#let me address some other things you might find while looking at them now

[yunhohours]

all of my masterlists have been given makeovers to match my theme coloring <33

[muddyorbsblr]

bad feeling

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Loki's entrance into the Avengers Compound depends on your approval

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warning/s: minor character that's teeming with douchebag energy and doesn't age check before sliding into the DMs; language (nope still not sorry, Rogers); my rusty af writing (it's been months and honestly this might be cringe but if it is don't tell me i'm sensitive--) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: metahuman Reader in denial; instalove trope alert (i didn't think i'd ever be writing that but here we are)

"Brother, this is truly unnecessary," Loki groaned, fighting every urge to drag his feet as his brother led him down the halls of the Avengers Compound, avoiding the mix of curious and alarmed stares from the Midgardians donning near-identical jumpsuits. "Rogers' begrudging approval of your truly asinine idea was enough, you need not lead introductions. I am quite sure that Stark and the rest of your comrades have not forgotten who I am."

Thor simply rolled his eyes in response. "Of course they have not forgotten, Brother, but we have had quite the number of newcomers, and I will run not the risk of them reacting with hostility if they cross paths with you. So I shall conduct a simple extemporized introductory session with them so they may…acclimate to your presence in the Compound. And not think it a clandestine invasion and trigger a security lockdown."

As if right on cue, two faces, one familiar and the other quite new to the god of mischief approached, the sounds of their jovial exchange coming to a deadening halt. The smiles on their faces quickly morphed into furrowed brows and battle stances. "Thor, why have you brought him here?" the woman with auburn hair questioned, a red energy that he recognized as Chaos Magic forming in her hands while her companion, Romanoff, looked ready to strike.

"Please, stand down, my friends." The blond god held his hands up in front of them. "He means no harm, I promise you. I've brought him here so that perhaps he could join--"

"Not a fucking chance, Barbie," Romanoff seethed. "I still remember the mind job he did--Wanda what are you doing? Why are you actually listening--"

"Because some time ago I did what you call a 'mind job' on the rest of you," she answered the former Russian spy simply, standing down and waving her magic away. "And now here I get to stand, calling you all my friends. Because you forgave me for my misdeeds. Gave me a second chance. I think we should all extend the same kindness now."

"I commend the way you think, Maximoff," Rogers' voice echoed across the common area, bystanders not so subtly beginning to crowd the area surrounding them, only parting to let the super soldier through and take his stance in the middle of the group. "Much as I'm not the biggest fan of Mister Leather and Metal 'you will all kneel before me', Wanda's right." He took a step back and addressed the room. "Everyone, Loki will be joining us for the foreseeable future. I expect you all to make an effort to help him adjust to his new life here on Earth. Or at least not get in his way. Now, back to work. All of you."

The curious agents all scattered about, returning to their tasks prior to the Asgardian brothers arriving.

"Thank you, Steven," Thor spoke up once the bystanders made themselves scarce. "You will not regret--"

"Not so fast, Odinson." Rogers threw his hand up, stopping his brother's words short. "I want him to meet Y/L/N first. If she says he won't give us any grief, then he can stay. She says no? You'll have to find another place to park your brother."

"Hey--!" Loki fought back the urge to throw a dagger in the soldier's direction. "I am not some meager property that needs to be set down--"

"If you would rather Strange lock you back in an eternal fall, that can be arranged," he shot back, the muscles in his jaw twitching in a telltale sign that he was fighting back a smug grin. He motioned toward the interrogation area, showing the way. "Meet Y/L/N, and we'll go from there."

Thor led the way further into the Compound and past the common area, the temperature dropping significantly and impelling the god to cast an enchantment that would raise his core temperature so as to not trigger his Jotun form to emerge. "Apologies, Brother," he spoke as they made their way down the hall. "There have been suspicions that an intern for one of SHIELD's departments has been a HYDRA operative attempting to pilfer data to fuel some form of invasion. This individual is in one of the interrogation rooms now awaiting Y/N's arrival, and the temperature was her idea. Put the young man in a sense of high discomfort to lower his guards."

"Have him focus on making his body cope with the temperature rather than his mind on deflecting her queries," he surmised, nodding his head as they stepped into the viewing area, laying eyes on the clearly novice employee in that same jumpsuit the others wore outside. His breathing was jittery and labored, rubbing his hands furiously to generate even some form of heat. It wouldn't be difficult to break through his defenses. "She's a clever one, that mortal. Though I could save you all the interrogation and read the lad's mind--"

"No no," Thor waved him off, motioning for him to look into the room once more. "I want you to see her at work. It's rather fascinating watching her work, and the machination of her mind is rather…perplexing."

"Should we be contacting one Doctor Foster to inform her of his…fascination of yours, Brother?" he gibed, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and finding himself a touch more curious when Thor simply laughed off the question.

"My heart is Jane's and Jane's alone, Brother. You know this," he answered, giving his brother a pointed look. Guilt sat heavily on his heart, knowing full well the words that the god of thunder chose to omit. Considering that I destroyed the Bifrost just to protect her from you.

It would take time before amends were made for making that particular threat, no matter how empty it truly was.

Before Loki could say anything, the door on the other side of the two-way mirror opened, a hard-faced Agent Romanoff entering the room and taking the seat opposite the suspected traitor. She made a point to shrug off her jacket and bare her arms, the action making the young man's face twist in derision, undoubtedly because it challenged his quite fragile ego even more.

"I have nothing to say to you," he said, the shaking tone of his voice betraying him. "Why aren't you cold? You all did something to me, didn't you? Made your freaky witch friend cast some curse on me?"

Romanoff leaned back against her chair, her smirk growing as his scowl deepened. "Where I was from, this is what summer felt like," she shot back casually, keeping her tone even despite the bold-faced lie. "And I don't need you to say anything." She jutted her chin in the direction of the door, a proud look on her face as you walked in to the room. "I just need her to look at you."

"Mister Park…" you droned, taking your time to cross the distance from the door to the cold metal desk. "I'm Agent Y/L/N, I'll be your interrogator."

You leaned in to the edge of the table, gripping the corners. Your body stiffened for a few seconds as you took a sharp breath, adjusting to the frigid cold. There was a distant, calculating, enigmatic smile on your face as your eyes roamed his features. Almost as if you were picking away at the fragments of his protective shell, exposing the answers he refused to give with just that one look.

It was a sight that was all too familiar to him. Something his mother would use on suspected traitors to the Realm back in Asgard. Perhaps that was what you were doing, after all. Or perhaps it was a well-crafted facade. Something that Romanoff or another former spy within SHIELD's ranks had taught you to unnerve its recipient.

"Like I told Agent Hot Stuff over there, I have nothing to say to any of you," he sneered.

"And like Agent Romanoff told you, we don't need you to say anything. All you have to do…is sit there." You squinted your eyes at him, sighing deeply as you said the words that apparently cemented the suspected traitor's fate. "I've got a bad feeling about you." You leaned in close, invading his personal space and making him even more visibly uneasy, not even bothering to mask how his body was shaking. "Nice contacts."

In a heartbeat, Agent Romanoff leaned across the desk and grasped the bottom of the apparently confirmed traitor's face, the man they called Park now wincing and groaning in even more discomfort as she inspected his eyes. "Implants?" she asked you.

"Seems buddy boy here's really committed to the cause," you remarked, mocking their organization's salute. "Helium Hydrogen or some shit."

Park slammed his fists down on the table, neither woman even flinching at the outburst. As if you both saw it coming. "It's Heil Hydra, you stupid bitch!" he screamed, fighting against Romanoff's hold and trying to stand up from his seat to charge at you.

You, however, simply responded with a self-satisfied grin as you called out toward the other side of the door, "And there's our verbal confirmation! Lock 'im up." And just to goad the traitorous intern on further, you ruffled his hair and looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Thank you for your cooperation."

Right as you said the words, Rogers burst into the room along with two other agents, flanking him and restricting his movement so he couldn't charge at anyone in the room. "Put him in the holding cells until transport gets here," he instructed the agents, who simply nodded and walked the traitor out of the room.

You and Romanoff turned off the lights and walked out arm in arm. Loki caught a smidgen of your conversation about meeting the significant other of another new Avenger. Something about "earning your stamp of approval".

"What did I tell you, Brother?" Thor prompted, nudging his arm.

"Fascinating," he mumbled, unable to wipe the image of that enigmatic smile of yours from his mind. Wondering what you looked like when you were genuinely beaming at something. Or someone. "It seems she's somewhat telepathically inclined."

"That is what many of us have been trying to tell her, but she refuses to listen. Insists that she is simply better inclined at reading others from her years of dreadfully flawed relationships of 'every kind'," he explained, leading him down the same hallway that you and Romanoff had disappeared to moments ago. "Repeatedly tells us that her most effective and only teacher has been, in her words, her life's revolving door of shitty people."

"And Rogers wishes for me to meet this Y/N so that she may what? Approve of my being here? He defers to her when it comes to newcomers in your merry band of his realm's mightiest heroes?" He tried to mask his curiosity with his signature smarm, trying to seem disinterested in what seemed like an initiation rite.

But in truth he was all the more looking forward to being face to face with you.

"She has not yet been incorrect in the years that I have known her. And you have nothing to fret about, Brother. You will make a fine addition to this team," the blond said proudly, both of them finally arriving to the considerably warmer common area. Loki finally lifted his enchantment, no longer concerned of his Jotun form emerging as his brother raised his hand and called out in your direction, "Y/N! I have returned from Asgard and there is someone I wish for you to meet--"

"In a minute, Barbie. Carter's bringing in her latest beau. Something about her wanting me to have a read on him before she gets too invested," you answered him, throwing your hand up in their direction. You threw a cursory glance their way, barely registering the raven-haired god, before returning your gaze to the door where another unfamiliar face walked in, arm in arm with a man whose entire aura screamed 'philanderer'.

"Y/N, I'd like you to meet Nathan. Nathan, sweetie, this is my friend--"

"Wow you're stunning," the man said, raising his hand in front of him, seemingly to shake yours. But the positioning seemed…off. As if he were to turn your hand and kiss the back of it the second you even brought yours a fraction of an inch upward.

One look into this Nathan's thoughts all but confirmed it. Along with all the other deplorable indiscretions he had stacked against him.

If the god's suspicions were right and you truly were telepathically inclined, you would see those indiscretions, too. With the right guidance, you could explore the true scope of your abilities. Perhaps even advance them.

Your unmoving stance brought along a disquiet to your friend's features, her smile fading into a grim line as her eyes drooped and her posture slumped. She'd seen this reaction from you before, and she seemed to already brace herself for your next words.

"I've got a bad feeling about you," you said in an ominous tone, standing at your full height before tilting your head slightly. From where he stood, Loki could see the man grow visibly anxious, his pulse quickening and beating furiously against his neck.

"What--Why what'd you see?" your friend croaked out, fighting back sobs.

You chose to instead address the deplorable excuse of a man. "You checked out no less than three women since you walked through the front door, and at least twice you wondered if any of them would be down for a threesome. You have a secret social media account that you use to sext other women and send them your dick pics, ohh and by the way…that pump that you're using? Doesn't do shit."

The god had never seen someone's complexion visibly pale until now, Nathan losing all color in his face as if he'd been drained of blood. "You--You d-don't know what you're talking about, you fucking freak!" He looked to Carter, his eyes rife with panic. "Babe, your weird friend here's just pulling this all out of her ass, she's lying--"

His paltry laughable excuses were cut off with a chorus of hissing sounds and "ooh"s and "yikes" from your team, as if his words were so offensive they physically stung. Stark spoke up, clapping his hand down on the man's shoulder. "Now see here, Rudolph the horny reindeer, you've made at least five mistakes since you stepped through that door. But calling Y/N here a liar? Yeah, that dug your grave, dick for brains."

"Well then she's wrong!" he whined, grabbing for his lover's hands and holding on with a death grip. "Baby, you know me, I'm your pookie bear. I would never hurt you--"

"Oof goddamn now I wish I was lying," you quipped, a mixture of surprise and disgust coloring your features. "You couldn't waterboard that nickname out of me. Maybe try going for something that doesn't sound like a name a toddler would give a stuffed animal for the next one? You probably have her all lined up, right? Somewhere in all those DMs and FaceApp'd shrimpy photoshoots?" You took a step closer, not seeming to care about how his free hand was clenched so tightly into a fist that it began to shake. "By the way, I hope you age checked those girls. I'll give you two pieces of free advice. First? Age of consent in New York is seventeen. Second? Don't treat it like a damn target."

Your friend Carter finally jerked her hand out of his and struck him across the face, the sound reverberating through the common area. Stark raised his brows and nodded at her in approval, making a remark about how he wished he had some popcorn.

"It's over," she told him. "I don't ever want to hear from you again." Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she said the words and motioned toward the same door they walked through just minutes before.

"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted, acting like a misbehaving toddler and stomping his foot. "Why would you even believe this freaky little bitch over your own boyfriend, I thought we had some--"

"Because we trust her, cradle robber. And to this day she's never been wrong about a damn thing," Stark sniped, walking over and putting himself between you and the increasingly belligerent Nathan. He placed a tablet in Carter's hands. "I took the liberty of getting into his second account and sending screenshots of his messages to…well, just about everyone in his contacts list. But I figured you ought to see it and scroll through the messages first hand, Sharon."

At this moment, Loki caught another glimpse into the philandering man's mind, seeing a vision of him intending to attack you and strangle you with his bare hands. And just as the god suspected, you had glimpsed the same thought running through his mind, side stepping out of the way just before Nathan could get a hold of you. He watched with more than mild amusement as Thor stepped forward next and grabbed the whining man by the back of his shirt and lifting him into the air.

"Any mortal capable of even the tiniest amount of coherent thought would know better than to attack my friends," the blond said in a low, authoritative tone that eerily reminded Loki of their father. He promptly walked Nathan to the same door that he and Carter had walked through; Loki could see that his brother was physically fighting the urge to give the impudent puny mortal a swift kick to his rear as he gave him a nudge out of the premises.

"Thank you, Barbie," you spoke, an equally amused look on your face after witnessing the whole ordeal. "Always knew it was a good idea to have an Asgardian bouncer guard dog around."

Once Thor had made his way back to you and the rest of the team, you and he grasped each other's forearms. A show of respect that the blond oaf usually only had reserved for his closest comrades, the Warriors Four. Only recently had he even done that with Loki, and while the god of mischief would never admit it aloud, the gesture had him fighting back that traitorous prickling in the backs of his eyes.

"Speaking of having Asgardians in the Compound, there is someone I wish for you to meet, Lady Y/N," he spoke, motioning toward his brother. You tilted your head, a smile so starkly different from the one you had in the interrogation room brightening your features the moment your eyes met Loki's. "This is my brother, and he could be quite an invaluable asset to the team."

"With your go ahead, Agent Y/L/N," Rogers spoke from his seat, intently watching the scene play out before him. Once again agents had begun to crowd around them, completely halting their movements to bear witness. "Like Stark said, we trust you."

You barely gave a response, the only indicator that you'd even heard Rogers' words being a slight jut of your chin in his direction. Loki took your considerably smaller outstretched hand in his, taking every bit of his strength to stay upright as the visions bombarded his mind. The smallest gasp slipped from your lips. You took a moment to compose yourself before you spoke, addressing the team.

"All clear, he can stay," you announced, a boisterous whoop coming from Thor the second you gave your judgment. Neither of you made a move to let go of the other's hand.

"Okay not to take a page out of your book here, jellybean, but…" Stark spoke, breaking you two out of your own little bubble. He pointed his finger back and forth between you and the raven-haired god. "I've got a bad feeling about the two of you."

Stop smiling, you literal idiot, you chided yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment. There was no logical reason to even be thinking of the new member of the team now that you weren't around him, and yet you couldn't get the jet black-haired Asgardian dressed in dark emerald leather out of your mind.

The bar must have been in hell if all it took to get you to actually smile was the fact that the second you two met eyes, no alarm bells went off the way that they did for that newbie traitor…or Sharon's now ex boyfriend. The only hunch that you got looking at him was that he was definitely there to watch the interrogation and trying to figure out how you clocked the iris implants on Park.

"Maybe if he figures it out, he could clue me in on it, too, because I don't have the foggiest fucking idea where that came from," you muttered into the emptiness. And then like clockwork, you found yourself thinking about his blinding brilliant smile again.

And the way his hand completely dwarfed yours.

And how even in those few moments in the common room, being around him for some reason blanketed you in this feeling as if, for the first time in a long time, you didn't have to be as careful anymore. Like you no longer had to constantly be looking over your shoulder because someone might actually have your back and--

"Now you're just being ridiculous, Y/N," you grumbled at yourself, staring down your reflection. "How many times have you had your heart shattered from trusting too easily? Feeling safe around him is exactly why you shouldn't feel safe, why is it that for all the people that trust your instincts, you can't seem to listen to them yourself? And have I lost my freaking mind I am talking to my own--"

Knock knock knock

The sound came from your front door, snapping you out of your rant. "Who in the fuck?"

A lump formed in your throat when you opened the door, looking up at the exact stormy blue eyes that refused to leave your mind since you met him a little over an hour ago. The ones that made a question form in your mind that you couldn't bring yourself to voice out.

Why do I have a good feeling about you?

"Loki…" you said his name slowly, trying your best to ignore how bizarrely right it felt to say it. As if you were meant to. As if you were going to say it -- scream it, even -- for years to come.

"Good evening, Y/N." What you couldn't ignore was how the sound of your name from his lips made your knees want to buckle. "I wish to speak to you about something that I saw when I touched your hand earlier. A vision. Of the future."

The lump in your throat suddenly got bigger. "Ohh God am I gonna die? Soon? Because if I am I don't want spoilers, not even hints, what's gonna happen is gonna--"

"I saw us," he cut you off, reaching for your hands and rubbing circles on the inside of your wrists. "Years of stolen glances and missed opportunities and unsaid words. And it was only at the brink of losing you forever that I finally would find the courage to tell you of my affections."

There were no words, all you could do was blink at him as you tried to process his words. Looking desperately for the telltale signs that there was a disconnect between what he was saying and what his actual intentions were for coming to you like this. The disconnect that was present with most men that you were face to face with.

And yet your intuition, that hadn't failed you for as long as you could remember, was practically squealing with glee that you could feel safe around the god.

"Why are you telling me this?" you asked him. You were surprised you could even form words. Or that you somehow managed to bite your tongue from letting slip a more abrasive question.

He stepped closer to you, a soft smile on his face as he gently framed your face with his hands. "I don't wish to spend the next years pining away and foolishly waiting for the timing to be just right. I had glimpsed our future, and it was…" His smile widened into a brilliant grin, his thumbs tracing along your cheekbones. "It was resplendent. Having even the most fleeting glimpse that what we would have, it had me awash with…peace. The kind that I had longed for for centuries."

Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips to your forehead, your heart pounding away furiously in your chest. You knew a little too well the feeling that he was describing. That feeling of peace. Of a calm quietude that put you at ease even if the world would have been crashing down around you.

That feeling like you were home.

"Now as for your unspoken question," he whispered, breath warming your skin. "Of what am I doing here…I wish to change that future. Or rather, hasten it along. If that is what you want as well, of course."

He pressed his forehead to yours, loosely wrapping his arms around you. All you could do was nod, secretly grateful that he was holding you upright because the violent fluttering in your stomach was making it hard to stand.

That feeling spread throughout your entire body like wildfire when he briefly brushed his lips against yours; you could feel how much restraint he was exerting to pull away. To test the waters. To wait for you to tell him it was alright.

And you let out the words that were fighting to break free since you first saw him earlier today. "I have a good feeling about you."

A/N: *peeks out from behind the laptop* ohai there…long time no see 🙈 Imma say it again because it bears repeating: I'm rusty as all fuck and I might be for a while, but I'm trying to get back into writing since I haven't really done much ever since starting the new job. But things are finally beginning to settle down and normalize, so I'm trying to somehow find a groove again.

I'm gonna be so real w/ y'all, the next stuff on my queue is RTC and 'the final Lady Sharpe' and with how rusty my prose feels, I'm so scared to touch them 😂

Also this is another story that was inspired by a TikTok pov trend. The one where people lip sync and act along to the song that goes "Oompa Loompa doopadeedoo I've got a bad feeling about you", as if it wasn't cringe enough 🥴🫡

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!

A smol bird requested for this to be written and so here I am, playing fairy godmother! If any of you have any sort of requests, just drop me a dm as I am revived from my death and ready to write more delulus as your solulus!

Context: What happens when your outfit decides NOT to cooperate with you? What will the boys do for you?

Disclaimer: This one-shot is created with me studying their lore on various websites and social media so that I could get a better idea on what colours they like/represent and what style they lean towards. Some of you may disagree but its okay! You can read it as it is and add in your own imagery of a suitable outfit by your hubbies! Warnings: Fluff that might rot your brains.

RAFAYEL

"I am almost done with this piece," Rafayel spoke, eyes still glued to his canvas, one hand holding up his messily stained colour palette, while the other held the brush as he drew strokes across the canvas. "Why don't you go and get changed as you wait for me to finish off this bit, yeah?"

"Yes sir." You quirkily replied and you stood up, spotting him sending you a teasing look given the way you addressed him. Earlier on, some strangers had came by Rafayel's mansion with Thomas to deliver some clothes. Apparently, these clothes are custom made by those luxurious brands specifically for Rafayel. Thomas addressed it as this was one of the ways the luxury brands show their support towards Rafayel's works. ONE OF THE WAYS... At this point, you are convinced that Rafayel is a huge deal and having luxurious brands begging on their knees to work with him sounded like a dream that would never come true to you.

The dress that sat on the bed was delivered for you as well, as per Rafayel's request. There was objection amongst the team that were handling the sponsorship and ambassador deals for the brand. But Rafayel spoke through the phone like he owns the company. "If she does not get a gown, then our business ends. Right now." He hung up abruptly, and the next thing he knew, the dress showed up at his door in less than 30 minutes.

Any brands, regardless luxurious or not, knows the right way and only way to please Rafayel. One wrong move and you are off the chart and some other brand may easily replace you. Hence, nobody dares to mess with Rafayel. Except for you. "The dress on the bed is yours!" He shouted from the living room and you picked up the dress.

The chiffon textured dress is of a forest green colour, going all the way down to your ankles. The strapless design made you gulped as you are not used to outfits of this measure, given the nature of your work, whereas your attire has to be 'appropriate for work in times of need'. Touching the inner material, you sighed in relief as you realised that there was bra padding for you hence you do not have to go all the way out to get a new bra just for this event.

Putting on the dress and zipping it up was easy, and you fit almost perfectly into the dress. The keyword being ALMOST. As you lifted your hands up, the dress started sliding down like it is a floatie on a wet water slide and woop, off it went and onto the ground. You panicked, bending down in one fell swoop and trying to gather the dress so that you can pull it up to your chest again.

But it does not let you go past the waist area unless you unzip it. Groaning, you struggled to find the zip as the dress is really puffy and you did not want to ruin the designer dress. "Is everything okay?" Rafayel stood at the doorway, leaning against the side of his door, as he watched you with amusement written all over his face. He has been standing there for quite a while hasn't he?

You gasped, pulling whatever that is on the floor to cover your chest area and he walked over, analysing the dress and scowling when he found out the reason. "I should have gotten them to measure you instead of just bringing you a standard fit." He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a couple of times. His eyes looked back at you and you bit your lip in embarassment. "Your curves are way too beautiful to be hidden amongst this pile of leaves."

His comment made you giggled. Guess he has the same thought as you. "Toss the dress aside darling, I will get you a new one." Another few taps of the finger, he shows you the dress he has in mind. A purple dress with extravagant sleeves, puffing out like how a jellyfish would and you instantaneously knew why he opted for this dress. "I like purple better anyways."

"But wait Rafayel... this dress is not entirely scrap, maybe I can sew a temporary knot on it to tighten the top so it won't fall off. And there is really no need for you to get another custom one for me as we are running out of time." Your suggestion made him stare at you, purple-blue pupils blown wide as if he has really just witnessed a shark eating grass. iykyk.

He walked over and grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close to him, so close that you could hear the sound of his heart against yours. But at this moment, maybe he could hear yours louder than his. "Nobody can put a price on your love for me. EVER. But, I can sure as hell throw out any price on anyone, regardless the amount, as a representation of how much you worth to me." You looked away immediately, eyes stared at the arms that were holding you in place. He kissed your forehead, chuckling, before he pressed his phone against his ear. "Now, let's see who can make this dress for the price I am willing to pay in 30 minutes time." he makes me feel something

ZAYNE

You waited on a bench in front of Akso Hospital. You figured it would be a great idea to wait for Zayne as he finishes work early today and you might be able to grab dinner with him. You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking through your daily for-you-page before a shadow loomed over you. You looked up and no doubt, it is Zayne aka the great and almightly Elsa.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked you, before handing you a candy that he had fished out from the pocket of his trench coat. "I was planning to meet you slightly later at your condo." The thought of him initially wanting to surprise you made your heart fluttered. You see, Zayne is a more upfront guy so having him to plan surprises are one of the uncalled scenarios.

"I had only been here for a couple of minutes." You lied, taking the candy out of his palm and unwrapped it before you tossed it into your mouth. The raise of his eyebrow towards you made your breath hitched as he knew you too well that you could not lie to him in his face. "Fine, I had waited here since 5pm." This made Zayne looked down at his wrist watch.

"So it's been an hour and 15 minutes?" He side eyed you and you admitted it by nodding your head. "Next time, it would be better if you were to just wait for me at home. If it wasn't for a full deck today at the hospital, I might just be covering shifts for other people and that might be inconvenient for you." But, he himself actually noticed you exactly an hour and 15 minutes, from his office's window, before his upcoming surgery. He had another three surgeries lined up for the night, but fearing that you may end up waiting the whole night for him, he decided to cancel his schedule for the night and transfer the case to other doctors. Even workaholics take a break. iykyk

"But I just wanted to come over to check up on you. I even chose to sit outside so that you would not be distracted as you are working." You pouted, hands picking at the hem of your shirt. You felt Zayne's hand landed on the top of your head, a gesture of love and comfort. He patted and smoothed your brunette strands back and you stared up at him. "I shall wait for you at home next time okay?"

"Now that's a good girl." killmeplease Zayne smiled warmly. "Now, lets get you back alright? My car is parked right by the road side. Come on." Hands around your waist, he slowly walked you over to his car. The smell of his cologne lingered on your nose, the smell of mint and dashes of cinnamon. Just like his personality, icy as mint but warm and welcoming as cinnamon once you get to know him.

He opened the car door for you and as you walked over to get into the car, your shirt got hooked against one of the metal wires that went astray from the metal fencing and the next thing you heard was the sound of a ripping cloth. You yelped as you stumbled and Zayne slotted himself right in front of you, shocked as well and using his body to block you from falling further. "Oh my..." Your cursed under your breath as your hands were against his washboard abs, steadying yourself. doublekill

He guided you into the car slowly before getting into the driver side himself. When he had started the car and turned on the air conditioning, he turned to look at you. "How bad is the rip?" He asked and you lifted the hem of your shirt, showing the rip that is around 4cm long.

"Why does this have to happen to one of my favourite shirt?" You frowned, fingers won't stop touching and fidgeting with the ripped edge.

"Do they still sell this shirt?" Zayne asked, hands reaching over to tug against the shirt, as if to examine the material of the outfit. The shake of your head made him sigh and he gestured to the glovebox. "Open the glovebox and take out the black pouch please."

You did as you were told and you watched in confusion as he took off his trench coat and placed it onto your lap. The coat still radiating warmth that was collected off of his body heat. He opened the black pouch and laid it flat on the arm rest of his car, and inside of the pouch was an array of threads and needles. "Are these suture needles?"

"Yes." His response was prompt. "Take off your shirt and hand it to me please." He requested and you gulped. Using the trench coat to block his view, you slowly took off your shirt and then wrapped his trench coat around your whole front. You knew that he had probably seen many naked bodies given his line of work but something about this scenario, with you being with him only in a car, felt very intimate and it made you very anxious. "You know how to sew?"

"I am a doctor, I know how to suture. And it is the same concept as sewing, but only with different kinds of needles and threads." He then started sewing, his concentration a trait you find admirable. It did not took him long when he finished sewing your shirt and he handed it back to you, the thread sewed on has gaps of equal length and was tied off neatly. As expected of one of the top doctors from Akso Hospital. As he started driving, he added. "Although I had managed to sew the shirt for you, I believe with my connections, I would be just as capable to find you the same shirt. Then, you would never have to complain about this being your only favourite shirt."

XAVIER

You were going about your day in your own house before you heard your doorbell ringing. You placed your bowl of cereal down and took a glance on the clock on your phone. Who dares to threaten your peaceful weekend? You went over to the door and you opened it to reveal your blond hair lover. "Xavier?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he smiled at you.

"Good morning, I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He teased and stepped in, holding out a parcel for your. "I believe this belongs to you?" The small rip at the top side of your parcel indicated that he probably took a peek on what's inside. Acknowledging the parcel, you took it off of his hands and you blushed, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

"Good morning to you too. I guess I might have accidentally wrote your level instead of mine." You bit your bottom lip and you heard him chuckle in return. "But thanks for coming down to deliver this to me when you could have just asked me to get it from you." "But I wanted to see you personally. And seeing the clothes that are in the parcel, I thought I could get to watch you try them on too." His blunt answer made you stare at him like a mad man. His blue eyes however, glinted with nothing but honesty. This guy may be mysterious but he sure is straightforward in stating what he has on his mind. He probably noticed the way you reacted and he took a step back, retracing his words and slightly coughing to ease the awkwardness. "I mean, I would like to see you trying out these new outfits that you had gotten for yourself. It would be a good past time for me."

You chuckled at how goofy this guy is and gestured towards him to go and sit at the couch. You went into the room to get yourself changed and it was as if today is your fashion show day. You strutted out in different outfits, layered against one another and watched the way Xavier would react to you, either fascinated, or straight down confused. There was even this one time, he would just have a blank expression where you wore an oversized shirt under your tshirt. Clothing trends on the streets nowadays baffles him and he wondered if he was the one that was left out from the fashion ring.

Your last outfit featured you in a semi see through tank top and a pair of cargo pants. Not to mention, the tank top seemed to be too small for you as the way the blond boy sees it, it was holding onto your figure for dear life and barely leaving anything more to one's imagination. And the thought itself ticked him off. When you looked over towards Xavier, he does not look surprised nor confused, but rather bland. "What do you think?" Your tone came off to be amused and you did a twirl in front of him before you took a seat right next to him.

Xavier anxiously gulped and looked away from you, his voice low as he muttered. "I don't think this outfit looks nice on you, girlfriend." The way he shifted in his seat made you cornered him against the couch even more, wanting a better explanation. "The top you are wearing. I don't like it."

"And why so?" You asked, looking down at your top and adjusting it. "This is the trend nowadays, they call it the Y2K trend I think. And this tank top was on sale, so I just got it."

"I can buy you some other clothes. Even the ones that are not going to be on sale." He retorted, eyeing the tank top you were wearing with an underlying anger. "I just don't think I would like to see you wearing this in public. It is too revealing, and I guess tight on your body."

His answer painted your cheeks red and you gasped. What were you thinking? Of course you had forgotten about his possesive nature. He does not show it much and having such a pretty boy face like him further disconnects the word 'possessive' from his character. He reached into his hoodie's front pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app and handed the phone to you. When you refused to take it, he lifted his torso off of the couch to 'force' you to take his phone. Just like how you had previously pressed your body against him, this is his turn to take his small and sweet revenge. You panicked as he closed the gap between you two and within the next minute, he was pressed against you, one of his hand at the side of your head and another still holding his phone up to you, his gaze intense. "Just choose whatever you want from my phone, my card information is all in there. And perhaps before you check out, you can let me double check on the outfits you are getting." He low-key demanded before he explained himself for such a decision. "I just don't like nor want people staring wrongfully at what I treasure the most."

Another fluff for another day. I already did my best in having to think of different wardrobe malfunctions as I did not want one theme of wardrobe malfunction to be stagnant across the whole story for all three of the boys. SO I hope you would understand my lovelies. :,) I am very very free so I will be posting more regularly for these few weeks. SO please do show me more love and support as that would aid me in my motivation in writing!

Do check out my other works as well!

HOW WOULD THE BOYS REACT TO YOU FORGETTING ABOUT YOUR DATE?

DAMNATION

Hope your Delulu is satisfied my lovelies <3

[bob-artist]

Just found you via your funny dream comic. Good stuff 😆. Definitely gonna read the rest, and I was surprised you had your own website. Looks good on mobile too. I’ve got a comic that some friends keep trying to build me a site for but I’ve been telling them no because it seems like between webtoon and social media nobody is interested in personal sites anymore.

Have you noticed an uptick in engagement from your site? Would you recommend going that route? I’d like to hear your thoughts.

I’m also interested in how you decided to build/host it, if that question isn’t too lame.

Anyway, glad I found your comics!

Ah thank you for checking out Into the Smoke's website!!

Oh, I have SO many thoughts about independent webcomic sites and why people should have them. I have so many thoughts, and I'm so so sorry.

Why did I decide to have my own webcomic site?

First of all, this is not a lame question and I wish we could all have this conversation more often, so I could maybe write just a paragraph instead of this whole dissertation!

1. Because I lived through webcomics history.

I launched my first webcomic in 2011. I watched the webcomics scene shift over the years from self-hosted sites to third party sites, and I saw what it meant for independent creators. We lost vital infrastructure, relationships, habits, and control over our own work. I think self-hosted sites are an important backbone for creators, even if/when their largest *numbers* come from a third party site.

We’re all supposed to be helping each other, not fighting each other to satisfy the algorithm. Our early tools (webrings, link trades, comic databases, sharing each other’s posts) were small but meaningful, and they also helped us maintain a community mindset in a long and sometimes lonely line of work. When we started leaning on hosting sites, we let a lot of those tools and relationships decay. And now a lot of people are locked into imbalanced relationships with hosting sites that leave them with very little agency and control over their work and how it’s shared (or isn’t shared).

Hosting sites are great for removing barriers to entry (cost/time to build a site). And a lot of them have large built-in audiences. But the big ones aren’t run by people who care about creators. They’re designed to extract the maximum value from your work while giving you the least they can get away with. Use them if you want (I do), but don't be dependent on them.

2. Comics are the main thing I do for a living, and a website gives me the tools to promote my work and build relationships with my readers.

Most apps and third party sites actively prevent or suppress these things. On your own site, you can share all the info you want about your upcoming Kickstarter, your tradpub book release, your merch, etc. You can collect email addresses for your newsletter. You can literally just talk about your weekend, and you’re not gonna have a 150-character limit.

Yeah, not everyone wants to read a wall of text (ha ha...), but acting like a person reminds readers to treat you like a person. This is one of my main gripes with the apps and social media - they suppress human connection and present you like a cog in their machine that only exists to churn out free content.

3. I have a consistent home base and full control over how my work is displayed.

I don’t have to fight against an app that’s trying to direct my readers toward whichever content is most profitable for them. On an app, the readers “belong” to them, not you. (Who has their email addresses?) So if I'm putting effort into promoting my comic, I'm promoting my own site. (oh look, I just did it.)

Hosting sites/apps aren't designed to showcase your work. They showcase the app’s collection, and they're designed to keep readers on the app, jumping from creator to creator. This can help readers find you, but it also devalues your work and dilutes its impact.

And the app might not show your work to anyone anyway. Tapas is a great example; they recently redesigned their site to prioritize their Originals, and independent creators are hidden away in a “community” tab with barely any discoverability anymore. This is always the struggle on a third party site.

4. I hate censorship.

Into the Smoke is Teen 16/17+ and Demon of the Underground is R/18+. My comics aren’t even explicit, but I still can’t post my true, uncensored vision for either story on third party apps governed by Apple’s App Store and Visa/Mastercard’s tight content restrictions.

If webcomics exist exclusively on apps with heavy censorship, we’ll never have the diversity of storytelling and freedom of expression that’s necessary for groundbreaking or subversive art to happen. And that’s bad for everyone.

Adult brains need to engage with adult concepts. Difficult and triggering topics need to be explored in creative spaces. Artists need freedom to stretch their creative muscles without falling into the damaging patterns of self-censorship that come from having to tiptoe around arbitrary platform rules.

We can’t let the rules of like 3 American companies dictate what every webcomic reader around the world is allowed to read.

5. An independent website can’t easily be taken away from you.

Just make regular backups! You can always move to a new web host and redirect URLs if needed, and you won't lose your readers. On the other hand, you can easily lose the bulk of your audience on a third party site based on circumstances outside your control.

Let’s talk about Smack Jeeves, a formerly popular webcomic hosting site that was bought out and then shut down, leaving lots of cartoonists homeless. Or we can talk about the Tumblr NSFW purge of 2018, where I lost a huge chunk of my first webcomic’s following and most of my webcomic mutuals, even though my own account stayed within the rules. Or Musk buying Twitter, the platform where I once found my literary agent through a publishing event but now get no traction at all.

Have I noticed an uptick in engagement from my site?

I don’t have analytics on my site yet. But, up until a few days ago, that's where people were reading, thanks to my own efforts and the support of my comics friends and all of y’all who shared my ITS posts. (THANK YOU ALL!) I didn't have any discoverability on Webtoon or Tapas yet.

I got 10-15 new patrons between May 25 and June 5. Up until a few days ago, I even had more ITS newsletter subscribers than Webtoon subscribers.

What happened a few days ago is my Webtoon mirror suddenly blew up with 100+ new subs a day. I don’t know where I’m being featured, but I know I’m only getting those readers because Webtoon suddenly chose to grant me visibility. That can end just as instantly with an algorithm tweak or them deciding not to show my comic anymore. (When my first webcomic was in one of their pay programs in 2018, I went from $300 or $400/month to $0 overnight due to a policy change.) So I’ll enjoy it while it lasts, but I won't de-prioritize my website.

The new Webtoon readers are awesome and supportive, and I’m 100% thrilled to have them. But the Webtoon influx isn't resulting in a Patreon influx like my website launch did. I wouldn't expect it to, this early in the story. But it's consistent with my past experience polling my patrons: even when 50% of my readers came from the apps, 90% of patrons read on my website. (Your audience may vary.) And since I depend on crowdfunding for my comic, that's important to me.

Would I recommend going the route of having your own site?

For anyone who’s just testing the waters with webcomics, it might be overkill.

But for anyone who’s committed to their webcomic, I recommend having your own site AND mirroring on every third party site you can, provided you’re cool with their terms of service. It's important to meet readers where they are. Let those hosting sites lend you their readers. Some readers will even want to visit your home site where they can read ahead, read the uncensored version of your comic, get more info, or sign up for your newsletter.

Just remember, no one will discover your independent website all on their own. They’ll only find it through the work you put into promotion. But the reader that cares enough to come to your home site is a special type of reader.

So how do you get readers to visit an independent webcomic site?

Find your allies

These are people who work in similar areas as you who want to help you succeed, and whom you want to help succeed. Chat with each other, help each other, promote each other, boost each other, link to each other (psst, my links page just went live!), be there for each other - behind the scenes and in public.

God, I am SO bad at approaching people, but this is important, and not just for comics.

Be part of a community

Really, this is an extension of the above point. It's easier to find your allies if you're part of a community.

I’m a member of the Cartoonist Cooperative, and they’re a GREAT group of talented people all across the comics industry. The mission of @cartoonistcoop is to help create better conditions for comic workers through cooperation and collective action, and I’ve found so much help from them with Into the Smoke and comics as a whole. (JOIN! They're great!!)

The goal of the co-op isn't to drive traffic to your website. But being part of it has helped me at every level of crafting my comic, including promoting it and making it good enough that I can take pride in promoting it. And it's helped me ground myself as part of a community after I lost so much of mine in past years of burnout and platform enshittification.

Another option: @spiderforestcomics is a great webcomic collective full of supportive creators, and I believe they’re open to submissions till the end of June! They also have an awesome collaborative community mindset, and I've known some of their members for years.

Direct readers to your RSS feed and newsletter

Getting readers to your website is great, but they need to keep coming back for future updates, and it’s hard to remind them without an app notification. You may need to teach younger readers what RSS feeds are. Inoreader is a great RSS reader for the 2024 era.

The dreaded SEO

That’s Search Engine Optimization - optimizing your website so that people can easily find your comic via search engines. That’s a topic for another day, but feel free to research it!

Paid promo

This can be tricky, and I really only recommend spending promo money if you’re making a comic on a professional basis, because then it’s an investment you'll make back.

That said, Comicad.net is a great independent site where you can buy banner slots on other creators’ sites. I just ran small campaign myself. (And no, I won’t ever be offended if you outbid me!)

I haven’t bought any Tumblr Blaze slots, but I got BOPPed (blaze other people’s posts; apparently that’s what it’s called, lol) once on this account and once on a side blog, and both were highly impactful. (Thanks, friend!!) So I consider it a solid option, and it looks really cheap compared to other social media sites. (Never trust Meta.)

And where can you learn more about building a webcomic site?

I know you didn't ask, but if I'm gonna share all this, I might as well give folks a starting place to actually do the thing.

Now, I’m *bad* at offering cheap and easy web solutions. My specialty is hard and expensive. But my one piece of advice: PLEASE make your webcomic site mobile friendly for the current generation of readers! When we talk about barriers to entry, remember that more people have phones than computers, and many can't afford computers.

Anyway, here's some webcomic website resources from OTHER people!

The Cartoonist Co-op has LOTS of great resources on building webcomic sites! Several of them! Check them all out!

@screentonescast has a podcast episode on webcomic web design and one on RSS feeds!

@jeypawlik also has a great comic about how RSS feeds work.

So, congrats if you made it this far. Go make a website, y'all! And if you read any indie comics, go visit the creator's website!

[rebelliousstories]

Vaultie

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @silverose365

Warnings: Angst, Strong Language, Fluff, Allusions to Cannibalism

Word Count: 2,119

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: If Cooper Howard had a nickel for every time he came across an escaped vault dweller looking to find her father and to change the world…

The sight of the blue Vault-Tec wandering through the Wasteland made The Ghoul let out a low growl. How many of these people were going to be popping up? He watched her wander around, trying to talk to some people, but they had just turned her away at the first sight of blue. She was not much different than the other Vaultie he had come across. Same kind of naive look in her eyes, along with hope. Hope was a commodity up here. Just as he was finishing up his last drink at the one bar within a hundred miles that would actually take his caps, this vault dweller strolled right on up to him.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you were interested in a trade.” She pitched, shoulders back and a determined look on her face.

“Sorry darlin’, not interested in a whore tonight.” Howard spoke with a low drawl. He got great joy of seeing the appalled look on the vault girl’s face.

“Oh, I’m not a- that’s, that’s not what I was offering. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to this location. I have caps.” Pulling a piece of paper from her suit, she procured a pencil as well from a separate pouch. She put those items in one hand, and she wrestled with a bag on her hip that Cooper could hear the clanking of bottle caps coming from. The paper and pencil were set down in front of the ghoul, and she got her caps ready to give away. He grabbed the paper from the table and eyed her wearily as he read the address.

“Now what’s a vault dweller like you,” he gestured to her, “doing in a place like this,” motioning to their surroundings, “and looking for a place like this?” He finished by holding up the paper.

“I’m looking into Vault-Tec. The experiment they were running in my vault, it was barbaric to say the least. And when I found out things that I should not have, I escaped to here. The people down there, they don’t know any different than their life that has been played with and manipulated.” She explained, sitting down in the chair across from The Ghoul.

“Well, that is some might fine ideas. Afraid it won’t get you nowhere up here. Every few years, someone has a great idea to save the world. But it’s just a load of horseshit.” Cooper went on, fiddling with the paper in his hands.

“Look, I don’t particularly care about that. I’m on my own mission, and I need help to navigate this place. Now, what do you say? Fifty caps for directions on how to get there?” This Vaultie was testing his patience, but fifty caps is fifty caps. Without a word, Cooper wrote down on the piece of paper all the directions she would need. After that it was up to her to interpret and follow them.

“The caps?” He held out his hand while holding back the paper. Once the bottle caps were placed n his grasp, he counted them quickly, before handing over the paper and pencil to the Vaultie. But when she leaned in close, that is when he saw it. Words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

“I didn’t catch your name, darlin’.” Cooper prompted, tugging back the paper at the last second before she could grasp it.

“I didn’t throw it. May I please have my paper and pencil back?” She tried one more time to swipe them, but Cooper was faster than she was.

“Be warned now. You go lookin’ into Vault-Tec, you probably not gonna like what you find. It’s a whole mess of an operation.” He stated, low and slow. There was something about this girl in front of him that he just could not put his finger on.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m going to find out what they’re doing, and expose them.” Finally, she was able to get her hands on the paper and pencil in his other hand. She stood from the table, and turned to to leave when something that Cooper said caught her attention.

“You never know who is gonna be the one behind the shitstorm. Could be someone close to you. I don’t think your mind can handle the truth once you find it out, Vaultie.” Her face was thick with confusion, and then it was full of fury.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think I can and can’t handle. And I don’t know what kind of grudge you hold against us, but I couldn’t really care less. Besides, you took my caps so surely you can’t hate me that much.” And with that, she made her way out of the bar, and into the sweltering day ahead.

Cooper sat in that bar for a good long while nursing his final drink. This vault dweller was certainly different than the previous one. She could hold her own but to what end? Surely, she was not going to last long in the Wasteland. Downing the rest of the liquor, he threw some caps on to the table, pocketed the rest and set out. It was not hard for him to find her; the tracks in the sand making it easy. But he kept a distance from her, and made sure she never knew he was there.

As they traveled, Cooper saw less and less of a vault dweller, and more of a surface dweller in her. The way she negotiated, carried herself, and overall acted; you would never be able to tell she came from a vault had it not been for that blue jumpsuit. He never intervened, always waiting on the sidelines. But he did keep an eye on this determined vault dweller. The scariest part of her journey was when they came across fiends.

“Hello, little lady. What are you doin’ out here?” A man leered at her, crowding her against the side of the building that Cooper had hid behind. He watched intently, waiting to see if he would need to intervene.

“I’m just passing through. Excuse me.” She tried to move past the man, but he shoved her back. Another fiend came around to crowd her in, and another, and another, and another. She was outnumbered five to one, and was looking around in a desperate attempt to find an opening. Cooper moved his duster back and had his hand on his pistol, ready to dispatch of these men. However, that thought made him pause. What was he doing following this girl on her journey? Maybe that other vault dweller was making him soft. No, it could not be.

“Oh, she’s got manners. That’s a real sweet thing to come out of your mouth. Hopefully the rest of you is that sweet.” The leader made a move to grab her, and Cooper was ready to draw his pistol when a shot rang out.

The lead fiend dropped to the ground dead. Her gun was still smoking, and she wasted no time in shooting the four other men who tried to touch her again. By the end, she was splattered with blood and breathing heavily. She began to loot through their bodies while Cooper moved further back in the shadows. He tried to make no noise, but a rock slipped from under his feet and made the Vaultie’s head whip around to where he was standing. There was a beat of silence, but she turned back to her task at hand when she did not hear anything else.

From then on, Cooper had no reason not to trust that she could handle herself. It had been so long that he had cared for anyone other than himself. The feeling was so foreign now, but it crept in without his say so. The unknowing duo walked for days and days, until finally their destination came into view. The broken, and abandoned building stood tall even with all thee destruction around it. She made her way in, but Cooper remained outside. The Ghoul found the shadiest spot alongside the building, and stopped for a rest and water.

The vault dweller began to look around the decrepit building, finding the floor where Vault-Tec records were held, and began to climb the stairs. There was nothing stopping her now; she could see the finish line. Once she was inside the Vault-Tec office, she Egan rifling through the files on the desks. What she found, astounded her.

Hundreds of vaults, and their subsequent experiments. The depth of human depravity never ceased to amaze her. While the description of her vault made her angry, the others made her blood boil. Human lives treated like lab rats in a sick and twisted experiment for society’s so called betterment. Stowing the files in her bag, she began to look around for information from before the vaults. Files detailing how they would get people down into those vaults that they created were littered about. But the more she read, the more the was enraged. However, there was one file that caught her attention.

Pages that described the bombings in great detail, dated hundreds of years ago. And she read through everyone. She was losing daylight, but she needed to read through everything. Her eyes scanned hundreds of words, and was trying to process everything when she finally go to the page that was used as the sign off sheets for the bombings. When she read the names of those who signed off, her heart dropped. The file slipped out of her hand, and there was no feeling left in her body.

Her father signed off on these bombs.

It took a while for the feeling to return to her limbs. When it finally all hit her, a scream tore through her vocal chords before she could stop it. All the pent up emotions and memories that now felt scarred; it was all coming out now. She calmed herself down, and snatched the file from the ground. As much as she hated it, she knew it was going to be important. There was no way around it if she wanted to help the people in the vaults.

Making her way back outside the building, the sunset ahead was painting the sky in a brilliant red with streaks of purple and orange. She went to turn the side of the building and was met with The Ghoul that had first helped her with the directions that led her here. He was leaning against the building, but was quick to stand up straight when he heard her round the corner. His undead heart broke just a little bit when he saw the broke look on her face. It was so different to the determined face that she held, even in the times that she should have been scared out of her wits.

“You alright there, Vaultie?” His tone was laced with concern that was not normal anymore. Cooper stepped closer, opened his arms, and brought her in close. She tried to fight, but her arms felt weak even to her as she tried to hit the ghoul before her. Her punches did not even make a dent in the man, but he let her get all of her frustration out before he knew the inevitable drop. And drop she did. Once her energy and anger were exhausted, her legs gave way and she collapsed in Cooper.

“Calm down there, darlin’. You’re alright now. The pain’ll go away soon.” He comforted the girl in his arms.

“Did you know?” She whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Yes.” He replied.

“I know it stings, darlin’. I warned you not to go lookin’. Knew you wouldn’t like what you found.” Howard continued, now stroking his gloved hand over her hair.

“But I needed to. I need to know what is going on. It’s so sheltered down there, and people are so naive. They deserve to know,” came her soft cry. It broke his heart even further apart.

“You’re doin’ a very selfless thing here. You’re gonna be alright though. Already survived bein’ up here for this long. You’ll make it up here Vaultie.” It was comforting to hear such kind words after being on the surface and away from home for so long.

All the girl did was nod into The Ghoul’s chest. She was going to be fine, and she was going to help the people in the vaults. Her mind was alright made up; she was no longer going to be a vault dweller and apart of their twisted system. She was now a surface dweller, and really needed to get rid of her jumpsuit.

[eveledoze]

spoilers for ep7 ! things about N and Uzi i wanted to point out 1/? I may sound stupid and naive going into all these details, so I'm sorry

we all thought that he was looking at Uzi worriedly, but in reality he was shocked because the elevator was broken and because now the path to V was blocked. he's really worried and angry about it (and it's so unusual to see him like that)

Tessa tells him to look back and at first he looks angry, but then his face softens. for a moment he simply forgot what state Uzi was in cuz he was worried about V (we know that now this Tessa is not exactly Tessa, but I will call her that cuz it’s convenient for me and so as not to get confused)

Uzi realizes that she has poor control over her powers and bitterly admits that she cannot do anything. she sincerely apologizes and you can hear that she feels guilty from her helplessness + exhausted from pain this short moment honestly killed me- their voice intonations, words and music, it hits so hard (thank you AJ Dispirito! /mega pos) also i find it strange that at first there was no blood, then it appeared cuz of something (even though she doesn’t even have a crack in her visor like Doll) and then the blood disappeared

but well okay-

he sincerely apologizes, feeling guilty for his inattention to her well-being, and he comes to comfort her, his body language shows this but Tessa interrupts them

Tessa calls him to explain to Uzi what's going on (lmao his face)

he rubs his hands together, which indicates his nervousness, as he realizes that his words will make her more worried and terrified of what they might find out and see, so this will make the situation worse

you can hear from the tone of Uzi's voice that she is beginning to suspect that they know more than she does, and for some reason they are not telling her this. she seems annoyed at the withholding of information, causing her to lose trust in Tessa and N

he looks at Tessa as if doubting whether he can be frank in his words, since in essence Tessa is still his boss and he should not contradict her (why does the reflection of his eyes in her spacesuit look funny to me lol)

he says this in a determined voice, while frowning. the words “we're not gonna hurt you” are addressed to Uzi while N’s gaze and gestures are interpreted as “WE'RE not gonna hurt HER” (while pointing his hand at Uzi) and this is addressing to Tessa. he clearly expresses his position and does not intend to obey Tessa in this in fact (he is rebelling)

with this "Okay?" he tries to reassure Uzi that they really won't hurt her honestly, the tone of voice with which he said it reminded me a lot of the way he said "we'll ask Tessa, okay?" in ep5, when he addressed Cyn. in both cases, his "Okay?" sounds sincere, kind, letting them know that he will keep his promise

she is scared and barely audibly says it, losing more trust in them while the fear grows

Uzi is nervous, she loses control and creates a null, everyone moves back, by the way Tessa takes out her sword

they repel each other. despite the falling stones, N reaches out to take her hand and pull her towards him

he takes a step forward, "we'll figure this out, together?.." but she steps back, losing trust in him

stones fall and block the passage, separating them from each other she closes herself off from him in every sense

when he woke up, he immediately called her and it sounded quite desperate and creepy cuz of the echo

N sees that his hand is crushed by stones. with a cold look, he takes out the blade and approache it to the hand, saying that he "deserved this", since he offended Uzi and believes that it would be right if he was punished for it. she experienced pain - he will experience pain, justice

[izuhan]

what would he call you? ︱stray kids

pairing: boyfried!skz x gn!reader ︱ genre: fluff ︱warning: may contain grammar mistakes, not proofread, seungmin give me a chance

a/n: a small one ive kept for a long time heheh (an excuse to write my brainrot minho saying darling n being called seungmin's the love of his life) tysm again for all the kind words!! i wont shut up about it ily yall so much and seungmin, please give me a chance. I'm suffering I love them so much I can't my heart hurts help

⸝⸝bang chan♡ᵎ

— he would call you many things to tease you, upon your behavior, the way you make him crazy, the way you look which made him fall in love all over again.

— however, my/love, baby, darling, sometimes dearest, would have that lovely taste left in his mouth, tongue rolling smoothly on those endearments that has you both flushing with embarrassment.

— the first time he called you “baby” was after you two started dating, he had to capture you before you could run away from him and suffer alone, let your heart swell with happiness. “please don't run away, don't you like it, baby?” 

⸝⸝lee know♡ᵎ

— everybody knows he’s a tease, much more than anyone could be, so, endearment for his lover isn’t out of the question, especially if he’s enamored of you. 

— though as much as he wants to keep such things to himself, he would blurt out–“Darling,” and question you after about it. His eyebrows would raise, debated between repeating himself and giving up.

— “is it the end of the world if i call you something? Chan calls you his tiny helper.”

— darling, babe, and cutie would stick to him the most because that's where he gets to see most of your reaction, whether making love or on a daily basis.

— love, would come around sometimes during heavy arguments or when he feels like his “love” needs to be addressed and cared for reaching for your folded arms when doubt comes in between, “the most i care for is you, love, i love you.”

⸝⸝changbin♡ᵎ

— he might have gone through plenty of nicknames to find the one he likes the most—baby, cutie-pie, honey, and angel would tickle his heart the most.

— angel and honey would be at the very top, simply because he thinks they're sweet and suits you.

— he's pretty confident with it too, whether you complain about it or not, they just remind him of you 

— would absolutely love to annoy you during moments he knew you need him most, specifically moments where he feels proud of you most, the ones he knew took most of your energy and knows a simple “my cutie angel, you did so well today~” accompanied with the warmest hug ever.

⸝⸝hyunjin♡ᵎ

— most likely he'd find and test endearments he'd found in the book that he read.

— “could it be that the blossom that fell in the palm of my hand, is this one that i love most?” he would say after he’s done flipping pages, loving eyes now laid upon and staring at yours while his hand cups your cheeks, 

— love, blossom, angel, and baby would be a good list because he has a lot, whenever he feels like it.

— though, I feel like love and angel would be at the top of his list too. main reasons are; he feels so loved and all giddy whenever you respond to him, call him the sweetest things back as he calls you “love” and he feels like he's holding a divine creature— an angel in disguise.

⸝⸝han♡ᵎ

— of course, “baby” would come out of his mouth a lot, however, experimenting with calling you different ones would ensue.

— he might feel frustrated trying so hard to find one that feels natural the same way “baby” does. It didn't matter whether you tell him it was alright to not call you anything else but what he can. Though he would likely sulk at that, since he’s been teased by others that baby is now outdated, he needs to call you differently. 

— and once he did find some, he might come to the point of too much embarrassment he would just bury his face in the crook of your neck, stuttering “l-love.” and “m-my y/n”. He’s holding for dear life he could cry and you’d respond to him by calling him that too, holding him gently since he’s too adorable for his own good.

⸝⸝felix♡ᵎ

— the one who's both self-conscious and too natural with it. he'd call you cute nicknames every single time you meet and save the special ones at home only.

— “My sunshine! You look so cute!” would be his go-to ‘let the others know I call you that all the time.’ nickname so whenever someone asks you, it would be “Hey, you're Felix's ‘sunshine’ or was it ‘darling’.. right?”

— at home, it would battle between baby, love, or baby love, and darling. you would react to it differently, which is what he expected so he'll be taking that as a win.

— exhibit a. He would come out of the shower, dripping wet from his hair, and walk towards your shared room where you would be seen drowning in one of his clothes. Felix would lean by the doorframe, whisking water in your direction, and say, “i have arrived darling, won't you come about and help me dry my hair?” and he would soon be defeated by the warmth of the blow dryer, “baby love, im sorry about… that, i have no idea what came into me.”

⸝⸝seungmin♡ᵎ

— he teases a lot too, calling you playful names to piss you off, or have you be a flustered tomato face and run away from him or remain still, processing what he had just called you.

— “what? would it kill you if I call you ‘the love of my life’?” surprised would be an understatement.

— he asks for you to others by that on purpose too— “hey, have you seen ‘my beloved’ y/n?” —just to see how much you hate or love it until it's something he would have to cut off to my/love, beloved, baby, and sweet thing.

— he would want to just play it off with a sprinkle of sincerity and curiosity before it turns into an undying habit, though, it does eventually. He would still deny it has now become that, rolling his eyes with a laugh, “does that guarantee my love for you or is it something mandatory for me to do in hopes of saving your hopeless heart?” 

(yes)

⸝⸝i.n♡ᵎ

— it would come off as a test—“Hey sweet thing, whatchu watchin'?”

— once he realizes that or reflects on it, he would sink in wherever he was, including your lap.

— “love is too much, I want to call you mine.”

— and again, he would melt, but tries again, “baby, turn it down.” all of them, failure or success could be the death of you, specifically when you notice he's trying to hide his blushing cheeks and smile by turning his back on you or with his hands.

— it wasn’t obvious in his past attempts, he would look away while you try to breathe. But one time “comfort me baby” came out of his mouth, both of you remained still, your cheeks beet red and Jeongin, his huge hands on his face as he let gravity do its thing when he fell on your body, letting out a very loud screech, “Innie, it’s o—” “no it’s not! I practiced!” and he will never leave your arms until he succeeds on satisfying himself with how it comes out of his mouth.

[drconstellation]

Come Back When You Can Make A Whale

This is going to contain some speculation for S3, so you know what to do! Or not do!

SITIS: What did God say? JOB: Um... I'm not sure. I didn't understand much. Things too wonderful for me. Ostriches came into it. SITIS: Ostriches? JOB: And whales. God's very proud of the whale. Went into some detail about... how great whales are. SITIS: But did They explain? JOB: [shakes head] I think the point was, if you want answers, come back when you can make a whale.

Whales, huh?

If you aren't well read, this could be quite the misdirection. It should be reasonably obvious, given who is doing the talking - Job - what he is actually referring to, then we can join a couple of dots to make some speculative leaps.

You still with me?

No? Then let us start with how do you make a whale?

By giving it another name.

Leviathan.

Chapter 41 of the Book of Job is all about the Leviathan, a great sinuous sea serpent with impenetrable scales and breath like fire. It sleeps beneath the sea until the end of days. Over time it came to be associated with any sea monster, then anything large, and what is the largest animal ever known to have lived? The whale.

The top of the matchbox is also worth a look. We have a skull and crossbones, which is classic Memento mori symbolism, fitting in with the resurrection theme of the Second Coming - but look at the way the address of the pub is spelt! Now, this not the same way it is spelt on the record single Maggie gives to Aziraphale; Goatgate is spelt as one word, not two. A little bit of searching reveals the meaning behind this fictional address that backs up and reinforces the quote on the side of the matchbox.

Strong's Concordance for 66 gives us "wild, savage, fierce." Goatgate is an interesting one, because it turns out to be a relatively modern term from the urban dictionary, and I'm just going to refer to the polite version of it here - it's another word for "mouth." So 66 Goatgate is a "fierce and savage mouth." Yes, that does sound about right - in more ways than one, once you know who it is. (If you want to look up the impolite version, go ahead - I'm sure you will still find the connotations very amusing.)

Our metaphorical Leviathan is Crowley. He gave the game away at the end of S1 during the appearance-swap.

This also means Aziraphale is his counterpart, Behemoth. Why - well, I made a bit of joke in my post here that he was playing at being a "river horse" while he wallowed in the bath of holy water during his part of the appearance-swap scene. Modern day scholars think the description of Behemoth in the Bible may be that of a hippopotamus in real life history. If that is so, I'd still be betting this is what the "dark horse" comment from Nina in S2E1 is foreshadowing.

Maybe none of this new to you if you've been hanging around the the fandom for a while. That's fine, I'm just trying to establish the scene. And the next bit we need to talk about is this one, where Job gets a lecture from God.

During this sequence, we hear lines that come from Job 38 and 39.

GOD: Job, if you have questions for me, I have questions for you. Do you know how I created the earth? Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth, Job? Were you there when all the morning stars sang together and all the Angels shouted for joy?

These lines are paraphrasing some of the beginning of Job 38.

Then we have:

GOD: Do you know the rules of the heavens? Did you set the constellations in the sky? Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you? Did you give wings to peacocks, Job, or teach the ostrich to run?

These lines are again, paraphrasing Job, half from 38 and half from 39.

So then, we need to ask, why highlight these lines in particular?

Job 38 is mainly about setting the boundaries of the universe around us. The Earth might seem impossibly huge to a human, but it started with a single stone at its foundation. Earth and the other planets obey certain laws as they move around the Sun. The patterns of the stars in the sky take so long to change that it seems like they are set and inconstant. Even the chaotic form of lightning respects its Creator and returns to its point of origin.

From the last part of Chapter 38 to the end of 39 God challenges Job with a list of animals. The theme here is about freedom and wildness. Whether it is a noble lion, a loathsome crow, a nimble mountain goat, the head-strong wild ox or the willing war horse, they all flourish upon the Earth under the sight of the Almighty. Even the mightiest and most fierce beasts of all, Behemoth and Leviathan, have a place, although only God has the means to control those two.

None of this needs a human to be involved. We are so often the center of our own universe, and try so hard to control every aspect of the world around us that we lose sight of the bigger picture. Shit happens. Some things are out of our control. That doesn't mean its your fault and you're wicked and damned to go to Hell because of it. And that was the point God was trying to make to Job. The world is a far bigger, wilder and chaotic than you can imagine, but its also incredibly beautiful, and it runs itself within the rules and limits that seem to be set by invisible forces you can't see.

So back to the script from the show.

The first set of questions from God could apply to both of the duo. They were both around when Earth was created and were more than likely there when the "morning stars" (the highest angels, such as Lucifer, Gabriel, Michael and angel!Beelzebub) sang together.

The second set of questions are the ones that seem to have got the most attention so far, with ops cross-matching them to things Crowley does in S2.

Do you know the rules of the heavens?

Did you set the constellations in the sky?

Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?

Did you give wings to peacocks, Job...

(I make a suggestion this has something to do with Michael, but also see comments below)

...or teach the ostrich to run?

The first three of those questions are fairly straight forward, and I doubt many would dispute what they are referring to. But the reference to the peacock and the ostrich are more subtle and curious, and I would like to take a moment to look at the actual verse - because it is only one verse that is providing both questions - that is being paraphrased here.

Job 39:13 Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks? or wings and feathers unto the ostrich?

Did you realize that the King James Version of the Bible is the only one that mentions peacocks in this particular verse? All the other versions mentions the first sentence of that verse in relation to the wings of ostriches: "The wings of the ostrich wave proudly." The ostrich is considered a cruel and witless bird in the Bible, pleased with the way it looks, and seemingly careless about its young.

Why does that sound familiar...

Shax thinks this ostrich feather-clad angel in disguise isn't too smart either.

So using the peacock line is a curious choice in the script. Other than the "eyes" in the tail of the peacock having a connection to Michael's many watchful eyes on the world, it's still not clear how Crowley helped them upwards. Unless both lines are supposed to refer to Gabriel, and how the vain peacock was helped to both fly and run to a distant location in the stars.

Edit: Since I first wrote this, @beebopboom pointed me to some more peacock lore, and this helped me delve a bit deeper into them. Peacocks were associated with wealth and royalty, but they were also associated with immortality in early Christian beliefs. There was a belief that the flesh of the peacock did not decay after its death. The bright colours in its tail came from its eating venomous snakes, which reminded people of Christ becoming sin for humanity's sake (think of Crowley downing the laudanum to save Elspeth from Hell in the crypt in 1827, its a similar action.) The "eyes" on the males tail also represented the all-seeing eye of God. So we have a connection with both royalty and resurrection here.

(Oh - just as an interesting connection here - a number of the newer versions of the Bible not only don't mention the peacock in this verse, they compare the ostrich to the stork! The meaning is meant to be that the stork cares more for their young than the ostrich, but if you read the words at face value, you could take a double meaning away...)

Let us return to questions, answers, and whales.

Questions. Always questions. It's like the proverbial toddler who's always asking a never-ending string of "but, why?" for funsies and you just want them to shut up for a moment and think about the last thing you said first. They, too, are a bit like Job. They are the center of their own universe at that age, having not had much experience of the world. They have no grasp of how far it extends beyond them, and how little even we as adults know.

If at this point you're going "oh, no, no, no, no, op, please don't tell me the point of this meta is it's all ineffable," relax. I'm not.

The point was to set you up for some nice, juicy, awesomely sweet S3 speculation.

Because I believe Crowley will finally get to ask his questions of God.

(oh lordy, I made the mistake of taking a break to have a shower before trying to finish this off, because I was having trouble seeing how to finish this in a tidy way, and that caused me to have "shower thoughts" and now the nice sweet simple speculation has turned into a slightly bat-shit crazy kind-of one, although still on the same track as what I was originally thinking. Here goes...)

We have this three card spread from waaay back at the beginning of S1. We all think its something to do with the three babies.

What if its not?

Because we need something like this to happen again - Aziraphale and Crowley either side of a third protagonist. What if it's the King of Kings, Love personified, Jesus, in the middle? (Or Adam again, I wouldn't discount that option either...)

If you would look at the GIF and the screenshot together again and go, well that makes, sense, white for the angel on the right, and green for the demon on the left, I would jump up and shout at you - NO!

Look at the cards again! In the Tarot, that's the Ace of Swords on the right - it belongs to Aziraphale. It's a very powerful card, about new beginnings and change.* Lets call the one of the left Knight of Wands, which also represents the element of Fire. Knights are all about movement and journeys. Who owns the Bentley? And look what Gabriel has instinctively done with his hands - he has held his screen-left hand out to Aziraphale, the Sword, the angel who wears green, and his right hand out to Crowley, the Knight of Fire. The yin and yang qualities are actually swapped. That was what I was trying to tell you in this post. They aren't as obvious as they seem at first glance.

And love is the answer, it turns out. Did you see my comment the other day on another post? In Strong's Concordance 25 = to love.

Anyway, we should get a third parallel scene somewhat like this, and like when Aziraphale and Crowley took Adam out of time to talk to him in S1.

Only this time the three of them (with who ever is in the middle) should be having a talk with God about what is or isn't supposed to happen.

JOB: I think the point was, if you want answers, come back when you can make a whale.

Crowley could be a literal serpent (though I would be very surprised if he did manifest that way) but it should be a metaphorical Leviathan that stands before the Almighty to ask his questions and get his answers. And it will be that he has earned the right to be there, because he finally understands the lessons of Job.

@makewayforbigcrossducks I hope this answers one of your questions

*The Ace of Swords speaks of new beginnings, but it is a two-edged sword that can cut both ways. It is strength in adversity, victory out of struggle, good out of evil, a change in the old order on the way.

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 19

Part One Link to ao3 Part 18.

Part Twenty

As always thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for generally keeping my head on my shoulders and betaing everything I always throw at you guys ily ily ily

Step Nineteen: Sing a Song

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Claudia asked for the millionth time as Steve opened her coat and held it out in front of him with a patient smile. 

“I’m sure. Honest, Mrs. Henderson.” Steve said. He had gone through this exact song and dance with every parent except for Joyce and Hop, and Claudia was the final hold out. Truthfully he had expected Karen Wheeler or the Sinclairs to be the most unsure about leaving their sons at his house overnight, but a few small platitudes had been enough to get them to let go and go home. 

Well, a few platitudes and a bottle of wine to hit the road with. 

“Steven,” She immediately replied, a faux warning tone coloring her voice as she wagged her finger at him with a grumpy look in her eye. 

“Claudia,” Steve amended, still feeling that little awkwardness that he always had when he addressed any adult by their first name. He could practically hear his mother’s voice in his ear telling him off for being impolite. “It’s not a problem, and besides, they’re just going to sleep. Super easy.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but he had hope. All six of his brats had been letting out big yawns as he had ushered them up the stairs a little while ago, and he hadn’t heard any shouting coming from upstairs yet. There was no way of knowing if the excitement of a sleepover would give them a second wind of some form, but even that would be short lived. 

Besides, Eddie had just left to drop off his friends with the promise of coming back soon, so the quicker he got the kids in bed, the better. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, dear, you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for Dusty and the others,” Claudia said, finally allowing Steve to help her into her coat, “I just can’t believe you don't get tired of having them all here so often. I mean, doesn't it exhaust you? I can barely handle the occasional playdate they have at my house!” 

“It does exhaust me,” Steve joked with a soft laugh, “but it’s also nice? A bit hard to explain, I guess.” 

“You’re starting to sound like a father,” Claudia teased, buttoning up her extremely bright pink coat., “You’ll make some girl very happy someday.” 

Steve laughed along because that was what was appropriate, but he couldn’t deny the weird pit in his stomach that was beginning to grow. A month ago he would have thought it was because of his breakup with Nancy and the prospect that he might never find someone he loved like her ever again. 

That made sense. 

But Steve could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that Nancy was nothing but a friend now. Someone important to him, but wholly platonic. He could also say that he still very much wanted to be a father. It was one of the things he wanted most in life.

So why was Claudia’s joke making him so uncomfortable? 

It made zero sense. There wasn’t any reason. Something just felt… wrong. 

Luckily their conversation appeared to be over. There were still the normal polite farewells and long goodbyes in the doorway, but that was all perfunctory. Steve could go through those motions without much thought, and before he knew it the front door shut and he was finally alone in his house once more. 

Thump. 

Mostly alone. 

“You shitheads better have your pajamas on and teeth brushed by the time I reach the top of these steps!” Steve called up from the bottom, standing still and relishing in the sudden flurry of activity that was coming from his bedroom. 

The kids weren’t even a bit frightened of him, but they still listened to him when they felt like it, and especially if he was doing something big like letting them all stay overnight so they could spend more time with El. It was almost novel, knowing they were going to actually do what he said with only minimal complaining. 

Steve waited one second longer before starting to climb the stairs, purposefully making his steps just a touch louder so he knew the kids could hear him approaching. He even made a show of slowly opening the door to his bedroom, only to be greeted by a truly miraculous sight. 

All six of them tucked tight into his bed, quiet and calm. Max, Lucas, and Will were even pretending to be asleep, just to really sell the bit. Max and Lucas weren’t doing too good, but Steve might’ve actually believed Will’s act if he didn’t know that Will always slept on his left, and not his right. 

“Look at that, turns out you can do as you’re told,” He said, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip to avoid directly laughing at how good they were pretending to be. The ‘sleepers’ opened their eyes, and the others all relaxed at the easy going tone their babysitter was using. 

“Fuck you, Steve,” Mike grumbled, ever the contrarian. 

“I can still call your mom and dad to pick you up, Wheeler,” Steve threatened lightly, both of them knowing he would do no such thing. 

Still, it was enough to get Mike to back down, grumbling as he snuggled in tighter between Dustin and El. 

“How’d the plan go?” Dustin asked eagerly, leaning over his grumpy friend and jamming his elbow’s into Mike’s ribs, causing the other boy to snarl and try to push him off without success. 

“Pretty much perfect,” Steve sighed walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at one of Max’s braids idly just to rile her up a little bit. “El should have no problem going to school next year.”

The kids immediately began to cheer and whoop, already excitedly planning all the things they would get to do together next year.

All except one. 

“What’s wrong Supergirl?” Steve asked softly, furrowing his brow at El’s stormy expression. “I thought this would make you happy.” 

That was the whole reason he had come up with this insane plan- he had wanted to make El happy. And yet, here she was, practically miserable. 

El sucked in one cheek, chewing on it in a move that was so reminiscent of Hopper it almost made Steve laugh. She looked just like her dad when he was deep in thought. 

“I am happy about being allowed to go to school,” El finally began, her words slow as she thought through the exact words she wanted to use. Steve waited patiently, knowing she would come to the words when she had them, or would ask for one that might help explain better. 

“I am… uncomfortable with lying. Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie. 

Steve wasn’t exactly sure who had taught that to these kids, but if he ever found out, he would not be responsible for what he did. 

Don’t lie. What a stupid thing to teach kids. In Steve’s opinion- honesty was overrated. There was nothing wrong with a white lie, or a big fat one, as long as it was for a good reason. What was the point in telling his mother that his dad was out with his secretary again? What sense was there in being truthful when Carol asked if the other girls thought she was mean? Saying those things just hurt everyone, Steve included. 

It was better to be smart, to be strategic with the truth, and hope for the best. He would lie to everyone around him, as long as it was what would keep them happiest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and actually, knowing would hurt more. 

Still, he couldn’t say that to them. Especially not to El of all people. The other kids barely understood; her black and white way of thinking wouldn’t be able to get it. Not yet. 

But then again, maybe it would be better if she never did.   

“Friends don’t lie, but friends do keep secrets,” Steve decided, hoping that would be enough. “We’re going to keep your secrets, so you can stay safe. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” El said almost immediately, knowing how important her safety was to Steve. She paused, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she let his words truly sink in. 

Once she did she took a deep breath and turned back to him, making sure Steve was looking at her as she spoke. 

“But I still don’t like it? Does that make sense?” El asked hesitantly. 

“I don’t like it either,” Mike said, and this time Steve could tell he wasn’t just agreeing because it was El. Mike’s little glower had turned into a full blown scowl, and his arms flew around as his voice began to raise, “El saved the world. Twice. She’s a hero, not a monster!” 

No, she wasn’t a monster, and Steve would never want her to think of herself as one, but the world wasn’t so kind. Before he could even begin to try explaining that, the kids kept going. 

“It does kind of suck that I can’t tell my mom anything,” Max admitted, uncharacteristically quiet as she kept her eyes firmly on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t care about telling Billy or Neil or anything, but my mom asks me about my nightmares, and I can’t tell her why I have them. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her.”

“My mom’s still bummed about Mews,” Dustin muttered. 

“My mom knows and it’s still hard to talk to her,” Will added on, looking far too old for just being twelve. 

They all looked old. It was like Steve could almost see the adults they would be someday far down the line. Adults with secrets to bear, and lies to tell, and too many things they would never be able to explain to the world around him. Things that their mothers would never be able to help them with.

Was that what he was now?

Steve had never even considered talking to his mother about everything they had been through. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind once. And now that he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t imagine a world where he would ever talk to his mom about any of this. 

… It was hard to recall the last time he had talked to his mom about anything real. 

“I know it sucks, but it’s not safe guys,” He said, focusing on the thing he could worry about and ignoring the panging ache in his heart. This wasn’t a time to think about his mommy issues. This was about the kids. 

“Yeah, being put in cuffs once was enough for me,” Lucas said, unconsciously rubbing at his wrists. “Not fun.”

“I do not want to go back to the lab. Secret’s are necessary,” El agreed, reaching over and tangling her fingers in Lucas’s, “but they suck.”

“Secrets suck a big fat one,” Dustin declared. 

El leaned back, quirking her head to the side. 

“A big fat what?” She asked, the absolute picture of innocence she was. 

There was a beat of quiet as they all registered exactly what she had just said, and then as a group they all began to laugh. Steve tried in vain to stifle his giggles, not wanting El to feel like she was being laughed at, but she was smiling too, pleased as punch to get her friends feeling happy again instead of sad. 

“I’ll explain it some other time, Elliegirl,” Steve promised, tugging the covers more securely around the brats as he did. “And you guys can always talk to me, you know that right? I’m not the same as your parents, but I’m here.” 

Some sleepy nods and yawns answered him, and Steve figured the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But, just as he reached over to grab the lights, a quiet little voice broke through the silence. 

“... Who do you talk to?” 

Steve paused, his fingers still curled around the knob on his bedside lamp as he turned to give Will a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You said we can talk to you, but who do you talk to?” Will explained, a little nervous like always, but not backing down. 

No one. 

“Plenty of people. I’ve got my friends, and Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve replied, a little too cheerfully, trying to ignore the immediate response that had come to mind. 

“But you can’t talk to Eddie or the others about the upside down stuff, and you barely talk to Nancy and Jon,” Max argued, joining Will in staring Steve down now that he had considered the question, “so, who do you get to talk to about this, Steve?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Steve asked, expertly maneuvering around the situation. He ruffled Dustin’s curls, finally free of his hat, poking him in between the eyes to add an extra annoyance. “I’m the one that worries about you brats, not the other way around.” 

“We are friends, Steve. Aren’t friends supposed to watch over each other?” El insisted. 

Steve opened his mouth but quickly shut it before he said something stupid like they weren’t friends or it didn’t work that way. 

But wasn’t that the truth?

The kids were friends with each other, Nancy was Mike’s sister, Jonathan was Will’s brother, Hopper and Joyce were the parents. Where did Steve fit in that equation? ‘Babysitter’ had been an easy thing to use as a placeholder, but how much longer could he say that? What place was Steve supposed to be in for them as they got older? He wasn’t their brother, but he couldn’t see a world where he fit as one of their friends. 

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grumbled, pulling Steve out of his head and back into the moment. 

“Excuse me?” Steve said, more than a little shocked. As far as he knew, El was the only one who could read minds, and he hadn’t said a word. 

And yet, they were all glaring at him, unhappy with whatever they had seen on his face. 

“How many times do we have to say you’re in the party?” Mike muttered, a heavy red blush on his cheeks as he burrowed deeper into the pillows to avoid looking at anyone. 

“Dumbass,” Max added, just to even things back out. 

A hot heavy warmth spread through Steve’s chest and he bit down the stupid smile that was 

threatening to break onto his face. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. They cared, and that was what mattered. 

“If I need to, I’ll talk with you guys,” Steve offered, knowing deep in his bones that he would never do such a thing. 

“Promise?” Lucas murmured.

“Promise,” Steve lied with a soft, honey sweet voice, shutting off the light and letting the hallway lamp and the glow of the pool illuminate the room in a gentle cool tone. “Now it’s really time for bed.”

“What about Story and Song?” El asked. 

Steve raised his brows in surprise, reminded with a jolt that despite looking just the same, El wasn’t like the other kids. 

Story and Song was a little tradition Steve had started for the nights that Hopper had to work late, an easy way to get her to go to bed in an unfamiliar house without the comforting presence of her dad. He would read one of the short stories from his big book of Disney stories, sing her a song, and she would sleep until Hopper came to pick her up. It was sweet, but none of the other kids would have ever dared to ask for such a childish thing. They would want to act more grown up, more mature, always in a rush to grow up. 

El had no such qualms. 

A familiar storybook was being floated into his lap, and none of them, not even the boys, were protesting. In the blink of an eye, they weren’t old anymore, just kids who wanted to hear a story they already knew to help them fall asleep. 

“Which one do you guys want?” Steve asked, ignoring the lump that was starting to grow in his throat, flipping through the Disney storybook and feeling the worn edges against his fingertips. 

“Lady and the Tramp?” Dustin offered, seeing that Steve was already thumbing through that page. He turned to the beginning and rolled his neck getting into the mood to read, using the light from the pool outside as his guide. 

“Lady was a happy little dog. She lived in a big house with Jim Dear and Darling.”

By the time Steve’s index finger glossed along the last sentences of the story, most of the kids had dropped off. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, with Dustin and Lucas tripping after him before too long. El had made a valiant attempt to stay up, but she was gone by the time Lady met the other dogs at the pound. 

Steve had just two hold outs left.

“G’night guys,” He said quietly, slowly sliding off of the bed and putting the book on the floor next to his bed. Mike turned over and ignored him, but Max sat up with a little glare. 

“You said we would get a song too,” Max said sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with both palms. 

“That’s being cheap, Harrington.”

Cheap? Was she actually serious?  

“You two… want me… to sing you a lullaby?” Steve asked in complete disbelief. El, he understood. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she might be a little bit too old for things like this, but Max? 

Mike? 

“We just don’t think you can actually sing,” Mike said, his words punctuated by a ridiculously big yawn. 

“You gotta close your eyes then, and just listen,” Steve sighed, unwilling to argue this late at night. 

“Deal,” Max said, snuggling down into the bed.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, taking a long deep breath as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, putting his back against the bed and conveniently facing away from the kids. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to sing, it would just be easier not to have to see them while he did it. 

But what should he sing? 

It had to be something soft, something easy. Something anyone would want to hear. 

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“Who could hate this song?” 

Steve had the answer. 

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…”

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[ellaenchanting]

WHAT IS MINDFULNESS VS HYPNOSIS ACCORDING TO ELLA ENCHANTING (haver of opinions)

One misconception that I often hear amongst hypnosis geeks is that "mindfulness" is basically a normie-safe word for "hypnosis"- that hypnosis and mindfulness practices are essentially the same thing.

This is a hard misconception to disprove- in fact, "hypnosis" and "mindfulness" are often defined really vaguely and in different ways by different people so- they could often very well be refering to the same thing!* I know when I first learned about mindfulness practices, I dismissed them as "just" repackaged hypnotherapy- something I already knew a lot about. However, in doing so, I was neglecting ideas that turned out to be a really useful self-improvement tools.

If you're of a similar mindset, drawing a distinction between the two may also be really helpful for you.

MINDFULNESS:

So, the end goal of mindfulness is learning a kind of grounded way to self reflect. It's a potentially really helpful skill for people who get caught in thought spirals** or overwhelming emotions. A big goal for people learning the skill is to be able to observe thoughts and emotions without entirely buying into them OR dismissing them. Let's say I have a train of thought that keeps looping in my head- I'm worried about something stupid I said yesterday at work, for example. Imagine that train of thought is an ACTUAL train- maybe a toy train running on a looped track. Normally, when you're having the work worries it's like you're on that thought train- riding it around and around in circles while you're getting increasingly anxious and kind of limiting yourself from doing other things. With mindfulness practice, the goal is to get you OFF the train- it's not gone, but you're kinda watching it from the sidelines instead of ON it. It's still happening but with a bit of distance you can see the thoughts more clearly and better take care of yourself while that thought track is running.

Another example- let's say I have a big feeling. I'm going to pick overwhelming shame***. In mindfulness practices, the goal is usually not to ignore the shame or entirely give into it but to be able to sit with it and understand it without DROWNING in it. So, in that state of mind, I might sit with the shame and kind of question why it's there and what it wants from me. I might find some kindness for myself as someone who is experiencing shame (which is harder to do when I'm more inside it). I might work to conceptualize the shame differently- what does it look like, what sounds does it make, etc. In that way, I'm paying attention to an emotion that might be helpful- but not overly giving into it.

If I were teaching someone mindfulness techniques, the goal there is for them to be able to use the techniques entirely on their own whenever they need to. I'm not really trying to overly influence or control what's happening for them- I'm keeping my language as permissive as possible and encouraging them to accept whatever comes up. "Notice what's there without feeling like you need to change it" is a common mindfulness instruction. The practice encourages curiosity and bravery in the face of the overwhelming STUFF of life.

HYPNOSIS:

There are lot of different ways people do and experience hypnosis- and I'm definitely not going to be able to address all of them here. But, at least in kink, my goal in hypnotizing someone is to directly influence their thoughts. In fact, when I'm hypnotizing someone, a lot of my "induction" is convincing someone that I'm already in their head- that they're responding automatically to my suggestions. There's the kinky control fun of that and also the mutual shared feeling of intimacy- we're so close we could be one. (Or, in more D/s-ey terms, we're so close that now you are an extension of me!) In 101 classes you'll learn about the pacing and leading technique- basically matching your subject's experience and then taking them a step further. (Ex. You're reading my words and focusing on the screen and that reminds you to take a deep breath NOW.)

Explaining it by cold control hypnosis theory****, during an induction I'm helping someone kind of flip OFF their awareness of their agency- creating the illusion that things are happening internally because I'm MAKING them happen (and disguising the part where they're in complete control of their actions).

Especially in kink, what we're doing in hypnosis play is often a really conscious power exchange. You're giving me power over your thoughts because you want me to have it. I direct them where I want them to go and away from where I don't want them to be (ex. the actual reason why you're relaxing is, in part, because that's a natural thing that happens for most people when they close their eyes for more than a few seconds). (That's an excellent babysitting/parenting pro tip from me to you btw.) It's not that subjects aren't actively contributing their own images/ideas/metaphors/desires to the suggestions and play (really often they are!) but usually their whole goal is to be directed.

Even in hypnotherapy, that directedness and control is implied. You're not coming on (nearly) as strong as you would in kink, but your goal there is usually more in direction (with teaching self hypnosis techniques as an added bonus).

Sometimes the hypnosis and mindfulness methodologies can be incredibly similar with really subtle differences! For example, I might start a mindfulness-teaching body scan in the same way that I might start a progressive muscle relaxation induction- "Go ahead and get into a comfortable position and close your eyes". But continuing with the hypnosis induction, I'll usually be more directive ("Notice your feet. As you're noticing them, imagine sending a wave of relaxation down to your toes.") whereas with the body scan I'll be more exploratory. ("Notice your feet. What do they feel like? Are they hot or cold? Do they want to move or stay still? Whatever is happening for them right now is fine- just notice them") The pmr induction is intended to move someone into a suggestible state, the body scan is intended to teach someone a particular mindset and focusing skill they can use later. *****

Like I stated before, things that I consider "hypnosis" ideas and techniques and "mindfulness" ideas and techniques get mixed up all the time- with both lay folks and the actual professionals who teach them. There's a lot of surface similarities. "Mindfulness" has become such a therapy and corporate buzzword that it often DOES become synonymous with things like guided relaxation. Both concepts are vague enough that there's a lot of things that can easily be either/or- I'm thinking self hypnosis specifically here******. But- I hope if you're curious about mindfulness at all, you'll find this explanation useful and will maybe go out and explore some helpful resources for yourself.

Good mindfulness 101 books:

Full Catastrophe Living- Jon Kabat Zinn

The Mindful Way Through Depression- J. Mark G Williams et all

Just an FYI here at the bottom- like all self-help techniques, mindfulness stuff can be extremely helpful to some and not at all helpful to others. If it hasn't been personally helpful to you that's fine! I hope you've found some other things that are. Also, you can feel free to take my self help advice just as seriously as you would of any other kinky fetish blogger. :p I'm not your therapist, feel free to check in with them about things that might help you.

*I think people expanding the definition and ideas around both of these can be really helpful, in fact!

**Of the not-fun kind

***You know, like I normally do

****One of many hypnosis theories! And often not the best one for kink! If hypnosis doesn't feel like this for you, that's perfectly ok!

*****OK, in actuality both probably do both things! But the emphasis is different.

******A big difference in my mind- if you discover pain or discomfort, hypnosis-style techniques are usually directing you away from that while mindfulness-style techniques are usually directing you towards curiousity about those things.

[artbychromo]

(little comic + 1.7K words, inspired by chatting about timezones + @swbookerr's fics uwu)

To be honest, Ace had partly forgotten about the Den Den Mushi. It sat on its own little table outside the Spade Pirates’ galley, and the thing hadn’t been touched since Shanks gifted it to him a few weeks ago. It also hadn’t rung yet, and Ace wasn’t certain what was appropriate grounds for calling the Red Force, anyway. 

Maybe it was only meant for emergencies? That had been Ace’s assumption. Meaning, he was startled when the thing first let out its odd, burbling call around dusk one day. He ducked out of the kitchen—he’d been helping Deuce and Skull prepare that evening’s supper, but now the two of them peered after Ace from the doorway.

Heart in his throat, he lifted the receiver. 

Sounds of chaos blared out from the little creature. Ace’s pulse raced even faster. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, until finally, the cacophony resolved itself into songs and shouts—and above that, a slurred, cheerful drawl. 

“Angel! Hello, angel? Are you there, gorgeous?” 

Ace’s nerves transformed into appalled heat, sensing the start of Deuce’s laughter from behind him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he managed. “Shanks, what’s going on?”

The other captain let out a meandering whoop. “I just missed you, baby! Wish I could see your smile so bad. How am I supposed to dance, when you’re not here in my arms-s-s-s—arm?” 

On his end, Ace wondered if the Den Den actually replicated the waft of alcohol, or if it was just his imagination. At least no one was in danger.

Shanks went on, “The boys here got me thinking about you—”

“More like,” a voice interjected, “he wouldn’t shut up about your ass.” 

Ace flushed, hearing Skull’s chuckles join Deuce’s. It only got worse when Shanks replied, “It’s a lovely ass, I’ll have you know.”

“I didn’t mean his literal ass, Captain, though I’m sure it’s wonderful—”

“It is! Abs-o-lute heaven!” 

“Shanks!” Ace yelled (cutting off the man’s claim of “To die for!”). Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Ace was chagrined to find Skull with a hand slapped over his mouth, trying to remain composed, while Deuce had fully given up on standing and was now doubled over against the galley wall. 

Before he dealt with them, Ace had to address the matter at hand. 

“Look, we’re a little busy here,” he said tightly. “Anything else you needed to say? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to talk to you later.”

After a moment without response save for some shuffling, Ace added a cautious, “That alright, old man?”

Finally, Shanks let out a dramatic sigh. “Stars, but I missed your voice.” The background noise from the other side grew muffled, as if he’d at last found a spot away from the hubbub of his crew. He went on, drawn-out and wistful: “I don’t mean to keep you, sweetheart. Just wanted you to know I was thinkin’ about you all day, and I’ll be dreamin’ about you all night.”

Ace cursed himself for flushing further. Turning away from the galley (and the growing sound of cackling), Ace mumbled, “You’re drunk as fuck, Shanks. …Don’t go falling overboard tonight, okay?” 

“In vino veritas, little flame,” Shanks said with dignity. Then, more groggily, “Or, in sake veritas?” 

Ace put his head in his hands, but couldn’t stop the wobbling, frantic smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Gods. Good luck with your hangover.” Then, in a rushed breath—because this whole situation was bizarre and new, and his heart was racing, but he was also so, strangely happy—Ace said, “Love you.”

Actually, this situation might be too bizarre and new: Shanks was taken off-guard. Ace heard a swift intake of breath, and then in a flood of boozy admiration, he swore, “Oh, baby, I’ll sail to you tonight! The boys’ll listen—I’ll follow the moonlight off the water, we can be together by dawn—what do you say, angel? We could spend all day together, having just the filthiest, crazed-animal se—”

Ace hung up.

—

Ace sagged against the doorway of his quarters. Even though most of his crew had retired for the day, he could feel his insomnia acting up like a jitter in his limbs. He probably wouldn’t land a good night’s sleep no matter what he tried. 

The issue wasn’t helped by his swirling thoughts. For the sake of restocking supplies, the Spade Pirates had docked in a town with some heavy anti-pirate sentiment. Somehow, the crew hadn’t been particularly bothered. Ace, on the other hand, was on edge the whole time, tensing up whenever he felt anyone’s eyes lingering on him too long.

There was no way anyone knew the truth about him. Even so, he couldn’t help superimposing faces from the rundown taverns of Goa onto those of the locals. Ace could feel the old, familiar unease simmering in his veins, like everyone had just finished hiding a sneer from him; like a knife was waiting to catch him unaware at any turn. 

But he was on his ship, now. Safe. Ace took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, yet the tension remained. A night like this one was better spent in the open air of the deck. He was just about to make his way out, when the Den Den Mushi reflected a hint of moonlight, catching his eye. 

After a moment of hesitation, Ace gathered the little thing in his arms, and took it with him to the bow of the ship. He stared contemplatively at where he’d set it on the rail. Since that first fiasco, he and Shanks had used the device a few times; their calls made it clear that he didn’t need to wait for some emergency. Still…

Watching starlight glint off the Den Den’s metal trim, he wondered what time it might be where Shanks was. The last time they’d talked, Shanks had been about half a day ahead of him. Who could say if they’d kept pace since then, though.

Stealing a glance at the crow’s nest—he was pretty sure Finamore was on shift tonight—Ace’s hand hovered over the receiver. His thoughts roiled. The tranquil rocking of the ship and the peaceful glow of the moon should have soothed him, but for some reason, they just made Ace more agitated.

He finally thought, Fuck it.

Ace waited, feeling suspended in time as the call went out. Then, he heard a click. 

“Mm… Hello?” 

Ace’s mind stalled. He was thrown off, watching the snail mimic a very sleepy Red-Haired Shanks. It was amusing at times to see the creature capture the other man’s expressions, but a little unsettling for this call; Ace directed his gaze out toward the ocean instead.

“Shanks?” he ventured. “Um. Morning?” 

There was a yawn. Then, “G’morning, little flame.” The cadence of Shanks’ voice was even slower than usual, syllables softly melding into each other. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?”

Ace’s mouth quirked, impressed at the immediate smooth-talking. He was also, undeniably, taken in by the calming lilt of Shanks’ words. Ace twisted and untwisted a ringlet of the Den Den Mushi’s cord. 

“It’s nothin’ important, just… checking in.” Ace was unable to keep himself from adding, “What time is it there? I can call back later.” 

He heard a gentle sigh. 

“It’s never too early for you,” Shanks said. “A bit ahead of when I usually wake, but…” he hummed, exceedingly smug. “It’s cute, how you just can’t wait to hear my voice. So precious, baby.” 

Ace rolled his eyes toward the starry sky. “Yeah, I’m hangin’ up.”

Shanks let out a laugh. “Wait, now, come on. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s just… been a long day.” After a few moments of curling the cord tighter, Ace asked, “Actually, could you talk about your day? What’ve you been up to?” 

A thoughtful hum came over the line, followed by a snort. “You should’ve seen the damn mess Yasopp got us into yesterday. There we were, perusing a market, when the man starts haggling…”

Ace sighed. It was nice, listening to Shanks describe the people he’d run into, the locales he and his crew had explored. Really, it would’ve been nicer to be there at his side for it all, but… the timing wasn’t right. Not yet.

Still, Ace could imagine it. He laid his head in his arms, and let Shanks’ voice carry him over the water.

Finally, as Shanks murmured about dishes they could try “just a few islands over,” Ace felt his eyelids drooping. He gave himself a small shake.

The nighttime breeze was cooler now, biting against his skin. Ace noted the hazy ache of tiredness beneath his eyes; the rhythmic lap of the ocean and its vast, ceaseless waves. Domed above him, the crispness of the stars only added to his sense of the world being yawningly immense. It would have left him unsettled… if not for the sound of Shanks’ steady breathing over the line: a tiny, precious tether in the dark. 

Ace cleared his throat. 

“Thanks, Shanks.”

His conversation partner snickered. “Good rhyme.” 

“Yeah.” Ace smiled. “I mean it, though. For this, and… everything you’ve done. For being you.”

Ace hesitated, stomach churning at his trite words. The night’s darkness helped mute his embarrassment, though; same as the blush on his cheeks. 

“It means a lot,” he finished, voice soft.

There was a brief, yet heavy silence after that, like Shanks was lingering in the pause between one breath and the next. Finally, he murmured, “We’re lucky bastards, aren’t we? I mean—” He waited a moment, so Ace could finish chuckling. 

Then he said, “I’m grateful too. To have found you.”

Ace blinked, staring out into the moonlit night. All he could offer was an agreeing hum. 

After lingering in the contented silence a moment longer, Shanks finally gave a soft laugh, and said, “Guess you should give sleep another go.” 

“Ugh. Yeah.” Ace wiped a hand down his face, but turned toward the Den Den Mushi with a smile. “Alright. Love you.” 

“Love you too, little flame. Goodnight, Ace.” 

He grinned. “Good morning, Shanks.” 

Shanks’ laugh was just crackling out when Ace replaced the receiver. He heard enough, however, to be flooded with warmth on the way back to his quarters; and as he laid in bed, easily welcoming sleep.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — The Bridgertons take some time to do things they enjoy among the media circus caused by Landon's statement.

WORD COUNT — 3.5K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — Another Friday, another chapter! Thank again to flock for taking care of the beta read and editing :)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑽𝑰: 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 𝑰𝑵 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑳

The click of the camera shutters had become incessant since Landon’s statement broke the UK news. Unfortunately, it had not faded out, like they had hoped, after one cycle, due to the fact that it seemed like anyone who had ever had any qualms with the Bridgertons were now offering their opinions on the situation and keeping it in the front of everyone’s minds. 

Violet’s lawyers had managed to convince the authorities to do their interviews at the firm in exchange for full cooperation, which the firm was willing to give because Violet was innocent (at least her lawyer had said even an idiot could see that, and you had emphatically agreed with him). 

Stepping out from what felt like her thousandth interview, you followed closely behind with manila folders and a briefcase, the cameras were quick to come out and follow the two of you towards the car Violet had acquired the service of until things died down. 

She could hear her name called at her from all directions, and she tried to hold her head high on Pat’s advice, knowing that if she hunched away the media might take her simple body language as an admission of guilt. 

She was about to step into the car when she heard your voice behind her, but not addressing her. 

“Hey, watch it!” 

She turned around and saw you standing between her and someone who was trying to get a little too close. 

“You know, while I’m at it, why don’t you all listen up?” you said, the frustration on behalf of Violet evident in your tone. “Keep your bloody cameras away from the Bridgertons or else I’m sure we can find a way to press charges for harassment. And while you’re at it, stop calling her Violet, it’s Lady Bridgerton, show some respect.” 

Violet bit back a smile and finally opened the car door, stepping inside and sliding over the seats so you could place your things down and join her, closing the door, muffling the sounds of the press outside.

“You know, nobody calls me Lady Bridgerton,” she said while looking over at you.

“I know, but maybe they should,” you shrugged. “Maybe it will get them to remember all of the wonderful things your family has done with that title and that none of this is actually tied to you. Landon is just trying his last shot at bringing someone down with him.” 

“At least the police said this should be cleared up and sorted soon, but I know the cameras are going to linger,” Violet sighed. “Daphne was telling me she saw someone following her while she was taking the children to the park with Simon the other day. She almost called the police; I had to arrange to get her a security detail.” 

“Really?” you looked astonished and Violet nodded. 

“They wanted information about me,” she added. “And were willing to take away my daughter’s, my son-in-law’s, and my grandchildren’s privacy to do so.” 

You sighed and pressed your lips together. 

“And Eloise has people following her around campus, Benedict has had his home vandalized, thank God Colin and Penelope left on another work assignment. I can’t imagine what they might have run into.”

You reached out your hand to take Violet’s and offer some comfort. 

“I haven’t let Hyacinth or Gregory leave the house,” she looked over at you. “They’re going insane, but I can’t…” her voice trailed off. “They’re still so young, I can't have this happening to them as well.” 

“I’m sure they understand,” you assured her. “This is no small thing. At this point, we’re talking about safety. You don’t even leave the house without security by your side anymore, that’s a clear difference from your circumstances before.” 

“Yes, which is why I think we all need a break,” Violet sighed. “Benedict is coming to pick up Gregory and Hyacinth this afternoon and they’ll go to the country estate for a week or so, and Agatha and I have dinner planned at the house tonight.” 

“That should be good,” you nodded. “Everyone gets a little change of pace, Benedict can be the one to make sure Hyacinth and Gregory don’t kill each other,” you teased, and Violet chuckled. 

“When you put it that way, I might lose three children by the end of the week.” 

You scoffed at her words and looked outside the window for a moment, your hands still interlocked. 

“I know it’s hard, but we should focus on the positives. We still have the gala we need to think about. I know we were hoping for the fall, but with everything that is happening, I was wondering if it makes sense to do something over the holidays? It should add more time for us too, which frankly, we could use.” 

“I was thinking that as well,” Violet agreed. “We haven’t sent out invitations so it wouldn’t be hard to shift dates as long as the venue is available. We’d just have to do some coordinating with all the logistical things, but I think that’s better than rushing it.” 

“I’ll make sure the venue is available, you take a break and prepare for your dinner tonight. I hear Agatha is expecting you to cook.”

“She usually does, it’s a little deal we have,” Violet explained. “And she likes my cooking, so, I won’t turn down an opportunity to be complimented.” 

 “What’s your specialty?” you asked.

“Yorkshire pudding, but that’s not quite a meal on its own,” Violet chuckled. “I’ll figure something out to go with it.”

“I’m sure you will,” you squeezed her hand and let go, both of you feeling the immediate loss of warmth and comfort when the contact ceased. 

When you arrived back at the house, Benedict had come to pick up Hyacinth and Gregory, neither of whom were ready to leave, much to his dismay. 

“Mum, can you please get your children to bloody hurry up?” Benedict complained. 

“Lovely way to greet your mother after she’s just come home from being interviewed by the police,” Violet teased and Benedict sighed with a chuckle, pulling his mother into a hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Hi Mum, how are you?” he changed his greeting, and Violet smiled. 

“As good as I’ll be, given the circumstances. Let me go see what I can do about your siblings, and oh-have you two met yet?” 

Violet looked between you and Benedict, and you nodded your head.

“Briefly, actually,” you said.

“Yes, you were at the gallery,” he noted and you confirmed with a nod. 

“Pure coincidence. I realized who you were a few moments after we stopped talking,” you chuckled and gave him your name again.

“So, you’re working as the new financial manager?” Benedict asked, while Violet left you both to go find Hyacinth and Gregory. 

“Yes, that would be me,” you nodded. 

“And what was a financial district woman such as yourself doing in a small independent art gallery? Or working for my family, for that matter?”

“One, financial district women can have hobbies,” you started. “Two, I was looking for a change of pace and this is certainly that.”

“Getting bossed around by my mother? God give you strength.”

“Oh, come on,” you rolled your eyes and laughed. “It’s not that bad, we make a good team, I think.”

“If you’re saying that? Clearly you do,” Benedict teased. “No, but in all seriousness she’s a hard worker. Her nagging is out of love.”

“Benedict, did you just say I nag you?” Violet asked, stopping by the front door after overhearing the comment. 

“No Mum, not at all,” he shook his head. “I said bagging, like when you pack us food to take places.”

Violet pressed her lips together. She seemed unconvinced and you laughed at Benedict’s terrible lie. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle Greg and Hyacinth for a week?” you asked him, and he shrugged his shoulders quite exaggeratedly. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“If they’re trying to kill each other, call me,” you told him. “I’ve learnt sibling crisis management 101 from those two.”

“Will do,” Benedict nodded and patted your back. 

You heard your name called from the door and saw Hyacinth running outside. 

“I thought I was going to miss you before we left,” she pulled you in for a hug which you accepted, one hand still occupied with full manila folders. “It’s going to be weird not seeing you every day.”

“Sure, but it’s only a week, and you have Benedict. You can make plans for the Beyoncé concert.”

“That is true,” Hyacinth nodded, still holding onto you. 

“Hyacinth, goodness, you’re going to suffocate her,” Violet chuckled as she came outside with Gregory, seeing the tight grip her daughter had on you. 

“I’m fine, I’m going to miss her hugs anyways,” you squeezed her back. “Okay, both of you should get your stuff in your brother’s car. He's been waiting patiently for you.”

The two youngest Bridgertons listened and threw their stuff in the trunk of Benedict’s car before saying their goodbyes and heading off with a final reminder from their mother not to kill each other. 

You and Violet entered the house shortly thereafter, and she went on to prepare dinner while you did some work in the office. 

After the day had ended, you were about halfway home when you realized you had forgotten your phone and had to turn back around to get it. 

Security let you inside without a fuss, and you could hear chatter and laughter coming from the dining room, presumably from Violet’s dinner. 

You tried to sneak in and out quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but Violet caught sight of you from afar and called out your name. 

“What are you doing back here, is something wrong?” she asked. 

“Just forgot my phone, I’ll be out of your hair in two minutes,” you assured her. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” another voice chimed in, which you assumed was Agatha’s. “Violet wouldn't be able to cook for only two people, even if a gun was put to her head. It’s ten or nothing, there’s plenty of food to share, come eat with us.”

“I shouldn’t stay,” you shook your head. 

“My dear, one does not turn down an invitation from Agatha,” Violet chuckled. “Just come sit with us.”

You pressed your lips together and began to walk towards the dining room, seeing the chair Violet had pulled out for you next to her and took a seat with them at the table. 

“Christ, you were right. Violet, this is enough food for a small dinner party,” you said while looking at the spread in front of you. 

“I, unfortunately, never unlearned how to portion for ten people,” she said while grabbing you a plate and some cutlery. “I will be sending you both home with leftovers.”

“And I will not be complaining,” Agatha smiled. “So,” she turned her attention to you. “Violet has been telling me how great of a help you’ve been the past few months.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” you shook your head. “Just doing my job.”

You knew as soon as you said it you didn’t believe it. Sure, a part of it was doing your job, but another part was always something a little extra. You had come to care very much for the family whose employ you were under and it meant a lot when you were able to help them through difficult situations. 

“Have you and Violet known each other for a long time?” 

You tried to divert the line of questioning from yourself.

“Since I was a teenager,” Violet answered. “Our families ran in the same circles, but we became more acquainted after my marriage, and even more so after Edmund’s passing.”

You could feel Agatha’s stare on you, and it made you a little nervous. It was almost as if she was very closely judging your character, but whether it was for your position with the family or something else, you were uncertain. 

Violet offered you some wine, realizing you didn’t have a glass, and you accepted, watching her go back to the kitchen to fetch it for you, so you quickly filled the silence with another question for Agatha. 

“What made you grow closer after Edmund’s passing?”

Agatha pressed her lips together and took a sip of her wine. 

“My husband had also passed away when I was young,” she said and you nodded your head in understanding. “But that is not why I could relate to her.”

You paused, looking up from your food and making eye contact with Agatha whose gaze had seemingly softened. 

“I had an arranged marriage,” she explained. “I did not love my husband. In fact, I loathed him, but due to my family, the only way out of that relationship was in death. My father passed shortly after he did and then, all of a sudden, I was free.”

You put your fork down, placing your hands in your lap, listening intently to her story. 

“For years, I had been…close with Violet’s aunt, Lily, her father’s sister, and over time, that friendship turned into something…more than,” she said. “When she passed away, I felt like my world had been ripped in two and I couldn’t quite publicly grieve her loss, in part because I wasn’t yet ready to admit to the world that I loved her.”

You pressed your lips together, a surge of hurt in your chest at the story she shared. 

“When Violet lost Edmund, I saw that same thing in her. She was still expecting and the world turned her grief into a spectacle.”

“I understand,” you nodded your head, it was implicit. Agatha was trying to protect Violet. 

“I hope you do,” Agatha sipped her wine again. “Our stories often tend to draw on more parallels than we initially realize.”

Violet returned to the room with a glass of wine for you, and a bottle for the table, a bright smile on her face while she tucked her hair behind her ears and sat back down. 

“Why the long faces, did something happen?” she asked, concerned.

“No, not at all,” Agatha shook her head. “We were just disappointed we can’t have your cooking every night, it really is quite exceptional.”

“Yes, I agree,” you said truthfully. “You were right when you said Yorkshire pudding is your specialty, I think this is the best one I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Violet smiled. “So, have you two spoken about art yet?”

“No, I don’t think we have,” you shook your head. 

“A fellow appreciator of the finer things, I see,” Agatha smiled. 

“Agatha has quite the collection at her home. I think you would love it, actually.”

“Really?” You looked at Agatha. “What era?”

“Mostly early 19th century, some late 18th,” she said. “Do you have much art in your home?”

“Not a lot, I can’t quite afford the things I enjoy,” you admitted. “But I frequent museums and galleries quite often which helps fill that void. I love being in this house in particular, there’s always a new piece in some corner that I haven’t seen before.”

“A lot of those are Benedict’s,” Violet said. “He refuses to pay for a storage space so he ends up giving them to me on loan until they sell.”

“I seem to recall some of the paintings around the house are yours,” Agatha noted. 

“You didn’t tell me that,” you looked over at Violet. “Which ones?”

“Anything signed Ledger,” she admitted. “I did them all before I was married.”

You chuckled a little to yourself. There was one painting in Violet’s office, nothing too extravagant, just an assortment of plants in what looked like a wildflower bouquet resting on a table. If something was stumping you or your eyes needed a break from the many hours of staring at the computer, your default was to look at it. You had always meant to ask who the artist was; you just couldn’t seem to fathom that it was Violet. 

“You didn’t think to mention it?” you chuckled, sipping your wine. 

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” she shrugged innocently, and you laughed at the clearly coy comment. 

Agatha watched the interaction between you both closely. There was a certain familiarity, an ease and comfort she hadn’t seen in Violet in a long time. 

“So, I think we now know where Benedict gets his artistry from,” you said. “Does he know where he gets it from?”

“We’ve all made a point to make it very clear to him any talent he got was from me,” Violet teased, and you laughed again. 

“Seriously though, once things settle again and you have more time on your hands, you should consider taking it up again,” you suggested. “It’s good to have a hobby.”

“I agree,” Agatha nodded. “Hobbies are a wonderful way to pass the time.” 

“Agatha’s main hobby is hustling people in poker and pool,” Violet informed you. 

“All the money goes to charity,” she assured. 

“At the expense of the dignity of others,” Violet countered. 

“She lost to me in both,” Agatha filled in the blanks and you snorted while lifting your wine glass to your lips and Violet’s ears became tinged with a soft pink colour. “And made the mistake of chalking it up to beginner's luck.” 

“Oh, Violet,” you attempted to sound sympathetic, but it came off more like pity with the chuckle that was laced in your voice.

“No, I know I brought it on myself,” she nodded, picking up some vegetables with her fork. “I just don’t understand how I fell for it three times, and how you didn’t say anything,” she motioned to Agatha with her chin. 

“You just seemed so determined, I didn’t want to burst your bubble.” 

“Three times? Violet, that’s just…” 

“Embarrassing? Demoralizing? Absolutely humiliating?” she filled in the blanks. 

“No, I was going to say sweet,” you chuckled. “You didn’t give up, I mean, you never do. I admire that about you.” 

“Oh,” Violet was visibly surprised by your response and you were too focused on her to notice Agatha’s knowing expression from across the table. “I-Well, thank you.” 

“I would have gone with humiliating, too,” Agatha teased before eating another spoonful of food. 

“Hush, you,” Violet frowned and sent her friend a playful piercing stare. 

Dinner ended up being very enjoyable, but as soon as the dishes were cleared and you saw the time, you excused yourself from the group. 

“Are you sure you can’t join us for another glass of wine?” Violet asked.

“I shouldn’t,” you shook your head. “My family’s coming to visit tomorrow, and I still have a few things to arrange around the apartment so I should get back to that before it’s too late.” 

“Family? You didn’t mention your family was visiting. Do you need time off?” Violet asked. 

“No, we’d run ourselves mad if we were together non-stop,” you shook your head. “If something comes up, I’ll ask.” 

“Okay,” Violet smiled. “But before you go…” she slipped past Agatha and over to a pan that was by the stove, taking a container from one of the cupboards and placing what looked like a few slices of cake inside and grabbing some food she had packed away from dinner already. “For tonight. A cleaning pick-me-up,” she handed it to you. 

“Thank you, Violet, really both of you for including me tonight,” you said. “I know I was the reason you got pulled away from your tea together in the first place, so I’m happy for the chance at redemption.” 

“Consider yourself redeemed,” Agatha assured you. “I’m sure we will talk again soon.” 

“I hope so,” you smiled. “Goodnight.” 

Agatha and Violet returned your smile and wished you goodnight as you left the room, heading out the front door and going back to your car to head home. 

“So,” Agatha began a moment after hearing the front door close. “She’s quite…” 

She paused in hopes that Violet might fill in the blank, letting her in on what her feelings were towards you. 

“Lovely?” Violet looked up at Agatha with a smile. “She really is.” 

“You seem to have gotten closer over your time working together.” 

“I think we have,” Violet agreed. “It’s odd. It’s almost as though I hired a financial manager and a friend, but it doesn’t feel forced.” 

“It doesn't look forced,” Agatha agreed. “And she’s aware of your…long term financial plans?” 

Violet nodded her head, serving Agatha a piece of cake. 

“Yes, but we still have some time before that becomes a reality,” she said. 

“And do you think your friendship will last past that?” she asked. 

Violet paused for a moment, thinking about the question that was brought up before placing her hands flat on the counter in front of her, leaning on the support of her arms. 

“I really do hope so.” 

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling

[randomshyperson]

Spring Break - Cheerleader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Every year during Spring Break, you travel to a camp filled with outdoor competitions. It comes with a bonus of facing your rival from back when the whole thing started, and there's nothing more attractive than Wanda Maximoff kicking your ass in every game. Some might say you let her win just to see her smile, but maybe that's loser talk.

Warnings: (+18), enemies to lovers, so much teasing and bickering, a lot of making out and kissing, bottom!Cheerleader Wanda being a tease, soft first-time smut, semi-public, gays who can't keep their hands off each other, fluff, mild angst when they’re being stubborn, friends being done, high school but summer camp vibes, happy ending i promise. Words: 11.176k

A/N-> I’m back with enemies to lovers (and some smut finally). This fic is quite old, but it was abandoned; after seeing Wednesday and Bianca dueling I regained inspiration for what I was doing in the 5k that was already done. You can thank Netflix for this one.  I wasn't sure whether to split it into two parts or not, but I think I have longer fics than this one so I decided to post them all together. If you notice there's a pause, because I wrote it as two different parts, you didn't.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

There was something about pissing you off that made Wanda twitch.

It started so long ago, when you first bumped into each other at Avengers Camp three years ago, and Wanda had the best and most stressful Spring Break since high school began; all because you were there and she was winning.

Now, senior year had arrived, and the annual tradition of joining the spring games for an entire week in the middle of nature at one of the most renowned vacation camps in the United States was going to happen again.

Wanda likes to believe that she was not expecting this. It would actually be absurd to admit that she waited, every year, for the familiar image of your old Danvers cap and your bored expression leaving the bus that brought your schoolmates, but if Wanda would be honest, now sitting in the driveway waiting for their driver to finish unloading the car while she lets her gaze run across the entrance courtyard of the Camp, pretending not to look for someone and yet feeling her whole body warm-up when she recognizes the female figure in the crowd of students from the rival school, Wanda has to admit a few things. First, you grew annoyingly attractive every year. The second, she couldn't wait to beat your ass at every game.

"Man, I can't believe we're competing with the Skrulls again, it's the third year in a row." Her twin's complaint made Wanda blink away, her face half-reddened with fear that she had been caught staring. But Pietro seemed busy enough with his own complaints. 

"Well, at least we're winning." Wanda retorted making him laugh. 

"Fair point." He said and looked at her. "Speaking of which, do you know what games you'll be competing in this year yet?"

"Um, I think I'll check with the girls first. I don't want to end up alone in swimming like last year." Wanda mutters and Pietro nods in understanding. 

Soon the monitors are addressing those who have already arrived, and Wanda loses sight of you - not that she was looking - and busies herself with going to the cabin that would be hers for the next week.

You, on the other hand, lose your bag in a pile.

"God, why does this always happen." You grumble in irritation as you manage to see the handle of your blue suitcase, below a few hundred others. 

"Every year, Y/N. And I keep saying, carry your bag on your lap, and you keep ignoring me." Your sister, Carol, comments beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You roll your eyes, gently pushing her away. Carol is happy, with her dark, safe suitcase under her arm. 

"Stop bugging me and help me." You grumble and she laughs before trying to find a better position for you two to pull your bag together.

With a little effort, you manage to pull your backpack out, and you stumble backward with a grunt - bumping into someone who keeps you from falling to the ground - as Carol pulls your bag out of the pile.

"Yay, teamwork!" She celebrates on the other side, but you are busy turning to thank her who held you up, only to face your best friend with a small smile.

"Bucky!" you greet him excitedly, turning your body to hug him tightly by the neck, and laughing when he spins you in the air. 

You met Bucky at camp, and despite going to a rival school, you had enough things in common for the friendship to grow strong even though he was studying and living almost on the other side of the country. Fortunately, Skype and Whatsapp existed, and even as spring ended, you were still friends. 

"Hello, my favorite Danvers. " He greets like that only to annoy your sister behind you, who rolls her eyes and chuckles, moving closer to hug him as well as soon as you let go. "How was your trip, girls?"

"Y/N slept the whole way." Carol replies.

"And Carol ate the whole way." You accuse taking your bag from her hand and ignoring the grimace to add, "Oh, no, wait, I made a mistake. She was actually daydreaming about Natasha Romanoff."

"Shut up!" Carol grunted quickly, trying to hit you, a soft pink appearing on her cheeks. You fled from her hands, laughing and running toward the check-in booth where the monitors were calling out names, and Bucky shook his head for interaction watching your sister run after you.

Avengers Camp was huge, and besides the cabins divided up among all the students who stayed there during the vacation seasons, there was a lake, volleyball and tennis courts, an auditorium, and even an arcade. 

You were lucky to end up in a cabin with your sister and the other girls in your class - the brilliant Gwen Stacy and Darcy Lewis - who didn't seem too interested in the sports competitions but would surely win any of the scientific tests.

After packing up, all the campers were called to the main cabin, where there were tables scattered throughout the area, where the teenagers were seated ready to enjoy the delicious lunch and listen to the welcome speech.

Nick Fury was the Camp Director and no one could ever tell the real story behind his eye patch, each year new campers came up with new legends that made you laugh - like the story that an alien cat had been responsible for cutting the limb off.

"[...] It gives me great pleasure to welcome the honorary Skrulls from California!" Announced Fury and all the students of your school made a chorus of claps and shouts of celebration, banging on their desks. Fury laughed from his seat in the center of the room, waiting for the commotion to pass before announcing the other school. "And equally welcome, the so-far undefeated champions of the Spring Competitions, the Avengers!"

The rival school made an even better commotion, almost starting a food war. But you were having fun, even though your school had never beaten the Avengers in their home, it was to be expected that they would want to keep their camp as an undefeated venue. Even though last winter during the interclass event, the soccer team lost badly to another school. There was a taunt among the students that if the Avengers played away from home, they would lose. But you and the rest of your school were more interested in proving that you could beat them anywhere, and this was your last chance to be part of it.

As Fury continued with the general announcements - about the rules, and the competitions, concepts that were already very familiar to you after three years - you felt Bucky pull your cap off your head, muttering something about manners that made you laugh.

You were adjusting the tousled strands of hair when Carol gave you a gentle nudge.

"Your majesty will speak now." She sneers and you aren't even confused, knowing full well what this is about before you even raise your eyes to the center of the room again, and feel your stomach do a full turn at seeing Wanda Maximoff step up to the podium with the confidence and posture worthy of a queen.

You met Wanda in first grade, and from the first conflicting interactions, you have an obligation to call her a princess. Because the perfect little girl's posture is too annoying for you not to do so. This, and the fact that her father is a famous politician, and the family is deep in the money, kind of lives up to the nickname. Also, it gives you real amusement to see the pink in her cheeks when you call her that.

And Wanda, of course, is the representative speaker at the games. So every year until she graduates, she announces the competitions and collects the names, as well as basically running the whole thing with the other monitors. It's like Queen Bee and her subjects, and neither you nor any of your friends stop making fun of it.

"I didn't think the Maximoffs were going to come this year." Bucky comments low beside you, as Wanda announces that year's games. And you frown in confusion.

"What, but Wanda has basically been representing this competition forever." You reason, but Bucky shrugs his shoulders.

"I know, but I heard they were going back to their country for college." Bucky retorts. "And you have to admit, while Avengers Camp is fun, it's not worth much here for us to get admission points."

Carol murmurs in agreement. "Man, now I'm pissed they didn’t leave. Imagine a year without having to put up with Little Miss Perfect, a stolen dream." She mocks and you force a laugh, a strange feeling in your stomach. You should be happy at the possibility of not having to put up with Wanda. But it occurs to you that the games wouldn't be as much fun without her.

Clearing your throat, you poke at your food with your fork. 

"I think I'll sign up just for racing this year." Bucky comments beside you. "We have Football season, and I don't want to end up accidentally hurting myself before the games."

"But you love wrestling." You say but he shrugs his shoulders, offering you a small smile.

It occurs to you as the announcements end, and students have to move to leave their names for the competitions, that the seniors are not very excited. Probably the stress of college admissions, you can relate to that yourself, still, it's a little sad to see how little participation from classmates your age.

"Danvers sisters, good to have you back for another year." Fury greets you excitedly as soon as you and Carol approach the registration stand - where there is a small crowd of students trying to choose which games they will compete in, and put their names on the prepared murals. 

"Hey, Nick!" Carol greets back, doing a handshake that she never taught you with the principal. You merely offer him a smile. "How's the family?"

You took the attention away from your sister as you approached the mural that read Wildness Competitions, adjusting your cap slightly as you did so. There were many options for activities at Avengers Camp, and you usually chose mostly the ones that the public school wouldn't give you access to for the rest of the school year, like Hispism or Fencing, the latter being a secret talent.

"Well, if it isn't the Skrulls’ Golden Armor Knight." A female voice mocked behind you, and you were smiling before you even turned around. 

"Maximoff, it's always a displeasure." You retorted sarcastically, your hands in your pockets. Wanda doesn't flinch at your rudeness, tossing her hair to the side as she approaches with some buttons which she as a representative, needs to put on the murals to signal about the teams.

"Having trouble picking your sport this year, Danvers? A suggestion, try to remember that you are going to lose no matter what."

"Really? 'Cause as far as I remember, that shiny trophy up there has my name on it." You retort nodding to where the fencing awards are set in the corner of the main hall. Wanda rolls her eyes. "But don't worry, princess, I'll go easy on you this year."

Wanda lets out a wry laugh, her eyes glittering in defiance.

"I guess it's more the other way around, huh?" She retorts. "Or in case you've forgotten, the highest number of wins is still mine."

Wanda had a point. You could win at Fencing all you wanted - and get the ridiculous nickname of Skrulls’ Golden Armor Knight from the girl just to annoy you - but Wanda still won everything. From archery to fighting to spelling. Never in a million years would you admit that maybe you were losing because you were busier trying not to be distracted by her annoyingly pretty face.

"Let's see how this year turns out." You tell her with clear defiance in your voice, and Wanda smiles, moving closer, and you swallow dryly, your body tensing up. But she is just reaching for something behind you - a jar with other buttons - and offers you an innocent smile.

"Game on, Danvers." She says, grabbing one of the items and placing it in your hands before turning around, hips swaying more than necessary as if she knew exactly where you were going to look, and you choke softly, your face heating up before you shake your head and focus on the badge in your hands. The symbol of your school pinned on it.

–//–

The first day of competitions was a complete success for the Avengers, which means it was complete hell for you.

Unlike basically all the rest of your colleagues who were taking it easy, you almost destroyed a snack machine that refused to deliver your energy drink after you finished in second place for the fourth consecutive activity. If anyone asked, you were annoyed because of the little victorious smile Wanda had on her face all morning, but no one asked, because Carol had to drag you away from the brunette to avoid you jumping on her neck and pulling that little smile off yourself.

"It's so strange to see you like this." Your sister comments as soon as you guys are so back at the cabin, and you flopped down on the bed, grunting irritably against the pillow.

Gwen - who participated in the short race and was still wearing the same uniform as you - handed Carol the small bottle of energy drink that the machine released after you and Wanda got into a heated argument. 

"Like what?" you asked confused with your voice muffled by the pillowcase. Your sister laughed.

"So angry." She clarified by sitting down in one of the armchairs to take off her shoes. "I'm the hothead Danvers, you know? You're like, so good vibes all the time."

"I agree, and I don't even hang out with you guys that much." Gwen remarks before moving to grab her shower stuff. You prop yourself up on the bed with a chair.

"What are you trying to tell me?" You ask your sister, and she gives a short chuckle, shrugging.

"Nothing, I just think it's weird." She mumbles. "You're so calm usually, but just walk into the same room as Wanda and you turn into a ticking time bomb. It feels like she has some sort of switch, or as that other saying goes, of the matchstick and the spark-"

"This conversation doesn't make any sense." You interrupt by frowning and standing up. "I am as I have always been, and it's not my fault if Wanda is the most annoying creature on the planet who keeps wanting to beat me at everything. I'll be taking a shower before you come up with any other weird sayings."

The locker room was a complete mess, but at least you were distracted by Gwen's comments about the competition and about the Avengers planning a sleepover to care about.

Since the next competitions were not until the afternoon, you finished your shower and decided to put on a comfortable sweater to spend the next few hours with Bucky at the lake, and were just finishing putting on your socks when giggles attracted your attention.

Well, you recognized the sound, and you had a hundred insults ready to use, but when you turned your face and had the image of Wanda in a towel, they all disappeared with any other coherent thought.

She was laughing at some comment her colleague made, but when her gaze met with yours, her smile faltered.

"Hey, Danvers, nice running today." She complimented, the sentence loaded with sarcasm. 

"Yeah, Y/N, congratulations on the silver medal." Wanda's friend, you think her name is Monica, said and unlike the brunette, she seemed completely sincere. 

You didn't respond with more than a hum of understanding, suddenly hyperaware that Wanda was without clothes just a few feet away from you. Turning your attention back to your socks, you cleared your throat softly, trying to keep your gaze in front of you.

Wanda took up a locker three feet away from yours. You could see her figure out of the corner of your eye. Long legs exposed and-"

You cleared your throat again, shaking your head quietly. 

"Are you going to watch the boys' race, Y/N?" It was Monica who asked - from the locker behind yours - and you frowned slightly.

"Hmm, I'm not sure." You muttered, feeling your face heat up when you saw Wanda take her underwear out of the cabinet. " I don't really have anyone to watch there."

"Really? But I thought you and that long-haired cutie were going out." Monica comments excitedly, and you turn your head to her with confusion. "What's his name again? Ben?"

"Bucky." You correct and don't notice the way Wanda is glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, pretending to be busy with her own clothes. "And we're not dating, he's just my friend. Besides, he decided not to run."

Monica makes a noise of agreement, and you look away because she is suddenly changing and you don't want to be disrespectful.

"We'll watch Pietro race, but I'd honestly rather hang out at the arcade." Monica continues. "We can play something after the race, can you call your sister to join us?"

"Sure, Monica." You mutter finishing your shoes. You stand, and turn around, ready to say goodbye, but you face Wanda without a towel and simply freeze.

She, despite the soft pink appearing on her cheeks, holds your gaze, a small smile threatening to leave her lips as she works to put on her bra. You let your gaze lower, your heart racing in your ears as the image of full breasts and down to her belly and-"

"O-kay, I'll see you later." You gasp with a very hot face, stumbling off the bench and running so fast from the locker room that you leave Monica with a confused expression.

"What was that?" She asks, and Gwen, who you didn't even remember to say goodbye to, shrugs her shoulders.

"I think she may be trying to avoid arguments." She suggests, and the comment makes Wanda sigh softly as she finishes dressing. "Speaking of which, Maximoff, any chance you'll go easy on Y/N? She gets stressed when she loses to you."

Wanda chuckles. " Not a chance."

–//–

One of the afternoon competitions, besides the boys' race, was archery. Which meant watching Kate Bishop, a girl from the year before yours, destroy all the older students. Her coach, Clint Barton, kept smiling proudly with each completed trial, and you overheard some students from the Avengers saying how he was sure to write a letter of recommendation there when the time came for Kate to enter the university.

However, this year you were distracted. Bucky and Carol were sitting next to you, clapping and whistling for Kate along with her friends - Yelena Belova, who was coincidentally the sister of your sister's long-time crush, Natasha Romanoff, and Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, the latter two being on the soccer team with Bucky.

While everyone was impressed by the long-range targets, you were trying to keep the image of Wanda out of your head. The problem was that ever since you saw her without a towel in the locker room, the curve of her waist, and of her breasts seemed to have stuck.

"Are you okay?" Bucky's voice snapped you out of your fantasy. "Your face is red."

"I'm fine." You mumble grudgingly, stretching out your legs and letting your cap cover your eyes. "I'm just resting my eyes."

"Kate just hit a target in the sky." He comments. " It was pretty incredible."

"I bet it was." You merely reply, the image of something far more interesting in your head. Bucky makes a confused face but doesn't insist. 

When the next contestant was announced, you grunted softly and started to get up, muttering that you were feeling queasy and were going to get some air. The ironic comment about you being outside already made by Carol was ignored.

You ended up in the back of one of the huts, and as you leaned your back against the wood, you took a deep breath.

Stop thinking about her. Stop thinking-

"Victory is already ours but you didn't have to skip the game." The teasing made you flinch. On any other day, before what happened in the locker room at least, any comment from Wanda would have been rebutted with an equally sarcastic one. But the image of her naked torso was still fresh in your mind, insistent, and you just wanted to be left alone.

"Fuck off, Maximoff." Aggressiveness failed in your tone, as your voice faltered hoarsely over your thoughts. You didn't have time to fix your mistake - Wanda was already mockingly chuckling, slow steps toward you.

"You know, I've been practically fencing back home. I even have a private tutor now." She informs you, to which you just roll your eyes without patience, trying to look at everything but the girl in front of you. "Maybe it's time for that trophy to stamp another name."

You chuckled dryly, stealing a glance at her.  "In your dreams."

"No, I'll just kick your ass in reality." She assures you finally close enough. "It'll be too easy, you're all distracted this year..."

Your breath hitched in your throat as Wanda simply began to move closer, eyes intense and provocative as her tone of voice. You stared at her in shock at the magnetic tension between you, wondering if she would have the courage to break the distance as you wished to do. Wait, since when did you-

"Maximoff, Danvers." The voice of one of the monitors broke the momentum completely and made you both jump in fright, away from each other as if you had been burned. "The game is still going on. What are you two doing alone here? I hope it's not another fight-"

"No, sir-"

"Go mind your own business, Logan." You cut off the apologies of the good girl next to you, practically pushing her out of your way as you moved away from the cabin wall. The monitor grimaced at the hostility, but you knew him long enough to know you wouldn't have a problem. Logan was like an older sibling, and you didn't need another in this position. "We were just talking, or rather, Maximoff was bugging me, as usual."

Wanda snorted angrily, but Logan rolled his eyes impatiently at the whole thing. "Back to the game, girls." He ordered, ignoring your grumbling that you were already walking anyway and waiting for Wanda to do the same.

She followed you back to the bow field - Surprisingly quiet. You were too busy trying not to think about her to notice, and at some point, you both took completely opposite directions, drifting apart in the crowd of students.

Carol, however, noticed you coming, and as soon as you were seated again, she looked at you with a frown.

"What were you and Wanda doing?"

The question startled you as if your sister had been able to read your last thoughts. You grimaced immediately, knowing that your face was blushing.

"What? Nothing." You assured quickly, irritation in your voice. "We just bumped into each other in the entryway."

Carol didn't buy the lie judging by the look on her face, but she didn't have time to question - Kate won the event undefeated, and a crowd of clapping and celebrations erupted in the open field.

With the last match of the day, and having won the vast majority of the challenges, the Avengers were happy enough for a Victory party - Which was nonetheless a direct tease to the Skrulls, who by some miraculous luck, if manage to win all the next day's matches, could win the tournament. In this way, the crowd took the celebration back to the camp's main campfire, where the staff arranged dining tables and benches for the first outdoor meal of the holidays.

Alcohol was obviously not allowed, and that never stopped campers from smuggling it between disguised water bottles. 

As one of the athletes for tomorrow's competitions, you decided to stay away from alcohol - quite unlike your sister, who took advantage of vodka shots to build up the courage to talk to Natasha Romanoff.

You were watching her awkward attempts from a safe distance with Bucky beside you, laughing softly when the boy announced that he was also going to try his luck with the one he liked tonight.

The thing was, Bucky didn't like anyone - As far as you knew. So the information caught you by surprise.

"Wait. What?" 

But he chuckled, waving to a front with his glass, and you frowned trying to find the person. It took you a moment to realize that it was Sam Wilson, Co-Captain of the American Football Team. Avenger.

"Wow, he's..."

"An avenger, I know."

You chuckle, hiding your smile as you look down at your soda glass. "I was going to say handsome."

Bucky was blushing. You gave him the privacy to keep your gaze on Sam, knowing it would get worse if you stared at your friend. 

"Fuck, yeah, I know." He gasped softly making you laugh. 

"When did this happen?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, back at school?" He starts half uncertain. "We played together and he started to follow me on Instagram. One day, just playing conversation and even insults until it turned into a habit..." He jokes with a short laugh. "We came back here and it made sense. You know?"

You giggle at your friend's nervousness and clumsiness, finding the whole thing kind of adorable. "Yeah, I guess so." You say. "Go ahead, talk to him."

He sighs, deciding to turn his glass all at once before waving at you and heading off to talk to Sam Wilson.

Alone, you think about joining some colleagues closer to the fire, but nearby laughter catches your attention.

There is something about Wanda Maximoff's beauty that takes your breath away. And it's not fair that it seems to grow in the dim light of the moon and the stars. And Wanda, surrounded by her friends, laughing at something she has been told, with soft dimples in her cheeks, it is even more unfair the way the image makes your stomach turn nervously.

Has she always been beautiful like this, since her first win, and you were too busy with the game to notice? Or somehow, the school has changed you enough in the last year to notice that although Wanda was the most insufferable person you knew, she needs to be recognized as the most beautiful girl you have ever seen.

And then, if you think about it as you notice her not minding having her moment with her friends interrupted to help a freshman camper who seems lost as to where their cabin is, you'll realize that Wanda, when she's not competing with you and testing all your buttons, is not so insufferable. You will notice that she has always been kind and thoughtful and that people don't make her the leader of everything because she is rich or beautiful, but because she is the best at organizing games, and guiding people. And if you think about it, you will recognize that Wanda is just as tired as you are at the races, sweaty and breathless, and just as bright and hard-working at everything. 

You suddenly think that Wanda deserved to win for the first time, as you have never acknowledged before. She must really be much brighter than you, because she surely wouldn't have taken all this time to realize what she was feeling.

Did it occur to you, so many years after you first laid eyes on her, that now you were really seeing her. There, near the campfire, accepting some more soda, so, so gorgeous.

'Fuck." You gasped in realization under your breath into the night, feeling something burn behind your eyes. 

Wanda, as if she could guess, even sense the moment you pined for her attention, looked away for her friends until she met your gaze. She hesitated before assuming the same expression as always - Ready to torment you - but this time, you looked on the verge of tears when you stared back.

The second she noticed, she frowned in concern, all the masked arrogance falling from her face. But you didn't give her any time to react, you left your glass on the first table you could find and practically ran away from there. From her.

And of course, Wanda would be stubborn and insistent enough to follow you. Not daring to call your name on the way as if she guessed that you were going to run until you disappeared, or worse, turn to her and tell her to mind her own business.

When you walked inside the fencing hall, empty of course, she let her head work without thinking straight about what she was accusing you of.

You barely reached the sword cabinet when she walked in through the ajar door.

"I should have known you would try to cheat." She sneered convinced that she had caught you in the act. You froze, not for the reasons she imagines, your hands still on the closet lock. "That's sad, even for you, Danvers."

"Shut up." 

She chuckled wickedly, crossing her arms as she stopped a little behind you. "Come on, if you admit it, I might consider not reporting you to the juries."

It was your turn to chuckle - Unlike her, almost tearfully. Wanda hesitated, confused, even more so when you turned to her, and your face had tears dried on the way there on your cheeks.

"Get out of here before I do something stupid." 

But Wanda uncrossed her arms, concern on her face. "I've never seen you cry before."

"Wanda, I swear to god-"

"Not even when you broke your arm back in the first year." She recalls as she takes a step forward, and another, raising one of her hands toward your face slowly. You know you should move away, push her before she could realize how much you were trembling, how hot your skin was, but you couldn't move a muscle it. Wanda touched your cheek and you gasped, unable to keep your eyes open. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

It was so tender, so loving that your heart jumped in your chest. You almost sobbed, but instead, your emotions mixed and you raised your hand to her wrist, gripping hard but not pushing away, your angry eyes hiding insecurity that Wanda could only see because she knew you well enough, perhaps better than anyone else, even if neither of you had ever admitted this.

"Why do you care?" That's what you retorted, and it took her by surprise because Wanda didn't expect to have to answer that question. Not to her father, when she insisted that she was going back to Camp this year and he demanded a reason, nor to Pietro who questioned her why she still kept the brooch with the Danvers name on it that you lost to her in a card game in sophomore year. And even less to you, with tears in your eyes inside the hall of the only game she could never win.  Her hesitation made you let go of her wrist, a tired sigh leaving your lips. "You don't. I...please, Wanda, just leave me alone."

You scared her. You looked so small, so insecure and uncertain, vulnerable. You? Never in a million years had you allowed Wanda to see you like this. She didn't know how to cope with it.

Your footsteps moved away, and by your breath, you were crying. She came closer but lost the courage to break your privacy. Her mind filled with anxiety - It didn't matter how long you had known each other. You were rivals, nothing more than that. Wanda had no right to invade your space.

"Go away." You insisted seriously with a voice hoarse with emotion and Wanda shuddered. It was different from the anger of losing - It was almost as if she had stabbed you in the back. Or had hurt you.

She swallowed dryly, and before you could repeat the order, she spoke:

"If I win tomorrow, you will tell me what happened."

The deal hangs in the air for a few moments, carrying the tension between the two of you. Wanda almost decides to leave without an answer when you sigh.

"What if I win?"

She smiles even though you can't see it. "You can pick your prize." She says and doesn't wait for you to think about it, clearing her throat before murmuring goodnight and leaving the hall.

You walk away to the trophy cabinet again and stare at one of the photographs of last year's Fencing team. You and Wanda are in it, in opposite positions. And for the first time in three years, you wish she were standing right next to you.

–//–

Sleep puts some sense into your head. 

You were practically mortified with shame after thinking about the whole interaction with Wanda the night before, imagining that it now gave her enough power to somehow humiliate you and then hating that you thought that way of Wanda, who despite the rivalries, didn't seem the sort of person who would use a moment like that to mock you in the least.

So you had a foolproof plan the next morning: You would win fencing, and ask Wanda to stay away from you for the rest of the summer as your prize, succinctly hiding any unwanted feelings until it was time to leave Camp so that you would never have to see Wanda Maximoff again.

You think you were lucky this whole thing was happening in the last year.

The next day of competitions seemed to have been more aggressive than the previous one. To your complete happiness, the Avengers were irresponsible enough about the previous day's party to get careless.

The Skrull won the day's activities - Tight, you have to admit - but still champions. It wasn't all of them, unfortunately, but it would put both teams through to the final day of matches the next afternoon.

Fencing was one of the last competitions. 

You managed to avoid Wanda and her worried glances all morning, and consequently, your friends and sister, who noticed the lack of fighting between you. 

The fencing hall was considerably full when you arrived. Although most people didn't share much interest in the sport, everyone enjoyed watching you and Wanda compete. 

She was already in uniform when you arrived, and you ignored with a tightness in your chest her attempt to search in your face for any discomfort from the previous night. 

"You're late, Danvers." Professor Jacques Duquesne warned, also in uniform and with a sword at his waist. You sighed wearily, taking off your jacket to put on your uniform.

"Sorry, I... I didn't want to come." You muttered quietly, and the man frowned in confusion.

"What was that?" he asked without having heard, but you forced a smile.

"Nothing. Shall we get started?"

The spectators arranged themselves around you just as the teams were getting into position to compete. As Captains, you and Wanda were the last.

Your team won most of the duels, which on any other occasion would have cheered you up infinitely. But not today, because you spent most of the competition stealing glances at Wanda, who did the same, unsure of whether or not to approach you.

You had to face the champions of her team, as did Wanda with yours, and so when you finally went to face each other, you shared the slightly breathless but undefeated posture.

Wanda removed her protective helmet to drink water, and her slightly ruffled hair and rosy cheeks made your heart soar. 

Somehow, you decided that teasing her was a better idea than complimenting her on how pretty she looked.

"Hey Maximoff, did Daddy pay for private lessons for the rest of your team as well?"

Your team laughed at the joke, but Wanda finished a long sip of the water leisurely, staring at you long enough to make you feel completely clumsy.

As soon as she returned the bottle to the table, she stared at you again.

"Are you really going to pretend nothing happened yesterday, Danvers?" 

Everyone who was paying attention to the conversation whispered in curiosity, and your body froze. Wanda didn't seem to mind the audience one bit, but you huffed impatiently when Carol asked what she was talking about.

Without answering either of them, you turned your back and walked to the mat, waiting for the competition to begin.

As it turns out, teasing and ignoring Wanda seemed to have infuriated her. The hall filled with tension once the last duel began, and you, and all your confidence as an undefeated champion faltered when Wanda became a beast in the sport overnight.

She scored two points in a row, moving so quickly and masterfully that if you didn't have a reputation to uphold you would have congratulated her.

"It looks like we're going to have a new champion this year." Mr.Duquesne commented proudly and teasingly, receiving a chorus of soft celebration from the Avengers present.

You've had enough.

She tried hard to maintain a defensive position, but you scored within seconds of the announcement that the round had begun.

With the tip of the sword still on her chest, you teased:

"I guess we can't buy talent after all." 

Wanda grunted angrily, without waiting for the next round to be announced, spun the sword striking yours, and resumed the duel. You fought back every blow with the mastery of a champion, but Wanda didn't back down once.

"What's the matter, Maximoff, can't get me?" You sneered between one defense and another, irritating her even more. When it looked like she was going to hit you, you spun your body around and hit her in the arm.

The audience, completely tense, split between boos and cheers of celebration. The teacher laughed impressed.

"It's a draw." He said. "Girls, get back to-"

But Wanda attacked you - For a microsecond, you managed to react in time and prevent her from scoring.

She seemed a lot angrier all of a sudden, and you kept up the defense, waiting for a gap that apparently she wasn't going to provide.

Long steps backward to avoid the sword in your direction, in an albeit hurried, fully coordinated dance, Wanda managed to take the fight to the outside. 

The crowd got excited and drowned out Mr.Duquesne's protests about rules, the whole group following you and Wanda outside. Any campers who had previously been uninterested in watching the match took an immediate interest in the fight taking place, and it wasn't long before there was a large number of people in an open circle around the huts, trying to watch.

In one of the deflections, you had to do a somersault between two haystacks to dodge a blow that was impossible to block, stealing certain victory from the girl behind you, who grunted in annoyance.

In the motion, you knocked the helmet off your head.

"Going to play dirty then, Maximoff? Fine." You gasped equally affected at the girl who had paused her attacks. "It's our last year, let's make it count."

Wanda removed her helmet as well, her sword still raised for any attempted attacks. "I'm listening, Danvers." She returns between teeth, and you have to smile.

"I invoke a military challenge." You announce then, surprising her for only half a second. "No masks, no tips." You continue, the audience getting excited. "First one to draw blood wins. I might give you a nice scar to remind you who defeated you."

Some Skrulls laugh, but Wanda is not intimidated. She throws her helmet away and raises her chin in your direction. 

"What about our deal?"

You swallow dryly, but try to disguise it. "Still standing."

A glimmer of a smile forms on Wanda's lips, and she has the nobility to wait for you to nod before attacking next time.

It's suddenly much harder to fight Wanda. You blame these stupid feelings on your chest because once you realize that if you hit her, you're going to hurt her, you just can't do it.

Wanda doesn't seem to have much of a problem with that, because she attacks you with fervor. You think you might lose, because of the way she starts cornering you, and no chance for you to do another flip, so you despair. If you lose, you'll have to confess why you were crying, and that's unacceptable.

She throws a low, clean hit, but you jump. Before Wanda can get ready for the next one, you grab her waist and pull her to you.

The protest about the rules is muffled in your ears as your lips crash against hers. Wanda gasps, closing her eyes and dropping her sword to the ground at the same second the entire audience goes completely silent, shocked.

It's good, no, it's incredible. As breathtakingly overwhelming as you imagined kissing Wanda Maximoff would feel. She gasps against your lips, pressing back, and your chest screams. 

The audience vibrates and you wake up, realizing what you had just done.

You let go of Wanda with a long step away from her, who opens her eyes at the same moment, her breathing now affected for a completely different reason. She looks at you dumbfounded.

"W-what are you-" She tries as she steps forward, her hand raised towards your wrist, but you flinch. You raise your sword, and with one clean strike, hit her palm. 

The cut is small, but it makes her grunt in pain and surprise. You feel like you might start crying again, but you declare in a hoarse voice:

"I won."

Wanda's eyes fill with tears, but you assume they are tears of rage by the way she begins to shout angrily in the teacher's direction, saying that you had cheated while trying to be heard as the audience begins to shout your name and spread out in celebration.

Duquesne is equally in shock and mutters that technically there isn't a rule about kissing your opponent.

They lift you into the air, with the trophy, but when you capture Wanda's head-down posture and the completely hurt look she gives you before turning away, you don't feel like you've won anything.

–//–

With an injury, Wanda was out of all the upcoming competitions, which were sure to count in the Skrulls' favor.

Your school couldn't be happier, and you couldn't be more miserable.

Wanda was walking around the camp with her hand bandaged and you just wanted to get away from the people who kept congratulating you on the duel. 

There was also the matter of the angry stares from the other Avengers, especially your opponent's twin, which only made you feel like the worst person in the world.

When night came, and a few groups decided to set up card tables from poker to blackjack, you slipped outside to breathe properly.

The universe was surely testing you when you met Wanda across the door, and to add to your misfortune, she wasn't alone.

Some stupid guy was cornering her against the wall of one of the booths - clearly flirting by whispering things in her ear that made her giggle shyly.

With your jaw locked, you approached them in hard steps.

"Hey, Maximoff, I want to talk to you." You announced impatiently, feeling your chest burn with the scene in front of you.

She flinched at your sudden arrival, but the boy let out a short laugh.

"We're already in a conversation, cheater." He sneered, his hand on the wall coming down to Wanda's shoulders. "Why don't you go back to your cabin?"

"Listen here asshole-"

But Wanda sighed impatiently, pulling the boy's arm off her with a shove. "Fuck off you two, my day was bad enough to deal with this now."

She stormed off annoyed without caring, and you huffed impatiently. When the boy made mention of following her, you stepped in front of him, receiving a wry laugh.

"Back off, Danvers." He warned. "You may be a girl, but if you piss me off I'll break your face."

The kick to the ball made him bend his knees, grunting in pain. You didn't let him fall, holding him by the shoulders to mock against his ear:

"It's more the other way, don't you think?" He couldn't answer, still shaking from the blow. You pushed him away, and he fell to the ground, holding his front. "Stay away from her, she's mine."

Despite the pain, he gasped in confusion, "I thought you two hated each other, you maniac!"

Without bothering to respond, you headed off in the direction the girl had left.

Wanda was clearly not in the mood for conversation, but you had to chuckle as you realized where she was going - or practically running at hard paces. 

The fencing hall was empty of course. Even the Professor had joined the rest of the staff for the day's celebrations, and so you followed Wanda without any concern.

"I don't want to talk to you, Danvers." She warned between teeth still on her back, hearing your breaths panting from the rush of having to catch up with her. You chuckle humourlessly, closing the door behind you.

"But you got time for some idiot to flirt with you?" your retort came out so bitter - so jealous - that Wanda turned her face to you with a frown in complete confusion.

"How is that your problem?" She demanded but you shrugged relaxedly. The lack of an answer only irritated her more. "I've had enough of you for today don't you think? Leave me alone."

You snickered taking a step forward that made her lock her jaw.

"Come on, what's this?" You teased. "One defeat and you get tired of all? Don't you even want to try a rematch?"

It was Wanda's turn to chuckle, the tension growing between the two of you with every second. 

"So you can cheat again? Hard pass."

You smiled, raising your hands in the air as a sign of surrender. 

"I don't need to cheat, Maximoff." You retorted. "Everyone, including you and I, knows I'm the best." You declare receiving a snort and a roll of the eyes. But you continue to smile, not losing your confidence. "In fact, I bet I can beat you even without a sword."

Wanda shook her head. "You know what, Danvers? You must have had a few beers, huh?" She deduced, motioning to the sword cabinet and continuing to speak without giving you a chance to deny it. "Any other day, I'd tell you to fuck off and leave me alone. But you were a brat today, that whole scene and whatever manipulation you were trying to pull off with the crying and then the kissing..."

You hesitate, losing your posture completely. "Wanda, I wasn't-"

But she chuckles, interrupting you. "Whatever it is, let's put an end to it." She says seriously, arming herself with one of the swords. "You got what you wanted. Me, out of all competitions because of this stupid injury and your team winning tomorrow. Yep, I admit it. Everyone knows you guys are going to win baseball, it's your school's specialty, and there's no reason to deny it. But let's be honest about today: you cheated. And I want you to acknowledge that I would have won."

You sigh, deciding to put an end to those games with each other, as Wanda wanted. But not in the way she expects.

Shrugging, you gesture with open arms. "I'm really sorry, Wanda." You say in a false tone of regret. "I'm sorry you're such a bad loser."

Wanda grunted in irritation, and in the blink of an eye, spun the sword around - Hitting your open hand and mirroring your bruises. You gasped in pain, taking a step backward.

"What the hell-"

But your shock was short-lived, Wanda moved and you reacted. Without a sword, your only option was to dodge and that was the hardest task. 

"Just admit it, Danvers!" Wanda demanded between one blow and another, growing breathless as the movements went on. "I am. Better.Than. You." Each word was punctuated with an attempt to hit you - Not really to hurt but to lean in and mark. 

She finally hit you for the second time when she trapped you between one cupboard and another. You protested in irritation at the gentle burning on your thigh.

"You little shit." You cursed low as you dodged her last. Wanda smiled in satisfaction. 

Somehow, you managed to get around her after a miscalculated blow that pinned her sword to a cushion. Wanda got busy trying to pull the item out and gave you enough time to jump on her.

Her healthy hand tried to pull the sword out to hit you but you kicked the handle, and the item flew to the ground. Wanda protested breathlessly, trying to struggle away, but you pressed her against the wall of the room by the waist.

Faces flushed from the exertion and proximity, she looked at you with a fury in her eyes that didn't just look like anger.

"Fuck off, Danvers, let me go!" She demanded clearly affected, her fists closed against your shoulders. You weren't thinking straight - Since when did Wanda look so beautiful when she was pissed off? - She tried to throw punches but you grabbed her fists, holding them tightly against you. "You just can't help it, can you? You know you can't beat me and you just keep cheating!"

"Yeah, I can't help it." You pant, letting your gaze fall to her mouth. Her breathing hitches and when you start to lean in, Wanda gasps, stopping struggling.

"Don't." She asks in a whisper, and you stop leaning in the same instant, worried eyes scanning her face. Wanda's fill with tears. "I can't take it... if it's just a game... if you don't mean it."

Your heart races in your chest, threads of hope burning outwards.

You stare into her eyes, trying to read everything she hasn't explained. "You... You want me to mean it?"

Wanda sighs incredulously, tired. 

"I've been waiting for you to notice me for three years, Danvers." 

"W-what?"

Wanda looks away, despite her rosy cheeks like your own, she looks sad.

"I'm just tired of all this cat and mouse between us." She continues. "Trying to capture your attention for the few days we have together each year. You've never seen me that way, and I just don't have it in me to keep trying to get you to notice me." She declares with a sigh. "Let me go, okay? It's our last year, you'll never see me again after this spring, it doesn't have to be weird on our last days. We can do a truce, and be mature about-"

Instead of letting her finish her completely meaningless monologue for feelings that Wanda has no idea are much reciprocated, you just kiss her. Though abrupt, your lips are soft on hers. She shudders, first surprised and then affected, ready to reciprocate when you loosen her.

"I notice you, Wanda." You confess in a husky voice and short breath. "Every damn day of this camp, from the first moment I saw you. I noticed you, and I liked you. So much, it infuriated me. All I could think about was you and your face and your jokes and every little smile of victory. I never hated you, Wanda, I just hated how much I cared about you."

She gasps softly, trying to believe the confessions. "B-but you never said anything..."

"Neither did you." You retort with a small smile. "We just competed. Yelling at each other, trying to... just put it out, never saying the right words. Well, I'll do the honors, I guess. Wanda, I like you. I'm in love with you. The whole puppy love, to the moon and back, lovey-dovey, carry a torch for-"

Wanda interrupts your sweet teasing with a soft, emotional giggle. "Shut up, you idiot." She says, pulling you by the collar of the blouse to kiss you again. Slower than the other time, bringing delicious shivers to your entire body. She breaks away only to say she feels the same way.

Then you just kiss her again, just to make sure. It's easy to get addicted to the feeling of her lips on yours until her tongue slides over and starts to get too hot all around. The sound of lips slapping together mingles with affected gasps until the pace picks up and all the accumulated lust from so long of rivalry burns between you.

Wanda grows impatient - Her mouth firmly pressed to yours distracts you from where her hands are moving. You grunt affected as she scratches under your shirt, your back, and your torso, trying to pull you over her. 

You press your hips together to keep her against the wall pulling out an affected whimper that makes you shiver - But surrendered to the urge, you forget about recent events and press your open palm to the wall for support. The pain is immediate and makes you break the kiss with a yelp.

Wanda opens her eyes worriedly, trying to push all the arousal away. "What's wrong?" She asks, but you're already bringing your bruised hand to chest height.

"I forgot about it." You mumble, trying to squeeze your hand to make the pain go away. Wanda bites back a smile.

"Karma's a bitch, huh?" she teases, getting a short laugh out of you. Your instinct is to kiss her again at the same intensity as before, but Wanda doesn't let you, breaking the session the next moment. "Easy tiger." 

A little breathless and definitely missing kissing her, you ask, "Don't you want it anymore?"

She licks her lips, looking away to try and gain some rationality again. "I don't think you'll be able to do much with a bruised hand, huh?" It's clearly a joke, but you're too turned on to catch it.

"Well, I have another one, and my mouth..." Wanda stares at you in stunned shock, her face burning and her eyes darkening a little. You grunt in shame, hiding your face in her collarbone. "Shit, you didn't mean it."

She giggles awkwardly, wrapping her arms around your waist. "You need a bandage, baby. We'll have time for this later."

You raise your gaze to her again, and Wanda stares at you doubtfully from your expression. "I like it when you call me that."

She smiles, teasing and loving at the same time. "Better than shithead, I suppose."

"They both have their charm, I guess." You joke back managing to make her laugh before stealing a few more kisses.

All the way to the infirmary, all you can think about is how happy you are - And how your friends are going to adjust to the new dynamic.

–//–

Falling into a routine with Wanda was as easy as falling for her.

The familiar teasing didn't end - In a way, it got infinitely better, because, after each little bickering, you and Wanda made up with lots of kisses.

The most absurd thing was your sister's reaction. No surprise at all.

"I mean, everyone saw you two kissing." She retorted unimpressed, continuing to eat her breakfast as if you hadn't spent the previous day preparing the best way to tell. You huffed indignantly, but Wanda sighed, giving you a pat on the back before going to sit down. The same reaction for your friends, who seemed even somewhat reassured that now they wouldn't have to endure the arguing.

As for the rest of the people, well, everyone else had their own lives to take care of to give a damn about what Wanda and you have been up to.

With the baseball game approaching and the end of Spring Break, there was an understanding between you and Wanda that your time together was coming to an end. You didn't want to talk about it - to avoid creating impossible expectations if you considered the distance between California and New York and the hurt of an inevitable goodbye. 

For now, you and Wanda were enjoying as much time together as possible, and that included escaping the game to make out before and between breaks.

Wanda giggled affectedly at the tickling your fingers did next to her hips, an attempt to make her relax to what was about to happen between you since the first kisses began. The question hung in the air and the way your breaths were uncompressed and your clothes crumpled.

"They'll start looking for us at some point..." Wanda recalled, the noise of the game resuming in the background, muffled by the closed doors of the empty locker room where you two were hiding. Despite the warning, her hands were entwined behind your neck, and her legs tight around your waist. The cheer skirt pulled up by your hands on her thighs.

You hum in understanding, distracted by the soft skin of her collarbone. You traced a path down to the valley of her covered breasts and Wanda shuddered, moaning in anticipation.

But as soon as your hands reached under her skirt, fingers playing with the fabric of her panties, Wanda tensed anxiously, biting her lips as she sought your gaze. 

"Is everything okay?" You asked immediately, stopping your movements and staring back at her. "Do you want me to continue...?"

Wanda let out a broken breath, the look full of anxiety made you frown. You were ready to assure her it was okay if she refused when she replied:

"I want to but... I've never done it before." She confesses in a small whisper, and your heart skips a beat. "And also, I had to talk to my friends about this, and they told me it would be special because we like each other but I just kept thinking that it's going to happen and it will be amazing and when you leave, I'll never be able to do it again without remembering you and I'll be missing you back home..."

"Hey, breathe." You interrupted her anxious babbling with a small chuckle, moving your hands to her face, and squeezing her cheeks for a moment. "God, you're so beautiful." You murmured staring at her adoringly. Wanda blushed, looking away, "Hey, look at me, sweetheart. You want to talk about leaving?"

She swallowed dryly, nodding. "I'm sorry." She mumbles immediately. "I know we kind of agreed not to talk about it, but... fuck, I really like you. If I, you know... have sex with you, I'm just sure I'll fall harder. And I don't know if I want to go through the pain of losing you in a few days."

You swallowed dryly, caressing her cheeks as you absorbed her words. Wanda was even more nervous at your silence.

"Say something, please."

You smiled, staring at her. "I'm sorry, I just... I really am in love with you, Wanda." You confessed tenderly, making her blush. "Sex or no sex, I really am. And saying goodbye to you will hurt." 

Wanda nods sadly before hugging you. "Yeah, I know." When she sniffles softly, you kiss her neck to calm her, until her breathing stabilizes again and Wanda releases you to kiss you gently, once and twice, until it starts to get hot again and she sighs against your lips, her trembling fingers groping your body unhurriedly as if she wants to memorize.

"Baby..." She called softly against your lips, her hands moving up into your blouse and making you shudder. "I want to make love to you." She whispered taking all the air out of your lungs. "Give me something to remember you by."

Despite the nervousness and excitement, you managed to tease as your hands retraced their way under her skirt. "What, the matching scars aren't enough for you, darling?" 

Wanda lets out an affected giggle at the proximity to your joke about the healed bruises on your hands, but the sound turns to a deep sigh when her panties slip down her legs. You maintain eye contact with her, pulling the item down until you take it off by her ankles. Wanda bites her lip hard as she sees you on your knees, moving up your way again with kisses on her legs.

Her muscles quiver as you kiss the inside of her thighs, and Wanda inhales a shaky breath, her hands gripping the table she's sitting on tightly.

"Be gentle." She asks as she feels the kisses coming closer to where she is burning. You let out a soft laugh, rising again to kiss her on the mouth. Wanda has no time to be eager for the delay of her relief, because you grab her waist and pull her closer, the friction between your hips making her whimper. 

Your tongue slides over hers hungrily, kissing her until she's dizzy with arousal, and instinctively starts forcing her hips against yours - The uncovered intimacy smearing the wetness on the fabric of your leg and making you moan against her.

One of your hands spreads her legs open by her thigh, fingers coming up fast to tease her entrance and make Wanda break the kiss with an affected whimper.

"Y-yes, baby, please, no more teasing." Wanda moans, throwing her hips against your hand. "I'm ready."

You grunt softly, tentatively cupping the folds between your fingers, spreading the wetness over the entire length. "Hmm, I can feel that." You teased softly, pulling your hand away to get a taste. Wanda choked, blushing heavily as she watched you suck your fingers one by one, rolling her eyes in pleasure as you tasted her. The next second, you moved your hand back between her legs, staring her in the eye before sliding a finger inside. She moaned at the intrusion, and you let her get used to it, encouraging her with your free hand on her back, relaxing her with a gentle massage.

"There you go... all the way in." You narrated softly, having to maintain all mental control not to fuck her roughly, feeling your body vibrate with the sensation of Wanda's soft wet walls on your fingerprints. She pulsed against you, her hands gripping your blouse tightly as the repetitive motion made her legs twitch. "God, you're so tight." You grunted, hiding your face in her collarbone and angling your palm to press against her clit as well. Wanda let out a loud yelp, wrapping one of her legs around your waist and increasing your reach.

"M-more, please-I just need-" She tried to formulate, starting to follow your movements with her hips. You shushed her against her neck, kissing your way to her ear. 

"Relax, I'll give you what you need, baby." Was your only warning before removing yourself from her, only to sink two fingers inside next time. Wanda gasped at the intrusion, but you swallowed her moan with your own mouth, not moving inside her until she was ready.

Soon, your movements had resumed, and with your mouth glued to hers, you swallowed each breathless moan as Wanda began to tremble in your fingers, squeezing as her orgasm built. 

Just as she was panting and restless, the locker room door opened. She raised desperate eyes to you, but you covered her mouth with your free hand and sped up your movements.

Your skin muffled her whimpers, and you bit your lips at the sinful image in front of you.

"Danvers? Maximoff? Are you guys here? The coach is looking for two." it was some of the monitors, probably checking the camp behind whoever was running away from the game. You reached a deep sweet spot inside Wanda and she threw her head back.

The monitor grumbled in frustration and the door closed again - You barely noticed, bringing the girl beneath you to her climax. Wanda spread herself in your hand, her body spasming against you and a long muffled moan against your hand.

Her pupils were so dark they nearly hold any green.

"Fucking gorgeous." You praised as you removed your hand to kiss her, and Wanda corresponded with difficulty, smiling breathlessly as she tried to recover from the intensity of her first orgasm.

As soon as she could properly match it, Wanda dominated the kiss - One hand moving up to the back of your neck, to tug at your hair as she bit your bottom lip, drawing a soft moan from you.

"Please, can we go back to the cabin?" It sounded like a request but felt like an order by the way Wanda dug her nails into your waist. A warning. "I want you to be comfortable when you go down on me."

"God, Wanda, you're such a tease." You grumbled in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, moving like an obedient puppy as she stood up on shaky legs and guided you by the hand back to the cabins. 

Her panties are tucked tightly in your pocket.

–//–

Disgustingly adorable, is how your friends would describe the last few days in the company of you and Wanda, who have apparently unlearned how to function away from each other.

Especially the last day - Without any concern for the rest of the world while in an intense make-out session against the bus that was supposed to take you and Carol back to California.

"Jesus, I'm going to have nightmares." Your sister complained with a grimace to her now official girlfriend - Natasha Romanoff - who was putting away the last bag in the family car that was going to take her home. The redhead laughed, looking at where Carol was staring and knowing she was referring to your hand firmly squeezing Wanda's ass as she giggled between the kisses you two shared. 

"Why are they behaving like they're never going to see each other again? It's traumatizing." It wasn't Nat, but Bucky who spoke as he arrived with Sam beside him, who laughed in agreement. Carol made a mischievous face.

"Well, maybe that's my fault? I may have forgotten to mention to my lovely sister that Nat told me that Wanda was going to the same college as her next year."

"Pretty mean, Danvers." Nat commented with a certain pride in her voice. Carol laughed.

"When you share a room with a couple in love, you'll understand." She retorted. The group continued to watch you and Wanda, until you kissed deeply in farewell until she let you on the bus. Carol sighed. "Maybe if she starts whining on the way, I'll consider saying that she and Wanda chose the same college without even knowing it."

The group chuckled, saying goodbye one last time.

[sparkanonymous]

Let's get one thing out of the way; I messed up.

If you want to go more in-depth, read this post. If you don't want to, here's the jist of the situation: For the last year - I think - I have been coloring Raj's skin tone lighter. This is completely and utterly my fault.

I'm not going to make any excuses, in fear that it will give others an excuse for their own deplorable actions. Though I don't see myself as a racist person, this is still an example of colorism, and I can't stand by it.

Total Drama is something I hold dear in my heart, and Raj is one of my favorite characters in the entire series. The fact I did him this dirty makes me never want to draw him again.

I'm so sorry. All I can do is apologize, and that's definitely not good enough. I will do better in the future. I don't want anything like this to happen again, and I won't let it happen again.

There is nothing I can say that'll fix this situation. I have disappointed myself and hurt an entire community of people. I hope I can eventually make up for my mistakes, but I know that isn't possible in a short amount of time.

I don't expect this to be taken lightly; it shouldn't be. If this is the last I see of some of you, I hope you take care.

The rest of this post directly responds to parts of thesicklycowboy's post.

○■○■○

For this portion, I have also edited Raj's hair to be the correct color. (I didn't know where else to put this part, sorry.)

I won't be responding to everything, as I do think the post was well-spoken and something that certainly needs to be said, just parts that I felt I should respond to.

Blue is for them, and red is for me.

"So when you were addressing this and saying "it's color theory" excuse why did you not show your earlier pieces of Raj as well? The ones with far darker hair and deeper skin tones? You only referenced all the ones after after the lightening had begun."

As mentioned before, I don't know when the lightening began. The pieces I grabbed for comparisons were the ones that I could actively get the flats for. A lot of my previous pieces have been deleted from my iPad after being moved to my laptop for storage reasons. While you can tell that Raj is darker in my oldest TDI posts, I wouldn't have been able to color grab the original skin color to compare it to the others, which is why I added ones that I could find the flats of directly off of my page. I do wish I had gotten the flats for the oldest ones, but I can't really do anything about that now.

"The beginning of your ask responses is blatantly false and you contradict yourself at the end? So why keep that whole schpiel at all?"

Here is the part that they are referring to: "I didn't? I think he just looks lighter because of the filters I used on top of it."

I left this in for transparency because I genuinely thought that that was actually the case. But it wasn't. This is why I added, "Looking into the color issue..." I wanted to double check the claim because it very well could have been an issue. And it was.

... "And not yet another piece that is still super light."

Okay. I think I might know what the problem is here in particular. I add texture overlays (the layers with the filter of 'Sl' - Soft Light) to give my pieces... y'know, texture. The layer color I use is usually an off-white. I do this in all of my pieces because I thought it might help with keeping my work safe from AI, and because I like the paper-like look that it gives my art. I didn't put it over the entire piece because the background already has a ton of texture.

The one above is at 50%, and the one below it is at 30% for both Raj and Bowie.

Here is the same piece with the texture overlays turned off:

(Left is w/o the overlays, Right is w/ the overlays)

I don't want this argument to seem like I'm lessening my actions. This is the only thing that I think I have the right to stand up for. Texture is something I most likely won't take out of my work, though I may replace the texture overlays with something that is more full proof against AI, like those AI-disturbance layers that Ibis Paint has.

None of my actions were excusable, but I felt this needed to be explained.

Other than that, though, I don't know what else I could possibly do to fix the piece, considering I have fixed Raj's skin tone in this piece.

○■○■○

The rest of the post is not something I feel the need to respond directly to. I do think you should go and read the original post criticizing me and decide what you want to do in this matter.

This was not a "silly mistake." What I have done is genuinely messed up. I'm not going to run from this situation and say that I was ever justified in my actions. Because I never was.

I can only hope to be given the chance to amend this situation with future works, whenever that might be. I will most likely not continue to talk about this unless asked to. Idk what else I could possibly say that wouldn't make this situation worse. I am the guilty party, and the only thing I can do is learn from this and do better in the future, which I will.

Again, I am so sorry. I have fucked up, and I am prepared to take the consquences of my actions.

[jules-writes-stories]

Anon was very callous about it but you do write Mithras as a stereotypical twink and have him bottom exclusively; you gave Eris a lot of the same qualities as him (feminine, thin, smaller than his partner, flamboyant) and I think that is probably what throws some people like anon off. Not saying it doesn't work in the story because it does, it's well written, but Azriel doesn't have any submissive traits about him so I think people find it hard to believe he might fit into a submissive role.

Anon,

Long reply ahead: I’ll try and address everything you mention!

1. I never want to imply that Eris is physically weaker than Azriel. He’s not. In the very first scene they’re together, I say he and Az are close in height. Az is slightly taller and Eris is leaner in build.

Eris is a war general and warrior. I try to make that clear multiple times in the story. The story has not offered a chance to show Eris in his role as a warrior/general yet, but there are scenes where he spars with Sylvan and Lucien and he owns the Autumn Council in Chapter 2.

I’m not sure I would describe my Eris as outright flamboyant… (I think Mithras more so, but some of that is affect).

But I want readers to picture Eris how they want, so if flamboyant and femme works, go for it! I definitely say he favors the LoA in looks (a plot device, but I can see how it may be interpreted.)

He is not a bear, and he’s bratty, he’s pretty to look at (all Vanserra boys are imo), and he kikis with Fidel, always serves a look, so Ok. I can see what you’re saying. Bottom line: there’s a lot left to interpretation. And that is intentional. Some of it is vibes and just what the character told me while writing him. I am ok with people reading him as a Twink (although I would warn against reducing him to solely that— he is much more). But I also think I’ve left it open enough that readers are not forced to see him as that, because the term Twink sort of implies he’s just one thing?

2. I can also see how easy it is to equate Mithras x Sylvan’s ship with Azris, since (without giving much away) there are parallels. But a quick reminder: Azriel and Eris have known of each other for 5 centuries and their mating bond snapped (in JEL) at the HL meeting.

Mithras x Syl have known each other for significantly less time. They care for each other and there’s chemistry/potential— I love them—but as of now, they’re not mates. So their sexual relationship is new. They haven’t explored or had the opportunity to grow.

3. One of the reasons I bring up this difference: I have Eris top Az in the last chapter because I want to express that Azris (through their bond, love/shared trauma) have an innate understanding of what the other needs in moments of crisis.

Chapter 12– the Velaris Chapter—Eris is overwhelmed and struggling. Azriel takes him to Velaris and Eris “lets go” emotionally, (musically lol), sexually— and Azriel is there to “catch” him, right?

Chapter 18—after Azriel’s torture scene—there’s a role reversal. It’s not about one character having power over the other— It’s about a character who struggles with vulnerability letting go and knowing his mate will catch him/carry him home (metaphorically).

So even if Eris is a twink (non-comittal because I want readers to have their own views and want to avoid being reductive) I don’t think it precludes him from topping, particularly in the loving/nurturing way he does this for Az, when he realizes it’s what his bat needs. It’s more about Azriel being vulnerable rather than submissive? A relinquishing of control, versus a giving away power.

TLDR: it’s not really about penetration. It’s more about giving each other the chance to be vulnerable, to trust, be cared for and to let go.

Real life example: Troye Sivan is a self described Twink who also identifies as a Vers…

I hope I made sense in this very long reply!

[thenightfolknetwork]

I need help. I am a changeling. At least, I think I am. For my own sake, I hope I am.

You see, I’ve been changing my face for years. Pretending to be someone else because I know that our kind aren’t always accepted. But now, I feel a bit lost. I have prosopagnosia. Face blindness.

This isn’t actually as big of a problem as it may seem, because usually the moment I do see a face, I can make a perfect one in response. I’ll look like whatever they want me to. And that’s fine, I suppose. For the most part.

But the problem is, I’ve forgotten my own face. I used to be able to remember it well enough, I think. But now I can’t seem to recall it at all. And it’s been getting worse. Even my voice can’t seem to return to normal, if there even was a normal to begin with.

I’m scared now. My face and voice are my own, but at the same time, I’m acutely aware that they aren’t. They are attached to my body, if that’s any indication of self. But the person I see in the mirror is not me. Sometimes it looks nothing like me. I worry that my thoughts are starting to become something else entirely.

If I can’t remember the voice in my throat, how can I trust the voice in my head? The hands writing these words?

My friend confronted me the other day. Called me a fake, an evil thing. And of course, I became one, without even thinking. I hurt them. I didn’t mean to.

I can’t trust my head, my face, my past. What if I’ve always been this evil thing? What if I never was a true changeling, just a fake, desperate to change my face? How do I figure out what I am, when I don’t remember who I used to be? How can I hope to find my true form again, when every time I look in the mirror, I see the monster that I am?

Oh, my dear reader. You poor thing. This sounds horribly frightening, and I am so glad you've been able to reach out and ask for help.

I don't believe for one moment that you are “an evil thing”. I also don't believe that the person who called you that is any kind of friend to you.

You are experiencing profound and distressing disruptions to your sense of identity – you need to be treated with care and kindness, not accusations. What's more, you deserve that kindness. You deserve to be helped.

Before I go on, it would be remiss of me not to address the issue of language and terminology here, though more for our other readers than for you in particular. I will not waste too much time on the matter.

It will suffice to acknowledge that while terms like “evil” and “monster” have be reclaimed by some in our community – and enthusiastically so, at that – they are far from universally accepted. It's clear from your letter that you do not view these words or concepts as liberating or radical.

I urge the rest of our audience to please respect that difference of opinion, and to remember that what one member of our community chooses to call themselves need not reflect on how others use those words. I will have very little patience for anyone wading into my inbox to complain that the language here is somehow “malevolent phobic”.

Now, back to the matter at hand. I am reminded of a letter I answered some years back from a listener wrestling with ideas of identity around somatic instability. In their case, they were concerned about whether or not they could ever be said to know their friend's “real” self, when that friend transformed regularly in different contexts.

The circumstances between you and that person are considerably different, of course. But I believe the same philosophy that helped their might help you, too.

You were once one person, and have since grown and changed and become someone new. It is a statement that applies to every person who has ever lived. Please, try to let go of this unreasonable expectation of constancy.

As much as you can, I want you to unlearn this narrative of a single, static “self”. There is no unyielding kernel at your centre which defines all that you are, and as such, there is no way for you to somehow deviate from who you “really” are. You cannot help but be yourself – there is nobody else you can possibly be.

(At least, assuming you have ruled out the possibility of surreptitious cohabitation. If you suspect you may, in fact, be possessed or otherwise inhabited, please pursue that course of enquiry before continuing any further.)

Uncontrolled shifting is a well documented, if poorly understood, phenomenon, either as genetic trait, the result of a curse or divine punishment, or as a stress response. Speaking to people in similar circumstances, whether online or in person, will hopefully help you feel less alone – and less “monstrous”.

Finally, I strongly encourage you to seek out professional support to treat the underlying issues at play. You have become so used to habitually shifting your identity to meet other people's expectations, you find it almost impossible to resist doing so – even when the results are unpleasant for you and for others.

That isn't an issue with your body, reader. It's an issue with your self-esteem, and your compulsive desire to minimise your own wishes to make way for others. It will be a long and difficult road to unlearn those habits and to accept yourself as you are. But I truly believe you can find a way to live authentically from moment to moment, even as time carries you unerringly away from the person you were, and onwards, to the person you're becoming.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]