#musings ✯[fool hearted hero]

[kikyoupdates]

Rivalry | Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader 

katsuki catches feelings for his new rival

Bakugou Katsuki has a crush, and he refuses to admit it. 

There’s a girl in his class who drives him absolutely insane. All throughout middle school, he’s had the top grades. His attitude, foul mouth, and appearance may fool people into believing he’s a delinquent—and to some extent, he is—but the truth is that he has a rigid, early bedtime, he does all his homework diligently, he studies at great length for tests, and he’s never missed a single day of class. 

He’s the best student there is. Or rather—he’s just the best in general. 

But this year, everything changed. 

There’s something about you that seems to catch everyone’s eye. You showed up at the beginning of the school year, a new transfer student, and from that moment onward, Katsuki swears his life got flipped upside down. 

You’re gifted. You’ve got the best grades not only in the class, but out of everyone in the whole school. Every time exam scores are posted for others to see, Katsuki is forced to grit his teeth at the sight of your name at the very top, time and time again.

It’s not just your grades, though. You’ve got a powerful Quirk, too. It’s some kind of energy control that allows you to levitate objects, enhance your physical strength, and also defend against attacks. It’s strong and versatile. Perfect for becoming a hero—which is exactly what you plan to be. 

The final nail in the coffin is that you’re also popular. 

Katsuki is used to being the center of attention wherever he goes. He’s used to being complimented for his intellect, his talent, his strength, and the sheer magnitude of his presence. Thanks to everyone praising him to high heaven, ever since he was a kid, his ego has become massively inflated. 

So, when he realizes that people are paying more attention to you than they are to him, he doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to handle it. 

Katsuki finds himself glaring at you just about constantly. You’ve always got a group of students gathered around you. You’re always smiling and laughing, looking carefree as can be. You’re also the only person in the whole class who doesn’t treat Izuku like dirt—which just pisses him off even more. 

One day, you stop in front of his desk with a bright smile. 

“Here you go, Bakugou,” you say, handing him a cookie. “This is for you.” 

Katsuki looks up at you in disbelief. “Why would I ever want this shit?” 

“I dunno. It was my birthday recently, so I baked cookies to hand out to the class. Don’t you want one? I thought everyone likes cookies.” 

“I would rather die than eat that,” he snarls, and he angrily shoves the cookie back into your hands. 

He’s dramatic as all hell, of course, and that kind of vicious remark would have been more than enough to make anyone feel self-conscious. It was needlessly harsh. He obviously didn’t mean it. Given the option of eating your cookie or dying, he would definitely eat the cookie. 

Not that it really matters, though.

You’re completely unfazed. 

“Damn, I didn’t know you were deathly afraid of cookies,” you muse. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. What about cupcakes? Are cupcakes safe for you to eat?” 

Katsuki’s entire face turns red. “That’s obviously not what I meant, asshole!” 

“I know,” you giggle, and for some reason, the sound makes Katsuki’s heart skip a beat. “Sorry for teasing. You’re really funny, Bakugou. I like you.” 

He parts his lips to respond, but he’s incapable of forming any words. It feels like whatever he was about to say just died in the back of his throat. All of a sudden, he’s frozen in place, brain running haywire. 

“I like you.” 

You’re making fun of him. You have to be. And why should he even care whether you actually like him or not? He doesn’t give a shit about you. He can’t stand you. You’re the bane of his goddamn existence. 

…fuck. 

That’s what he keeps telling himself, but given how red his face is, it’s sounding harder and harder to believe. 

“I’ll make something else next time,” you beam. “I’m sure one day, I’ll figure out something you like. I’ve noticed you eat spicy food a lot. Maybe I should try making a curry. Ah, but if it’s good, you have to be honest with me, okay? You’re not allowed to lie.” 

Katsuki’s heart does another flip. It’s so stupid. He can’t believe his mind even bothered to read into it, but…

The fact that you know what kind of food he likes means you’ve at least been paying some attention to him, right? 

“I’m going to beat you,” Katsuki blurts. His voice wavers slightly, and he grinds his teeth together in embarrassment, but still, he persists. “On the next round of exams… I’m going to place first. Just you watch.”

Normally, Katsuki can’t stand to lose. He can’t stand the feeling of inferiority. The idea that someone else might be better than him.

And yet, despite his frustration, despite how much he claims you drive him up the wall, he actually doesn’t mind the challenge. It’s exciting. It makes him respect you that much more. 

“We’ll see about that,” you grin—and he’s convinced you have to be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

No doubt about it. 

Something about you just gets his heart racing.

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[harmonysanreads]

Phainon and the artist who refuses to accept him as their muse.

You can paint the deeds of the Goldweaver on fine pottery, dress desserts in respect to the Undying Prince, weave tunes to unravel the Fool from his ineffable shell, dedicate verses to the untouchable Maiden — but you remain ever uninterested to grant the Deliverer the honor of being the reason your mind paces restless. The hero's soft spot for art, regardless of how niche, is common knowledge to any Chrysos Heir enthusiast. He just has mysterious ways of finding talent and celebrating it with his heart.

In the beginning, it was a wish he kept hidden beneath heartfelt praises and admiration. Your gaze charmed the man ; when you study any subject that you deem fit to feature in your art, you scrutinize, pick apart and reconstruct it from within before giving it new meaning. The prospect of having that gaze fixed on him alone for even a minute, studying him, had caused ripples in his daydreams. He so yearned for you to understand him, he believed you would be able to prove that he's not the titular blank canvas everyone says he is.

When his hints and nudges failed to inspire you, he opted for a formal approach. But you met him with a resolute rejection, unwilling to taint your ideals in exchange of fickle currency. That fearless response, the defiance you held so close to yourself made his heart ache. A hero's pride should've prompted him to abandon this chase for good, but he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He found himself pining for another glimpse of that light, the kernel of your soul.

“Go home, Deliverer. I've told you too many times by now, I won't accept you as my muse.”

There is that averted stare again, something in him stirs, whispering bitter revelations of how your eyes will deny him even if he cut himself to pieces and forfeited them to your feet.

He feels his fingers curl around themselves. Forcing a laugh, “And I have asked you too many times why. Even hatred can inspire people, but you... you're so utterly indifferent to me. You wound my heart. I wonder just what is my problem? Is there nothing special about me?”

You glance over your shoulder, your sudden bewilderment confuses him for a millisecond, “I don't know? Do you perhaps think there is nothing special about you?”

That stuns Phainon long enough for you to slip away.

And the question haunts him, chases him everywhere. The prophecy deems him as the perfect vessel that will save Amphoreus, but is he? Is the prophecy even true, just as how Anaxagoras has been saying? If there is indeed nothing within him worth earning him your recognition, then he should change — how will he change? What kind of person do you like? Is it the way he talks? Does he need to behave more refined? Or does he need to be cursed like Mydei and Castorice?

As he ponders about the possibilities and the ramifications of molding himself to your tastes, envy leers over him, replacing once tender affection with loathing for anything that monopolizes your interest from finding refuge in him. It wouldn't be too difficult to take upon a new identity, but what about the distractions that caused this situation to escalate in the first place? Wouldn't it be so much easier for you to... look at him, if he just makes it so that there will exist nothing else that will be capable of competing with him for your attention?

[hokusu]

#DabiHawks Thinking about Hawks posting a snapshot of his hand holding purple scarred ones to his socials with matching bracelets on April 1st.

Multiple outcries break out:

1. The public has only ever seen Hawks with gloves on before & yet here is a clearly defined naked wrist decked only in trademark Hawks jewlery and a blue bracelet

2. Is that red bracelet against those scars and staples notorious villain Dabi's hand?

And finally,

3. Surely that's not a relationship going public... right? Right? It's gotta be an April fools joke.

The joke isn't really a joke, even with Dabi's raised brow at the antic that he's pulled, the lazy drawl of, 'And what of your reputation, little bird?' that he throws behind the pretense of uncare.

Hawks hides a smile against his skin, face burried against Dabi's neck and all the warmth and smoke that he inhales. It's so cute when Dabi pretends not to care, when he does always care—so, so much. Maybe he fooled him once before, twice, but never again.

Hawks brushes it off, mouths a kiss against his jawline, careful fingers pulled across his back as he pulls him closer, and exhales out a laugh, breathlessly hot against his ears, the promise that he's got it all under control.

"Nothing to worry about, hot stuff," Hawks murmurs, like he sees right through him, the brush of his wings encasing him too. Like this is all part of some plan.

So who is Dabi to complain about being claimed for the world to see by Hawks himself, when the most eligible bachelor of Japan has him all wrapped around his feathers?

He's never shied away from attention, he's not about to start now.

The aftermath never really settles. The drama, the mystery, the uproar never answered. Hawks dodges a real answer in the way he does best — the glint of his eyes bright and full of mischief, charming little smile against his lips as he tilts his head and hums like he himself doesn't have the answer.

"I wonder," he muses, every time he's asked—does he have a boyfriend? Is he taken? Is it, against every impossibility, Dabi?

Hawks laughs his way through every reporter and scheduled interview, the joke that isn't a joke, that he carries on and no one can ever tell if he's serious, if he's just hard set on selling the joke.

But this is Hawks' persona too, always has been, so there's no fault they can find with him. No further evidence, no signs that point them to any truth.

And if every "What's on the agenda today, Hawks?" that turns into a curl of a grin and "Dabi" as an answer, that's just his little secret that the public has to speculate on, the meaning of Dabi's name thrown around.

They almost expect, any day now, for the villain Dabi to come around and reclaim his name, to set them all on fire—the joke on them.

But whatever it is meant to happen, whatever pro-hero Hawks throwing Dabi's name around is supposed to mean, the public will just have to wait and see.

Exactly a year later, on the first of April hits again. There's another post on Hawks' official. Another snapshot.

The same pair of hands entwined, the same bracelets a little worn with love and time, but there's something else to the image. Something different than the backdrop of passing time. Something more than another shot of allegedly, Hawks' bare hands exposed for the world.

An innocuous little band of metal sits on his ring finger. Blue flame gem against silver that matches the exact shade of staples against scarred hands and its complimentary ring. All gold, red wing gem at its center.

The caption is predictably empty, devoid of any explanation. Devoid of any answers. April 1st.

Two years in a row. Is Hawks just the worlds' most committed jokester? Or is he just indefinitely and irrefutably Dabi's?

The question hangs in the public, louder than any celebrity scandal, louder than any heroic feat.

As loud, as the beat of Dabi's heart thudding against his chest when the ring slips onto his finger. Question murmured against his cheek, Hawks' fingers threaded through his.

A promise to be his.

And Dabi's head spins, noise just as loud as the cry of the public, torn between defending Hawks' happiness and the lost yearning for a love that will never be theirs.

But it is Dabi's. This love will always be Dabi's.

And Dabi doesn't really get how Hawks' relationship—engagement—reveal can go this way. That Hawks has somehow managed to have it all.

But Hawks' feathers preen every time he so much as glances at his hand. Their hands.

The question burns against his tongue as he opens his mouth.

"Baby bird," he exhales, in wonderment, in disbelief. Only a bird with a lifetime of training in deception and calculations could pull this off.

"You plan this all along?"

Hawks turns back to him, dreamy smile against his lips as he tilts his head and Dabi thinks he knows the answer before he even let's it out. Before Hawks throws his head back and laughs, the one just for him.

"Who knows?"

Dabi knows.

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 31 - Cost & Reward

Snippet:

"Pet."

Vi blinks. The server's set a bottle of claret at the table. The blacklights strike a bright vein through the red. Vi imagines the taste: bold as blood.

"Pet," Silco says. "Pour."

Vi's reflexes tug the rest of her into motion. She complies. Wine sluices like blood into the crystal.

It's her duty to taste each bottle for poison. The first time, she'd refused flat-out. She wasn't Silco's sponge. Silco's half-smile had only hardened her resolve. She'd held his stare, and spat a thick wad of phlegm right into the wineglass.

She'd expected him to explode with temper. He did nothing. Just sat back, hands steepled in his lap. A moment later, Sevika had seized Vi by the hair, yanked her head back, and poured the contents of the glass down her throat.

Vi had been forced to swallow, or choke.

Later that week, she'd learnt that Jinx would not be dropping by to visit Hotel Muse. Her sister was busy with a project. Top secret. And no, Vi couldn't visit.

Not until she proved herself willing to play the game.

So, she plays. Sullenly—but she plays. Silco likes his spirits the way he likes his cigars: top-notch. By now, Vi has tasted everything from gin-soaked cocktails in highballs to smoky bourbon sipped from cut-crystal tumblers. Each time, she waits for her tongue to turn toad-green and her body to convulse into death-throes.

So far, the only aftereffect is the urge to piss.

Taking the tiniest sip, Vi swishes it around her mouth. Her palate is attuned to the subtleties: the acidic burn of arsenic, the alkaloid bitterness of mercury; the murky tang of belladonna.

This wine is virgin. And, Vi admits, first-rate. Rich, full-bodied, and smooth on the tongue.

Like Nao.

Vi's cheeks burn. She hopes the blacklights hide it.

"All good," she says, and slides the glass to Silco.

"Ta." He lifts the glass to the light. The rays refracts through the wine, striking broken shards across a broken face. "Pour one for yourself."

"Rather not."

"No?" A ghost of a smile. "Not in the mood to toast your handiwork?"

"Or get toasted."

"Diligent as always." He tips the wineglass in salute, then sips. "But, Violet. Did I not warn you about the wolves?"

It's the Eye's voice: iron threat veiled in velvet consonants. But there's something nearly familial to it. It resembles the way Vander used to speak to her when she'd crossed a line, and there'd be no fighting her way out of it.

Only the consequences, and the hard lesson learned.

Vi feigns calm. "Better a wolf, than a donkey's ass."

For a moment, she swears Silco's lip twitches. The impulse, stymied, does not break the surface.

The Eye is back, and he's all business.

"There's dying a hero," he says, "and there's living a liar."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me, Pet. Do little girls with big mouths always get the storybook ending? Or does the Wolf bite their hands off, when he learn they've stolen from his table?" A heartbeat's silence, savorless. "Especially his favorite vintage."

"I don't know what you—"

He leans in. The timbre of his voice dips intimately low. The patrician polish is gone. Only a raw-edged gravel remains.

"Do not," he warns, "take me for a fool."

A bead of sweat trickles down Vi's spine. The room's shadows grow teeth. At their heart, Silco's shark-eye burns. She feels it scoring through her clothes, straight to the skin.

Everywhere Nao's fingerprints linger.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

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[redroomreflections]

Meet The Family

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Black Reader)

The Loud House Universe

Summary: Natasha meets R's family for the first time

W/c: 7k

"Babe, I have no idea what you are so nervous about." You shook your head. You grabbed onto your luggage as you deboarded the plane. "They're going to love you."

"I don't doubt that," Natasha said as she slipped the sunglasses onto her face. It's not like it's her first time flying economy before. She insisted that the two of you act as normal as a couple. That's what she craved. Normalcy. Someone not into the lights and cameras and the novelty of her being a hero. That is why she was excited to do the typical thing of meeting your family.

"Sure doesn’t seem like it,” you teased, nudging her lightly with your elbow as the two of you made your way through the terminal. Natasha’s calm exterior might fool anyone else, but you caught the subtle way she fiddled with the strap of her carry-on, her usual poise betraying just a hint of unease.

“I’m just... being cautious,” Natasha replied with a smirk, though you could hear the sincerity in her tone. “Your family is important to you. That means they’re important to me.”

Her words warmed your heart even as you rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but they’re just regular people, babe. You're not meeting the president. Just eat good food, laugh at my mom's jokes, and pretend we haven't had premarital sex. Which is interesting of a hill to die on for my mom, but..."

Natasha let out a laugh. "I think I can handle that."

"And don't feel intimidated if they ask you many questions about your job," you continued. "I already warned them about keeping the interrogation to a minimum, but my family is the worst when it comes to asking about every little detail."

Natasha stopped, turning towards you with a serious expression. "I am more than prepared for an interrogation. That's my job description."

The two of you continued walking to baggage claim, keeping up with the traffic flow as you talked.

“Okay,” she said suddenly, tilting her head toward you. “Anything I should know before we get there? Any family secrets or rules I should avoid breaking?”

You snorted. “Well, for starters, don’t say you don’t eat pork. My mom might take that as a personal attack on her cooking.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. What else?”

“Let’s see,” you mused, counting off on your fingers. “Peyton’s going to act like she runs the world because she’s the oldest, Quincy will probably crack a million dad jokes, and Brandon’s baby's mother… well, don’t take it personally if she doesn’t say much. She’s not big on conversation.”

"She's 17, right?" Natasha asked, her eyes widening as you walked through the airport.

"They both are," You nodded. "Everything I've told you about my family before, believe it."

"That's a lot of people," Natasha smiled softly. She'd always been more comfortable being around small groups. The bigger the group, the more uncomfortable she was.

"Yeah," You grinned. "My parents were great at making babies. There's four of us."

"Hmm," Natasha nodded. "Let me guess that's your brother over there with the sign." She gestured with a raise of her chin to the teenaged boy with a toddler in one arm and a sign that read "Welcome back from the Convent."

You burst out laughing as soon as you spotted the sign. "Of course he did," you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. Natasha chuckled beside you, the corner of her mouth quirking up in amusement.

"That's Brandon for you," you confirmed as you adjusted your bag and walked toward him. "Always a comedian."

Brandon caught sight of you as you approached and broke into a grin. "Hey, sis!" he called out, holding the baby with one arm while waving enthusiastically with the other. The baby, a chubby-cheeked little girl with curly hair, looked unimpressed but content in his hold.

"Really, Brandon?" you said, gesturing to the sign as Natasha raised an eyebrow. "A convent? That’s what you went with?"

"What? It’s funny," he replied, shrugging with a smirk. "Gotta keep you humble."

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to hug him while Natasha stood back, observing the interaction with quiet interest. "And what about me screams ‘convent,’ exactly?"

"Law school, late nights studying, no time for fun—sounds like a convent to me," Brandon teased before shifting his attention to Natasha. "So, this must be the famous Natasha. Welcome to the family."

"Oh, we're not..." Natasha's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she looked at you. "We're not married or anything."

"Yet," He finished with a smile, reaching out to shake her hand. "The way she talks about you, I'd have thought you had already put a ring on it."

"Brandon, stop," You groaned, your cheeks reddening. Natasha looked at you curiously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"What? It's true. I mean, the whole family's heard all about your girl—"

"Give me my niece. She's getting fussy," You interrupted before he could embarrass you. You and Natasha had been dating for almost a year and a half. She knows practically everything there is to know. But hearing your family's opinion of her made you nervous.

"Fine," Brandon sighed. "You'll have to catch up on all the drama once we're in the car anyway. It's crazy at home."

"Oh? Why's that?" You asked, reaching out to take the toddler in your arms.

"I'll take the bags," He offered to Natasha. He didn't find offense when she declined. He simply kept the conversation going.

"Mom's pissed about Tori," He said, referring to his current girlfriend. "Her parents still won't let her move back home. Also, Peyton and Ross are having some issues. You didn't hear it from me, though. Oh- I parked over here."

He led the three of you to the car, where he opened the trunk and tossed all of your bags in there.

"Hey, that's Gucci," You warned him. "That bag has my laptop."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be careful." He waved you off. "Can you buckle her in?" He asked.

Buckling Willow into her car seat was a feat. It was a new experience that you were excited to have, but she was a wiggler. You were glad to be an aunt and help her dad. You knew Natasha was watching the interaction with interest. Once everyone was seated, Brandon backed the car onto the road and out of the airport parking lot. You were terrified of his driving.

"Mom, let you drive the car," You thought aloud. "That's a first. Peyton and I had to beg her to let us drive practically."

"Well, I'm the baby. I get special privileges," He bragged. "Miss Natasha, you're quiet back there."

"She's fine," You defended her.

"I'm just listening," She replied.

Brandon glanced at Natasha through the rearview mirror as he navigated the freeway. His curiosity was written on his face, and you braced yourself for whatever line of questioning he was about to launch into.

“So,” he started one hand on the wheel and the other drumming lightly on the console. “What’s it like being an Avenger? Do y’all just fight aliens and save the world all day, or is it mostly paperwork?”

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound surprising you a little. She leaned forward just enough to meet Brandon’s gaze in the mirror. “A lot less glamorous than you’d think. Fighting aliens happens occasionally, but it’s mostly meetings, training, and arguing over whose turn it is to clean the kitchen.”

"Wait, you mean to tell me y'all don't have maids or a team to do that stuff?"

"Not for personal stuff, no," Natasha explained.

"And I'm gonna assume there are no benefits, insurance, or anything like that."

"It's government-funded," Natasha said. "So there's plenty of benefits and health insurance."

"Do you get to fly around in a spaceship, or is that reserved for Captain America and Iron Man?"

"There's a jet," Natasha replied.

"Brandon, can we not?" You asked.

"Oh, come on," he protested. "You didn't warn her about the third degree? Besides, it's not like you've seen any action."

"Not directly," You corrected. "But I've watched the news."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pry. I just want to make sure you're safe. The rest of the fam is going to want to know."

"That's understandable," Natasha said.

"So, what are the chances I'll get a ride in one of those Avengers planes?" He joked.

"Brandon!" You groaned.

"What? Can't blame a guy for dreaming," he laughed. "Okay, I have a real question—do you guys like to hang out? Play cards? Do movie nights? Or is it all business?”

“Depends on the day,” Natasha answered, her voice relaxed. “We’ve had our share of poker nights, but Thor’s terrible at bluffing, and Clint’s too good. Movie nights are better unless someone picks Star Wars. That always ends in arguments about the ‘proper’ order to watch them in.”

“Man, I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall for some of that,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “You ever bring her to the tower?” he asked, jerking his thumb in your direction.

“A few times,” Natasha said, glancing at you with a small smile. “We mostly hang out at her apartment with Karen. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to ‘cramp my style.’”

“Excuse me for wanting to keep a low profile,” you said, feigning indignation. “Unlike you, Brandon, I’m not trying to be best friends with everyone.”

Brandon shot you a look of mock outrage, pressing one hand against his chest.

"You wound me, sister. Truly."

"I'll do worse than that if you don't focus on the road," You warned him.

"Fine, fine." He raised his hands in surrender.

It would be long if the rest of the day would be like Brandon's questioning.

**********

As Brandon hoisted Willow out of her car seat, she babbled happily, grabbing his hair as he balanced her on his hip. “Alright, ladies, this is where I leave you to fend for yourselves,” he said with a teasing grin, holding open the front door with his foot.

“We can manage,” you shot back with a smirk, lugging your bags from the trunk.

“You sure? I can carry the fancy bag,” Brandon said, eyeing your Gucci luggage again.

“Get inside, Brandon,” you said firmly, laughing despite yourself.

Brandon shrugged and disappeared into the house with Willow, leaving you and Natasha standing by the car.

You turned to Natasha, who was sliding her sunglasses off and tucking them into the neckline of her sweater. “Hey,” you said softly, touching her arm. “You good? I know my family can be  a lot.”

"Baby, I'm fine," Natasha said. "Trust me. This is what I do."

"I can't pretend I don't love it when you call me baby." You sighed.

"Well, then maybe I should use it more often," She said. "Also, relax. It's Thanksgiving."

"You're right," You said. "But still, if it gets overwhelming, just let me know."

Natasha nodded, and the two of you headed into the house. As soon as the door opened, the sounds and smells of Thanksgiving Day swarmed around you. Loud, chattering voices, the clatter of dishes, and the mouthwatering scent of roasting turkey filled the house, and you took a moment to close your eyes and soak it in.

"Is that my daughter, I hear?" Your mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mama, it's me." You called back. You kicked your shoes off and placed them neatly inside the coat closet. Natasha followed suit.

"Are you the famous girlfriend we've heard so much about?" Your mom asked.

"Yes, ma'am. My name is Natasha."

"Come here, girl, and hug me," your mom ordered, appearing from the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish towel. "My name's Vivian. It's nice to meet you finally."

Natasha initially hugged Vivian, a bit hesitant, but the older woman’s firm and affectionate embrace quickly put her at ease. “It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am,” Natasha said, stepping back with a warm smile. “You have an incredible daughter. I’ve been hearing nothing but great things about you.”

Vivian chuckled, her sharp eyes twinkling as she gave Natasha a once-over. “Well, flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased. “But please, don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old. Vivian or Mama Viv will do just fine.”

“Mama Viv, then,” Natasha said with a slight nod, her voice smooth and respectful.

“Good. Now tell me, Natasha,” Vivian said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what exactly are your intentions with my baby?”

Your eyes widened as you fumbled for words. “Mama!”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat, though. She clasped her hands together, her expression sincere. “To love her, respect her, and make her proud, ma’am—uh, Mama Viv. And to eat as much of your cooking as you’ll let me,” she added with a playful smirk.

Vivian broke into a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, she’s good,” she said, glancing at you. “I see why you like her. Alright, Natasha, you’re off to a good start. Come help me in the kitchen, and we’ll see if you can hold your own in there.”

Natasha glanced at you for confirmation, and you gave her a subtle nod. She followed Vivian into the kitchen without hesitation. You followed behind, though, at a slower pace. The next few moments were crucial for first impressions.

"I'll warn you, I'm not a great cook," She said.

"That's alright," Vivian said. "I'll put you to work peeling potatoes or something. Wanna see if you'll pull your weight around here."

You smiled, hearing them chat back and forth. It was a good sign. You were sure your mom would find something Natasha could do.

"You made it," Quincy's voice boomed from behind you. He didn't give you time to react before he pulled you into a bear hug. "And you brought Natasha."

"Of course," You laughed.

"Good." He nodded. "I was worried you were going to bail on us. You never come home anymore."

"Don't start, Quincy," You rolled your eyes. "I was home last Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, after not coming home for a whole year," He said. "Introduce me to your girlfriend." He grinned. He was starstruck.

"She's helping Mom cook," You informed him. You both walked into the kitchen and saw Natasha shaking hands with your sister, Peyton. Brandon was at the counter feeding a few strawberries to Willow as his girlfriend Tori sat beside him on her phone. She seemed completely unaware of the world around her.

"So, you're an Avenger," Peyton said, her tone a little skeptical. "I must admit we didn't believe y/n when she said she was dating you."

"Oh really," Natasha said, quirking an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Well, it's not every day a girl claims she's dating the Black Widow," Peyton pointed out.

"Yeah, but y/n isn't exactly the type to make shit up," Quincy interrupted.

"Language, boy," Vivian warned from her place at the stove.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes flickering to Peyton and then to Vivian, who had her back turned to the stove. "Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse," she said, giving Quincy a playful wink.

"See?" Quincy smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Told ya."

Vivian turned from the stove, placing a wooden spoon on the counter. "Alright, enough with the show, everyone. Peyton, get the table set. Quincy, stop trying to embarrass your sister. And you," she pointed at Natasha, "come help me with this cornbread."

Natasha nodded and stepped over to Vivian, who seemed confident in her kitchen. "What can I do?" Natasha asked, her hands instinctively moving to help without waiting for an answer.

"First things first," Vivian said, pushing a bowl of ingredients toward her, "you’re going to stir this batter, but carefully. I like a nice smooth texture for the cornbread."

Natasha rolled up her sleeves, already comfortable in the space. "I’ve got it. I’ll make it the best cornbread you’ve ever had."

Vivian, clearly pleased, gave her a once-over before speaking again. "You’re making good impressions so far, Natasha. Y/n deserves someone who knows their way around the kitchen." She eyed Natasha for a moment, her smile warm. "You do all your cooking, or is someone else handling that?"

"I do a bit of both," Natasha replied, gently mixing the batter. "But I’m always down for new recipes, especially if they come from someone who knows what they’re doing. I'm not a great cook but a fast learner."

"Well, we'll see how you do here," Vivian said.

"I guess I'll start on the pies," You rolled up your sleeves to wash your hands. A perk of flying in on Thanksgiving day was being late to the party. It was a last-minute decision to come home.

"You better be making a chocolate one," Peyton warned.

"Peyton, hush." Vivian shushed her.

"I can't wait to try it," Brandon said, his attention still on his daughter.

"I think the last thing that kid needs is sugar," Peyton teased, poking the little girl's belly. She squealed, kicking her chubby little legs.

"The sugar is the best part," Brandon retorted, kissing his daughter.

"She's getting big," You observed. "Is she talking yet?"

"No," Brandon said. "Not yet. She'll get there eventually. I can't believe she's a year old. Feels like just yesterday she was born."

"Yeah," You nodded. "Hi, Tori." You said to Brandon's girlfriend.

"Hi," She had the decency to look up from her phone.

You sat at the kitchen table, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you glanced at Tori. Finding someone like her who kept to themselves was rare, but you knew it was essential to show interest. "So, Tori, how's school and everything? I mean, besides, you know, trying to avoid getting caught in the middle of this chaotic family," you teased lightly, gesturing around the room.

Tori blinked, clearly surprised by the question, but then she seemed to soften, a hint of relief in her eyes. "Well, school is fine. I've been attending every day. I want to be a nurse," she said, her voice quieter than usual but more animated than you'd seen before. "I’ve always liked the idea of helping people, you know? I’ve been thinking about moving to Louisiana after high school to study. My aunt lives there, and she’s been telling me to come stay with her while I figure things out."

"That’s awesome," you said, genuinely interested. "Is it something you’ve wanted to do for a while?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at her hands briefly. "I’ve always kind of gravitated toward taking care of people. And... I don’t know. Louisiana feels like a place where I could start fresh, away from all the stuff back here." She paused, her eyes flicking briefly to Brandon, who was still sitting with Willow. "I just... I think I could do more there. Maybe even learn some things to help me get my life on track."

You nodded thoughtfully, respecting her quiet resolve. "I think you’ll do great."

Brandon, listening in from across the room, chimed in with a knowing smile. "Yeah, we're still figuring it all out. Tori's been thinking about it, but we're also trying to figure out how to ensure Willow stays close to family." His expression softened as he glanced at his daughter. "I’m not sure how I feel about taking her away from everyone... but Tori’s excited, and it’s a big opportunity for her."

Tori shot Brandon a small, appreciative smile, though she didn’t say anything.

You could tell there was a lot of unspoken tension around it. You nodded in understanding. "It's a big decision. But I know Willow’s lucky to have you both looking out for her."

"That's so sweet," Tori said.

"I only have to put the collard greens on," Vivian began. "Natasha, do you eat pork?"

"Yes," Natasha answered.

"Good," Vivian nodded.

"What else can I do, Mama Viv?" Natasha asked.

"You're gonna make the biscuits," Vivian ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Natasha nodded.

Things were going well. Your mom putting Natasha to work meant she was interested in her, which was a plus in your book.

As Natasha busied herself with biscuit-making under Vivian’s watchful eye, Peyton followed you into one of the bedrooms upstairs. You knew by her closeness she was about to say something. Peyton rarely held back when it came to her opinions.

“So,” she began, her tone casual but pointed, “is this thing with Natasha serious? Or is she just another quest, like Melinda?”

You paused, barely glancing at her, placing your bags in the closet. Peyton had always had a knack for finding the most loaded questions to ask, and this was no exception. You took a breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

“First of all,” you said calmly, “Natasha is not a ‘thing.’ She’s my girlfriend, Peyton. And yeah, we’re serious. Also, Melinda wasn't a quest. We were in a relationship for two years."

Peyton shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just saying. You’ve always had a type, you know? Strong, intense, probably a little emotionally unavailable,” she added with a smirk. “And we all know how that turned out last time.”

You shot her a warning look. “Wow, Peyton. Thank you so much for your insight into my love life. Maybe next time, you can try delivering it without the shade.”

“What? I’m just asking the questions everyone else is thinking,” she said, raising her hands defensively. “I mean, you’ve got a history. Don’t you think it’s fair to wonder how long this one will last?”

"Are you going to start? Dinner is less than three hours away," You sighed. "I came to be with family. You didn't even hug me when I came in the door."

"Because you've been here ten minutes," Peyton argued. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything, y/n. I'm just curious. It's not like we see or talk to you very much."

"Well, I've been busy," You retorted.

"You could've called more," Peyton insisted. "The girls miss you."

"I'm sorry," You shook your head. "Law school has been intense."

Peyton’s eyes flicked to the Gucci bag you’d set neatly by the door, her expression shifting into something slightly amused but undeniably pointed. “That’s a nice bag you’ve got there,” she remarked, her tone light but laced with something else. “Designer, right?”

You bristled, sensing where this was going. “Yeah, it’s a gift,” you replied curtly, refusing to elaborate. You’d learned that giving Peyton more information was like throwing fuel on a fire.

“Must be nice,” she said, her voice slightly more severe. “Meanwhile, Mom’s been stressing over the laundromat. She doesn’t say it outright, but I know things have been tight lately.”

You froze, your jaw tightening. “Peyton—”

“She’s paying your tuition,” Peyton continued, folding her arms. “So, I just think, you know, maybe she deserves to know if you’re spending money on fancy bags.”

“It’s a gift,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “And last I checked, my education was something Mom was proud to support, not some burden she needed you to fight about.”

Peyton shrugged, unfazed by your defensiveness. “I’m not saying it’s a burden. I’m just saying she’s doing a lot. And maybe you could... I don’t know; check in a little more. Be more aware of what’s going on back home.”

“Wow, Peyton. Thanks for the lecture,” you shot back. “I had no idea you were Mom’s financial advisor now.”

“I’m just saying,” Peyton countered. “You’re out there living your life, and we’re holding things down. It wouldn’t hurt to pick up the phone or swing by more often. The girls miss you, Mom misses you, and whether you want to hear it or not, things aren’t easy around here.”

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. “Look, I get it, okay? I know I’ve been caught up with school and everything else. But you don’t need to guilt-trip me about it. I’m doing the best I can.”

Peyton’s face softened, if only slightly. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, y/n. I just... I worry about Mama, and I worry about you too. You’ve got this shiny new life now, and it’s great, but don’t forget where you came from. That’s all I’m saying.”

You shook your head, annoyance and regret swirling in your gut. Part of you wanted to defend yourself, but another part felt like it was too little, too late. Instead, you breathed and tried to let the frustration melt away. Paying your tuition was something your mother did for each of her children. Quincy had gone to get his mechanical engineering degree and became a product engineer. You're still determining exactly what he does, but he earns an excellent salary. Peyton had gone to college and ultimately dropped out after becoming pregnant with the twins in her junior year. Now it was your turn.

You felt that despite how much your mom wanted you to attend law school, the money was tighter than she'd initially let on. It wasn't that she was stingy. Your mom was the most generous person you knew. But she had her pride. You knew you had to pay her back one day.

"Okay, okay," You said, rubbing your temples. "I've been working a lot. I can take out loans if I have to. Just let me talk to Mom. See what she says."

Peyton didn't look entirely convinced. "If you say so."

"Look, it's been a long trip, and I wanted to see everyone and have a good time," You explained. "Are you going to treat me like this the whole time?"

"No," Peyton rolled her eyes. "We can pretend we're normal and get along for one day."

"Good," You said. "Now, can we please just go hang out with everyone? I didn't come from New York to spend the holiday with you lecturing me."

"I love you, little sister," Peyton said as you began to walk past her. "I apologize for coming across that way."

"I know, Peyton," You sighed.

The two of you walked back downstairs, and you returned to the kitchen to see Natasha holding Willow in her arms. You paused in the doorway, your steps slowing as your gaze landed on Natasha. She held Willow close, her movements careful yet natural, like she’d been doing this forever. Willow babbled happily, one tiny hand clutching at Natasha’s necklace and the other reaching up to pat her cheek. Natasha smiled, a soft, genuine curve of her lips that you didn’t get to see often.

It was... endearing. Unexpected but endearing.

Natasha had always struck you as someone who thrived in control, her precision and composure unshakeable. But here she was, rocking a squirmy, giggling baby in her arms with a quiet patience that made your chest ache the best way.

She caught you watching, her green eyes meeting yours over Willow’s head. “Hey,” she said softly, a trace of shyness in her voice. “She’s a natural charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice catching just a bit. “She likes you.”

Natasha chuckled, shifting Willow so the baby rested more securely against her shoulder. “I like her too,” she admitted. “But, full disclosure, I have no idea what I’m doing. I think she’s just being nice to me.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “You’re doing fine,” you said, your tone warm. “Better than fine. She doesn’t let just anyone hold her without pitching a fit.”

Willow reached for Natasha’s face again, her little fingers brushing against her cheek. Natasha didn’t flinch, just gently caught the baby’s hand and kissed her tiny palm. The sight was almost too much—tenderness wrapped up in someone so unrelentingly strong.

“Do you want her ?” Natasha asked, her voice light but filled with a bit of hesitation like maybe she didn’t want to let go just yet.

You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “Nah, you’re doing great. Besides, I think she’s already picked a favorite.”

Natasha gave a soft laugh, the sound low and genuine. “Guess I’ll have to live up to it, then.”

Vivian came in a moment later. "Everything's all ready," She said.

"Mom, did you make mac and cheese?" Peyton asked.

"Yes," Vivian nodded. "Your daughter requested it."

"Thanks, Mama," Peyton said.

Vivian glanced at you and Peyton, her eyes narrowing. "Y'all weren't fighting, were you?"

"No, ma'am," You and Peyton said in unison.

"Don't lie," Vivian scolded.

"We're fine," You insisted.

"We can save the arguing after Thanksgiving dinner," Peyton added.

"Alright," Vivian shrugged. "I'm not going to pretend to understand you two."

Natasha glanced between you and your sister, but you did not indicate that you were bothered by what had happened.

"Twins are back," Ross called from the front door as he entered the house with Deyjah and Diamond. All you heard was the pitter-patter of little feet as they kicked off their shoes and ran toward the kitchen.

"There's the troublemakers," You joked, ruffling their heads.

"You're back," Diamond exclaimed, pulling you into a hug.

"I am," You laughed, squeezing her back.

"Did you bring presents?" Deyjah asked, looking up at you expectantly.

"I didn't," You said. "It's not Christmas just yet. Girls, there's someone I want you to meet. This is my girlfriend, Natasha."

Diamond and Deyjah eyed Natasha curiously, their matching gazes assessing her with an unnerving and impressive sharpness.

"Why's your hair red?" Deyjah asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, I was born with red hair," Natasha explained. "Just like how y/n was born with dark hair."

"I was born first," Diamond announced proudly, puffing out her chest. "But I don't remember."

"Duh, 'cause you were a baby," Deyjah scoffed.

"Girls," Vivian scolded, "don't be rude. Why don't you go wash up for dinner?"

They did as they were told, rushing off to the bathroom.

"They're pretty cute," Natasha began. "How do you tell them apart?" She directed her question to Peyton.

"There are a few subtle differences," Peyton began. "Diamond has slightly better speech than Deyjah. Deyjah always has some sort of bracelet or necklace on. Though if you look closely, Diamond has a tiny mole on the left side of her neck."

Natasha nodded, seeming satisfied. "So, how old are they?"

"Six," Peyton answered.

"Six," Natasha echoed.

"Yep, six going on sixteen," Peyton joked. "They keep me busy most days."

"I can imagine," Natasha chuckled. "They're smart kids."

"Oh yeah," Peyton grinned. "They're smart."

You couldn't help but smile at Natasha's interest in the twins. She seemed genuinely curious and focused solely on Peyton as she talked about the girls. Seeing someone other than your mom and Brandon engaging with her was refreshing.

"This is my husband, Ross," Peyton introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you," Ross shook Natasha's hand. "Big fan."

"He's a fan," Peyton explained. "He loves all that superhero stuff. I'm not really into it, though."

"I can imagine," Natasha smiled. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Ross."

"Yeah, likewise," he replied, clearly starstruck. "How was the flight?"

"It was alright," You answered. "It's good to be back home."

Indeed it was.

******

The dining room was packed, every seat around the table taken, and a few extra chairs were squeezed in to accommodate the crowd. The smell of collard greens, roasted turkey, and freshly baked cornbread filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of gospel music playing from a speaker in the corner. Laughter and chatter echoed through the room as plates and glasses were passed around.

You sat beside Natasha, her hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. She looked calm, but you could tell she was soaking everything in—the voices, the warmth, the energy. She wasn’t used to this world, but she fit into it better than you’d expected.

“Alright, y’all, quiet down!” Vivian’s voice rose above the din, commanding attention. The table settled almost instantly, everyone turning toward her.

She stood at the head of the table, a serene yet authoritative presence. “Before we dig in, we’re going to give thanks,” she said, glancing around the room. “Natasha, since this is your first time joining us, I want you to know how happy we are to have you here. Family is everything to us; today, you’re family too.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, and she gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mama Viv. That means a lot.”

"Now, in our household, we start with a prayer before Thanksgiving dinner," Vivian said. "I understand that you may not want to participate."

"No, ma'am," Natasha said.

"Well, okay then," Vivian said. "Now, let's bow our heads."

"Bow our heads, everybody," Vivian instructed, and the room obeyed. You noticed that even Natasha bowed her head a little, though her eyes remained open. "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing our family together today."

Natasha observed the room as the prayer went on. This was like a culture study for her. Experiencing a different family dynamic was intriguing.

"I want to thank you for the food and the company. And I pray that our family continues to stay safe and healthy. Amen."

Everyone lifted their heads and said, "Amen."

"Thank you, Mama," Peyton spoke up.

"Thank you, Mom," Brandon agreed.

"Yeah, thank you, Mama," Your brother, Quincy, said.

"Thanks, Mom," You nodded. The food began to be passed around, with everyone choosing which dishes they wanted and didn't want.

"I don't think we've ever had a guest that didn't participate in the prayer," Peyton commented. "Natasha, you were born in Russia, right?"

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly my thing," Natasha said. "I was born in Russia."

"It's not mine either," you said, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I think we all have ways of being thankful, and it's not anyone else's place to judge."

Peyton gave a slight shrug. "I was just curious. No harm meant."

"I get it," Natasha replied.

"You're welcome here, whether or not you believe in God," Vivian assured. "We're all a little different. It's what makes us interesting."

Natasha flashed Vivian a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Mama Viv. I appreciate that."

As everyone dug into their plates, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Silverware scraping against plates filled the air, with only snippets of conversation breaking through the hum of family conversation. Your mom, ever the host, ensured no one went without refills, while your siblings kept things lively with playful banter. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha enjoying the food. Some of the menu options were things she hadn't tasted before. It was endearing and a little heartwarming to see her want things.

"So, Natasha," Brandon leaned forward. "I gotta ask—who is the coolest person you've met?"

"Um..." Natasha's expression shifted into something thoughtful. "Well, I've met many interesting people in my life. I wouldn't say anyone was cooler than the other. Maybe the president?"

Brandon frowned. "I was hoping for someone a little more exciting."

"That is exciting," Quincy said.

"What?" Brandon protested.

"She's Black Widow, and you're asking her about who she's met," Quincy replied. "I want to know her stats. I mean, she's a spy. You must do some pretty cool stunts. What's your training regimen like?"

"Oh, come on," You lowered your fork. "Can we just not talk about work right now?"

"It's okay," Natasha smiled, patting your hand.

"I can answer a few questions," She said.

"Oh yeah," Brandon smirked. "How many push-ups can you do?"

"A lot," Natasha shrugged.

"Do you do chin-ups?" Quincy asked.

"Yes," Natasha said.

"I'd like to challenge you to a push-up contest," Quincy wiped his mouth. "You seem tough, but I bet I could take you."

"I could do the same," Brandon said. "We could all have a contest."

"I'm not going to do a push-up contest," Peyton shook her head. "It's Thanksgiving."

"Fine," Quincy shrugged. "Brandon and I can do it."

"I don't think you guys understand what you're challenging her to," You said. You knew firsthand how athletic Natasha was. Her stamina was out of this world both on and off the field.

"She's an Avenger," You said.

"So," Brandon shrugged.

"She's a trained assassin," You explained.

"I'm sure we could hold our own," Quincy countered.

"No, you can't," You shook your head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brandon put his hands up. "It sounds like you don't want us to take your girlfriend. Afraid she might fall in love with one of us?"

"I'm right here," Tori pinched Brandon. "Behave."

"Sorry, babe," Brandon muttered.

"No, I'm not worried," You rolled your eyes.

Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. "Yeah, I think you guys should sit this one out," she said, her voice laced with humor but just enough seriousness to get her point across. "No offense, but I’ve been around some pretty intimidating people. I’m not exactly shaking in my boots here."

Quincy feigned a wounded expression. "Ouch. So, we’re not intimidating enough for you?"

"Not in the slightest," Natasha quipped, her smirk widening.

Brandon chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, fair enough. Guess we’ll stick to arm-wrestling each other and leave the assassin stuff to the pros."

Tori gave Brandon a side-eye but couldn’t help smiling. "Maybe you should worry about behaving before trying to impress Natasha."

You shook your head, unable to keep from laughing. "See? Even Tori knows you two would be hopeless."

Natasha reassured your thigh under the table, leaning in close enough that only you could hear. "I like your family," she murmured softly and sincerely.

You smiled at her, warmth blooming in your chest.

"We like you too," Vivian nodded. “It may be time for these boys to get put in their place.”

"I would like to see it," Peyton muttered.

"After dinner, then," Natasha smiled. "I have one condition if I win."

"What's that?" Quincy asked.

"You guys teach me how to play spades," Natasha suggested.

"Deal," Quincy nodded.

"And if you win, we can take some photos together," Brandon said.

"Fair enough," Natasha said.

"This will be interesting," Vivian commented.

"I know, right," Tori chuckled.

It was settled. Natasha would be challenging your brothers to a push-up contest. She was used to men challenging her to do things. It was in their nature almost.

After the meal, you helped clean up while your siblings gathered in the living room. They were ready for Natasha to kick their asses, and you could barely contain your excitement.

"Willow, you're about to watch your Daddy get beat," You whispered to the toddler.

"Don't count on it," Brandon said. "She won't be so confident when we're finished."

"We'll see," You said, setting the child on the couch.

Ross volunteered to be the referee, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Alright, everyone ready?" he asked, standing over the contestants with exaggerated authority.

Brandon and Quincy dropped to the floor with exaggerated confidence, flexing their arms dramatically to show off. Natasha joined them, calm and focused, her form perfect even before they started.

"Okay," Ross said, his voice booming for no reason. "On my count—one, two, three, go!"

The room filled with exaggerated grunts as your brothers enthusiastically attacked their push-ups, counting out each one loudly. "One, two, three—"

Natasha, meanwhile, moved effortlessly, her breathing even and controlled. You noticed she wasn’t counting out loud, focusing entirely on her form. By the fifteenth push-up, Brandon’s face turned red, and Quincy was already starting to slow down.

“That’s it?” Natasha teased, casually switching to one-handed push-ups without missing a beat.

The room erupted into gasps and laughter. Ross's jaw dropped. "Wait, wait, what?!"

"One hand?" Quincy groaned, struggling to keep his pace. "She’s showing off now."

"Is she even human?" Brandon muttered between labored breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning against the back of the couch. “Don’t worry, Willow,” you told the toddler watching from her perch. “Your daddy’s about to learn a hard lesson.”

Despite their efforts, Natasha’s movements remained smooth and effortless. Not once did her arms so much as tremble. When Brandon and Quincy finally collapsed in a heap, Natasha was still going strong, with a slight smirk as she pushed through another set.

“Thirty-five… thirty-six…” Ross counted, shaking his head in disbelief.

When she finally stopped, Natasha rose gracefully and brushed herself off as if the entire thing had been a warm-up. "Good effort, boys," she said with a smirk, extending her hand to help Brandon.

"You didn’t even break a sweat!" Quincy protested, sprawled on the floor.

"Maybe next time," Natasha quipped, her tone light but undeniably victorious.

Brandon groaned dramatically, glancing at Willow, who was giggling. "Willow, Daddy did his best," he muttered, defeated.

“She’s my new favorite,” Ross declared, earning laughter from everyone in the room.

You walked over to Natasha, shaking your head with an affectionate smile. “Show-off,” you teased.

She leaned in close enough that only you could hear. “You love it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

**********

Later that night, everyone is tucked into their rooms as you help your mom with the dishes. Natasha had taken an early shower to decompress from such a busy day. She wasn't used to big family affairs like this and needed a moment alone. This gave you time to talk with your mom.

As she washed the dishes, you dried them.

"So, what do you think?" You asked as you placed another place in the cabinet. "Do you like her?"

"She's lovely," Vivian nodded. "You seem happy."

"I am," You confirmed.

"Good," Vivian continued washing the dishes.

"She seems to be fitting in well," You said.

"She is," Vivian said. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is," You agreed.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Whoa, Mom," You sputtered. She gave you a knowing look, and you sighed. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm your mother," Vivian said. "It's a valid question. Is she a good partner?"

"Yes, she is," You said.

"She doesn't treat you right; I will come and cut her," Vivian threatened.

"She does treat me right," You insisted.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem with my question," Vivian said.

"She does," You repeated.

"Well, I'm glad," Vivian said.

You nodded, continuing the routine of putting the dishes away.

"So, what's next for you two?"

"Next?" You asked, unsure of what she meant.

"Where do you see the relationship going?" Vivian asked.

"Um," You hadn't thought about it much. "I don't know. We're taking it slow. Just enjoying each other's company."

"But do you think it will be a long-term relationship?" Vivian asked.

"I hope so," You said. "I like her and hope the feeling is mutual."

"Well, if you like her and she likes you, I'm sure it will work out," Vivian said. There was a moment of silence. "I see the way she looks at you. The same way your daddy looked at me."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Vivian smiled. "He always had that twinkle in his eye when he talked about me."

You smiled, finishing the last of the dishes.

"I'm happy for you, baby," Vivian said. "You deserve someone who makes you feel special. Someone who puts a smile on your face."

"I'm glad you approve," You nodded. "She's a good person. I know people have their reservations about her past and..."

"People have their reasons for being judgmental," Vivian said. "You know as well as I do that a lot of the time, people are just scared and misguided."

"Yeah," You nodded.

"Besides, your daddy taught me something important."

"What's that?"

"It doesn't matter where a person came from, just who they are," Vivian answered.

"He taught me the same," You replied.

"I know," Vivian kissed your forehead.

You hugged her, feeling a wave of emotions wash over you.

"Mom," You began.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I miss him," You said.

"So do I," Vivian pulled away. "But, we have to carry on without him."

"You know, Peyton told me how things are going at the laundromat," You began. "If my tuition is too much."

"Baby, you're not giving up school because of me," Vivian said. "The laundromat is fine. We just had a bad few months, is all."

"I'm sure we can figure out a way to increase revenue," You suggested.

"Maybe, but not now," Vivian said. "It'll work itself out. I have a little savings if it comes down to it."

"Well, maybe I can talk to the admissions office," You said. "See about a payment plan or loans."

"We'll figure it out," Vivian reassured. "Don't you worry about it?"

"I'm not worried," You insisted.

"You're a horrible liar," Vivian chuckled. "Now, go check on your girlfriend. It's getting late."

You smiled. "Thanks, mom."

"Anytime," Vivian winked.

******

When you returned to your room, Natasha was out of the shower and curled under the covers. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was deep and even, suggesting she was already asleep.

You smiled, careful not to wake her, as you changed into a pair of pajamas and brushed your teeth. As you crawled into bed beside her, she stirred slightly, cracking one eye open.

"Sorry," you whispered, draping an arm across her waist. "Go back to sleep."

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," you reassured, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Okay," She closed her eyes.

You pressed a kiss to her jaw, snuggling closer. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," She replied. "Thanks for bringing me here."

"Of course," You whispered.

You lay in the darkness for a while, listening to her breathing and enjoying the warmth of her body. Gradually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of her arms.

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads ( Homelander x OC )

chapter one: first impressions

chapter directory

summary: holding the heart of a self-proclaimed god is hard work, but someone's gotta do it. who'd have ever thought it would be some nobody, a simple street level hero-branded-vigilante, who would ascend to one of the seven coveted thrones and do just that?

tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

It’s a night like any other in the concrete jungle of New York City.  A streak of red swings through the streets by lines of webbing, eyes peeled for anyone disrupting the peace in his friendly neighborhood.  Well, not his neighborhood exactly.  He was just a vigilante after all.  There’s plenty of fun to pick from, but only one instance could be so special to the city’s one and only Spider-Man– to Benjamin.

It’s not the quippy banter with the thugs breaking into the back of a bodega, nor is it the amusement he gets from webbing each of the fools in one big pile on the ground that makes this night memorable.  It’s the interruption, the anomaly that appears all too silently from the sky.

“And just what do we have here, hm?” 

The bug turns in surprise, steeling himself against the rush of anxiety that shoots through his veins.  This is no ordinary supe here to gripe about him stealing their thunder.  This is a man– a god, perhaps– in a whole ‘nother league. 

Ben would recognize him by voice alone because it was impossible not to hear it at least once a day.  Hell, hide the costume and he’d probably still recognize that face– because it’s everywhere. Billboards, magazines, fucking cereal boxes– you name it, he’s probably there.

Before him stands The Homelander, captain of The Seven, pretty much the face of Vought International.  World’s most powerful supe.

“Oh, y’know.”  He gestures.  “Riffraff doing what they do, and me doing what I do.”

“Nicely done,” Homelander says, professional smile etched into his face like he’d rehearsed this.  “You know, good work like this is why we’ve been nipping at your heels, kiddo.  Really wish you’d stop making us chase you around.”

And there it is.  This was no chance meeting– as if one of the big boys from The Seven would ever be caught dead in an alley in Harlem of all places.  Spidey cocks a brow behind his mask.  Vought must be desperate.

See, he’s been particularly unlucky lately.  

Even before he donned the mantle of Spider-Man, it was never about being in the big leagues.  Benjamin mused upon the idea of it, but he could never find himself truly taken with the idea of selling himself as a hero.  Not only was the mere idea of commercializing his ability to do a unique good revolting, it would strip away one of the only true freedoms he has.  Of course, Vought knew nothing of his reasons– not that they’d care either way– and were ardently pursuing him to fill the now vacant seat formerly belonging to Translucent.

And now, as his luck would have it, they’ve sent their biggest dog to fetch their desired toy.

Benjamin’s sixth sense tells him nothing in the moment.  No hidden danger, no tickling of warnings to bolt.  A goose chase spanning two months finally coming to a titanic head as The fucking Homelander himself holds him not-quite-hostage in an alleyway. 

“You’re still their top pick, you know,” Homelander says, nodding over to the webbed pile of crooks.  “You play by their rules without even being on the team.  A little… sloppy, but effective.  Tell me, how is it you’re going to turn down a spot in the biggest of the big leagues, hm?  You’ve pretty much skipped the line.”  Homelander scuffs the sole of his boot against the ground, kicking a pebble to the side as he meanders closer.  “What, is vigilantism more fun?  You like having all those warrants?  Vought could clear ‘em up.  Get you set straight in the eyes of the law, make you official.  Pay you for your late night troubles…”

Ben bristles as he comes closer.  It’s not the proximity necessarily, it’s… 

It’s like he’s looking straight through the mask.  

Benjamin releases a tight breath.  “My answer isn’t changing.” He says firmly, despite the anxiety cooking in his chest.  He is not a confident man by any stretch.  The most bravado he’ll ever know in his life comes from being Spidey.  Nobody can see him– nobody knows who he is when he’s got the mask on. He can be whoever he wants.  But right now he feels see through.  

Pick your words carefully,  he thinks to himself.

“I’m not a show pony for Vought to extort.”

Don’t cave– do not give him that satisfaction.  It’s what he wants.

He wouldn’t work for Vought.  He’s chosen years of barely scraping by rather than taking a tech job with them as a regular person, why the fuck would he do it as a supe?  What, he’s just supposed to ignore the endless skeletons in their closet?  The pain and suffering, all the people he’s seen online talking about how Vought threw money at them to not sue after some accident or another only to up and disappear?  

Ben idolized heroes for so long.  His powers didn’t manifest until his late teens and he grew up wanting to be just like the superheroes that made the world a better place– until he realized that those types were so few and far between that they might as well not even exist.  All of his childhood heroes were NDAs and settlements, pain and suffering, all covered with media stunts and weak, lazy apologies.  Posters were torn down, action figures tossed in the trash– he moved on and eventually became the hero he wished his idols would've been.

“Show pony? Pfffft,” Homelander laughs, blowing a raspberry.  “Please.  Look at yourself.  Skin tight red and blue suit, leaving messes of webs everywhere you go.  Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you’re already there.”

“They parade you guys around like trophies,” Ben counters, trying to keep the edge off his tone.  “I’m not in this to make money for some rich-fuck shareholders, y’know.”

“And?  See, you told every single agent before me that you were in ‘this’ to make a difference.”

Fuck.

“You know how much fucking range you’d have in The Seven?”  Homelander splays his arms wide as if to show the scale of the world.  Agitation is starting to write itself on his face, leaking free in the twitches of his eye and those rapid blinks.  He clearly didn’t expect to have to work for this.  “You could help anyone anywhere, all you have to do is say yes.”

The worst part?  That’s not technically a lie.  And it’s not not tempting. 

“I’m sure you’ll see reason,”  Homelander smirks, sauntering just the slightest bit closer.  “Benjamin.”

The bug’s heart drops to his gut, eyes going wide and glancing in the direction of the pile of webbed crooks in the hopes they neither heard nor will a last name be following. 

Fuck, fuck– 

They have his name. 

“Don’t–”

“Don’t what?���  Homelander asks innocently, lips curling even sharper.  “You really thought we wouldn’t know who you are?  Pff– hah!  Please.”

Closer and closer, every step feeling like a lifetime.

“I can see through that mask, you know.  Can see how scared you are.” Homelander tuts as he comes within arms reach.  “I can hear the pitter patter of your little heart…”

Ben gulps, breaths coming heavy.

“And…”  Homelander leans forward, voice a whisper. “I’m sure you understand, Mister Colyer, that I could kill you right now…”  A hand falls to rest on Ben’s shoulder, gripping tight.  “I really don’t like being told no.”

Ben’s voice shakes and his knees quake, totally ready to dart as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

“I'm… not– I'm not doing it.”

His sixth sense doesn’t stir.

Homelander’s bluffing.  But, really… So is he.

It’s like the world froze.  Time stands still as they stare at one another.  Benjamin can see the anger dancing in Homelander’s eyes, but nothing comes of it.

Not even when the bug backs away and that leather clad hands falls free from his shoulder.

“Look, uh… this was nice, y’know?”

Smooth, Ben.  Smooth.

“But uh, just call me Randy Jackson, because it’s uhm... it's gonna be a no from me, dawg.”  Terrible time for humor, but something had to break the tension.  “Goodbye, Homelander.” 

And with that, Ben bolts, vaulting up and off the side of a building to propel himself into the night.  

Homelander remains in the alley, still stunned, a piercing ring deafening the world around him.  He lingers, thoughts racing.

Turned down by the bug, huh champ?

Of course, of fucking course there would be some commentary.

“Hey big guy, you gonna let us go?”  

And of course there’s some filth bold enough to interrupt him.

Homelander turns, eye twitching as he scans the pile of mud practically cocooned in webbing.  They expect him to release them.  After all, Spider-Man is a vigilante.  None of his catches are technically official, though there’s usually enough evidence for that fact to be ignored.

“C’mon, you know we ain’t done no harm!  Me and the boys were just walkin’ by is all.”  

The man in question chuckles nervously at him.

Homelander saunters closer, hands behind his back.  He stands over the man, inspecting every little detail.  The growing fear in his eyes, the way he sweats.

Putrid. Echoes the voice in his mind.  Remind them of who they’re talking to. Of the god they disrespect.

He lifts his foot, placing it dead center on the man’s chest.

“No– please, I didn’t–”

He presses down slowly, grin etching onto his face as pleas turn to tight gasps.  The others in the webbing try to scramble, but they can’t escape.

They’re at his mercy.  As they should be.

A crunching sound precedes his favorite part.  Ribs and muscle give way and a loud squelch graces his ears and the ringing– oh the ringing stops. It's serene, knowing what power he holds.  What iron fist he truly has wrapped around the neck of this world.

Attaboy.

To think they’d think him so low as to aid them.  To think they’d get to live after seeing him rejected so brazenly.

Now for the rest.

As he takes care of the others, he wonders just how persuasive he'll need to be with the little spider.  What threads must he pull to get his way?

[supernaturallyliterate]

I noticed something big about TTPD. I think that it connects to Taylor’s plans for The Eras Tour, the Yellow Brick Road / possible coming out journey, and the New Romantics / Mass Coming Out theory.

If you’re not interested in that type of content, please keep scrolling. But if you’re down to clown and theorize, come on a little adventure with me. 😉

I noticed it first with the song “Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus”, so that’s where I’ll start in this analysis.

I think that this song is Taylor telling both Swifties / Hetlors and Gaylors that she is tired of all the expectations and obsession with her sexuality and love life (again). She’s been walking a fine line, Easter egging for both Hetlors and Gaylors for so long. She frames it as a lose-lose situation.

DEEP DIVE ON THE LYRICS:

Your hologram stumbled into my apartment

Hands in the hair of somebody in darkness named Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

And I just watched it happen

I haven’t quite figured out the first few lines. Hologram suggests that the person who arrives isn’t real, or isn’t really there. This could be a reference to “Is that your key in the door?” from Hits Different.

First, it’s been noted before, but the switching between female and gender neutral and male names. This suggests not only multiple muses, but also multiple interpretations. And, of course the queerness of the speaker, which is assumed to be Taylor Swift.

As the decade would play us for fools

It’s been ten years since kissgate. I think when Kaylor first got together and schemed about this coming out plan, they never thought it would take ten years to come to fruition.

And you saw my bones out with somebody new

Who seemed like he would've bullied you in school

And you just watched it happen

First, “my bones” is referring to her body. For her body (pun intended) to be bones, she would have to be dead, and been dead a long time. The death of Taylor Swift. This could be referring to how she was dying inside from the closeting. Her true self was unfulfilled. It could also be referring to the beginning of the death of Taylor the Brand.

“Somebody” is still gender neutral, keeping with the ambiguity of the muse’s gender.

Yet the next line has he/him pronouns. Bearding. Taylor is bearding with a football player. We’ve seen football players bully a gay boy in the Taylorverse before.

If you want to break my cold, cold heart

Just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'

If you want to tear my world apart

Just say you've always wondered

I think the first two lines are for the Hetlors. This would be their reaction to her coming out— “I loved you [your music, etc] when you were straight.” This has Cold as You implications. To the Hetlors, she would be “cold-hearted” snake who was deceiving them by pretending to be straight when she was queer the whole time.

The second two lines are for the Gaylors. I interpret “always wondered” to be about wondering and speculating about Taylor’s sexuality, with possible ties to “Wonderland”. And the first part about breaking her world—that’s what would happen if she came out as queer. Not only would her brand and public world be broken, i.e. never the same, fractured, skewed, etc. The public “betrayal” and all that toxic shit. But also, her private world would be broken and shattered. The lavender haze she and her love created, their secret moments (even if in a crowded room), their coded language, etc would all be revealed. They wouldn’t be able to hide in their own little world anymore. (Also thinking about this in terms of “escaping to a planet where they could all understand it.”)

You said some things that I can't unabsorb

You turned me into an idea of sorts

You needed me but you needed drugs more

The media, the fans, etc have said things about Taylor that stay with her. That impact her deeply. We (and yes, I’m including myself in that) have turned Taylor the person into Taylor the Brand and Taylor the Anti-Hero, etc. All these different versions of her that aren’t truly representative of her true self.

I interpret the “you needed me” as “you needed me the person” and “you needed drugs more” as the addictiveness of Easter eggs, theories, fandom, media consumption, the need for “MORE” from Taylor. (Yes that’s a callback to ICDIWABH.)

And I couldn't watch it happen

And she couldn’t do it anymore. She needed it to end. But how do you break something so carefully crafted? By carefully deconstructing it like a mastermind chess playing badass and then smashing it with a hammer and setting the whole thing on fire.

I changed into goddesses, villains and fools

Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules

This section reminds me of Mirrorball—she changed herself into different eras and personalities. She’s been a saint and a sinner. The villain reference is very reputation coded.

She changed plans after the Masters Heist and failed coming out during Lover.

Changing lovers refers to “switching out these Kens”, her PR boyfriends.

It also reminds me of Mastermind the game, how she constantly changed her outfits and the rules for her outfits to keep people on their toes.

All to outrun my desertion of you

And you just watched it

She literally said. I’m leaving you. But I don’t want to leave you, so I’ve been dragging it out as long as I can. But I can’t run from it.

And oh, by the way, you just watched it. You just witnessed it unfold. The duplicate meanings of this line!! “You just watched it.” the heartbreak of “you saw it happening and you didn’t do anything to stop it.” And “just” as a way to tell time—you just watched it, recently. And we’ve all been watching The Eras Tour for two years (well, 1 year 8 months, as she pointed out in her speech). And it just finished.

If the glint in my eye traced the depths of your sigh

Down that passage in time

Back to the moment I crashed into you

Like so many wrecks do

Too impaired by my youth

To know what to do

So if I sell my apartment

And you have some kids with an internet starlet

Will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon

like it never happened

This section is so Karlie coded. They met when they were super young, in 2008. And Taylor was too young to know what to do, how to navigate being a famous person and wanting to have this queer relationship. She had to figure out if she wanted to come out or stay closeted. And she didn’t know how it would go, how it could impact their relationship.

I won’t go too in depth but the having kids line refers to her marriage and family. And Maroon the song is 100000% a Kaylor song, so she’s drawing that direct parallel here.

Could it be enough to just float in your orbit

Could it be enough to stay in this lavender haze? Could it be enough to stay in our own little world, circling each other and not caring about the rest of the universe?

Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses

Ghosts of their past selves, when Kaylor was more open publicly? Like kissgate. But also I think about wild horses as beautiful, but easily spooked. If they know you’re watching, they’re going to run away. “I Know Places” and running from the hunters, the media, etc. So as soon as people started to notice and call attention to her queerness, she got spooked. She got scared, and she returned to the safety of the closet.

Cooler in theory but not if you force it

To be, it just didn't happen

I think these lines are her acknowledging that it is a nice to theorize about all these grand coming out plans, but it cannot and should not be forced on her and her lover by anyone—the public, the fans (hetlors and Gaylors), etc. “It just didnt happen” refers to the times she didn’t publicly come out. It could also be a reference to a Kaylor split (real or perceived) and Karlie’s wedding (which was referenced a few lines above).

And we get a repeat of the chorus, a reemphasizing of the impossible and unrealistic expectations on Taylor, and a transition to the end of the song, where she asks us a question.

If you want to break my cold, cold heart

Just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'

If you want to tear my world apart

Just say you've always wondered

Cause I wonder

Will I always

Will I always wonder?

Will I always be in the closet? Will I always wonder about what it would be like to come out? To be free?

[zoniteillusion-pyritedreams]

Heyyycan I request a reading for tabber like the one you did for dean? Thank you

https://www.tumblr.com/zoniteillusion-pyritedreams/784293111056695296/hiiiii-can-i-request-a-reading-like-this

"Inside Tabber’s Lusty Little Mind: Tarot Tea"

a cheeky Aphrodite-approved blog post written by your fave love witch, ft. spice, soul, and zero BS

Baby, Tabber’s type? It’s not for the weak. He’s looking for someone who can serve brain, baddie, and a side of brooding mystery. Let’s unzip this energy layer by layer, shall we?

Core Vibe: Give Him Depth or Give Him Distance

Astro: Jupiter + Mars + Scorpio, Leo reversed

He craves someone with soulful intensity, not superficial sparkle. Think: inner fire over outer flash. Leo reversed says he’s not here for spotlight chasers he wants the type of person who turns heads without trying and stays unbothered while doing it.

Big, bold energy? Yes.

Needy or performative? Hard pass.

Oracle Tea: The Outlier with the Depth

From the Oracle of Roses deck? Let’s just say his ideal partner is serving “intelligent siren who has 5 side quests, emotional range, and a passport full of secrets.”

The Night + The Sage + The Hero? He wants a soft-spoken badass. A deep thinker who isn’t afraid to rescue herself.

The Scientist reversed + Architect reversed says he doesn’t want someone stuck in routines or cold logic. Give him someone creative, open, and emotionally fluid.

Loner reversed + Outsider + Citizen? His dream girl/boy/they knows who they are, doesn’t beg to belong, and can vibe anywhere from underground clubs to bookshops to a quiet night in his bed. (ahem, library).

Tarot Breakdown: Emotionally, Mentally & Physically

King of Wands + Judgment:

He’s turned on by confidence, charisma, and moral clarity. Say what you mean, mean what you say, and look like sin while doing it that’s his type.

Six of Wands reversed + Ten of Wands:

Don’t fake the flex. He sees through clout-chasers and over-performers. Emotional maturity turns him on; drama and self-pity? Major ick.

The Hermit + Temperance reversed + Knight of Cups reversed:

He’s into introverts with an inner storm. Not overly polished. Not always predictable. A little moody, a little unhinged but capable of real connection.

Strength reversed + 8 of Pentacles reversed:

Physical turn-ons? Soft power. Quiet dominance. Maybe even a touch of shyness. The kind of body language that whispers, “I could destroy you… but I’d rather make you feel safe first.”

The Fool reversed + Ten of Pentacles reversed:

He’s not trying to build a white-picket fantasy. Conventional doesn’t move him. He’d rather run wild with a beautiful chaos creature than settle with a Stepford shell.

Ten of Cups + Seven of Wands:

When he loves, he LOVES. He wants real intimacy but you’d better fight for it. He’s not handing out access to his heart (or his bed, or the floor , or the kitchen counter you get it.) without a test of loyalty.

Tabber's Aphrodite-Approved Turn-Ons:

A deep mind and darker eyes.

That one piece of clothing you always wear that makes him question everything.

Voices that sound like secrets.

The look someone gives right before saying, “I shouldn't, but…”

Tabber's Big No-No’s:

Loud for no reason.

Shallow flirtation with no substance.

Clinginess disguised as passion.

Perfection. He doesn’t trust it and he’s not turned on by it.

Overview:

Tabber wants a divine mess of a muse someone wise, sexy, slightly off-center, with a vibe that says, “I love deeply, but you better earn it.”

If you’re mysterious, emotionally rich, and rocking a face that looks better in candlelight than a filter? Congratulations, you’re his type.

[diivineray]

my muses from pure innocent baby angel to raw sinful bastard. IDK I WAS BORED DNFFDSKLFDS

KURROOOOHHH is #1 cuz despite how he does look like hes all serious and grump he is the sweetest boy ever he'd never hurt anyoneeeeeeee. hes too good

Freya my baby my fav oc- biased thoughts here but shes perf, she has evil literally begging her to do bad but she fights it off despite it threatening to overtake her, and she refuses to let

Xiao Xingchen is #3 cuz he is powerful and can kill so many evil thingys but he legit was too good and believed in ppl so much he was pretty much fooled and didnt deserve anything he got okay. he is an angel

Cheng Xiaoshi - his boyfriend literally fucking over the space time continuum cuz he can't bear to live life without him. ALL THE INFO YOU NEED. ray of sunshine HES PURE LIGHT.

Xie Lian looks like he couldn't hurt a fly, could actually kill you but won't CUZ HES BEEN THROUGH 800 YEARS OF SUFFERING AND JUST WANTS TO LIVE HIS LIFE AND VIBE. xie lian is fourth cuz he did do some shit but sunshine always prevails. yeah looking at you bwx.

Inuaysha - he's grumpy, but its just cuz he's had to grow up on his own in a harsh world, and judged for who he is. he has such a big heart, and he cares deeply even if he doesnt always know how to express it. I have such a weakness to these characters SIGH. though hes slightly naughty cuz this boy will punch your mother dont test him

Ruggieeee- i only wrote him for a bit but I love him cuz its nice being able to relate to someone who is poor and also went to school with a bunch of spoiled ass kids. Hes lowkey on the naughty list cuz he is an opportunist and will do whatever it takes to win and get ahead. hence why he helped leona with cheating. he uses his street smarts and I respect his grind.

Olivier - he actually should be this low but-- i forgot about him and needed to shove him in here somewhere. HES A GOOD BOY HES GRUMPY BUT WHEN YOUR BEST FRIEND IS LITERALLY THE SUN AND YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM ITS JUST WHAT YOU GOTTA BE I GUESS.

Jiang Cheng- my baby my squeaky toy, my babyyyyy. hes also lowkey on the baddie list, cuz while he is so emotional he is BAD at expressing himself so he comes off standoffish, angry and he gets a bad rep for it. but he cares deeply, hes hurt and has suffered a lot for why he is the way he is, but hes got issues so he's inbetween the good and bad line.

Pei Ming - HE IS A GOOD BOY but hes got some things that land him a little lower on this list. hes a whore but hes a good and respectful whore. hes noble, honorable and he's fiercely protective. but he's a tumor for a reason, he has his eyes on climbing the ladder to success and hes gonna do what hes gotta to reach the top. he definitely has lines he wont cross tho.

Wei Wuxian- everyone's favorite boy. my favorite boy. I love him so much, he's been the hero, and the villain. he's been it all and while his heart has always been in the right place, hes lower on the list cuz of this boy and some of the shit he did okay. hes a good boy, got a beautiful hubby, and a fat ass so hes on here.

Xerxes break is actually THE muse, THE character. the baddest bitch out of my whole roster and yes its entirely biased cuz he is my favorite character literally ever. hes on the naughty list, a little lower than wei wuxian cuz he is someone who while he is atoning for his sins, he also knows life is not perfect and will willingly sully his hands into the filth and do the dirty work to protect others from having to do the same at times. he also knows that life is going to happen, and you cant always avoid it and will teach that lesson in harsh ways. he isnt one to sugar coat, he will push you in the pool and expect you to figure out to swim or die.

Jax, he's a piece of shit but he's my piece of shit. if they aren't mean then I don't want them !! Jax is so funny, and while I do not write him anymore, he was fun and he's on this list cuz he's a ho and an asshole and so yeah he gets a spot on this list cuz its so obvious who dia be liking from these shows

Hua Cheng isnt all that bad but he is a ghost king and he got that position by being absolutely ruthless. he cares for one person and one person only. he honestly couldnt care about anyone else lmao. and u know what he right. also hims sexy

I think Leona and Hua Cheng are kind of on the same level, he's a baddie and he cares for very little unless it pertains to him. hes doing better on that, but he's very much unmotivated unless its gonna benefit him in some way. hes so smart and strong, he's def a top contender and he's also a whore so... yeah. another one of my top fav muses

Mammon - he s a tsun and a whore for both me and money AND HONESTLY SAME. hes on this part of the list cuz he is a prince of hell for one, but he is the sweetest and i love him even with how greedy for everything he is. he gets a pass, its in his nature. i mean look at him???? hes beautiful bottom ass bitch ughhh

The fact that a prince of hell is before Michael is crazy--- but listen. michael is crazy. he is the chief of angels but he runs thing with an iron fist. doesn't believe in freedom of choice. hes traditional and believes heaven is meant to ruled as such. doesnt invite free will and punishes angels harshly if they stray by ripping their wings off and sending them to the mortal realm. he is the judge jury and executioner. what he says goes, he's manipulative and isnt afraid to hurt humans if it means getting them to bend to his will. he's a psychopath lowkey and I love it.

Naraku - HE'S A NASTY ASS BITCH WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED? this bitch ass motherfucker is so crusty and I'm weak for it. he's so nasty and I know it but IDK WHY ITS HOT. he be wanting everyone around him to suffer, whatever it takes to taint that god damn shikon jewel and he do it bro. he loves causing chaos, loves tricking people, loves hurting them and making them do his bidding.. hes terrible i love him

to be fair my bby seth is going through his atonement but like, a lot of the shit he did was.... REALLY BAD. he become an evil god for a reason, and the reasons behind his actions weren't meant to protect himself but it was pretty terrible. dawg killed babies and women, and im sorry but he looked so good DNFLDFKLSFD . but hes learning hes doing better. hes also whore coded, breedable, his brother literally tried to get him pregnant so like 😩its not just me okay.

FIZZ IS MY BABY AND TBH IM NGL I MISS WRITING HIM. This boy is my baby, hes only this far down cuz he's hellborn and equally kind of terrible on hell's standards but hes BABY. he is me highkey, a cutie pie and horny little freak. like i cant even deny it at this point. he's also disabled and that representation will always be important to me, knowing you have limitations and it still doesnt stop you. he also got a hot ass boyfriend who loves the fck out of him. we nasty together and im not ashamed. i love this clown.

Kind of mad at how Alastor is technically my most evil muse I've written sOBS. but he is. serial killer having been shot and sent to hell and being one of the most powerful overlords. I know a lot of people seem to think he has a soft spot for the hotel and maybe he does but I think he def is still out for himself and will turn on them if his plans call for it. i wouldn't trust this dude with nothing like there's no way. hes always got something up his sleeve, thinking ahead. and for me with the way I write him I do not believe he gives out anything without getting something back in return.

[lookingfts]

Deleted scene!

I had to cut this scene for Florescent because I just didn't have a place to put it, but please enjoy.

*sexy and murdery snippet below*

Sometimes, Kate felt as though she and Anthony were the one two people in the world. Especially in moments like this, as the sun was setting and their hands were linked together and they talked freely, as two people who were normal and courting and in love might. As if she were still some ordinary girl in the village who had caught Anthony’s eye, and she was letting him sweep her off her feet.

He was good at that – sweeping her off her feet. Often he would make her tea, or read to her, or wake her up with kisses scattered across her face, and Kate would find herself falling in love again, harder and deeper. She kept searching for the bottom of it, but it was not there. An ocean without a floor on which to settle.

The sky was purple and the air was cold, and she tried to recall all the little details of such a moment. The bite of cool air on her skin, the first twinkle of stars above the trees, the gentle stroke of Anthony’s fingers against her own.

Kate thought she had been missing so many things in her life. When was the last time she had enjoyed the sunset, without fretting over whether they would have enough food for the next morning’s breakfast? When was the last time she had noticed the stars without tears in her eyes because everything she did seemed doomed to failure?

He was not the only one who had been dead and come to life, she thought. There was more than one way to die.

Were she not so lost in her musings, she may have noticed the man before his shot narrowly missed Anthony and embedded itself into the tree beside them.

“Get behind me!” Anthony yelled, yanking her by her arm as they took shelter by a tree. They always tried to stay within the boundaries of the castle’s enchantment, but they had wandered too close to the edge. The man was a hunter, by the looks of him, out too late in the woods, lost or simply stupid. He was trembling, fear in his eyes as he prepared to take another shot.

“We will not hurt you!” Kate yelled, ignoring Anthony’s protests. “He is not what he appears. He has been cursed, but he is just a man. A good man.”

“Do not take me for a fool!” the hunter shouted back. “He is a monster, and only a witch would attach herself to such a beast. I should kill you both and return a hero.”

“Leave now and no one needs to be harmed. I swear to you, we are no danger to you.”

Another shot rang out, and Anthony hissed in pain. He clutched his arm where the bullet had grazed, slumping against the tree as blood colored his white shirt. They were too exposed, and the man would not be reasoned with.

Ultimately, it was not a choice, or a burden. Simply a necessity.

As he reloaded, Kate stepped out from her hiding place. “Kathani, do not!” Anthony shouted, but she did not spare him a glance.

Spurred on by Anthony’s pain, she let the darkness flow through her and infect the forest. The man scrambled to aim at her, a bullet through the heart of the witch, but Kate felt no fear.

Euphoria filled her veins as a final shot rang out toward the sky. The hunter was frozen, his eyes rolling back, blood dripping from his clothes onto the cold ground as he took his last weak breaths.

It was a hideous sight, dozens of sharp branches piercing the hunter’s body, stained red. “It is safe,” Kate said calmly when all was quiet. “He is dead.”

Anthony stumbled out between the trees, his eyes wide. “Kathani,” he breathed, rushing toward her, his eyes scanning her form as though she might be the one injured. His hands hovered over her, and her heart swelled at the worry in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright,” Kate assured him, stepping forward into his arms and resting her hand on his jaw. Fear and love and power were mingling in her blood, putting her in a state of intoxication, but her soul felt serene. “Your wound-.”

“I will be fine, my love. I am fine, thanks to you.” Tugging her into his embrace, Anthony clung to her tightly, the same overwhelming emotions coursing through his veins. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry that you had to do that for me.”

She waited for the guilt and panic to rise, but they did not. Kate felt only relief and need, everything else fading away but his presence, solid and sure. “I am not sorry. I tried to reason with him, but he would not listen.” Pulling back, she kissed him fervently, their breaths mingling in the cool air. “I will always protect you, Anthony. I will kill anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

He stared at her, pupils blown, desperation thickening between them. With a firm hand on her neck, Anthony yanked her toward him, kissing her so deeply that her knees weakened. 

Kate gasped as her back hit a large tree, the bark scraping at her cloak. They were insatiable, mouths meeting as though they could only find salvation in each other. Anthony needed to say nothing; she could feel his gratitude and passion, his love, in every bite and moan. He was alive at her hand, and the rush would not settle until they found their release together.

Undoing her cloak, she let it fall carelessly to the ground and rucked up her dress to her thighs. Anthony released his falls and thrust into her without overture, forcing her to stretch around his length. They fucked like animals, brutally and with abandon, her screams echoing through the trees as he took her. 

She wanted to stay like this forever. Consumed by him, filled with his cock, the sting of his teeth on her neck and crying out her pleasure. For the world to know that she was completely and utterly his.

Warmth flooded her cunt, a feral noise leaving Anthony’s throat as he spent inside her. The sensation of being claimed tipped her over the edge, a painfully intense climax tearing through her.

He did not leave her body, and she tightened to keep him there, even as they both shuddered at the sensitivity. “I love you,” he said, tears in his eyes as he caressed her cheek. “There are no words for it.” 

“I know,” she whispered, brushing her nose against his. “We do not need them.”

[daitranscripts]

Skyhold Conversation

Maryden Halewell

Skyhold Masterpost

Maryden: Inquisitor. A title hard to rhyme. A challenge for another day, I think. Forgive me my distractions, Eminence. I'm overwhelmed by you and what you've done. My name is Maryden. A humble bard.

Dialogue options:

General: How can you help? [2]

General: You’re a bard? [3]

General: Goodbye. [4]

2 - General: How can you help? PC: What do you bring to the Inquisition? Maryden: A simple thing that you know well. The power of a muse to rally hearts and minds. Inquisitor, I want to spread the word of what you've done. A small but vital role. Perhaps I'll also make a coin or two. [back to 1]

3 - General: You’re a bard? PC: Are you a bard, likes those of Orlais? Maryden: Oh, Heavens no! I am a minstrel first. My weapon is a cutting tongue, not blades. I hope my skills will help in some small way, if only I can give your deeds their due. [back to 1]

4 - General: Goodbye. PC: Carry on, then. Maryden: Oh, I will do my best, Inquisitor.

As the PC leaves Maryden: I thank you for your time, Inquisitor.

If spoken to again

Maryden: Your Worship graces me with blessed eyes.

Maryden: The day finds you of well and sturdy health?

Maryden: I hope to serve the cause, Inquisitor?

Maryden: There is an issue that you should address. I think it's worth your time, Inquisitor. Acquired War Table: Stop the Rumors

Upon completion Maryden: Of course you handled this, Inquisitor.

After completing Sutherland’s quest chain Maryden: Inquisitor, these youths of yours delight. A boon both on the field and for your name. And yet, I've tried to capture them in verse. To no avail it seems, but I forge on!

—

Ambient Dialogue

Maryden: From Haven's fire come we the able true, to Skyhold now, a fortress strong and free. We rally with our hero born anew. Inquisitor, there's none as brave as he/she.

Maryden: Our hero strode the winding road, defiant of the vile. Uncertain pause for home and cause, when met the monster's smile. A man his kin through blood and sin, a bastard of the gloom. A rising cut through bone and gut, an awful skyward bloom. I think this one is simply not my style.

After HLtA Maryden: Wardens harm their own, and fall to mortal failings. Where does that leave us?

After WEWH Maryden: I wonder who knows pain astride the Game, it's one who lacks a certain wherewithal. For he knows well a pain with paltry gain, the fool who dares to rhyme Halamshiral.

After WPHW Maryden: Wonder well what did befell our heroes wise and wondrous, the risks they took would earn no brook from villains dark and thunderous. For not undone but fairly won were victories and happenstance. And suffered all who held Mythal, deserving of their circumstance. Corypheus was failing thus, his weakness obvious to all. For faced with we, the fools must flee the blessed Inquisition's call.

General

Maryden: Ah lahdeedah and something something else.

Maryden: It writes itself. At least it seems it should.

Maryden: A perfect start except… no, it needs work.

Maryden: I think that one is just me showing off.

Maryden: It’s not my style to simply start and simply stop.

[prpfz]

⚔️FANTASY RP🌿

Sup!

So basically i've been binging old High Fantasy animes and Movies (Excalibur, Labyrinth, Lodoss war, Slayers, The weathering continent, to be more especific) and i'm DYING to write some high fantasy plots...

I have some ideas i'll write down later but first a little about me and my writing style...

Literate to adv-lit, my writing can vary drasticly depending on what we wanna do, longer, detailed replies or short and sweet

M/F

I only use fictional Fc, tho on some Occasions I use real Fc

I'm kinda of a mess, I sometimes take a while to reply or might dissapear for a while, I ask for patience...

Good energy and vibes! I like to talk OOC and share music and art, also to just ramble about our muses or plot the wildest stuff

And now some plot ideas!

Lovers reunited:

Long ago, the land of Gefallen was on the brink of destruction when an inmortal dark Sorceress threaten to cover the land in darkness and blight, it was then when a hero rose up above the rest, an elf warrior who dared to take the witch down and bring justice to her domain of darkness, but from the rivalry of the two, love was born. Their time togheter was short and the end was bitter, the warrior still had a task to do and he wasn't gonna turn his back on the humans no matter how much he loved the Sorceress... So he asked her, begged her to fake her death, dissapear and put an end to her plans of destruction otherwise the elf would have to stop her himself... In the end, the elf walked out of the dark domain as a hero to the humans, but as a fool to himself

Hundreds of years pass, the elf had became a traveling sellsword, roaming the country in hopes to one day find his beloved Sorceress once more... And to his missfortune, he did, she had been hiding, learning stronger and more powerful spells to finally cast the darkness over the lands, but this time she asked for the helping hand of the elf... His alliance to the humans was no more, and the years had changed him... So, will the two lovers cover the earth in eternal blackness? Or will they fight to the death, pulled appart by the fleeting lifes of humans?

Royalty & magical creature:

A Princess had escaped the Comfortable and safe walls of her castle and wandered into the forest, this she had done because her father promised her to an older Duke of the Kingdom, but the forest are not a place for soft royalty and soon she became lost, as the dawn drew nearer she was losing hopes to return home, until from the top of the trees a man came down to guide her, a man dresses in animal skin and with antlers coming out of his head, but this was no wild Hunter but a forest spirit, he helped the Princess reach her home and from then on she returned every day to visit her friend in the forest. But her father grew suspicious of her, thinking that she was planning to run away.

Royal betrayal:

Two Kingdoms at war over land, one will conquer, the other will dissapear.

Midland, Kingdom of the blue lions. The young warrior King had been fighting the war since his youth and after losing his father and brother he pushes ever more for a peace treaty but the opposing Kingdom just seem to refuse...

But bloodsheed and polítics were not the only bussines of the King, he had a passionate love affair with a maid of his castle... But this maid, was a spy of the enemy Kingdom, sent to steal secrets and information, everything to put her Kingdom in the winning side.

But the more time she spends with the King, the more his noble heart opens up for her, soon the Kingdom of lions will be torched and the maid will have to pierce the heart of the man that loved her like no other... She will have to choose, her Kingdom or the King...

Thanks for reading, if you are interested like this post and i'll reach out to you!

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

[antihibikase2]

Pokemon Blur - Prologue : The Fool

In the lively city of Aspertia, there was a boy that dreamt of being a hero.

Divine dragons of Truth and Ideals, heed the prayers of a foolish heart.

Before we embark on this dangerous quest, shower us with your grace so that we may have a safe journey.

...

The coming of spring is where many dreams would blossom alongside the flowers- following a harsh winter, the people of Flocessy wasted no time in tending to their lands and ranches, eager to see what the rest of the year will bring.

"February was colder than other years," Muses the town mayor. "I hear it was as cold as Sinnoh on a hot day."

From behind her teacup, a blonde laughs.

"Yes! That's what I've been telling Professor Juniper! We're experiencing temperatures never before seen in Unova- I wonder why that is?"

"It's easy to chalk it up to the times, little lass-"

He leans over to refill her teacup.

"-but the youth of today isn't gonna take that for an answer."

"And why would we? If something's up, we ought to be the ones to figure out why; not when you old folks are sitting about."

The blonde's companion, a girl with a massive ponytail, speaks from the window- she does not join the other two in their warm conversation, content with merely listening and occasionally quipping in every now and then.

"You have a point there,"

The mayor laughs.

"Ah, it's good to see you haven't lost your spark, Hilda. Still as abrasive as ever- it's a shame you've taken a break from the subway, Emmet thinks you're a wildcard."

Hilda rolls her eyes- but her companion smiles even brighter.

"Oh, she's been a delight to have around! I make sure she gets plenty of training done even while she's acting as my bodyguard in the field,"

"Bianca,"

"Sorry, sorry- that's for another time!"

Bianca giggles, setting down her teacup and tapping her fingers against the book on her lap.

"It's really nice to catch up with you, Mr. Alder. It's been, um, two years?"

"Two years."

Though the hue of the leaves remain the same, the winds have changed- his guests remain as they have, but the light in their eyes are different.

And speaking of guests.

"Where's your other friend? He was here a few minutes ago, wasn't he?"

"He went out for some fresh air," Hilda replies. "He's taking his Pokemon for a walk."

"The ranch outside of town is lovely- he told me he spent a good quarter of last year's spring season over there."

Alder's mouth makes an "o" shape as he recalls.

"He did, he did- how has he been, by the way?"

For all that she's chatted about today, Bianca finds herself unsure of what to say.

Finally, she picks a word.

"Different-"

And as predicted, Hilda immediately adds "-but better than before."

That's all Alder could ask for- and it was far better news than what he was expecting.

"Okay, that's good. I admit, I wasn't sure what they were thinking when they told me they wanted him in this position, but-"

He glances at the framed picture on the wall- one of him with a group of four youths, wide-eyed and brimming with potential.

"Perhaps you kids can dream of things us grown-ups can't."

He himself hadn't lost the will to dream- but with the reality before him, he had to set aside certain expectations.

That's what it meant to be the Pokemon Champion after all.

An air of melancholy hovers over them as the conversation takes a more somber route- Bianca looks down at her teacup, smile still present, but stiffer than what it usually was.

And Hilda, looking outside the window, speaks up again.

"Guess we're gonna lose that ability soon in a couple of years, huh, Beebs?"

"Oh, hopefully not, Hilly- not with the research I've been doing."

Alder spots an opportunity to talk about something else- this quiet, tense atmosphere was something he didn't want in his house after all.

"Oh? Working hard with Fennel too?"

"You bet! Say, do you wanna know about the effects of Dream Mist- beyond what we know now?"

As the conversation picks up again, Hilda sighs, back leaned against the wall as she gazes out into the blue sky.

They had a few more hours to kill before they were expected to head to Aspertia- and it wasn't like she hated hearing Bianca's voice anyway.

...

"I'm all set, mom!"

She hears the excited footsteps clamoring downstairs, the clicking of plastic and jingling of bells- a collection of keychains.

She exits from her chores in the bathroom, removing her rubber gloves- and is horrified to see the atrocity standing before her.

"Bye bye! I'll make sure to give you a call!"

"Now, wait just a minute!"

She grabs him by the scruff of his jacket, just as he's about to pass by her- and stares incredulously.

In the home of Marianne Blake, things were in an uproar- the day had finally arrived, when her only son would receive a Pokemon of his own from an esteemed professor.

Or at least, the professor's assistant- she was quite a busy woman, she could not be blamed.

Such should be a cause for celebration- but here she was, arguing with her child before he even stepped foot outside.

"Anak, you can't be serious," Marianne takes a good look at him, head to toe.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"What- anak,"

She rubs her temples, sighing deeply.

"What even are you wearing? There's a spare backpack for you to use, a much more protective cap- and is that a rash guard you're wearing under your clothes?!"

"I might want to take a dip! You never know!"

"Nathaniel, you better not be leaving the house like that!"

Through the argument, the small boy grinned mischievously at his mother's exasperation, his little cat-smile never leaving his face.

"Crazy, because that's exactly what I'm going to do!"

"Nathaniel!"

"Mamaaaa, who cares what I wear out there? This classifies as acceptable travel gear, you know!"

"Just because it's acceptable- go change into something else before you're late!"

Now came his whine- and his Lillipup eyes.

"You're making me run late here! What will Ms. Alabaster say? That I kept my future partner waiting because I was busy coordinating my outfit?"

She opens her mouth to argue- but groans.

"Ugh, fine, fine. Do whatever you like. I suppose if you think that's fit for travel-"

She looks down at the worn pair of crocs.

"-but at the very least, take these."

Her son tilts his head like a confused dog, wondering what else she has to give besides an additional scolding- but to his surprise, she digs out a box from underneath the staircase.

"I was saving this for your birthday, but since your journey is starting today, you might as well make use of it now."

Opening the box, she reveals a pair of red running shoes, ankle-length- the same ones she knew her son had been eyeing.

"Happy early birthday, Nathaniel- now put these on and go look for Ms. Alabaster."

"Mamaaaaa, thank you!"

He wasted no time settling into his shoes, tapping them against the floor as he felt himself almost standing in the air.

They were a perfect fit.

"Now, remember what I taught you-"

"Yeah, yeah! I get it!"

He opens the screen door with a bang- and promptly terrifies his family's pet Delcatty and her Skitty, awakening them from their slumber.

"Be wise with money, avoid shady characters- and have fun!"

"And come home when you're lost," She reminds him. "If you can't find your way forward-"

"Then I'll retrace my steps back from square one!"

Looking up at the big blue sky, he felt the first page of his journey being written for historians to see.

"Just my style!"

Sprinting out of his house with a loud cheer, Marianne leans against the doorframe with a look of worry- one that quickly melts once she realizes who exactly she is being fussy over.

Still.

From the distance, she hears him yelling.

"Look out, world! Nate's gonna take you by surprise!"

"Dragons,"

She shakes her head.

"Please make sure he doesn't get himself in trouble."

...

The bell of Floccesy Town tolls, it's chimes echoing throughout the area.

The Mareep bleat at the sound, and nearby Riolu peer front underneath the tall grass.

From within a hidden grotto, a figure wrapped in a gray cardigan prays in the shade of the trees-

And a gust of wind overtakes them, as the nests of Pidove and Tranquil resting on the branches soar to the skies.

They cover their face, steadying their ground,

And the ribbon wrapped around their collar unravels, carried by the wind.

[phoenix-d-shunko]

Whispering Inferno, Part 12

Some parts are low quality. Apologies beforehand.

In the dimly lit alleyways of the city, Zeke glared at the fake headquarters of the hero agency. Unbeknownst to his legions, this structure was a clever ruse designed to minimize damage while still satisfying the bloodthirsty desires of those who admired his destructive prowess. Frustrated and fueled by anger, Zeke decided to vent his wrath on the supposed hero sent to neutralize the threat – Galeon.

The night air crackled with tension as Zeke approached the fake hero agency headquarters. Zeke's eyes glowed with fiery intensity as he surveyed the scene, already calculating his moves based on battle intel and shady resources. Grant, a shadowy figure with a penchant for gathering information, whispered strategic insights into Zeke's ear.

"They're here, My Lord. Galeon's squad is formidable, but we have the element of surprise," Grant murmured into the comms, his tone calculated and precise.

"I guess I'll play with them before I make them do what I want... but then it's that arrogant fool," Zeke muttered, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, inside the hero agency's fake headquarters, Galeon, the charismatic leader of the superhero squad, gathered his team. The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"We divide into three. Team 1-Tempisol, Citlalin, and Cor Magia, you're with me. We'll weaken him to the best of our capabilities. Team -2 will step in only if we need backup. Ama, Cruift. Bring Valorian and Nocturna's clones with you. With that, we'll have a good number of hitters and support with healers. That should take care of Cimmerian. We'll hit them in the heart, and that should make those scum retreat," Galeon directed, his confidence radiating through his words.

"You're taking him way too lightly. It's the Cimmerian. There's going to be way more damage. And even if these buildings are fake, they still do have people in them," Amateral interjected, her frustration evident.

"Then form a team 3 and let Stella, Psyren, sound kid, and Lumi help with the boring stuff. It'll make the newbies look good in papers too," Cruift added with a smirk. The "newbies" could do nothing but swallow the humiliation.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Team 1, follow me." Galeon felt confident as he led his team to the dark streets turned into a battlefield. The Cimmerian stood alone, menacingly. Like he needed no one else against them. The fact annoyed Galeon deeply.

"You'll need more people if you want to storm the agency"

Zeke's cold voice cut through the air: "Hmm, I don't see anyone worthy enough of trying to stop me," he mused, irking Galeon even further.

"You'll know it after this hits you!" Galeon boomed. The skies tore apart instantly, clearing the way for a lightning bolt that crackled all around Zeke, engulfing him. Galeon had done exactly what he wanted him to do.

"Now to deal with the biggest threat here," Zeke muttered. With one swift movement, he dove towards Tempisol, charging with Galeon's lightning and impaled him in the stomach.

"Surprised, Galeon? Faraday cage, remember?" Zeke's cold voice cut through the chaos, leaving Galeon in shock. "Can't ever forget that annoying trick of yours," Galeon bit back, attempting to regain his composure.

But even as he put on a brave face, Galeon found himself unable to move. Citlalin caught his hesitation and summoned a crystal binding on the Cimmerian, turning towards Cor Magia, who was trying to heal Tempisol but to no avail.

"I can't... do it.... he's... he's The Cimmerian is so filled with anger.... I can't help but produce venom!!... I'll poison Tempisol if I tried healing him with a potion now!" Cor Magia almost screamed, his emotional vulnerability laid bare.

Citlalin knew Cor Magia was susceptible to emotions, but this was too much even from him. "How angry is this guy," he thought to himself and doubled the thickness of his bounds for good measure.

"At least someone's rightfully scared," Cimmerian taunted. "It's not the only thing I'll do," Citlalin replied, his voice still shaky, and launched a barrage of crystal shards at the Cimmerian.

Galeon finally breaking out of his fear-induced halt, conjuring wind blades and firing them at the Cimmerian from all angles. The Cimmerian, however, blocked every assault with hands bound with an ease that deeply unsettled Citlalin and made Galeon fume with anger.

"This got boring too quick," Cimmerian yawned teasingly. "Let's get to the point, shall we?" And with one quick motion, Citlalin's bounds were shattered into tiny glittering pieces, and in the next second, Galeon was pinned by the shoulder using a huge skewer, and Citlalin pushed to the ground, skewers sticking out everywhere.

"Now, I'm not here for you, Galeon. Bring me Incendra, and your squad can walk away intact," Cimmerian walked menacingly towards a writhing Galeon.

"I don't care what you want me to do. I'm not doing it," Galeon still spoke haughtily, refusing to yield.

"Could you not be stupid for once? I'm giving your squad a chance to walk away free. I'm asking so little of you," Cimmerian retorted, frustration tinging his tone.

Galeon just looked away in protest. Cimmerian took his chance to grab Galeon's comms. "Seriously, Ama, you gave up squad leadership to this?" With that, he took the comms and smashed it into pieces in his fist.

"Galeon...." A small voice cried out, breaking through the chaos. Both the Cimmerian and Galeon whipped their heads to see who it was.

"Do... what he says... he's too angry...." It was Cor Magia, his form huddled in a corner, emotionally shocked.

"What? No! Why should I listen to you? You idiot. You didn't even do anything," Galeon blurted out, offended that a squad member had dared to look down on him.

"... no... Nooooo... you made him angrier...." Galeon whipped his head back to see a snarling Cimmerian.

"He's right... you're scum. Hero? You? What a wicked joke. It's people like you... like you who leave injured civilians behind... like her, like that Incendra. You defeat the very purpose you seem to stand for!" Zeke wanted to knock the daylights out of Galeon, making his gauntlet heavier, wanting to leave a mark. A mark that would remind Galeon that even a villain took him for scum for ages to come. But at the very last moment, he felt his fist being held back. It was a strand of sunshine, melting his gauntlet off, slowly.

Amateral.

[supahsaucemann]

Destiny Is Never Left to Chance

Only those who have power can decide!

Xehanort Prime

Master Xehanort's superego, lingering desire for power, and deep hatred of Sora and the weak . . . incarnate . . . melted off the original after he defeat, claiming to be the TRUE Xehanort

Read Below for the Fanfic lore of Xehanort Prime

This is the Xehanort everyone knows and hates

This incarnation of Xehanort was "revived" by Brothmancer

Lord Buttercream was enticed by the drama and insanity of the Kingdom Hearts universe and created a sorta "Castle Oblivion-like" pocket dimension, created by the bad memories of the Sora's friends for his entertainment. He also used Xavier, a true hero of darkness, to stir up drama in this world, hoping to see Sora's friends go after Xavier for being the spawn of Xehanort and the Heartless, blaming him for Sora's fate.

Lord Buttercream tasked Dr. Brainfreeze and Brothmancer to study the KH world and it's secrets to make this "stage" possible. They created replicas of there own and two of them where the REAL Young Xehanort, who was timetraveling his was back after his "defeat" in KH3. With his hatred and envy of Sora becoming the "Child of Destiny" still buring in his heart and he memories of said hatred, Brainfreeze and Brothmancer use them to recreate the Master Xehanort we all know and hated, dubbed Xehanort PRIME!

This incarnation of the old master STILL has his delusions of grandeur, STILL wanting the power of Kingdome Hearts to remake the world. He also had all of his memories, includign the events of Dark Road. He muses of Aqua's hatred for darkness, comparing her to Vidar, and even berating Baldr from the beyond for being too weak to summon Kingdome Hearts. Xehanort Prime also loathes his old self for surrendering to Eraqus and relinquishing the X-blade to Sora at the end of KH3, denying it ever happened and claiming his "revivial" was all part of his plan for conquest.

First Phase: Dictator Of Destiny

The first form is his usual garb, but with occasional flaming arms and legs of pure light. In battle, a mini Kingdom Hearts is seen on his chest, similar to the Heartless symbol on Ansem SoD. He's eyes will also glow pure white, unlike his golden Heartless eyes, indicating this is NOT under the influences of darkness, but something far worse.

Second Phase: Symbol of Perfection

His second form takes the appearance of "Kingdom Hearts" with his ugly mug merged into it. This is NOT the real Kingdom Hearts, but a replica also created by the Light Order to fool Xehnanort Prime into thinking he's obtained it's power once again.

Third Phase: HeartBreaker

The final form is Xehanort's face, broken after the previous phase. Now enraged, light heart veins spread, forming the faces of the main seekers in the shape of a giant heart. Xehanort Prime becomes angry and childish, claiming to be the Child of Destiny, takes his anger out on Xavier and Sora's friends. He could summons the seekers and light versions of the Xehanort Replicas and Demon Towers, which Xavier could use against Prime to stop his rampage.