 A few weeks later, you walk into the kitchen to find the whole team eating their breakfast. Sam is cooking and when he sees you, he makes a plate and hands it to you.

‘Thank you Sam.’ You hug him and take the plate, turning around at the sound of Bucky’s scoff. You haven’t had a conversation with Bucky since you bumped into each other in the hallway. You had tried to but he either completely ignored you or just rolled his eyes and left the room.

At first it hurt, you wondered if you had done something wrong. The team seemed just as confused by it as you. Bucky didn’t have a problem with anyone else. That wasn’t to say he was extremely friendly with them, he wasn’t there yet and nobody blamed him but he could hold conversation with the others. He even laughed at their jokes. You were starting to get fed up with it so after breakfast you headed to Bucky’s room to talk to him. You knocked on the door and it wasn’t long until he answered it. As soon as he saw you his face fell visibly.

‘Can we talk?’ You asked hoping he would let you into his room. He paused to consider it then stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. He stood there with his arms crossed and waited for you to talk.

‘Is there something I did wrong?’ You ask him and he keeps a blank face.

‘Why do you care?’ He asks still arms crossed over his body.

‘I care because you are always scoffing or rolling your eyes at me whenever I try to talk to you.’

‘I’m not scoffing or rolling my eyes now.’ He points out.

‘No but you’re not exactly being very friendly.’

‘Would you prefer for me to fake it then? Just put on a smile and pretend to like you?’ He jabs. You take a moment to process what he just said. You didn’t realise he could be so mean.

‘No Bucky I would prefer for you to maybe make an effort to get to know me before making a judgement.’ You scowl at him.

‘I have a perfectly fine judgement of you. I am not going to fall for your fake smiles and fake friendships.’ Bucky snarls and walks back into his room closing his door in your face. You are left to stand there in shock.

On the other side of the door Bucky is leaning there conflicted. The shock on your face looked so genuine. No, he has to remember it is all an act with you.

From that day on you decided you weren’t going to make an effort with him. It wasn’t the most mature decision but you were tired. What used to be eye rolls and scoffs, now turned into snarky comments and you were no longer afraid to throw them right back at him.

Steve had tried a few times to talk to you about it but, when he couldn’t tell you why Bucky hated you, he realised there was nothing he could do to change how either of you felt about the other. What he could do was change up your schedules so the two of you were rarely ever in the same room together.

Unfortunately, instead of the arguments happening quite calmly but consistently over the course of the whole day. They were now much shorter, confined to just mealtimes, and much more heated and intense. None of the team knew which was worse.

You were sparring in the gym with Natasha trying to work off some steam from this morning’s argument with Bucky.

‘Your moves are sloppy, get whatever is making you emotional out of your head.’ She grunts at you but this only forces you further into your head.

You go hard at her, but she blocks every move so you go to defence. She smirks at you, ‘Has a certain super soldier got into your head?’

That causes a surge of anger to hit you and again you go hard at Natasha, but your anger only allows her to catch you off balance and you are pinned to the mat in a matter of seconds.

‘So it is Barnes.’ She  pulls you up and you brush yourself off before getting back into a fighting stance.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ You grunt at her and start your attack. Your moves are still predictable and anger clouds your mind. You feel yourself getting more and more worked up with every hit she blocks.

You retreat to take a breather, you hear the door open and you glance over, the man of the hour has just entered and you roll your eyes but continue to spar with Natasha.

Out the corner of your eye, you see him make his way over to you both, watching as you take a lot of hits from her and barely manage to land any of your own.

‘I have seen toddlers fight better than you Y/N.’ You hear him chuckle.

‘I don’t need your opinion.’ You grunt, still trying to keep your focus on Natasha.

‘Fight like that on the field and you’ll be dead in two seconds.’

‘Keep talking and you’ll wish you were dead.’

He laughs ‘Is that a threat?’ You ignore him and continue sparring. ‘Your punches are so weak, how did you become an Avenger again?’ He is still smiling knowing exactly which buttons to push.

You stop and make your way over to him. ‘I became an Avenger because of my talent and my strength, that I worked hard to earn.’ You are right up in his face, almost chest to chest. You are breathing hard, partly from the exercise but mostly because of how riled up you are. You notice he is breathing hard as well, his breath fanning across your face.

Your mind can’t help but drift, is this what he would look like in bed, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. Small beads of sweat gathered at his hairline from his recent run. You suddenly realise how close the two of you are and force the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. You hate how seeing him so riled up is actually a huge turn on. How could you let yourself be attracted to such an asshole?

‘You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.’ His voice drops so low that in a different circumstance you would have happily dropped your panties.

‘You’re right. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you and your metal arm that you were given. Or you and the super soldier serum that you were given.’ You know they are cheap shots but you just couldn’t help how absolutely fuming he makes you. He had managed to get under your skin and the thought of him being successful only made you angrier.

He leans down even more, your noses almost touching ‘I don’t know how everyone else can’t see through your little nice act. You pretend to be so kind on the outside but deep down you’re a bitch.’ Ouch. You deserved that one for what you said to him but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Especially because if you were hooked up to a lie detector and asked to say those things again, it would flash up as a blatant lie. However, looking into his eyes there was not an ounce of regret for what he said.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t have said what he did, but you had hit a nerve and it was the only thing he could think to say back. He saw the hurt flash across your eyes but it was too late to take it back now. The only thing he could do was exit the situation before it got any worse. He turned on his heels and left the room, leaving you standing there in complete shock at your exchange. 

Natasha calls your name but you quickly leave for your room before anyone can see you like this.

The team was split all across the base. This wasn’t how you would usually handle missions but as soon as you arrived the mission started to go sideways.

‘Target headed towards the west elevator. Anyone nearby copy?’ You hear Steve’s voice through comms.

‘I'm on it.’ You say back, your comms crackling more than usual.

‘Copy that.’ Bucky said, his comms crackling from the two of you talking at the same time.

The rest of the team had heard both of your voices but neither of you had heard the other. So it was a big shock when you were waiting for the elevator and you heard his voice behind you.

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He sighs and slowly walks up to you to wait for the elevator as well. ‘Did you not hear me say I got it?’ He snaps at you.

‘No because I was the one that said I’m on it.’ You snap back and thankfully the elevator dings it’s arrival. Normally in creepy Hydra bases you would avoid elevators but seeing as there was no stairwell nearby, this was the only option.

‘Age before beauty.’ You say to him, gesturing to the elevator.

‘Very funny’ he says sarcastically before stepping inside. You follow after him and press the only floor button available.

Silence permeates the small space as you prepare for what’s to happen once the doors open. Instead, the elevator jerks to a stop.

‘No.’ You panic and start pressing the floor button over and over. ‘No no no no no.’ Nothing is working.

‘Let me try.’ Bucky says pushing you out of the way, you so badly want to say something but the only thing you can focus on is the fact you might be trapped. Bucky taps the button and looks around for anything else to press but there is nothing. You can feel yourself start to get light headed as claustrophobia takes hold and the thought of falling to your death in this metal box takes over your thoughts. You shrink down onto the floor and hold your head in your hands.

‘Do you always have to be so dramatic?’ Bucky huffs. You don’t answer him, the only thing you can think about is the pain starting in your chest and your breathing getting heavier. 

‘Stop breathing so fast. You are going to make yourself pass out.’ Bucky grunts but when you don’t reply or make any effort to slow your breathing he gets worried. He kneels down in front of you ‘Hey? Doll? Can you hear me?’ You can’t answer him, you just feel the impending doom and the immense pressure on your chest. ‘I’m going to move your hands.’ He announces then you feel him take your hands and pull them away from your face. You look at him, tears in your eyes, a look of pure fear across your face. ‘Breathe with me, doll. Can you do that?’ He asks and you manage to nod. He speeds his breathing up to your pace then gradually slows it, you follow him as best as you can and eventually you get your breathing back to normal, with the occasional hiccup or sharp intake.

Once he sees you are ok, he lets go of your hands and sits on the floor as far away as he can. You both continue to sit in silence.

‘Thank you.’ You eventually manage to whisper, he nods without meeting your eye.

You can’t help but feel disappointed, you just got to see a caring side of Bucky and it felt amazing to be on the receiving end of it, but now you are back to him not giving a shit about you. You go back and forth wondering whether it is the right time to bring up the issues between you two. If not now, when?

‘Why do you hate me so much?’ He looks across at you and sighs before he answers.

‘I don’t hate you.’

‘Yes you do. It seems like you go out of your way to make me miserable.’ You push, making him lean his head back on the wall behind him.

‘I don’t hate you. I just don’t like how you formed opinions about me so early on. You wanted me off the team before I even got cleared to be on the team.’ Bucky explains. You stare at him in confusion.

‘How do you know what opinions I formed of you? I may have wanted you off the team but it was only because you were mean and that was after you were cleared.’ You could feel yourself starting to get angry.

‘Then how come I overheard you talking about the first time we met to Nat, you said I was blunt and rude. Then after I accidentally bumped into you, you told Steve you wanted me off the team.’ Bucky says agitatedly.

‘I never-‘ you think back to any conversations you had with Nat and Steve about Bucky. The only ones that came to mind were asking them if they knew why Bucky didn’t like you. Then it hits you, he had overheard you talking to Steve and Nat about Arthur. You sighed.

‘Let me guess, you overheard me and Nat talking not long after we first met. We were in Nat’s room getting ready to go train?’ You ask and he nods.

‘Then the conversation you overheard with Steve was straight after we bumped into each other. We were in the common room?’ Bucky looks confused but nods again.

‘You are such a prick. You eavesdrop but don’t even listen long enough to hear who we were talking about.’ You can’t help but chuckle at the situation, even though it’s not particularly funny.

‘What?’ Bucky looks more confused than ever.

‘Well, if you had listened properly to the whole conversation you would know I was talking about that asshat agent, Arthur.’ That came out more blunt than you intended.

‘The recruit that got bumped down a few squads even though he is really good?’

‘Yep. That’s the one’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Before you came Steve and Nat had been setting me up on blind dates with people. Arthur was the fifth one, I really didn’t want to go so Steve convinced me by saying they were friends and all this nice stuff about him.’ You pause to take a deep breath. ‘The day we met, I had just come from the date with him and it was awful. That's what me and Nat were talking about. Then when we bumped into each other in the hallway, I had just come from a meeting with the recruits. Arthur had been inappropriate and he hurt my arm, I was rushing to Steve to tell him and ask if he can be kicked off the team.’ You finally manage to say and Bucky just looks at you. You can see the cogs turning in his head as he is finally getting context to the snippets of conversation he overheard.

‘Shit. I am so sorry. I am such an idiot.’ He scolds himself and you can’t help but feel bad for him.

‘I am not going to disagree with you, but we have both said and done some pretty nasty stuff. I am sorry for any hurt I caused you.’  You say sincerely and he looks over to you and smiles.

‘So you didn’t think I was rude when we first met?’ He still holds your eye contact and you take a moment to look at him. You have never seen him look so vulnerable before, he almost looked scared.

‘No, Bucky, I thought you were probably nervous or tired from meeting loads of new people.’ You explain and his shoulders fall.

‘I feel like such a jerk.’ He sighs and you scoot yourself closer to him so he has to look at you.

‘I’m not all that innocent in this either. It was a misunderstanding. I am just glad we have cleared it up now.’ You say meaning it and he smiles earnestly back at you. It is something you have never experienced first-hand. You have seen him give those gorgeous, slightly lopsided, smiles to other people but seeing one directed at you causes a rush of heat to your cheeks and you find yourself blushing.

Bucky must have been thinking along the same lines ‘You’re cute when you blush. I have never seen this side of you before.’ He brushes some hair out of your face and behind your ear. ‘You know, part of the reason I was so nervous when I first met you was because I was taken off guard by how beautiful you are.’ His cheeks flush slightly at his confession.

Before you can say anything the elevator jerks again and starts moving, you and Bucky are quick on your feet, preparing yourself for the doors to open.

When they finally do you are met with a group of Hydra agents ready to attack. You and Bucky work in tandem, playing off each other’s strengths. When the Hydra agents realize this, they work to separate you. The majority of them are on Bucky but you are fighting four at once. You are onto the last one when he raises his gun to shoot but you force his arm down. Not quick enough, it fires and clips your calf causing you to cry out from the pain 

It is not as bad as actually being shot in the leg but it still hurts like hell and you can’t put pressure on it. The room is pretty silent apart from footsteps you recognise to be Bucky approaching. You move quickly and uppercut the guy in the nose. The crack echoes throughout the room as the guy falls to the floor at your feet.

You turn to Bucky, his mouth agape and eyebrows raised in shock. ‘That was hot.’ He announces finally, making you laugh, you go to take a step towards him but realise too late that your injured leg won’t hold your weight. You would have fallen to the floor if Bucky hadn’t rushed to catch you.

‘Thanks.’ You chuckle, your faces are extremely close. Your eyes completely entranced in his. Your whole body warms at the safe feeling of being in his arms. You start to wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in these arms, to wake up the next morning still wrapped up in them. Protected.

You force yourself back to reality by clearing your throat. ‘We should probably get back to the team.’ You say and he nods. He puts his arm around your waist and you put yours over his shoulders to use him as a crutch.

The ride back up in the elevator goes smoothly this time and before you know it you are hobbling up to the quinjet where the rest of the team awaits. Natasha and Steve are both looking back and forth from you to Bucky in confusion.

‘What the hell happened?’ Steve asks not trying to hide how baffled he is that you and Bucky are holding onto each other and not arguing. Natasha simply smirks. Bucky helps you into a seat then sits opposite you with a wink as you smile at him.

‘No, this is too weird. Please argue, bicker, roll your eyes. Anything.’ Sam begs Bucky who doesn’t break his eye contact with you. Bucky simply laughs knowing his behaviour is unsettling Sam and enjoying the newfound comradery with you.

[waka-chan-out]

“You Asked For It.”

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 3.6k

content warning: PEGGING, established relationship, established safeword (not used), orgasm denial, hand job, fingering (m. receiving), light teasing because it’s tsukishima, tsukki calls you ma’am twice, lots of swearing

also featuring: hinata, kageyama, bokuto, akaashi, kuroo, and kenma

“Hey, Tsukki dude, it’s your turn!” Bokuto said, knees happily bouncing against the carpeted floor. Tsukki rolled his eyes and shot you a glance. You smiled, looking back at him over the girl that sat between you. Though neither of you were party people, you knew he’d have been upset if he missed this. The old volleyball club boys only got together every so often, so you had to drag him out of the apartment whenever it happened. Even though he was back to being his normal, slightly grump self, you could tell he was happy. Living with him for the past six months had made it much easier to read him, even when he seemed like he had an expression spectrum that spanned from a smirk to a frown.

“Alright,” he said, holding up his six remaining fingers. “Never have I ever hooked up with someone on one of the old volleyball teams.”

“Oo, that’s a good one,” Hinata said, glancing around eagerly at everyone’s hands. You put down a finger. Easy, obvious answer. There was hesitation in the rest of the group.

“What qualifies as hooking up?” Kageyama asked.

“Why do you need to know, Tobio? Got something to confess?” Kuroo teased. Kageyama’s eyebrow’s furrowed.

“I’m not asking for myself. I just think it’s important to clarify.”

“Whatever you say.” Kuroo chuckled, leaning back on his hands. He sat between two girls that you didn’t know. Apparently, Bokuto had arranged the gathering and didn’t exactly narrow down the guest list to old volleyball players, so though a lot of the old team members were there, some random people had attended and things got out of hand fairly quickly.

“Let’s say making out and beyond just to sate my own curiosity.” Tsukki continued. “You don’t have to specify if you don’t want to.” There was a cough from across the circle and Bokuto shifted awkwardly.

“How many fingers do you have, Bo?” you asked. He holds up four.

“How many did you have?” Akaashi asked, leaning forward from where he sat next to him, legs crossed carefully.

“It’s not my fault you guys weren’t paying attention,” Bokuto said, sticking his nose in the air.

“I think he had five,” Hinata said.

Kageyama laughed loudly. “I’m pretty sure Akaashi put a finger down too.”

“Akaashiiiiiii!” Bokuto said, leaning over onto his setter.

“Get off of me, Bokuto-san.”

“They’re being crazy. Tell them, Akaashi.”

“Tsukishima said we didn’t have to specify.”

Tsukki and Kuroo were doubled over in fits of laughter, clearly unsure what to make of what was going on.

“Someone else needs to hurry up and take their turn before Bokuto-san cries.”

“Akaashiiiiii!”

“Okay, okay,” the girl next to you said. “Never have I ever participated in…” she trailed off and looked embarrassed.

“Just say it,” Kuroo said, still laughing a bit.

“Anal,” she mumbled, immediately covering her mouth with her hands. Several laughs broke out across the group as a handful of fingers went down amongst the boys. You hesitated, winced, and put your finger down, hoping no one would notice. Tsukki looked at you, surprised. The girl that had asked the question grabbed your wrist.

“Oh my god, you’re the only girl that said yes! Was it awful? Did it hurt? Was it good? I don’t trust their answers.” You look at Tsukki with wide eyes, then back to her.

“Uhm, I don’t know if I can really answer those.”

“Oh come on,” Kuroo said. “It’s all for fun. Nothing leaves the circle. I think we’re all curious.”

“No, I’m not embarrassed,” you said, laughing. “I just genuinely can’t answer those questions. I wasn’t the one receiving.” The girl squeaked and Kuroo’s mouth fell wide open.

“Tsukki, did--”

“Nope,” he responded forcefully. Bokuto let out a guffaw and held out his hand for a high five. You gave him a gentle one, laughing with the group but cringing a bit when you looked back at Tsukki. He didn’t look upset, just dumbstruck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So . . . that was interesting,” you said as you laid down on your bed, trying to get in the first word.

“What was?” Tsukishima asked, nonchalantly taking off his jacket. You laughed.

“You know exactly what.”

He scoffed. “I thought it was obvious that Bokuto-san and Akaashi were hooking up, but I guess everyone was pretty surprised.”

“God, Kei, I’m talking about the anal question.”

“Of course you are.”

“Obviously.”

“I mean, good for you I guess. I didn’t know you had that dominant side in you.” He removed his shirt and walked into the bathroom. You called in after him.

“What does that mean? Of course I have that side.” You heard him scoff. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, Kei, you know it’s true.”

“Sure it is, love.”

“Yes, it absolutely is. I just didn’t want to embarrass you.”

He peeked around the corner, brows furrowed. “How would you embarrass me?”

“Please, Kei. We both know you’re secretly submissive. If I went full dom you’d never want to go back.” His eyes widened.

“You think I’m submissive? What gave you that impression?” Poor thing. He looked genuinely baffled.

“You just have that vibe, babe. You’re a brat.”

“You’re the brat here.”

“I am, but you’d be much more fun to tame.”

He huffed and leaned against the doorframe.

“You know what?” he asked. “Fucking try me.”

“Are you serious?” you said. Your eyebrows raised and a smile crept onto your lips.

“Don’t look so excited. I won’t give you an easy time about it.”

“But you’ll let me?”

“We have a safeword for a reason.”

“Okay, Kei. You asked for it.”

“No, I didn’t. You did. Now let me take my shower, dumbass. Kuroo was clinging to me all night and I feel disgusting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bathroom door opened and Kei reentered the room, his hair curly and sticking up in the front, a towel wrapped around his waist. His whole body looked pink and damp where it had recovered from the water but not the heat. Your eyes followed him as he walked to his closet, head not lifting from the wall where he had left you. He began to open the closet door but noticed you studying him in the mirror.

“What?” he spat. You smirked.

“You’re pretty,” you said. He furrowed his brows and stared at you, trying to make sense of your words.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“You don’t know how to take a compliment.” He scoffed. You laughed, lifting yourself off the wall and moving on all fours towards him. You hung your legs hanging over the side of the mattress, hips about even with his with the height of the bed.

“I set stuff up for you,” you teased. He looked wildly around the room, eyes settling on the bottle of lube on your bedside table. He gestured to it.

“Is that all?” he asked. You smiled.

“Of course not, but I think it’s more fun if you don’t get intimidated by . . . you know.”

He flushed. “I wouldn’t be intimidated. I’m doing this for you.”

“Kei. Baby. No, you aren’t.”

“I could pull out the word right now.”

“But you won’t, will you?” You reached out and grabbed him by the towel, right where it was tucked in to stay in place. You pulled him to you, placing him right between your legs. He raised an eyebrow. Your hips lined up perfectly but he still towered over you. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands fell to your waist. He leaned in for a kiss but you pulled back. He rolled his eyes. “Are you really going to try making this a whole thing?”

You smiled and combed your hands through his messy, damp hair.

“I do think you’re pretty, Kei,” you mumbled.

“Will you shut up about that?” he said through a breathy laugh. Your grip on his hair tightened and you pulled his head back. He grunted in surprise.

“Don’t try to act so tough, Kei. I know you want this.”

“You have no idea what I want.”

“I think I do.” You reached down and palmed him through his towel. He hissed and stared at you, eyes wide. “I think you’ve wanted this for so long you can’t stand it, but you’re too stubborn to ask for it.” He opened his mouth to reply, but just as soon closed it and squeezed his eyes shut. You laughed and released your hold on him. He inhaled deeply and stared down at you, a distant look in his eye. “Why don’t you come up here with me?” you asked. He shook his head but climbed up onto the bed anyway. You immediately swung a leg over him and looped your arms around his neck.

“We’re playing that game, are we?” he said.

“Honey, you haven’t seen half my game.” The defiance he tried to plaster on his face faltered as you rocked your hips against his. “You know--” you said, continuing the motion. “You said I don’t know what you want, but it keeps getting easier to tell.”

“I--fuck. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, leaning in so you could whisper in his ear. “Because I can feel how much you want me right between my legs.” You planted a gentle kiss on the shell of his ear and pushed his chest back so he was lying against the bed, moving your hips harder against him. He bit back a sound and closed his eyes, fingers pressing into your sides. You pulled his glasses off of his face and leaned over to the side table, exchanging them for the small bottle of lube. His eyes opened when he heard the familiar snap of the lid.

“What--” he started.

“Shh, baby. We’re gonna have fun.” You squeezed some out into your hand and untucked his towel, grabbing his cock. He let out a sharp breath. You leaned down and kissed him deeply, grabbing one of his hands with your own and pinning it gently next to his head as you started to move your other hand. His free hand found its way into your hair and tugged a bit. It was cute how he tried to act like he was still in control.

“You’re--hah-- you’re really going for it, aren’t you babe?” he said, pulling back from your lips. You responded by moving your hand faster. His head twitched forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His heavy breathing turned into a laugh. “God, if you wanted me so bad you just had to say please.”

You smiled, staring down at his furrowed eyebrows. Something about having him in this position made you want to tear him in half, leaving him a begging mess that wouldn’t recover for weeks.

“Why don’t you tell me when you’re about to come, huh?” You focused your efforts on the head of his cock and he let out a whine, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth.

“No no, baby, I want to hear you.” You planted a kiss on his hand and he moved it to the side. “Good. Good boy.”

“Fuck. I’m close.” His eyes were squeezed shut, hips twitching slightly as he approached his release.

“Yeah? You wanna finish?” He didn’t respond. “Kei.” Still didn’t respond. You pulled your hand away immediately, sitting up and staring down at him as his face screwed up and he ducked his head forward.

“You bitch,” he groaned. You smiled and ran your hands down his chest as he caught his breath.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said, fake pouting.

“Are you serious? What the fuck is your game today?”

You grinned. “You know exactly what my game is, babe, you just aren’t playing nice.”

“What did you expect?”

“Oh, I expected you to act just like this.” You wrapped your hand around him again and his eyes rolled. “I’m just gonna knock it out of you.” He didn’t have a comeback to that one. You moved your hand faster, staying in a seated position so you could watch him react.

“You like this, don’t you? You’re always such a brat but you just need someone to put you in your place.”

“Slow down, babe. Fuck.” He covered his face with his hands as his hips involuntarily twitched.

“If you want me to slow down, you know the word you have to say.”

His eyes flew open and he glared up at you.

“You gonna say it?” You concentrated on the head again and his eyes fluttered.

“No. Fuck. Shut up.”

You smiled and continued the motion. You could see his muscles tensing and relaxing, mouth never quite closing around a silent moan. “Are you going to tell me when you’re close, Kei?” He didn’t respond again. “Tsukishima. I swear to god you won’t finish a single time tonight if you don’t fucking answer me.”

“I--fuck.”

Not a response. You pulled your hand away.

His hips rolled up and his head pressed back into the pillow. He let out a string of expletives and his voice shook a bit as he spoke. His breathing was heavy and he put his hands over his face again. You watched with a small smile, running a finger lightly up his length just to watch him squirm.

“Are you--fuck--fucking serious?” he gasped.

“I’m sorry, did you want to finish?” You feigned confusion.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You aren’t asking nicely, Tsukki,” you teased, using the name his friends called him.

“What the hell do you want me to say? I’m not begging you for anything.”

“Your choice.” You dragged your hand back up and he gasped, head leaning back. You left your hand there, lightly teasing the head of his dick with your thumb.

“Can I finish?” You smiled patiently and shook your head. “Can I finish, please?”

“Closer. You forgot something, though, babe. I always call you sir. What should you call me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about ma’am?”

“No.”

“Your choice,” you said with a shrug, starting to move your hand on his cock again. He breathed heavily, climbing quickly after being denied twice already. His moans caught in his throat, sounding desperate but restrained.

“Fuck, babe,” he mumbled. “Fuck.” You could feel him twitch slightly in your hand as his lips fell open in a silent moan.

“All you have to do is ask nicely,” you sang, slipping your other hand down and gently rubbing at his entrance. His entire body twitched and he groaned loudly. “There it is. I knew you’d enjoy this. Why don’t you just ask nicely and we can have some fun?”

He mumbled something that you couldn’t understand.

“You’re going to have to speak up, Kei.” He moaned as you slowed down your hand on his cock, letting him focus on both sensations at once.

“Fuuuck.” The word came out of him in a long groan.

“You want my fingers inside of you, don’t you? Don’t deny it, babe. I see your face.” He inhaled sharply as you circled his entrance again.

“Yes.”

You moved your hand off of his cock and spanked his thigh lightly, a small punishment for not addressing you properly. He twitched and made a low noise at the loss.

“I’ll let that one slide. Just relax,” you hummed, grabbing the lube and seating yourself between his legs. You warmed it up on your fingers and pressed against his entrance, bending his legs a little at the knee to make it easier for both of you.

“You alright, love?” you asked. He nodded quickly and you pushed one finger inside. You went slow, letting him adjust to the new sensation, but the long groan he let out when you were fully inside him was worth the wait.

“There you go. Feels good, doesn’t it? You want me to move?” He nodded again, mouth hanging open. “Okay, love, stay relaxed.” You slowly started moving your finger until he felt comfortable around you. Once you could see his shoulders start to relax, you curled your finger slightly. His hips jumped and he swore loudly.

“Good boy. Taking it so well.”

His breathing picked up as you continued moving.

“I’m gonna add another one. Is that alright, Kei? You want more?” He sighed heavily and surprised you when he opened his mouth.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.” You smiled. “So eager.” You gently pressed another finger into him. His eyes shut tightly at the sensation and he moaned quietly. You continued the motion, curling and scissoring your fingers until he felt ready. He was melting at your touch, still trying to maintain some composure but mostly allowing you to take control. You couldn’t wait for him to unravel.

“I think you’re ready, love. You doing okay?” He nodded, covering his face with his forearm as you climbed off the bed, reaching into your closet to retrieve your strapon.

It was thin, a decent length, and bright pink. It was a gag gift from a friend, but little did they know you were genuinely into that. You secured it and returned to your boyfriend, who stared at it nervously.

“Still alright, Kei?” you asked. He nodded. “What position do you want to be in?” His eyes widened.

“This, I guess?” He patted the bed from where he was laying.

“Perfect. I want to be able to see you.” His face went bright red. You climbed up between his legs, wetting the strap with lube and leaning down to kiss him. You were gentle, letting him push against your lips and wrap his arms around you. You lined up with his entrance and hesitated as he hissed.

“You’re okay, love,” you said, pressing a kiss on his nose. “I’ve got you. I’ll go slow.” He nodded slightly and closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillow. He looked so pretty like this. You were going to have to top him more often. “Just relax . . .”

You began pushing forward, gently and slowly. He was prepared well so there wasn’t much resistance. You kissed his exposed neck, whispering quiet encouragements in his ear.

“You’re doing so well, Kei. Such a good boy for me. You’re alright?” He nodded, letting out a small moan. “Almost there, love. You want all of me? Huh?” He tipped his head back up, pulling your face to his and laying a surprisingly harsh kiss on you.

“Please.” It was so quiet you could barely make it out, but he knew you heard him, face flushed. You bottomed out in him, chasing a deep groan out of his lips.

“Good boy. You want me to move? Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Every time he said it chills shot down your spine. “Please.” You smiled and pressed your lips against his, bracing your hands on either side of him as you drew your hips back and pushed back into him.

The sound he made was shocking, high pitched and lewd and not at all like himself.

“Shit. Keep making that noise and I’m never going to stop, Kei.” His face was permanently blushed but you see his eyebrows furrow in embarrassment.

You continued moving your hips, keeping a slow but steady pace as he pressed his forehead against yours and continued swearing. It was delicious. He occasionally let out a small whine when you hit deeper inside of him. He grabbed your hips suddenly and pulled you farther against him.

“Please,” he said, surprising you.

“What do you want, baby?” you breathed.

“A little--fuck--a little harder.” Holy shit. You happily obliged, driving your hips harder into him. He let out a long groan that ended in a whine, breathing picking up and head tipping back into the pillow. You had a feeling he could come from just this, but just to be nice. . .

“Fuck!” He cried out as you wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it to the same rhythm as you continued moving your hips into him. You concentrated your efforts around the head so your arm didn’t get tired, not wanting to let up on him until he was a shaking mess. He alternated between groans, whines, and swearing, so loud in your ear that you were sure the people in the next apartment over could hear him. It was shocking how quickly Kei threw away his pride when you really tempted him, and you hated that you didn’t try this sooner.

“Please, can I finish?” he said, planting a sloppy kiss on your face. “Please.” His voice sounded so desperate and you hadn’t even told him he needed permission this time. You were going to let him come either way but, fuck, he sounded so pretty asking.

“Fuck, good boy. Go ahead and come,” you said, and his grip on you tightened into fists as his moans began to sputter.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated as you kept moving into him. You felt him finishing on your hand, but you couldn’t help yourself. His head tipped up into your chest and he continued swearing. You took away your hand but kept moving your hips even though he was most certainly done.

“Oh god stop,” he begged, head buried against you. “Stop, please stop, stop.” His body twitched violently. He hadn’t said the word, so you knew he was alright. “Fuck! Stop.” You laughed and kissed his forehead, slowing your movements so you were just barely rocking your hips. His head finally tipped back and his body slacked, panting heavily.

“Holy shit, Kei.” You leaned down and peppered his sweaty face with kisses, laughing gently.

“That was . . .” He couldn’t even finish the thought, running his hands through his hair and laughing with you.

“We’re going to have to do that more often.” You pressed a short kiss on his lips and he opened his eyes.

“Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

“No promises,” you giggled. His brows furrowed, back to being his normal self again.

“Absolutely fucking not. Don’t even joke about that. I won’t let you do it again.”

You grinned and kissed his nose. “Yes, you will.”

[angry-geese]

At Dawn’s Break III

PB!Dio Brando x Maid!Reader, Jonathan Joestar x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: none! sfw, mention of death, but nothing too graphic. Mostly plot. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Technically yandere Dio but its very tame

Notes: Part One- sfw, Part Two- nsfw, Part Four - nsfw

This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so sorry. I do have a friend helping me edit my ao3 stuff so there might be some grammatical differences between that and the stuff posted here but i'll try to keep it as consistent as possible- story-wise its still the same.

In the coming months, word would arrive of your father’s death.

Sad wasn’t the right word for it. The man was old, sick, and frail. He fell ill and never recovered. Things like that happen. It was expected. His passing was quiet, happening in the early hours in the morning. You had grieved his death long before it actually happened. Your love for him was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was never a proper parent, the harsh expectations of life were thrown upon you rather young. At nineteen you were left as the sole guardian of your siblings. Some nights you would scream about the unfairness of it all, others you would wallow in your pity. The constant "sorry for your loss"s infuriated you. It would not bring him back. It would not fix this hole you've dug for yourself. It did nothing to justify what you've gone through. The world wasn't going to stop spinning just for you to feel sorry for yourself.

So you returned to work.

Your meetings with Dio grew fewer and further apart. Your conversations were short, ending with arguments. What he could dish out, you threw right back. Often you found yourself bitter and frustrated with him, leaving much space between the two of you. It wasn’t that you loved him any less, but he wasn’t exactly understanding in this matter. Neither of his fathers- adopted or biological- could he stand. Putting it plainly: Dio was awful at comforting people. Sympathy was not one of his strong suits. Going to him for comfort was out of the question.

Your life was soon after consumed by the mundane nature of work. The repetition of it you found soothing. It was nice to have a routine. Even if Dio wasn’t there for you, it was. The head maid took notice in your sudden interest in work, and blamed Dio for your lacking efforts. You just nodded and kept your head down.

Mr. Joestar would soon fall ill. Due to his old age, it didn’t come as a surprise to many. Very few questioned it. He was older, but seemingly healthy at the time. He fell sick overnight with the flu, which soon turned to pneumonia. It was not looking like he would recover. His coughing fits could be heard from across the manor. Much of it reminded you of your own father, so you often stayed away, only coming around when it was asked of you.

It makes you wonder if Dio feels the same sense of duty to his father. Probably not. He does not understand family ties in the same way you do. He was very attentive when Mr. Joestar fell ill, often providing medicine for him. If you were called to help, he would go in your place. It feels false, like a mockery of a doting son. Yes- he's providing for his father, but it feels like an alien trying to copy a human. Like a robot trying to replicate human love. It’s not out of any kindness in his heart. What he feels isn’t love. Sometimes you don’t think he’s capable of it. But if he did love something, it was power. He’d never admit it, but it was also you. Having you so consumed with grief enraged him. It was a childish want for attention that he found hard to conceal. He never took out his anger on you, finding himself afraid of turning out to be like his birth father driving his mother into an early grave. Often he thought about how easily he could force your hand, make you chose between him and your family. Deep down he didn’t want to toss out an ultimatum. You had just as much of a bite as him; unstoppable force meets immovable object. In no way he saw that ending well. Others had noticed the growing distance between you. People talked- as they did- rumors spread.

“Y/N.” Jonathan’s voice startles you.

“Mister Joestar, how-”

“Call me Jonathan.”

You cringe at the interruption.

“Jonathan.” You say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you take a walk with me?”

He guides you out to the garden. Winter has left it scraggly and barren, washed out in cold, white light. A few wilting leaves cling to the trees. Only a handful of rooms are lit within the house. It feels personal, being dragged through the place where you spent so many of your nights with your lover. Calling him that feels strange. Lover seems like too innocent of a word.

Over your time at the Joestar estate, there isn’t much you know about Jonathan. Dio talked of him. Often. It was never good, though he had a way of exaggerating things. By now you’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt. Your meetings with the second Joestar son have been few and rather brief. He seems sweet, albeit a bit naive and too engrossed in high society to talk with the likes of you. The girls in the kitchen swoon over him, although he’s sweet on a neighbor girl. Erina- you’ve heard of her. She’s been over for dinner before.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine, I suppose." You say, a bit irritated with the small talk. "What is it you need of me?"

"I heard what happened," absentmindedly he picks at his nails, "and I wanted to give my condolences. I imagine this situation is... unpleasant for you."

"I manage." You say. "But I doubt that's what you brought me out here for."

He nods. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Then ask away. I'd be happy to answer."

“You’re close with Dio, aren’t you?” He asks.

“A bit. Why?”

While you’re almost certain he knows, it feels easier to lie. You were not the star-crossed lovers that Jonathan and Erina were, the type of partners that made the girls you work with swoon and wish for such a thing, the type of love people write books about but fail to recreate. Your relationship was more out of a mutual agreement than it was proper love, but you suppose it was there. The two of you were angry, scathing people who were capable of god knows what. Together you could be terrifying.

“You two seem to spend quite a lot of time together.” He says. “Have you noticed anything strange with him?”

“No.” You say. “I haven't noticed anything like that."

"He's awfully attentive with father..."

"It's bizarre." You say. He laughs.

"I'm heading to London in a few days- to the university. Father's medicine hasn't been working, and I want it to be examined." From his coat pocket he produces a small green bottle. it's familiar. Dio has one quite like it.

"Do you need anything while you're away?" You ask, wishing to get back to your work. There was laundry that needed to be done.

"No," he says, turning to you, "thank you for your time. I should get going."

Before you can leave, he stops you.

"I know it's no business of mine, but my brother is bad news. You're a sweet girl and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dio is capable of things you couldn't even imagine."

"You're right. It is no business of yours."

He gives you a quick goodbye before leaving you alone in the garden.

Over time, Dio has grown more serious about keeping you close. He has a malicious, possessive streak to him. Your recent distance has only brought that out more. There is no talk of marriage- his adoptive father would never approve- but he talks of the future. Often. For you, the future meant work. To some extent, you could live with that. You never knew what it meant for him. He jokes of world domination.

You’re not quite sure you want to rule the world, but you do want to get out of London.

You stop just under the apple tree. It’s sickly and sad looking. The last of the fruit has fallen off and rotted. A few wilting leaves cling onto the branches. Jonathan gives you a quick goodbye, before returning to the house.

The door to his room is open. A lantern is lit, though the curtains are drawn shut. There’s no need to knock, you’re the only person who will walk in.

“Sit with me, pet.” Dio says.

Maybe the nickname has grown on you. It no longer draws out the same reaction of disgust and discomfort. Time has softened your hard outer shell. He opens his arms and instinctively you go into them. His chest feels unnaturally cold, but being so close to him makes you feel safe. The smell of his cologne is familiar and comforting, you find yourself leaning in closer. You allow yourself this one moment of weakness. He rests his chin on top of your head.

“I don’t have long,” you say, “I must get back.”

He pulls you closer. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jonathan came and talked with me earlier.” You say.

You could almost swear you heard his heart skip a beat. His grip around you loosens, allowing you to shift to face him. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” He says. “I figured he would.”

“Why?”

You almost ask what he’s done.

Accusing him of something would only make him shut down. You already have a guess. The entire conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s a constant unease and discomfort, more than it is outright pain. He's scheming- as he does- but more importantly, he hasn't told you about it.

“My brother doesn't believe in my ways.” He says. "I would never do anything to hurt father. It's no fault of mine that he won't recover."

"Then tell me what was in the bottle." You say. "As of right now, Jonathan is on his way to get that 'medicine' tested."

"I never gave any of it to him."

Jonathan won't see it that way. The authorities surely won't be as kind as his brother. And if he gets caught- what then?

"So you give it to someone else- so some unassuming person is killing him."

Dio doesn’t respond. Do you really expect more of him? He’s proven to be capable of many things. You’ve long since learned he wants to be the sole heir to the Joestar estate. It was a given. Power is something he craves. As much as he jokes about world domination, there's always a serious tone behind them. In the beginning, it just seemed like his nature; he was always collected and intense. Some truth must have been behind them. He makes no attempt to hide that. But this...

Murder is a bit too cold-blooded for your tastes. Morally you don’t have the high ground. You don’t find yourself above much, but you'd like to think you're above murder. If its what you need to do to survive, you believe you'd give it a pass, but as the time comes you're less sure of it. Mr. Joestar gave Dio an opportunity that doesn’t even come once in a lifetime for many. It feels like a slap in the face, just adding insult to injury. This feels like betrayal in the purest sense of the word. While you aren’t close to his father, you have a bit of respect for the man. His death would not cause you the same grief as your own father’s, but you would be sad.

But he is old, and not all old people recover from illness.

Most of the estate would go to Jonathan upon his father’s death. Really, this seems short-sighted. As the younger son, Dio isn’t entitled to all that much. But getting rid of his brother might be easier said than done. Part of you is angry for how little he’s thought this through. Truly, you expected more from him. With as much as he schemes, you had expected a better plan.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he expected. Anything but blind love and acceptance is seen as betrayal to him. To you, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

If he fails- if- there is no recovering from this. If he is caught, many signs point to you as an accomplice.

Silently he exits, leaving you alone in his dark room.

[chironshorseass]

I u want, could u mayhaps write about annabeth seeing percy after a long time apart and realizing his voice grew deeper? I saw a post about it once and I think u would nail it perfectly<3

TIME PASSES SO QUICKLY AHH but here it is! I also got another request of pre-relationship percabeth and let’s just say that y’all read my mind. Also sorry that I can’t seem to write anything under 1k words 😩

read on ao3

“So I heard Percy’s coming today,” Silena said casually, holding a basket against her hip.

Annabeth yanked one of the strawberries so hard that its leaves came along with it.

“He is?”  

She didn’t try to shroud her excitement like she would’ve done, not too long ago.

“Yeah. Charlie told me.”

She felt a twinge of jealousy that Percy hadn’t even mentioned it to her, but she quickly clamped it down. It wasn’t his fault. Not entirely, anyway. They’d IM’d at the beginning of their semester as freshmen, but then it had gotten to the point of him mentioning Rachel all the time, and then the year had gotten busier, and…

Well, they’d lost contact.

Realizing she’d zoned out, she blinked away the fog from her eyes.

“But honestly I wasn’t supposed to tell,” Silena was saying. “He said something about it being a surprise or whatever. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Annabeth must’ve been doing something strange with her face, because Silena gave her a smug look, raising her eyebrows. She was used to her doing that, so she didn’t mind.

Well, maybe a bit.

But the daughter of Aphrodite already knew everything there was to know about her feelings for Percy. Probably before even Annabeth first realized that she was in love with her best friend. So again, it was pointless to hide from her.

“So.” Silena bumped her gently on the shoulder. “What are you gonna wear?”

Annabeth lifted her sun hat and stared at her for a couple of seconds. The latter looked as perfect as ever, despite the grueling sun. With her pink crop top, mini shorts, perfect makeup, and her dark hair pulled back into a low bun, Annabeth had little doubt that she could help her choose a different outfit other than her torn camp wardrobe. But, still, this was Percy.  

Her best friend.

“Mmm...no, it’s fine. We’ve got to finish the south side of the strawberry fields, so, we can’t lose time, ya know?”

Silena gaped at her, then scoffed.

“What am I going to do with you, Chase?” she muttered, crouching to the ground again and shoving her hands into the foliage. “But whatever—it’s your call. Like, you’re so pretty that you actually look good in that sorry excuse of an outfit.”

Her eyes roved over Annabeth’s shirt and jeans. She felt herself blush at the attention.

“Hey, is that blood?”

“Uh...Maybe—but it’s old! Don’t worry.”

“A lost cause, I tell you.”

:

It had been too long since she’d caught a glimpse of that tell-tale curve of the shoulders and those raven curls.

Percy was early. Most of the summer campers always came the next week or so from this one, but she wasn’t complaining about his untimely arrival. Not when he looked that cute in his school uniform and with that ridiculously messy hair.

She regarded him from afar as he chatted with Beckendorf by the Big House porch, a bag slumped over his shoulder. Something about him—in the way he laughed or how he suddenly looked taller—made her stomach drop like a volleyball, made every blade of grass seem brighter.

Running up to him, she yelled, “Hey, stranger! Why so early?”

He turned to the sound of her voice, flashing her that crooked grin of his. Gods, she’d missed him.

“Hey yourself!”

When she finally reached the two boys, she skidded to a halt in front of Percy and gave him an exaggerated once-over.

“Why’d you still have your uniform on, Seaweed Brain?”

“Do I?” he gazed down at his white shirt and gray pants. His eyes flicked to her again, smiling sheepishly. “Oh. Kinda forgot I had it on, I guess.”

“Man, I’ve already told you,” Beckendorf said. “Leave the fancy shit home.”

“I forgot, okay? You know I hate this stupid uniform.”

In her honest opinion, the uniform seemed to be quite the opposite of stupid. Really, it should've been a crime to look that good in white and rolled up sleeves.

“Yeah, whatever.” Beckendorf glanced back and forth from Percy to Annabeth. He smirked and patted Percy on the back. “Anyway,  I’ll leave you to it.”

She watched him stroll to the Big House and step inside. He’d probably been here—with Percy—in the first place because of a favor from Chiron.

They stood there, letting the silence build up.

His eyes were warm, green like the shallow sea. Annabeth had always thought that she’d get used to that color, that luminescence. But she never did. Every time she peered up at them, it felt like the first time all over again. She could drown in those eyes and beam up at the fading sky and not beg for breath.

But now, it was worse. It was worse because she could tell that he’d grown. Actually grown. She didn’t quite know how to feel about the fact that his voice had abruptly dropped at least an octave lower than from last summer and that from now on, she’d have to lift her chin to meet his eyes.

“You’ve changed,” she blurted out.

She probably winced a little. Hopefully, she’d sounded casual.

“In what way, exactly?” His mouth twitched into a grin, cheeks dimpling, and her nervousness faded to a quiet buzzing. “That I’m finally taller than you?”

She pushed him away lightly to cover up the flush that was surely painting her cheeks a light pink. This was stupid. He was just being stupid. It was just Percy, for gods’ sake.

“Yeah, taller than me by like, an inch.”

“Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“I hate you.”

That was a lie, and Percy knew it.

“No, you don’t.”

“How am I supposed to keep things out of your reach, now?”

“See, that’s the point. Now I get to pick on you. Shortie.”

Annabeth stuck her tongue out. “You’re such a child.”

He laughed again, giving her whiplash from how different the sound rang in her ears. His laughter had always been a comfort to her, something that made her chest warm and gave her the motivation to try and let it out of him, again and again.

And it still was.

But this new laugh, however, had a richness to it that she felt down to her toes. He threw his head back, eyes crinkling like they always did. And yet, she found new angles to it. Saw a strange glow. He stood under the spotlight of a brand new theater, making everything he did seem like something new and foreign.

It dawned on her that she was staring like an idiot, even after Percy’s smile had faded to a lingering tug of the mouth.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, plain and honest. In many ways, he hadn’t changed. Not really.

“Me too.” Their eyes stayed interlocked for a couple more seconds. She cleared her throat. “Have you, uh...told Chiron you’re here?”

“He already knows.”

“Psh. So am I the only one that didn’t know about you coming here?”

She didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but there was no backing out, now.

He ducked his head. It was barely recognizable, but she could always tell when he was blushing.

“I...well, you know, wanted to, um—surprise you.”

Another awkward pause.

Percy scratched the back of her head. “Do you, uh...wanna walk with me? To my cabin?”

“Sure.”

:

“You know,” he said. “My mom made you cookies.”

“Are they any good?” she teased.

He turned to give her an incredulous look. “This is my mom we’re talking about. Of course they’re good.”

“Okay...well, what are you waiting for? Hand them over, Seaweed Brain.”

“In a sec. I’m too lazy to open my bag right now, in the middle of camp.”

As they walked, Annabeth noticed how heads turned when the campers got a good look at the two of them together. Most of them just stared at Percy. They passed by some of her siblings carrying spears; she saw Malcolm wink and felt herself blush again.

“Anyway, you wouldn’t have guessed what I got on my finals,” Percy was saying.

She glared pointedly at Malcolm, then whirled her head to look at Percy again. “What’d you get?”

“Guess.”

“Oh my gods, Percy. Just tell.”

He smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re no fun.”

But even if he said it casually, the comment dug deeper than she would’ve liked. Did he think Rachel was fun? She decided not to dwell on that.

Annabeth was the one talking to him. Not Rachel.

He glanced at her once, but seemingly decided to fix his gaze forward. His eyes sparkled in a way that she knew meant he was trying to hold back a grin. He’d failed in the attempt, though.

“Okay, I’ll just say it: A ‘B’ plus.”

Her jaw dropped. “Percy!”

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Oh my gods!”  

Clarisse, standing by the Ares cabin, mimed Annabeth, mouthing her words and making kissy faces. She mostly ignored it, too distracted on what Percy had just said.

Her heart swelled at the thought of all the work he must’ve put himself through.

She grasped his arm. “I’m so proud of you, Perce.”

“Yeah, me too. Paul helped, though. And mom.”

“Give yourself some of the credit.”

He sighed happily. “I guess I can say that I didn’t cheat. Well, maybe a little.”

She tried to shove him, but he danced away.

“Ohh, don’t tell me that you’ve never cheated on anything.”

“Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Like maybe once or twice.”

“See?”

“But whatever. You got a ‘B’ and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah. It is.”

They smiled at each other for a second, then, he shouldered his bag and stopped by cabin three. The abalone shell seemed to glow brighter when he stood next to it.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “We should celebrate.”

He lifted one of those thick eyebrows of his and leaned back against the door frame. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” she kicked some of the stray pebbles from the ground, suddenly flustered. “Your grades. It deserves a celebration, don’t you think?”

His face lit up once more. “Oh! Yeah, like a picnic or something? We could eat the cookies Mom made—unless you want them for yourself, which is fine—”

“No!” She bit her lip. “I mean—sharing is cool. I’d like that.”

Annabeth decided it best not to visibly cringe at herself. Who’d even say “sharing” and “cool” at the same time?

Luckily, Percy nodded along with her. “Okay. Cool. Wait—that reminds me…” He unzipped his bag, hands already roaming around inside it. “Ah, here it is.”

He took a take-out like box with red flowers painted around the sides. They looked handmade. She accepted the gift with a smile.

“Who made these?” she asked, examining the paintings closer. “They’re pretty.”

When she saw his smug look, she didn't have to think twice about who had decorated it.

“I did,” he said. Her expression must’ve still been akin to impressed shock, because he chuckled. “What? You think I can’t be artistic?”

She shrugged. It was a simple fact, really. “Since when did you learn?”

“Uh, Rachel taught me.”

“Oh.”

He nodded tightly.

Right. While she’d lived on the other side of the country, alone and with a family who still wasn’t that comfortable around her, he’d been off with his new mortal girlfriend. And how much time must it have taken for Rachel to teach him how to do those precise brushstrokes? To combine those colors properly? Days or more, she knew.

They’d been busy.

She pretended not to care, anyway, opening the box to check on the cookies. “They, um...They look good!” She met his eyes so that he could see just how sincere her words were—because they really did look divine. Divine and blue. “Give Sally my thanks. And you must’ve worked really hard on this. So, thanks also.”

Annabeth noticed how he relaxed at the change of subject. Idiot.

“I will. And nah, it was nothing. I just really wanted to, um, to contribute with the gift. I guess. And mom loves you, so…”

“Loves me more than you?”

He snorted. “Probably.”

The edges of her mouth quirked up. “So...when are you up for that celebratory picnic thing?”

“Uh...from what I remember, I think my schedule’s got like, free time at around five. That sound good?”

Her mind buzzed through her list of daily activities, relieved to find something else to think about other than the awkwardness that now lingered in the air.

“Yeah, I think I’m free at five, as well. Tomorrow, right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

:

It wasn’t the same. That, she could tell.

She bit the inside of her cheek, watching him fight with Clarisse. So they’d go on a picnic together. Big deal.

She’d just barely stepped outside cabin three when Silena had dragged her away, begging for every detail.

Annabeth wasn’t going to lie: she was excited. More so than she’d let on. And yet, she wasn’t sure if he liked her that way.

Not with other girls fanning over him, now. Girls like Rachel.

How could she have let him go so easily? How was this the first time in months since she’d last seen him?

She’d spent the day pretending it was fine. Her heart ached whenever he was near, but it also hurt when he was gone. She couldn't have it both ways.

So yes, everything was fine.

Maybe if she said those words enough, then she'd start to believe it and stop with this feeble act of hers. This pretending that none of the shit they’d been festering against the other mattered. And in the process, also pretend that these new feelings she had for him—that didn’t feel so new—never existed in the first place.

Then again...what was she thinking?

This was her best friend. Her best friend whom she’d tried to kiss about a year ago and who hadn’t even breathed a word about it since. Who talked to her like he was stepping around eggshells. Who was clearly not interested in her in that way if what she suspected about Rachel was true and who had suddenly become one of the most attractive guys in Camp Half-Blood.

She hated this. This sensation of her heart beating faster, her breath coming short. Her brain fading any thought away, leaving it lustrous with the image of Percy. Percy this and Percy that. His stupid smile and his stupid laugh and—

Ice-cold water struck her skin, stopping her thought process short like a shock wave.

“Sorry,” Silena said, not actually sounding sorry. Stray water dripped from her hand. “You were spaced out for a while.”

Their canoe boat rocked back and forth along with the gusts of wind.

“Okay,” Annabeth said, glaring at her friend. She wanted to wipe that cheeky grin off her face. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

With a sharp, practiced tug, she flipped them over. Silena’s screech died when they hit the water.

She resurfaced, spluttering, splashing Annabeth again and again.

“You little shit! I am going to kill you!”

“What?” Annabeth laughed, choking on water. “I thought your makeup’s waterproof!”

Silena threw more water at her.

“Your point?”

And okay, maybe they looked like fools fighting in the middle of the lake, laughing and joking around. But it was fine; no one was there to witness it except perhaps the naiads and the cicadas that roared in the woods along with the rogue monster.

Well...there was one person.

But the girls didn’t have the mind to notice him.

Percy sat on the back of the pier and smiled, shaking his head.

Maybe someday, they could move on from this strange faze. From skipping around each other, then acting like friends all over again.

Someday.

The sound of the conch horn in the distance brought a reluctant stop to the chirping of the crickets. Dinner time.

He stood up and made his way back, wishing that just maybe, he could be brave enough to tell her how he felt. To unashamedly look at her and no one else as though she were the fading sun, inviting for the naked eye to gape at directly as it caressed the sea and the tree tops while coloring the sky a deep purple. To kiss her in front of all those stupid people and hug her and make her laugh and smile, all golden and beautiful.

Rid himself of the worries, once and for all.

But it couldn’t be.

Maybe, just maybe…

Someday.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 8: A Golden Afternoon

Its the middle of the night - so Im definitely going to post this again in the morning - but here you go! thanks for the nice words I really appreciate it ❤︎

word count: 4120

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Barely five minutes had passed before Lysandra was sauntering down the stairs, arms now empty and her gaze lazily sweeping over Rowan’s bare chest. Her eyes burned with intent, but he knew she was cataloguing him, marking the strength, height, weapons in his hands – the gaze of a spy. And Rowan couldn’t help but wonder if she really was just spying for Aelin. With those wildcat eyes…who else would she be serving but herself? Was there a chance she might betray them?

Rowan could practically feel Aedion’s eyes on him from behind, his scent burning with jealousy. Rowan had to keep his own eyes from rolling.

Lysandra shot Rowan a wry smile as she passed them, and Rowan caught a whiff of her scent on the breeze. It was strange, almost…layered. He couldn’t quite figure it out, and before he could get a full breath, Lysandra had wrenched the rolling door open and left the warehouse, pulling it shut behind her.

Then Aelin appeared on the stairs, a pile of garments in her arms. “These are for you,” she to Rowan. “Looks like I owe Nesryn a favor, she asked Lysandra to bring them this morning.”

Aelin continued as Rowan started up the stairs to take the clothes off her hands. “She also brought news. Arobynn received a report last night that two prison wagons were spotted heading south to Morath – chock full of all those missing people. We need to send for Chaol.”

Aedion nodded, already heading out the door, while Rowan continued into the apartment to see if the new clothes would fit. When he passed Aelin, she smirked at him.

So that’s a no on the fit. Rowan held in a sigh. Knowing Aelin, she’d put him in tight clothing on purpose.

···

To Rowan’s relief, the clothes hadn’t been all that tight. The pants were loose enough that they no longer restricted his movement, even if they were nearly four inches too short at the ankle. But Aelin had still given him an overly-pleased once over when his back was turned. She was spending too much time with Lysandra.

By late morning, Chaol was standing in the middle of the clearing, his eyes fixed on the map between his fingers. His steel, cotton, and birchwood-flavored scent was exactly as Rowan remembered from when he’d first tasted it in Aelin’s blood all those months ago, in that reckless first bite.

The memory alone was enough for ice to crack through Rowan’s veins, freezing his expression in place. This man had been responsible for sending Aelin across the sea, with no warning and no protection, right into the arms of his former queen. Who had been responsible for the broken heart she had arrived with. And then, when she returned here, he had the impudence to tell her that it was her fault he had failed to protect his King. That it was her fault her cousin had ended up in prison and Dorian the walking dead.

Rowan wanted to rip his face off with his teeth.

But instead, Rowan just stood guard by the door. Keeping his eyes locked on the former captain of the guard.

The man was of slightly higher than average stature, with brown eyes and hair, and hardened features. He held his broad shoulders straight back, his spine rigid, but his limbs were unsettled. He couldn’t stop shifting in place, discomforted.

Rowan suppressed another grin.

The man’s eyes also kept shifting to Aelin, and as he moved in place yet again, Rowan caught the slightest hint of jasmine and flame in his scent – Aelin.

Even though he couldn’t detect even a trace of the captain’s scent on Aelin anymore, the captain was still holding on to her. Still carrying her scent. Fury bubbled in Rowan’s gut.

Despite the vile words he’d hurled at her, the captain still wanted Aelin, and now that Rowan was looking for it, he could see the pain from her rejection written all over him.

Rowan almost regretted being polite to the man. But he knew Aelin would be rightfully furious with him if he attacked Chaol when their alliance was already so fragile. So he stuck to the door.

But that didn’t mean Aelin didn’t notice his icy stare, nor the captain’s discomfort. Her eyes glinted. “You know, he won’t bite,” she crooned.

Chaol leveled a stare at her. “Can you just explain what these maps are for?”

“Anything you, Ress, or Brullo can fill in regarding these gaps in the castle defenses would be appreciated,” she said.

His lips pursed as he folded up the map, tucking it into the inner pocket of his tunic. “For you to bring down the clock tower?”

“Maybe,” Aelin said flatly.

Chaol bristled. He was still obviously avoiding Rowan’s gaze. “I haven’t heard from Ress or Brullo for a few days,” he said tersely. “I’ll make contact soon.”

Aelin just nodded, pulling out a second map – this one of the sewer network. She weighed it down on the table with two of the daggers hidden up her sleeves.

Chaol shot her a disapproving look that made Rowan want to snarl.

Aelin ignored them. “Arobynn learned that the missing prisoners were taken to Morath last night. Did you know?”

Chaol tensed. “No.”

“They can’t have gotten far. You could gather a team and ambush the wagons.”

“I know I could.”

“Are you going to?”

He laid a hand on the map, his face darkening. If Rowan didn’t know any better, he might have felt sympathetic. The man was obviously in pain.

His words were low, but hard. “Did you bring me here to prove a point about my uselessness?”

Aelin straightened. Rowan leaned forwards slightly, readying himself. Aelin spoke, choosing her words very carefully, “I asked you to come because I thought it would be helpful for the both of us. We’re both – we’re both under a fair amount of pressure these days.”

“When do you make your move?” the captain asked, his eyes roving over the map.

“Soon.”

Another purse of the lips. Apparently, he didn’t like her non-answers. “Anything else I should know?”

“I’d start avoiding the sewers. It’s your death warrant if you don’t.”

“There are people trapped down there—we’ve found the nests, but no sign of the prisoners. I won’t abandon them.”

“That’s all well and good,” Aelin said calmly, even as Chaol slammed his teeth together, “but there are worse things than Valg grunts patrolling the sewers, and I bet they won’t turn a blind eye to anyone in their territory. I would weigh the risks if I were you.”

The captain was angry, but he kept silent as Aelin combed her fingers through her hair and asked, “So are you going to ambush the prison wagons?”

“Of course I am.”

Rowan couldn’t doubt the sincerity there, and it seemed Aelin couldn’t either. Her eyes softened in concern, her scent flickering. And Rowan knew that there was still some affection left for the old captain of the guard. But how much?

Aelin sighed softly. Then said, “They use warded locks on the wagons. And the doors are reinforced with iron. Bring the right tools.”

It was Rowan’s turn to clench his jaw. Aelin would know, she had spent weeks in one. Chained up and in the dark. On her way to slavery.

It took all of his self control to remain still and standing.

The captain straightened up, making to leave.

“Tell Faliq that Prince Rowan says thank you for the clothes,” Aelin said. And even though confusion passed over Chaol’s face, he nodded his agreement. Rowan stepped aside with a murmur of farewell as the captain stepped into the bright sunlight of the golden afternoon.

···

To his great surprise, Aelin told him that there wasn’t anything pressing they needed to take care of that day, so instead, she spent the time showing him her city.

She took him through the slums, keeping to the shadows whenever possible, and they walked all the way through the capital to the elegant residential districts and the busy markets squares, now crammed with vendors selling goods for the summer solstice in two weeks.

She talked all the while, pointing out paths and walkways, busy intersections and guard postings, along with all those little details that made this place her home, the good and the bad. And so much of it seemed to be connected to Sam.

Places they had walked together, ate together, laughed together – where they had grown up. She even pointed out the place Sam had rescued her from the sewers when she had been kidnapped and nearly drowned.

The cobbles were warm with the afternoon sunlight, and despite the darkness of the Valg guards, the pair of them walked through the city as if belonged to them. As if the streets and buildings were but a carpet unrolled before their feet.

“The man who runs that store always used to give me free tarts.”

“That dressmaker was my favorite, she always knew exactly how to alter a garment to suit you perfectly.”

“I had dance lessons here for years, the instructor is an amazing woman, you would have loved her. She let me play her piano, even if my back was never straight enough for her. She helped me rescue Aedion.”

They even spent almost half an hour in an old music repair shop, wandering among the aisles of old instruments and piles of music sheets. Even if, in Rowan’s opinion, no piece of music could be more beautiful than the sound of her laugh as he nearly tripped over some twisted pieces of metal she told him belonged to a broken brass horn.

Aelin also took him to one of Nesryn’s family bakeries, where she tried force him to eat some of a pear tart, no matter how many times he told her that it smelled sickly sweet to him. 

At the docks however, Rowan actually managed to convince Aelin to try some pan-fried trout. She cringed and swore at first, but once she’d tried it, she finished her fish in record time and soon was trying to sneak bites of his. Rowan snarled at her, but he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching into a smile.

After their late lunch, they sat at the edge of the docks and cooled by the water. They were mostly silent, instead listening to the sounds of the shipyards, seabirds and waves.

Rowan found that his thoughts kept sliding to Sam. He’d been just a boy when he died, barely eighteen. They’d had so little time together. And before Aelin had gotten a chance to deal with his death, she had been sold into slavery.

Rowan tried to find the words to ask her about Sam, about how she felt for him, but before he could, the sound of a whip cracked through their pleasant silence.

Aelin met his eyes, her face grave. Soundlessly, they stood and walked away from the water and back to the shore, where they watched as a cluster of chained slaves hauled cargo onto one of the ships. People who, no doubt, were captured and enslaved because of their opposition to Adarlanian rule. Rebels in chains, allies of Terrasen and its queen.

They watched, and could to nothing.

A cold, endless fury burned in Aelin’s eyes; a fury that made him want to call a storm of ice and wind so strong it would turn the shipyards to rubble, the slavers with them. But he couldn’t, and not only because his magic was locked inside his body. Instead they just stared. And swore to themselves that soon, perhaps very soon, those slaves would be freed.

He and Aelin wandered away, back through the market stalls from which they came, though now the silence between them felt heavy with darkness.

Now the wooden paths were full of the scent of roses and wild lilies, the ocean breeze sweeping petals of every shape and color past their feet as the flower girls shouted about their wares. Husbands leaned over bouquets to bring home to their wives, bachelors picked out arrangements for their intended, while girls giggled over daisies and shot the boys looks from beneath their lashes when they thought no one was watching.

Rowan stopped in his tracks. The smell, the laughter, the color – it was all so familiar that it made his heart wrench in two.

There was a woman across from them in the center of the square, a basket of hothouse peonies on her thin arm. She was young, pretty, and dark-haired, and her eyes sparkled with something hidden – twin to his mate of two centuries earlier.

Memories began flashing behind his eyes – a mountain home in smoke, arms digging a grave, blood running tracks down the backs of his hands. The face of a woman in a market across the sea, flowers in her arms and hair, a smile lighting up her face. Even the queen by his side couldn’t dull the screaming reverberating in his head.

Rowan didn’t hear what Aelin said as she turned to him, but he saw her face. Her eyes widened, and she clenched and unclenched her fingers, any words lodged in her throat.

Rowan just stared at the girl, who was smiling, alight with life and a vibrant energy that sliced through him like a knife. She smiled at a passing woman, holding out her peonies for a sale.

Rowan breathed, Aelin’s anxiety brushing past him with a wash of flickering embers. Truth. The only thing he could offer her. 

“I didn’t deserve her,” he said quietly.

Aelin swallowed hard. A long pause. Then, “I didn’t deserve Sam.”

Rowan turned to look at Aelin, her eyes downturned, her mouth soft. He would do anything to keep that sadness off her face. Anything.

Rowan reached out to brush her fingers with his, maybe to hold her hand, or pull her body into his. But at the last moment, he remembered himself, and dropped his arm back to his side.

He must have invented that glint of disappointment in Aelin’s eyes.

“Come,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

They left the flower girls behind, moving deeper into the city, but Rowan was unable to completely let go of the pain wrapping his heart in ice.

···

Aelin scrounged up some dessert from the street vendors while Rowan waited in a shadowed alley, then she pulled him deeper into the city proper, until they darted into a side alley and ducked into a hidden entrance that led to a rickety wooden staircase. 

Now, Aelin was munching on a lemon cookie while they sat on one of the wooden rafters in the gilded dome of the darkened Royal Theater, Aelin swinging her legs in the open air below.

The space was dark and silent, unnaturally so. As if the very seats and aisles longed for the return of the music that had once blanketed them. Sunlight poured in from the roof door they’d entered through, illuminating the rafters and the golden dome, gleaming faintly off the polished brass banisters and the blood red curtains of the stage below.

“This used to be my favorite place in the entire world,” Aelin said, her words full of a loving nostalgia. “Arobynn owns a private box, so I went any chance I could. The nights I didn’t feel like dressing up or being seen, or maybe the nights I had a job and only an hour free, I’d creep in here through that door and listen.”

Rowan finished the cookie Aelin had foisted on him, still just gazing into the dark space below. He still hadn’t said anything since they’d left the flower vendors, and he could smell the scent of Aelin’s worry wafting around them. Wanting to ease her tension, and to turn away from the icy marble deep in his chest, he turned back to her.

Aelin seemed to practically sigh in relief as he said, “I’ve never seen an orchestra – or a theater like this, crafted around sound and luxury. Even in Doranelle, the theaters and amphitheaters are ancient, with benches or just steps.”

“There’s no place like this anywhere, perhaps. Even in Terrasen.”

“Then you’ll have to build one.”

“With what money? You think people are going to be happy to starve while I build a theater for my own pleasure?”

“Perhaps not right away, but if you believe one would benefit the city, the country, then do it. Artists are essential.”

Aelin sighed, seemingly unable to handle another burden, small as it was. “This place has been shut down for months, and yet I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air.”

Rowan angled his head, studying. “Perhaps the music does live on, in some form.” It was almost as though he could feel its absence, in the taste of the air and the flutter of the curtains. The space wasn’t just empty, it was waiting.

A silver lining appeared in Aelin’s eyes. “I wish you could have heard it – I wish you had been there to hear Pytor conduct the Stygian Suite. Sometimes, I feel like I’m still sitting down in that box, thirteen years old and weeping from the sheer glory of it.”

“You cried?” he blinked, watching as the memories passed behind her eyes and wishing he could see them as she did.

“The final movement – every damn time,” she sighed, almost laughing at herself. “I would go back to the Keep and have the music in my mind for days, even as I trained or killed or slept. It was a kind of madness, loving that music. It was why I started playing the pianoforte – so I could come home at night and make my poor attempt at replicating it.”

“Is there a pianoforte in here?” he asked, looking back into the darkness without waiting for an answer, the ghost of a smile passing over his face.

···

“I haven’t played in months and months. And this is a horrible idea for about a dozen different reasons,” Aelin complained for the tenth time as she finished rolling back the curtains on the stage.

Rowan kept quiet, focusing on lighting the single candle he had found backstage. He knew that the space had once been grand and beautiful, but now, amid the gloom of the dead theater, it felt like standing in a tomb. The chairs were still perfectly arranged for a massive orchestra, though they were now covered in dust. No one had been in here in weeks.

Rowan turned and walked over to the pianoforte, which was near the front of the stage. He had never learned to play, his court lessons not extending so far as learning an instrument. 

Rowan had been to his fair share of balls and events, but it had been a rare thing for him to have an opportunity to listen to music just for music’s sake. Much of those events had been heavily overshadowed by the annoyance of dealing with court maneuvering. And after Lyria’s death, he had avoided such things at all costs.

He could barely remember the last time he had been able to listen to any kind of music and just listen. To have the pleasure of experiencing the art, the magic of it. He ran a hand over the smooth surface of the instrument as if it were a prize horse, marveling at the potential the lay within.

Aelin was hesitating at his side. “It seems like sacrilege to play that thing,” she said, her words echoing too loudly in the space.

“Since when are you the religious type, anyway?” Rowan gave her an encouraging smile. He just hoped that it wasn’t too crooked. “Where should I stand to best hear it?”

“You might be in for a lot of pain at first.”

“Self-conscious today, too?” Maybe teasing would get it out of her.

“If Lorcan’s snooping about,” she grumbled, “I’d rather he not report back to Maeve that I’m lousy at playing.”

He just grinned as she pointed to a spot on the stage. “There. Stand there, and stop talking, you insufferable bastard.” He chuckled, and moved across to the center of the stage.

She swallowed as she slid onto the smooth bench and folded back the lid, revealing the gleaming keys beneath. She positioned her feet on the pedals, but made no move to touch the keyboard. “I haven’t played since before Nehemia died,” she admitted, the words heavy.

“We can come back another day, if you want,” he said softly.

“There might not be another day. And – and I would consider my life very sad indeed if I never played again.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. So get on with it then.

She sighed, but turned back to face the keys and slowly set her hands on the instrument, a great beast of sound and joy about to be awakened.

“I need to warm up,” she blurted, then plunged in, the notes soft and light.

It was just a random selection of chords and scales, but still, the music filled the hall with its caring whisper. The whole space seemed to breathe again, as if soaking up the music like light, or air.

And then she began for real.

The piece she played wasn’t merely happy or sad, calm or excited – it was far, far more than that. The complexity of the notes, the way they layered together and bounded off each other – it felt like the melody of life itself. Of the love and glory and pain and beauty in simply breathing.

It filled Rowan up with its warmth, and he felt Aelin’s fiery heat overflowing within each note. The music seemed to be made of her fire, and together they burned. All the while the music built, up and up and up and up, until the sound breaking from the instrument was like the heart-song of a long lost goddess.

Rowan stood and waited, letting the sound wrap around his form like a blanket, letting it slowly melt the ice around his heart. Aelin had always been able to do that, melt away his pain and resistance, without even realizing she could. And now she did so not with words, but with this music that flew from her fingers like small winged creatures, into the empty seats behind them.

Rowan drifted over to stand beside the instrument. He was drawn to her, to the fire that made him feel so alive. Then she whispered to him, “Now,” and the crescendo shattered into the world, note after note after note. The music crashed around them, roaring through the emptiness of the theater.

She brought the piece home to its final explosive, triumphant chord, and Rowan could feel tears lining his eyes. When she looked up, panting slightly, he just gazed at her, at the queen who had lit up his darkness, and marveled.

He struggled for words, but then finally breathed, “Show me - show me how you did that.”

···

They spent the better part of an hour seated together on the bench, Aelin teaching him the basics of the pianoforte – explaining the sharps and flats, the pedals, the notes and chords. At last when Rowan heard someone coming to investigate the music, they slipped out.

On their way back to the apartment, they stopped at the Royal Bank. Aelin went inside alone, having ordered Rowan to wait in the shadows across the street, impatient and pissed off. Luckily she only took a few minutes, returning with a bag of gold clasped to her belt.

“So you’re using your own money to support us?” Rowan asked, masking his irritation as best he could.

“For now.”

“And what will you do for money later?”

She glanced sidelong at him. “It’ll be taken care of.”

“By whom?”

“Me.”

He clenched his teeth, anger mounting. “Explain.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” She gave him a small smile that drove him completely insane. Rowan made to grab her by the shoulder, but she ducked away from his touch.

“Ah, ah. Better not move too swiftly, or someone might notice.” 

He snarled viciously but she only chuckled. “Just be patient and don’t get your feathers ruffled.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, stopping another snarl in its tracks. This conversation could wait until they were both home. Maybe then he would be able to convince her that he absolutely needed to be let in on her plans. It was the only way to keep her safe.

But would she listen?

Rowan scowled at that thought, and took off into the shadows behind Aelin, following her back to the warehouse.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

···

please let me know if you would like to be added to this taglist!

bolded tags are broken or do not work

@lemonade-coolattas​ / @morganofthewildfire​ / @punkassbookjockey26​ / @sassys-world​ / @swankii-art-teacher​ / @westofmoon​ / @rockgirl321​ / @throneofglassthings / @booknerdproblems​ / @cityofchelsea16​ / @jesstargaryenqueen​ / @rowanwhitethornisbae​ / @imaginedhaven​ / @tiredbutstillreading​ / @sheharahu​ / @manonlochan05​ / @emilyoftheshadows​ / @queen-of-glass​ / @sjmships​ / @autophobiaxx​ / @whimsicallyreading​ / @officialasianbitch​ / @daips​ / @lowhangingtreebranches​ / @feynightlight​ / @firestarsandseneschals​ / @aflickeringsoul​ / @abraxos-is-toothless​ / @thehighqueenofhiraeth​ / @highladywhitethrone​ / @fangirlprincess09​ / @charlizeed​ /