#not necessarily mourning the person but more so the fond memories

[airlockfailure]

This isn't a question about a specific OC, but I was wondering what kind of traditions your characters come up with as free men? Do they celebrate "clone" holidays, on dates that are significant, like the anniversary Fox defeated Palpatine? Do they develop wedding and adoption traditions? Just give me all the details please!

So you actually have a head canon I love regarding clone courtship and gift giving. Where a clone will present their love interest with an object of some significance and if the other person accepts it means they're accepting the courting. (I have butchered this summary.) Ever since you posted that, I've had it stuck in my mind that, yes, this is how clones might initiate courtship. I also like the idea of armor being incredibly important for them. A lot of the early ones were trained by Mandalorians after all, and I feel like a lot of those armor based, berserker fighter attitudes and traditions would trickle down, albeit through the filters of Kamino.

Which is why it's so significant for Fox to paint the armor of his shinies, and why it means so much to have them paint his when he's unable to do so. Swapping an sharing armor is an expression of love, maintaining someone else's is an expression of devotion, but it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic devotions. The context is important. Vaughn swapping his higher quality officer's armor with Sterling's faulty shiny armor in order to protect Sterling is a direct expression of romantic love.

Cue wearing his armor all the time, even when he doesn't have to is significant as well. He doesn't open up to people. He doesn't know how. By being allowed to remove his helmet, Delphi is symbolically allowed to intrude on that stoicism and self-restraint. He doesn't have to open up, because she will meet him where he is.

Knockout prefers to remain clothed, armored, etc. as much as possible, with the exception of medical personnel and Howzer. Knockout "playfully" hands over part of his cybernetic arm, which is both practical, because his lightsaber is in there, and an attempt at bridging the rift between them. "I trust you to hold onto what's important to me. It's not armor, but I still require it to function." And of course Howzer gives it back, but he didn't grasp the significance of the gesture because Knockout's older than him, and as I mentioned before, traditions learned by the older clones were filtered through the Kaminoans, who didn't want them to have anything for themselves.

Vaughn notices this more obviously with Sterling. Vaughn is one of the oldest clones, and Sterling (at the start of NAT) is one of the youngest. Vaughn behaves a lot more like a Mandalorian, and an individual, than Sterling does, to the point where Sterling doesn't even know how the clones mourn each other. (Otto later teaches him the Mandalorian remembrance customs.)

Embree found out the date of Dawn's decanting and decided it was going to be celebrated as his birthday. Embree remembers his own birthdays, and knows they're meant to be fun celebrations, and tries to replicate that with the help of the neighbors who are fond of Dawn. Dawn, in turn, plans Embree's birthdays, and they celebrate their children's birthdays as well. But a lot of the clones, unless they were exposed to cultures that celebrated birthdays, wouldn't know what that was, because they were created in labs.

As for holidays... I haven't given them as much thought. I know Fox would not consider his fight with Palpatine something to celebrate, it's a painful, terrifying memory for him. He would probably celebrate the end of the war itself, and the anniversary of clones being granted rights. I could also see Bail, as Chancellor, making both of these events official galactic holidays, so it wouldn't be just the clones celebrating.

Again, I think it would come down to what the individual clone has been exposed to. A line trooper with the 501st will probably celebrate whatever holidays Anakin Skywalker observes, if they ever witnessed Anakin observe any holidays, as they were at war, and I don't think Anakin is the type of person to put things on hold for a party. Ahsoka, who is more likely to notice troop morale, I could see teaching the clones about various holidays celebrated by the Jedi/on Coruscant. So within the Invictus AU, the 332nd clones know a lot more about holidays and celebrations in that context.

Fox was formally adopted by Aren as a Mandalorian, and when he and Riyo eventually adopt children, Fox will use the same Mandalorian custom for them. Pantoran culture is coming slowly out of feudalism (in my mind a strange mix of stuff from medieval Europe and feudal Japan), thanks in part to Riyo herself and Papanoida's desire to be more involved with the galaxy as a whole. Adoption on Pantora is more to preserve family lines and inheritance than it is about raising children and as such, the adoption of adults into failing family lines is quite common. With the growing of Pantora away from feudalism, that is slowly changing, because we all know how Riyo feels about protecting people who have no means to advocate for themselves.

A lot of the clones would want to adopt the cadets and tubies from Kamino. Most of the clones' experiences regarding nat-borns is negative, or at least neutral. It has always been that the clones look after each other, because they all recognize they can't rely on outsiders. Even after the war, among the former CIS planets, there is a great deal of anti-clone sentiment. And plenty of the loyal Republic planets believed clones were just droids shaped like men.

Commander Colt and Shaak Ti (along with the rest of the Kaminoan Security Team) are responsible for ensuring the cadets and tubies are adopted into homes that will actually protect and raise the clones, and aren't just some nat-born weirdos or heaven forbid, slavers. Anyone who is there for nefarious purposes is escorted out (sometimes arrested). This does mean that it will take a very long time to adopt out all the clones who need families. But as I mentioned, the clones have always taken care of each other, whether that group is small or large.

Uhh, and then my brain died. Time for more coffee LOL

[jennsmischievousmind]

Fucks not Found

One, but not done [END]

Ch1 Ghosts | Ch2 Florence | Ch3 A Matter of Seconds | Ch4 I need a Backdoor | Ch5 Die Hard | Ch6 White Flag | Ch7 Haunt the Living | Ch 8 One, but not done [end]

Seven sighed as One disappeared when it was time to pack everything "Is he always like that or is he just being purposefully annoying?”

“How the fuck would I know?!” Three slammed a crate on the ground, holding his back like an old man.

“Who?” you were all packing the mission’s gear in the Haunted House.

“One,”

“Purposefully, no doubt!” you chuckled.

Later you knocked on his trailer door,

"Old man, we have to talk,"

"Let me guess, you want a bigger trailer so you and skater boy could go at it, not gonna happen,"

"Hum .. not exactly, look I know it's the first rule you told us about, and we broke it, actually 4 of us broke it. We're human One,"

He sighed "I just.. need you to be focus on the job."

"We are fo-.."

"Getting shot prove that you were focus," he threw his phone on the desk

"Alright you got a point,"

"These numbers are for your own safety," he stated angrily "but I guess now it's all fucked up."

"Not necessarily, I mean, now we all know each other better, we have better bonds,"

"Tell me about it," you smirked at his saying "... actually don't," he furrowed his eyebrows as you chuckled.

"Think about it," you pointed out as you were stepping out "this team, could do so much more,"

He nodded and something snapped.

"Hold on," he rummaged through a drawer to finally hand you a silver key, his eyes changed for a second “Might be cliché but he would have been proud.”

Smiling slightly at One, you left to open your brother's safe.

There were photographs, a few envelopes with the same cachet and a P/O box address on it.

One of the photographs, in black and white yellowed by the time showed your Mamma and Papa at your age in front of the Coliseum, looking happy as ever, the warmth of their smiled enveloping you instantly. Another one with your Mamma in swims wear gracefully sat on the sand, holding both of you. You were so tiny, wearing terrible hats and frowning at the sun. You found yourself laughing, a tear landing on the envelope’s corner behind the pictures.

Setting aside those pictures, you flicked the envelope open. Eyes scanning the document multiple times you were not sure what you were reading. Palm against your agape mouth, you read the main text.

 “Dear Anonymous donator,

We would like to thank you for all these years of generosity. Your help has given access healthcare to people in dread need of it. With the help of caring people such as yourself, we have been able to afford the construction of a new volunteer centre, which will provide a facility to help maximize the amount of lives we can save.

Your last donation in date had us all profoundly touch and grateful.

We will never not be thankful enough. We wish we had a name to put on the facility’s wall. But we respect your privacy and so we’ll stop asking from now on.

All proceeds of your donations advance our lifesaving mission.

Thank you, dear anonymous donator.“

The tears blurred your vision until you couldn't see through it. He had found his anchor.

You cried, not of sadness but of proudness. For you he was still the kid throwing stones on the neighbor’s roof, the one who couldn’t sleep on stormy nights, the teen who cried when his crush rejected him. He was your anchor for years.

One paid you much more than you needed to live. You assumed now your brother had donated the payment. And all these years when he worked multiple jobs... it all became clear.

"You were the better twin, baby brother!" You mumbled to yourself.

Weeks later the Donations continued yet the anonymous donator had a found an alias.

Six

Passing by the pool you stopped once more before leaving the scorching desert until One would need you.

Weeks ago you brother was laughing at you on the other side of this very pool, these memories were gold now, they didn’t make you sad anymore, you grinned remembering him holding his chest while laughing on the ground, little fucker.

“Hey luv,”

“Hey,” he sat next to you on the edge of the empty pool

"So we're out?" His hand snaked around your waist bringing you closer.

"Not for now," you smiled thinking about this time spend with this weird squad, eager for a new operation.

“So where shall we go until next,”

“You're ready to stick with me? Are you mad?" He laughed as you touched his forehead for any kind of fever.

"Banged my head a few times yeah, but I'm pretty sure I'm mad...about you."

"God you spent to much time around One." He gently reached for your jaw turning your head to him, the blush creeping on your cheeks not helping to hide that you actually liked that he was ready to come with you anywhere, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

.

The warm air and sounds of busy streets of Italy passing through the ajar window woke you up. Looking at your watch on the bedside table you immediatly turn your back to it, snuggling back into Four's chest. Too early. The night was short.

"What do you say about Transylvania?" he mindlessly ran pattern on your back with his warm fingers.

"For what? Vampire retreat?"

"Hiking, but I can bite" feeling his teeth of soft spot on your neck you squirmed.

"Aouch, alright, we'll go to Transylvania tomorrow. I got to see my brother first."

He nodded, his smile sliding off.

"What?"

"I'm...I'm not really comfortable with...mourning," he played with your fingers on his chest avoiding your look "I ..uh.."

"Calm down babe," you straddled him, the sheet sliding down your bare body "I'm not asking you to come with me." You chuckled at his concerned face, and his lost of attention at the sight of your naked body.

He sighed, "You know he was like a brother to me..." you tilted your head watching him

"That would be weird.." you removed your hands from his

"shit no not a brother," he caught your hands putting them right back on his chest" a .. a best friend,"

"Stop talking," you leaned in, enclosing his lips with yours. His hands immediatly reached your tighs, you felt a shiver ran his chest as your finger brushed his skin from his throat to his navel. A firm squeezed on your thighs made you giggled, he was so easy to trigger.

He sat up, one of his arm tightly set around your low back while the other snake to your back, his hand holding the back your neck. A lovely mess of tangled limbs in silk sheet was all you were. You pushed him back on the bed, holding his hands up his head.

You nibbled on his earlobe, and chuckled when he groaned at the ministrations trying to fight your hold on him. He could easily removed himself from your grip, guess he wouldn't this time.

Finding your way down his neck, chest, navel ... taking your sweet time until you reach the point of no return. He gasped, his head lolling back on the pillow "God I love Italy,"

.

“Ciao brother” cross seating at the grave of his fake death, there were flowers already with a cup of mochaccino beside it, you laughed, only One person could have done that. Glancing at your own grave, you shivered at your name engraved in the marble stone.

You recall the all mission as if your twin was there listening to you, “This one is for you, and the next, and the next.” You breathe in feeling tears coming up, “I kept your cross," you scoffed, "you can thank Four for that. As long as I have it, I’ll have you, mammà and papa with me promise.” kissing the cross you left a single tear rolled down your face.

One knew how to be a ghost, perfectly, no one could trace him, anyone but you. .... The gps tracker in his watch helped. If he knew, he’d probably wouldn’t be happy, but hey he is your cash source can’t lose an eye on him.

“So, that’s your secret!” looking at the little boy in the playground whom looked like the man beside you.

“Shit! He jumped

“Hey,” you grinned leaning on the grid, sliding your shades down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be OUT of Italy?” he groaned

“It’s my homeland One, what’d you expect?” you pointed at your wig and shades “Disguise,”

“It’s always better than Three’s in Vegas,” He joked “You’re kicked out, it’s immediate,” He stated, not even believing it himself.

“Yeaaaah, I don’t think so,” you nudged his shoulder. A ghost of a grin appeared knowingly.

"Do you follow everyone, or are you my private stalker?"

"You really wanna know!?" You shifted on your two feet, he got the idea that everyone had a stalker in the name of Eight.

"Cleavers," you used his own line

"Shut up," he answered tired of your shit, resulting in you laughing a bit too loud.

Regaining a sense of calm you felt he was still uneasy about you seeing his son. “Your secret is safe with me old man,” He nodded a tight smile on his lips, and somehow he knew he could trust you.

“Haunted house, in a week.”

“Noted.” Saluting with two-fingers you took a few steps back still eyeing him with fondness, proudness, maybe not just a cash source in the end. He flicked you off, a bright smile spread on your face.

“Where’s Four by the way?” he called out

“Somewhere on the roofs, he can’t help it.”

He lifted his head, you took this time to disappear around the corner.

Calling Four you stumble upon his voicemail “Skater boy, you better bring down your cute ass. We’re heading back to the Haunted House in a week. Mission 2 is coming. Love ya!”

A week later

"Please don't,"

"One, I only hugged her for a second," you rolled your eyes. Five was still holding your shoulders.

"Tell me you're not going to freak out everytime two of us are close,"

Two had a grin on, Five was being clingy on purpose. It had been a month since you've seen everyone, except Four and One. You had missed everyone, Five especially, after the parkour lessons, the incident on the yacht you had become close friends.

"Hey squad," Four let his skate rolled until it hit a wall. He reached you kissing your cheek, then sending you a wink as he took a seat next to Three. You eyed One, holding a laugh, Five carefully removed her hands from around your arm. Four looked dumbfounded as One sighed, staring at you. He then flung his arms in the air.

"Fucking Millennials!"

Thanks to everyone who read, liked, commented on Fucks not Found. It was fun to write, let me know what could be improved, I'm still working on my english that's why everything is not perfect and quite limited. Looking forward a new story. Thanks again.

A/N: don't forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏

[mariuspunsmercy]

woodvale: the 3-act musical anthology

So I've been doing a lot of listening to both folklore and evermore and my theatre-junkie brain has crafted 3 different storylines composed of the songs from each album that all overlap in one big story - Woodvale: The 3-Act Musical Anthology. It tells the story of various heartbreaks and healings in a small town - 'cause to me, that's what these albums boil down to.

A few other things:

Though each story seems self contained, I picture the characters from different stories to be somewhat linked, by blood, acquaintance (i.e Dorothea, Inez, James are siblings, Betty is Ada's daughter, etc.)

The acts don't necessarily happen in a consecutive linear fashion (i.e there singular Coney Island trip where everything from each act unfolds)

Though each story seems self contained, I picture the characters from different stories to be somewhat linked, by blood, acquaintance (i.e Dorothea, Inez, James are siblings, Betty is Ada's daughter, etc.)

The acts don't necessarily happen in a consecutive linear fashion (i.e there singular Coney Island trip where everything from each act unfolds)

I've linked the playlists for each to the act title! I'd love to hear feedback, criticism, interpretations and thoughts - I plan to flesh out characters, plot, and maybe dialogue as much as possible, and even hope to get to thinking of staging.

ACT I: that's the thing about illicit affairs

the last great american dynasty - Abigail Lark, the bold and free-spirited 30 year old granddaughter of local historical celebrity Rebecca Lark, introduces the tiny town of Woodvale and Rebekah's legacy there.

cowboy like me - After getting caught in the storm on the way from buying her long term husband, Henry, a birthday present, Ada Lawrence runs into the down-to-earth Monroe Jacob at the neighborhood tennis court and the two... Share A Moment.

tolerate it - Ada finally arrives home and, like usual, is not greeted by the absent-minded Henry -she contemplates how much she is truly being valued in this relationship.

ivy - Weeks pass and Monroe shows up to the Lawrence household ... because he's the gardener Henry hired to fix their backyard for the next few weeks, and while Henry is preoccupied, Ada accompanies him out to the woods and they find themselves entangled with each other, more or less.

the lakes - Monroe and Ada have been secretly seeing each other for quite a while now, and tell each other how much they want to run away from their unhappy marriages together.

hoax - Este, Monroe's wife of 3 years, wonders why her husband has not been as physically or emotionally present in her life as of lately, and begins to come to a heartbreaking conclusion.

invisible string - Some time passes, and Ada and Monroe's affair continues, and they are incredibly happy together. Ada especially is putting all her faith in this man and is willing to risk it all for him.

no body, no crime - Este tells her best friend Abigail about how she thinks Monroe is cheating on her. After Este mysteriously disappears and a mistress begins visiting Monroe's house more frequently, Abigail takes it upon herself to avenge Este's heartbreak and death.

epiphany - Ada mourns the unexpected loss of Monroe along with all the others she had suddenly lost in the past - it doesn't get any easier.

mad woman - Abigail reflects on the gravity and consequences of her unhinged crime, but tells herself that this type of strength and vengeance is what her "take-no-shit" grandmother Rebecca would have wanted.

illicit affairs - While they're both at Monroe's grave, Ada finally comes clean to Henry about the affair, coping with the anger, memories, loss, and questions of morality - while Henry is just shocked.

coney island - Months later. Henry and Ada take a trip to Coney Island, separately - it's a nostalgic place for the both of them. They contemplate the apologies they would've said to each other if given the chance, while Monroe and Este's ghost linger in the air between them.

ACT II: what a shame she's fucked in the head

dorothea - After seeing her face on a movie poster around town, Sylvia thinks about how much she misses her longtime childhood friend and on-again off-again-lover Dorothea, who moved out of Woodvale to pursue acting after they both graduated.

seven - Weeks later, it's a bright summer day on Coney Island and Sylvia and Dorothea both run into each other. Sylvia asks Dorothea to hang out with her and calls upon all the fond memories they once had together, and it's clear that she still has some feelings for her - but Dorothea does not seem to want a relationship at the moment.

'tis the damn season - MONTHS later, over winter break, Dorothea finds herself back home at Woodvale to visit her family, and decides to message Sylvia to finally meet up - things escalate from there, and Dorothea decides to give her and Sylvia a chance.

peace - Dorothea finds herself unexpectedly falling deeper in love with Sylvia, but warns her that she has struggled with self-worth and mental health in the past, and that it may be difficult for them to have a "normal" relationship, and Sylvia understands and accepts this.

champagne problems - Some more time passes and Sylvia finally decides to propose to Dorothea - but she isn't ready - rejecting Sylvia in front of all her family, friends, and hometown.

my tears ricochet - Sylvia tries to cope with the immediate anger from the rejection from someone she had always loved, and Dorothea tries to cope with the anger towards herself for not being able to commit to a good relationship.

marjorie - Dorothea is overwhelmed, lacking support from her hometown, friends, siblings, and father (who had never really supported her love life anyway). She tries to find solace in what her late mother and best friend, Marjorie would think.

the 1 - A few weeks after the breakup, Sylvia is still trying to process her emotions and move on - why didn't it work out between them?

this is me trying - Dorothea takes the train back to Woodvale to apologize to Sylvia - ever since the fallout her mental health had declined, she stopped acting, and she moved farther away. She puts her honest self out to Sylvia, who's astounded and speechless - who acknowledges this apology while accepting that it wasn't the best for them to be together.

happiness - Dorothea and Sylvia separately reflect on their failed relationship, but somehow both know that they will heal individually over time.

ACT III: back when i was living for the hope of it all

long story short - Woodvale High school junior Betty has an unfortunate reputation of failed relationships and "sleeping around", but despite her bad luck with guys, she has finally found the handsome, popular James, who's she's been dating for a while and is incredibly happy with.

gold rush - High school senior Augustine runs into her schoolmate James, who she hadn't seen in forever, at the class Coney Island trip over the summer, and doesn't remember him looking that beautiful last time they talked...

mirrorball - Though Betty is thrilled to be in a new relationship, she is afraid that she'll mess this one up. She opens up to James about her complex worries, and James is reassuring but is secretly unsure about how to deal with this pressure.

willow - James begins seeing Augustine on the side, while still remaining in this relationship with Betty - juggling the two girls back and forth, unknowingly to the both of them, as they become further involved with him.

august - Augustine acknowledges her hopeless romantic attitude and how it's both helped her and hurt her in her relationship with James - then she finds out the truth about him and Betty.

betty - News of James cheating spreads around the school like wildfire, and James contemplates his mistakes, planning to go to Betty's seventeenth birthday party to try to apologize.

cardigan - After denying James' apology, Betty reflects on how used she felt upon hearing the news, and how she has been hurt once again by someone she trusted.

exile - It's been months now - at the winter formal, Augustine sees James, James sees Betty, and Betty sees but refuses to acknowledge James - but they are all hurting.

closure - Augustine receives a text from James, officially apologizing for what he did and checking in on how she is. She is reminded about how wrong she felt about being the person someone cheated on someone with.

evermore - It's December 31st, and James and Betty are in their respective homes, hyperaware of the lack of each other's presence to ring in the New Year together. Because they both acknowledge why the relationship failed, they can take this experience as a lesson to move forward and mature.

[quant-um-fizzx]

Relenting

Synopsis: James Barnes had always been sweet, until he wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, your mutual attraction took a turn. Now, you can’t tell if he’s playing with you or playing you. Then, fate forces some honesty.

Warnings:  Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader. Smut, Dub-Con (Sex Pollen, my friends), Language, (some) Angst, elements of stalking & emotional manipulation. Explicit, rough sex, slight anal play. Literally the most dirty talk I’ve ever written.

Word Count:  5900

If you’ve come here expecting the comedy erotica or angst I write elsewhere, this is not for you. 

This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s writing challenge from the prompt: “Just a little more, baby.” (How we got here from there, I’ll never know.) 

I’ve labeled this Dark!Bucky, but he’s probably more gray than dark. But not the soft, uses-all-the-bath-salts-when-you’re-out-of-town Bucky I’d consider more canon.  

 *****

No one can pinpoint when, nobody’s ready to say it out loud, but Barnes came back different. Off. 

Wrong.

Might’ve been that mission in the Midwest (of all places to find that kind of cult) or when someone got it in their fool head to send him to verify exactly what the stone status was on Vormir. Your money’s on the veiled gateway rift that sucked him in but spit two out; he’d beaten his wild-eyed spare and flung it back into the void the moment it’d lunged for you. 

Chances are it’s not a solitary event, but the culmination of everything. One could hardly blame him if it were. 

Whatever, whenever, he’s not the same. Speech now often sly, maneuvering. Manners slipping into predatory where they’d always been soft.

Sometimes, you think you’re imagining it - cold glint like metal chips in ice eyes - that maybe you only see him differently because of failed romance. 

Now, he delights in flustering you. Taunting and near cruel one moment. Playful, protective the next.  Makes it nearly impossible to get a read on him. 

You find, in spite of your better judgement, uncertainty is its own kind of clever seduction. 

“Hey, I know this isn’t really my business, but whatever happened there?” Bruce inclines his head toward where Barnes stalks by outside the lab windows. His second pass since you started to prepping vials for transport. Dark, rough strides. He slips out of view and the lab seems colder. Sleek, sterile.  Your mind conjures up memories of sandalwood on fleece, in stark contrast to the lab’s xylene and bitter almond air. “Everyone thought you two were a good match.”

You smile, wistful. Mourning. “I had hoped so, too. But,” you sigh, “what makes good theory does not necessarily work in practical execution.”

Banner tsks. “Shame. Ever since you came on board, you both used to get along so well. Even now, he still looks at you like you ought to be picking out curtains.”

You scoff. “‘Used to get along’ until he...never mind. Whatever Sergeant Barnes might really want, it’s not that. And definitely not that with me.” He’d made that perfectly clear.

Suddenly, as if he’d heard you - but he shouldn't have, couldn’t have - Barnes pauses outside. His glance locks on your eyes. You fumble and clink the glass against the tray’s edge. 

Bruce shakes his head, gently using a tremendously large, green hand to steady the tongs you hold. “Careful there. Breaking that in here? Could’ve been ugly.”

“Doctor Banner,” you say, placing the final vial in its slot and trying to shift your attention from the man outside, “your report indicated that universal precautions were sufficient for international transport of these ‘classified contagion’ samples. As I have committed to hand-carrying them, despite possessing insufficient clearance to be privileged with details, if it would be best to utilize hazmat gear and airborne pathogen protocols, not only would I appreciate a full disclosure I would consider it your due diligence to do so.”

He nods. “You’re right. You’re right. It’s really an unknown at this point. I’m just being cautious. Using any iteration of the Hulk as a guinea pig is a scenario I strive to avoid.”

“Fair enough.” You click the lid closed, the half dozen tubes of churning red haze goo nestled securely inside. “Do I wait there for test results?”

“Nah,” Bruce says, already on the way back to his microscope. “Thorough runs could take longer than we can spare you here.”  

Smiling, you return your lab coat to it’s hook, smooth your hair, and give the station a once-over, making sure everything has been completed properly. This also serves as a welcome delay to going out those doors and encountering the long-haired enigma who has plagued your thoughts for longer than you care to admit.

“On second thought,” Banner says, peering up over the eyepiece. “She could have a prelim synthesis to send back in no time. Their tech is so different.” 

Taking a deep breath, you gather your gear and subtly check if Barnes is still nearby. Being off-kilter around him, while handling what you suspect is more dangerous than Bruce is letting on, is the last thing you need. 

Being around Barnes doesn’t feel cordial the way it used to. Warm banter that had felt safe.  

You can’t get a read on him, aren’t sure how you feel around him, about him. 

You don’t love him. Probably easily could.

You might fear him. Probably, definitely should. 

You do...care.

Lately, day in, day out, he’s there. Stalking along the periphery, a shuck peering out from woodlands.

He’s charming, affable enough for everyone else’s comfort. He used to be with you, too. 

Even in a crowded room, he  - sullen growl of a man - used to seem alone. The kind of alone that oozes off a person, rolls out from his shoulders. Used to it. Accustomed to it.

Trust only it. 

When you first tried - heart in your throat and skin gooseflesh - when you first stepped up to that guy, part matinee idol, part drive-in backseat rogue, he’d turned in on himself. Tried to force his large frame to disappear. Behind his barriers, he’d just watched you. Wary. Accessing.

But the next time he’d been holding the wall up, ale bottle in loose metal grip, you didn’t have to look for an opening. He’d lifted his chin and inclined his head toward chairs.

After that, the pair of you could be found engaged in long, private conversations. Content to let whatever ruckus go on around you. Foreheads nearly touching. Fingers not-so-casually brushing together. Your stomach flutters at the memory.

Now, his attention makes the hair on your neck stand up at least as much as it travels down your belly, between your thighs. Puts you on edge, mouse batted between paws. 

When you exit the lab, he’s waiting. Leans his back against a column, arms folded. Legs crossed at the ankles, pants taunt were they wrap around his thighs. His eyes flick to you, his only perceived movement. “Whatcha got there, Red?”  He draws each word out as if puffing smoke.

Your eyes go wide before you can stop them. Left corner of his mouth ticks up, goal met. 

The nickname startles you for a moment. It always does. He dusts the name off, digs it out once in awhile, just when you’ve almost forgotten. When you’ve let your mind scab over that single, awkward date. Forgotten how once upon a time, even his team thought you’d “be good together” and made that final push to fix you up. 

It had been right after the rift clone incident. If you’d not been so caught up in him - that red warmth that unfurled in your chest - you should’ve known. Paid attention to his shift, his change. The tragedy of it all.

You’d worn a crimson silk column dress, French twist, Replique dotted on pulse points. 

He’d worn black jeans and blood-dirt under his nails.

Peering at you over his menu, he’d dropped it down and motioned between you both. “You took this seriously, huh?”

Only just enough to have waxed everything reasonably prudent. 

Crestfallen, your shoulders dropped. Clearly, you thought, you’d misread the prior conversations, his lingering looks, mistakenly thought he returned your interest.

Cheeks on fire, you’d started to fold your napkin and push your chair back. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. I won’t take up any more of your time. You may return to the Olympic-level brooding of which you are so fond and I will retire for the evening.”

He’d thrown his head back, barked what might’ve been a laugh. “You’ll ‘retire for the evening?’“ Shook his head. “Red, you’re too much.” He grabbed a waiter - not ours, but Barnes didn’t let that stop him - “Bring us that special and a bottle of whatever makes uptight dames spread their legs these days.”

You sat still, mouth open, staring at your fork. 

He reached out, took your hand in his. Seemed to apologize with his eyes. They held yours, sky fading into sapphire. Held you without touching you. 

You look up behind lashes. “Dinner is just...we can have a good time. Talk.”  

“Yeah, let’s have the Blue Plate. See how it goes.,” he said. 

Then, the air had shifted, when he seemed...vulnerable...he pulled away. 

By the end of the night, the pulse pounds in your ears. You’d talked and laughed and when he walked you home, you knew you’d invite him in. You’d always known.  

He’d walked you to your door, eight-to-ten now-uncharacteristically chivalrous inches between your bodies on the way up the steps. Single bulb buzzing overhead. The key had proven elusive. Always on its ring and placed in the back pocket of your purse, your shaking fingers had let it slip down somewhere in your bag. 

He stepped in closer behind you, looking over your shoulder, breath passing over the shell of your ear. “You need a hand there?”

You jolted up straight, back bumping into his chest. “Thank you,” your voice cracked, “but I think I can manage unlocking my own stupid door.”  You inhaled sharply through your nose. “Excuse me,” you said, sounding mousy even to your own ears. “I didn't mean for that to sound so rude.”

“You didn’t, hmm?” He hums, breath slipping down your neck and he wrapped his right hand low around your waist.

“No,” you swallowed hard. Your skin on fire under his palm. 

“So, you’re saying you would like a hand...” He whispered, smoothing cool fingers down along the space between your hip and thigh. 

Limbs shaking, desire and curiosity and confusion swirling in your veins. You tried to find your voice, leaned against his chest’s blister strum. Shuddered as another warm breath huffed over your skin. 

“Y-yes.”

He spun you and you found your back suddenly against the cold, wooden door. His face hovered, lips barely an inch above your own. 

“As much as I think you think you want this.” He traced your collarbone, eyes burrowing into yours. “As much as I enjoy hearing your heart race.” His finger dipped inside your neckline, under the edge of your bra, skimming pebbled flesh. You shuddered, worried some neighbor might be looking, but unable to tear your gaze away from his. 

“Today’s your lucky day, Red. I am gonna leave ya jus’ the way I found ya.” He pressed himself against you, thigh wedged between yours. “‘Cause, if I stay here on this porch one more minute, with you an’ your wide eyes, smelling like sins you don’t begin to understand…” Stubble grazed your cheek. He hummed, words hot and heavy in your ear. “I think I’d ruin you.”

You wanted to grab his hand and hold it there. To ask him in and show what he did to you, to prove to him...to yourself...that this could be good. Special. Right.     

“You wouldn’t ruin me. I - I trust you, ” you squeaked, instead. Tentatively closed that fractional space, brushed your lips against his. 

He didn’t let it become a kiss. “You misunderstand me.” He moved back a bit, pulled his arm free and ran knuckles down between you, tracing your chest and then grabbing tightly around your waist. Pushed you, a quick snap, deeper into the door.

“I want to.”

Then, he’d bound off the porch and down the steps before the night air had even cooled your skin. Calling out behind him as he cut across the grass, “You aren’t ready, little girl.”

His words play back every night as you fall into fitful sleep.

Now, he looks at you knowingly. Like he knows where your mind was, that shared flickering old film reel memory.

You hold up the vials and manage a small laugh. It’s short. Belies your nerves. 

“Oh, I - I have some things to deliver to Shuri. To Shuri’s lab.” 

“Shuri’s lab.” He says, mouth moving as if rolling around an invisible hay straw. He still leans, unblinking, trained on you. 

A moment of silence as he considers you. Electricity buzzes across your skin. Words rush out of you to fill the void. “Shuri’s lab. In Wakanda. Shuri’s lab.”

His eyes crinkle, pleased as you stumble over your words. “Yeah, I’m familiar.” 

Of course he is. You’re supposed to be smarter than this. 

**

Across the hanger, Clint performs his pre-flight checklist. 

“Change of plans,” he calls out, back still turned to you. “Laura’s got me roped into filming a play tonight.”

“Okay,” you say, unable to fault her for wanting to keep Clint as retired as possible. “I need to put these samples back on ice then.” You start to head back when a shadow emerges from inside the jet. 

Clint says, dryly, “You’re going. Looks like I'm still the only one around here who doesn’t have a Wakanda stamp on my passport.”

Barnes peers down from the quinjet ramp, takes the checklist, and winks. Your stomach drops. 

Clint claps him on the shoulder. “Say ‘hi’ to those damn goats for me.”

Once inside the jet, Barnes gestures toward the insulated box you carry. “That it there? What did Barton call it? Funky Cold Medina?”

Of course. Yes, naturally. That’s exactly what it would be. Aphrodisiac Pheromones. Sex Pollen. 

The mystery of why evil organizations frequently leave a cache of screw-or-die juice sitting around abandoned complexes for wandering bands of Do-Gooders to uncover is as baffling as why they consider rampant libido to be a great offensive strategy in the first place. 

Nodding curtly, acting unruffled by the news, you brush past him and secure it in the cooler. 

**

The plane is at cruising altitude before either of you speak again.

“How long has it been since you’ve been to Wakanda?” You venture, throat tight.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, never looking away from the sky, then answers, “Haven’t been back since Strange showed up.”  He pauses, then continues, “Used to have a nice place there. Best view. Sunsets over still water.” Leans slightly out of his seat in your direction. “I think I wanna take you there.”

A smile comes over you, wide and almost hurting your cheeks. This glimpse of how he’d been, hope tingles along your arms. 

“I’d love that.” And you would. Have him let you in, return to where he’d been and who he was.

“Sure thing,” he says, voice lilting out on a devil smirk. “I could take you there. It’s...secluded. Make you scream.”

“Why do you do that?” The tingles take on a different tenor. 

“Do what?” He sounds believably innocent in the way a prostitute dresses up like a nun. 

You fidget, nails scratching a foreign itch on your palms, and chastise yourself, reminded again why it’s better when you don’t get your hopes up. Don’t act on your urge to spend time with him.  Your once almost more-than-friend...your wishful thinking...seems gone for good. Now, when he comes around, it feels like finding yourself suddenly teetering on a high ledge when you’d expected grass between your toes. 

“Why must you be so...so, crude?” 

“It is. I am. That’s the point though, isn’t it?  You like it,” he says matter-of-factly, looking you up and down, “Hell, you crave it. And that’s what’s got you confused, all tied up in knots.” He turns in his chair, arms bent and leaning on his knees, casual, is if he was discussing new coffee in the common room or a cell phone plan. “Because you’re stuck thinking the goal is a fella wife-ing you up,” he snorts.

“Hell, Red, you’re still stuck thinking you want a guy grunting on top of you Tuesdays from 9 to 9:10 with a meatloaf pan soaking in the sink.” He shakes his head. ”You have hangs-ups and I’m not gonna play along with them like that boring ass agent you wasted time on.”

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop trying to scare me.”

He blows out a lungful of air. “It doesn’t scare you. That I could just take it. That I could have you - have you in all the ways that you won’t let yourself think you want. The thoughts you kill before you can admit them in the back of that beautiful mind of yours. I could have you every one of those ways. But, that’s not how I want it. Not how I want you. What scares you,” he says, leaning in. “What scares you is, that I won’t. I won’t let you keep fooling yourself about what you really want. 

“You know, deep down you know, that’s not how it’s gonna happen. You gotta admit what you need.”

He inches a little closer. “You’re gonna have to beg.”

Your heart stops, eyes unblinking. “You’re wrong.”

“No,’ he says, returning to the controls and beginning your descent. “No, you’re wrong - and I’m a different kind of wrong. I’m so wrong that I’m the only thing right.”

Your head pounds. Stomach lurches as the plane breaks beneath the clouds. “You used to be my friend,” you half-mumble, staring down at your knees. “Sweetheart,” he punches the word out, saccharine-sweet, “I was never meant to be your friend.”

**

Silence stretches out for several more minutes. Only the engine’s hum, lull and dense, barely bats at the thoughts raging in your mind. Barnes’ words, his presence, suffocates you. Even strapped securely in his pilot seat, it feels like he’s crushing your lungs.

The plane lands in an outlying region. 

“I should be back by four,” you spit, container swinging wildly from your fist. The walk is probably twenty minutes from here and you relish the idea of having the quiet to process things.

“Orders are I make sure you’re safe.” He falls in step.

You spin and push a single finger into his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Your services are not needed, Barnes.”

“Don’t be like that,” he snaps, serious. “Just because you’re pissed at me for saying shit you don’t wanna hear, don’t put yourself in danger.”

“Danger? I think I’m infinitely safer out here. It’s Wakanda, the most advanced place on the planet!” You sweep your arms wide toward the city in the distance, towers like exclamation points jutting out of fields. “I’ll be fine. Besides, the plane could have flown directly to the palace but you’re the one who elected to land way out here.”

He pushes his hair out of his face, holding it up and off his neck. You notice the curve, the warm, inviting color of his skin. He looks out toward the trees, calm as anything, like your outburst never happened. “Guess I can check out the old stomping ground.”

Fighting the urge to flip him off, you march down the ramp, leaving him standing there. “By all means. Go have congress with a goat for all I care.”

**

Mid afternoon, as soon as you break the tree line on your return, he emerges from the woods. Appears freshly bathed in the river, mane wet and loose, shirt clinging to his frame. 

“After you,” he smiles, wolfish, and bows exaggeratedly, inviting you to go first up the ramp. 

Your eyes narrow, but you climb inside anyway. 

Suddenly, coming around from behind you, his hand reaches for the biohazard bag containing the single tube Shuri had sent back.

“What are you doing?” You snatch the bag away, crushing it to your body.

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Begging your pardon. Just trying to be a gentleman and carry your bag.”

“Knock it off, Barnes. If you’ve got a predilection for hearing every woman throw themselves at your feet, you can satiate it someplace else.” 

“Oh, I can. Just don’t wanna.” His eyes narrow on the bag and he wrenches it out of your grasp, tosses it unceremoniously into the cooler and slams the door 

You watch the cooler as if the door might burst open and the horny wrath of Hell take flight about the cabin.  When it remains undisturbed until Barnes completes the pre flight rituals, you finally allow yourself to breathe a little deeper and turn away from it.  

“And you wound me,” he croons, spinning his seat into position. “It’s not every woman.”

You roll your eyes, strap in, and swear you’re never giving him the satisfaction of hearing you speak again. 

That resolve, among other things, breaks over the Atlantic.

The air fills, flowery. Like a florist’s shoppe - oh. Oh, god no -  so many scents it feels fake. Cloying and sweet. 

“Wha-What is- we need to land!”

He holds his hand up toward the windshield, water as far as the eye can see. “No problem. Just shout ‘ahoy’ when you spot some dirt.”

You fling aside the belt and run toward the cooler.  Viscous sludge flows slick as mercury on the floor around it. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Barnes yells from the cockpit. 

You start rummaging through cabinets, looking for something, anything. “Maybe I can dilute it, cut the effects.” You open the cooler and pull the bag out. It’s ruptured, the vial broken and plastic cut, or eaten away by the chemical, it’s hard to tell at this point. 

“By touching it?!” He punches in codes hard enough the key clanks echo. “Stop, just - just wait. Wait two seconds until I can find out what’s what.”

You fling the near empty bag at the back of the plane. “You! You did this on purpose!” The plastic thumps, hollow against the metal door. A roaring, mute thing.

Barnes shakes his head once, hisses between clenched teeth, “You’re the one who smashed it against their chest.” 

Then, he cleanly switches tone - deep and clear - speaking into his earpiece. “Banner. Yeah, we have a situation here.

“The package Shuri sent back has been compromised. We’re mid flight, no safe place to put her down. Need to mitigate effects. Please advise.”  He pauses, presumably listening to Bruce, then purses his lips. “Nothing? Banner, are you sure?” Turns again, gives you a gauging look.

This can’t be happening. Can’t. You start to shake, knees going out from under you.

He keeps his eyes on you, touches the earpiece. “Nothing. Understood. Barnes out.” Then rips it off and throws it hard enough to shatter.

A thousand thoughts swirl at once. Is it really going to work? How long do you have? What if you go at it like rabbits who just got out of prison and then have to face him day-after-day? What if it works on you both but he resists? 

Preemptive humiliation, clawing feral behind your ribs, the terror of possibly being rejected if you, if you...finally admit...

Then, Barnes is there, crouched down beside you, offers you his hand. You wave it away. 

“Doll,” he says, soft, like one might coax a fawn to take berries. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sniffling, you shake your head. 

“C’mon,” he says softer yet and backing up, giving you space. “Get out of that. Come, sit.” 

You look down and realize the liquid is seeping toward you. Some on your leg. Scrambling past him you make it to the other side of the cabin and slump back down to the floor. He moves away from the spill, but keeps his distance, placing himself on the other side of the aisle. 

“Why?” Betrayal pours out of you.

He sits down on the floor opposite you. Legs bent and knees up, hands clasped and hanging between. “You gotta believe me, the very last thing I want is something happening between us that’s not real.”

You stare at him. He seems so genuine in this moment. But, you force focus, because this is how he always is, right before he pulls the rug out from under you.

When you don’t reply, he breaks the silence again. “Besides, maybe it doesn’t even work. Hasn’t kicked in already. That’s a good sign. I’ve been around that type of shit before,” he pauses, looking off to the right, unfocused on something that isn’t really there, remembering some horror you don’t want to contemplate. “It’s not always so bad.” He shrugs, picks a string off his pants. “Even if it is, if it is...bad, I know I can hold off.”

You can’t look at him. Not when his voice is soft and his words are kind and he reminds you so much of the man you fell...the man you...

dammit.

He gets up slowly. Checks the autopilot. Eases back down where he was. Boots scuffing out in front of him along the metal floor.

“Did you mean what you said?” You venture. He just raises his eyebrows. “When you said you wanted something real with me-with us?” You elaborate, barely audible. 

He clears his throat, rearranges himself on the floor. Stares off at nothing. “Why else would I hold off all this time? At first, sure, I thought you were interesting enough. Probably good for letting off steam.” He looks to you for a moment, then away again. “Then, you just sorta snuck in. Took over. You and your little button up sweaters.” Gives a little chuckle. “Fucking seduced me with your cardigans and ‘Nova’ recaps.” 

Mulling it over, you start to ask, “Then, why do you-”

“You know why.”

He blows out a lungful of air.  “Because I’m not settling for half-ass. Never had much. But they always find a way to take even more.” 

So torn up in your own stupid fears - selfish, petty girl - you never thought about his lot in this. A sob punches out of you. Made and unmade. So many times. Here’s another time, one more damned time, he faces control of himself being torn away.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into your hand. Eventually, he swipes a tear from your face. 

He scoots back away. But his touch...lingers. He watches you trace where he’d been, little lightning strikes that turn and shift, then burn. Burns past your skin, thrums in your veins.

“It’s happening.”

“Nah, Doll. We’re halfway home, we’re not gonna do anything we don’t want to do.” 

His voice, coffee rich and smoke, settles in your belly. Your hips clench, rock. You think, this must be the cusp, there’s more to come, but you want to tell him, show him...feel him before you’re so far gone it’s a blur.

Hazy want swirls around him, poppies and violets and jet fuel in the air. Your hand sneaks up under your shirt, the rough outline of it juts out over your breast. He’s sitting up now. Licks his lips. 

“I can’t - noooo,” you say, breathless. It’s scorching now. Boiling, latent want bubbling up. You pull your shirt off, burning.

“I can’t wait,” you plead. He looks so good, always looks so damned good. “I don’t want to wait.”

His back goes straight. Muscles tense. Ready to pounce. 

“Not like this.” His breath has picked up. “Not if you think you can tell yourself later that it was chemicals talking.”

“You want real, Barnes? I’ll give you real,” you purr. Stretch out lythe before him. It’s not so bad, but you know it will be. “I do want this. I want you. Always have.”

He smiles, crooked, but doesn’t move. “That’s nice. Real nice to hear.” Watches your hand go under your clothes, between your legs. “That’s not enough. I could’ve had you back then. Back on your porch. Had you a couple times. Taken the edge off. Maybe gotten it outta our systems. But,” he stops for a moment, seeming to reconsider when you moan as you slip between your folds. He palms the hard length of him. “that’s not enough. I want all of you.”

Electric yearning rolls your shoulders, pressure between your legs frustrating. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what?” He shifts again, watching you, sweat forming on his brow. Fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t want to date you, Red. Don’t wanna be your boyfriend or any fucking trivial thing like marriage.” Stares you down, blue boring into your soul. “I want more than that meaningless shit.”

Your mind is nothing but the want of him - broad shoulders, his gravel-tired voice, the thick of him. 

Skin on fire with tremors. “Anything you want, Bucky. Everything. Please. I just, just-” you moan, a twisted mess on the floor before him. Voice a shuddered breath.  “You’re right. I want you everywhere. Mark me up. Show me - show me you own me.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Then, he’s there. Hands holding your jaw, angling you open, tongue a deep slide. He breaks free, swallows your breaths, presses his head to yours. 

He’s out of his clothes while you fumble with what’s left of your own. They start to rip. “Shush. Let me.” Deftly, he undoes them, sets you free. “You need to wear these later. No one gets to see but me.” His eyes sparkle mischief until the thin sky edge gives way to black.

Cool fingers slide inside you. One, then two. Curl and pump, wet and obscene. Moments and, you’re there. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna come.”

He doesn't let up. “Yeah you are. Give it to me.”  Your head falls forward, clinging, hanging on through a silent scream, wet rushes past his wrist.

“My turn,” he snarls. Towers over your, pushes a finger past your lips, hooks it around you cheek, and pulls you to his cock. Pressure and he angles your face up, finger replaced by thumbs at each side pulling your mouth wide - drool pooling - and pushes the tip onto your tongue. 

You give a tentative lick. Try to work the girth of him while he holds you open. “Look at me,” he says, hair a veil framing his face. “You can do better than that. Don’t hold back.”

You keep your eyes on him, nudge his hands away, work him halfway down, salty musk on the back of your tongue. 

“This ain’t about you being passive, Sugar. Come on. Show me what I do to you. Fucking treat me right,” he growls, grabs your head and shoves as you gag. “I didn’t spend months coming in my own hand, thinking about you, biding my time - waiting to do this right - for you to barely-” 

Fast, determined, almost angry, you swallow him down as far as possible, eyes wet and blurred.  Find the spot behind him, between his legs, warm, heavy, and rub in tight ovals. “Fuuuck - yesssss.” He twists your hair in his hands - holding you in your place. 

“That’s it. Oh god, Sugar, you didn’t just come up with that. What else you got hiding, waiting to show me? So fuckin -“ he shudders as you massage him more, pinky brushing farther back. 

He laughs, surprised. “Dirty girl.” He pulls out, then wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing himself there as he pushes back in. “You got the sweetest goddamn throat.” Thrusts while you run your circuits until he empties himself, head thrown back and thighs straining.

He moves faster than should be humanly possible, unfurls his jacket over the floor grid, and pulls you over it. Wads his shirt under your knees.

“Floor’s hard,” he says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I only want you feelin’ me.”

“Spread.” He smacks your ass with a sting.

You obey, arch your back, offer yourself. He dives in with his mouth, tongue in deep. When he starts to thumb your clit, constellations bursting behind your eyes, you stop him. “In me. I want to come with you inside me. Only with you inside me.”

He smiles, face slick with you. Straightens, grabs your hips and pulls you to him as he starts his slide in. 

You mewl, palms flat and fingers splayed. Try to relax through the stretch and drag, strain to take the rest of him.

He runs his hand over your spine. “Just a little more, baby,” he coos. “Fuck. Look at you. Takin’ me so good.

“You’re mine. The moment I heard your heart race, you were mine. When I made you wait, you were still mine. When I told you to beg for it and you did, you were mine. When I told you to spread your legs and you did it, you were mine.” He makes a final push, fully seated, sharp spark at your end. Holds you there, pulsing. Then, pulls out long, begins again. 

It’s everything you ever wanted. He was so right. So, so right and you can’t believe you waited for so long and you really need to thank Shuri for not inventing vibranium test tubes. 

“When that bastard wearing my face looked at you, looked at you like he had the right, that’s when-”  He moans long and low, makes a particularly full stroke, air sucking through his teeth. 

“That’s when I knew. No other man could have you. Even if that man was me.”

His hands dig into your hips. Anchoring you. He holds you open, watching. Cold thumb follows the line down the center of you. Stops above where you meet. Pad runs over where you’re tight and untested. 

“Pleeeease,” you keen. You need him. Need him everywhere. 

His hips falter, finesse sacrificed to curious need. 

“Has anyone been in here before?”

“No,” you mewl, debauched, wanton. 

His pace picks up. Harder, slamming, sting against cervix. “I need in there. Fuck. Sugar, let me in.”

Beyond words, you tilt your hips and push back, forcing him in knuckle deep.

“Only me,” he roars. “Promise me. Swear.” He angles over you, spreads you out, chest crushing to the floor. His free hand finds your neck. Pins your down. Breath harsh beside your ear.

“You. Only you.” You come, crying and clenching around him in all the places he is within. 

He pulls out. Kisses your face as he lifts you, turns you to him.

He settles between your waiting thighs - surrounds, nuzzles in, taking in your scent - until there’s nothing you can see, or feel, think, that isn’t him. 

Then he stills. Then watches. Then breathes.

Brushes his warm hand along the curve of your face. Presses a kiss, pillow soft. Weight pinning you down. He pushes fully back in, his head breaking skyward as you take him. 

Hips rolling full - the drag and curve brings him to your chest. His tongue slips along you breast, seeks and teases. Licks and pulls you in. 

His hands wrap around your thighs, anchors you, opens you up. Kisses deep and pushes in, until you’ve run out of you and he’s run out of him.

“Fuuuck, you feel so good. I knew you would. Thought about you every fu- every fucking day.” 

He stops for a moment, beaming down at you. You realize you were the one talking.   

“That’s my girl.” 

Then, he’s moves, ruts, whispers faint praise into your skin. Low. Can’t quite hear.

And you want to hear.

You want to taste his secrets and feel his sounds and listen to his mouth on you.

You push up into him, hard, matching him. You explode again, suddenly. 

“Fuuuuck.  He swells. Rhythm falters. Marks your walls. 

After, you tuck into his side, both of you curled up on the floor. His face is finally relaxed, serene. You press your lips above his heart.

“Bucky, I want you to know, I wanted this, I will always want this. I am yours. It wasn’t just the chemicals.”

He kisses the sweat and tears from your face. Tucks your hair behind your ear. “I know, Red, I know,” he says, eyes sparkling, voice sincere, “Bruce said there was ‘nothing’ to worry about. That wasn’t the pollen - that was just the antidote.”

[alkhale]

Alkhale, i always like your story very much. You're story inspire me to make a story, can you please tell me an advice how to make an ocs, the story and character to?

thank you for liking my stories

- a lot of my stories start out from a really huge adrenaline rush of desire to write just this one scene. I think of what kind of person I would need to see that scene fulfilled and I’ve had these moments driving home from work or in the shower or in the middle of eating cup noodles at 3am watching low-budget horror movies!

I’d ask yourself a few key questions first before creating your character:

- Do you need this character to fulfill a certain role/change something in the story?

- Or did you make this character and now want to implement them into this world?

Either one of these is totally fine, but it kind of helps you figure out what you might need to work on. Say, if there’s something about a storyline you really loved or wanted to change, you might be considering making a character that fits a role that will smoothly build up to that specific moment. If it’s the other, you have a lot more room to build and create someone, and you don’t necessarily need to consider the world they might enter, because I find it a bit more organic to make that character first then consider how they would interact in this world, give them a better sense of self, don’t craft them specifically for certain characters.

- Appearances are always pretty free game, I tend to go with more neutral colors like black and brown, but I really like white hair and used to have a huge thing for ginger. I think hair colors can actually be pretty colorful as long as it makes sense in their world or maybe its dyed for a reason! Have a lot of fun with this, go diverse, and don’t focus really hard on making sure every detail of your character is revealed in the first paragraph. Start slow, give us bits and pieces to put the character together and if anyone asks for a detail description, you can put it at the bottom!

- I tend to make my OCs fairly different from myself, but give them pieces of things I’d be able to relate to (liking food, one character likes rain, the other likes this etc.) because it helps me consider why they might like it and if that affects their character at all

- Usually I build up the character around a few key actions they would take or characteristics, for instance, I’d say building Fuyu, I wanted a pretty short-tempered person, someone with a rough way of speaking who wasn’t really honest with themselves–but doing this, I asked myself what Fuyu would do if a woman dropped all her things in the street in front of her. 

Fuyu before and early into the story would’ve stared, watching a bit, hesitating and wanting to help, but not actively helping herself. She might even snap at the person who bumped into the woman, but still not help the woman herself. Fuyu now would focus on helping the woman first. What changed the character to get them there, and why?

- I ask myself a lot what the character would do in certain situations, presented with certain emotions, and try to gauge who they are based on that. I give a lot of different scenarios in my head or write it down in notes, and then start to build things around them.

Say, someone they really loved and respected died, just a quiet death, wishing they saw (the character) one more time, but the character didn’t go to see them because of (x,y,z):

Kali would smile a bit softly at the news, recall some fond memories and slip off, disappearing. She’d grow something in their memory, stare at it for awhile, walk around and then disappear, running off again. (Mourning is a bit hard for her, most people around her might think she’s not even really that sad)

Hoku would fucking cry. She’d go off somewhere or just start fucking bawling depend who it was, a really ugly cry. If it was her fault for not seeing them she’d still cry, but she’d understand if people cursed her out or anything. She’d cuss them back, even if she knew it wasn’t her right, but she’d do it anyway. She feels pain a bit more openly and is more liberal with her tears. Hoku has a lot of fluids lmao.

Fuyu would sit in silence, taking the news. She’d seem sort of numb, asking about it, hesitating, and then wanting to know properly etc.

- You start to get a feel for the differences between your characters over how they face certain things

- I really like giving each character a quirk, something that makes getting into the gear for writing them a bit easier. Hoku is a gambling addict with funny-not-so-funny suicidal tendencies. Kali is problematic. Fuyu likes pickled radishes and can’t stand cockroaches, she’s really good at studying because she’s poor and likes to save money. She likes math because it’s easier to understand with a simple answer versus the openness of literature to interpretation (which I think says something) Rye doesn’t know how to write like the feral child she is and Sora eats hotpot no matter what weather it is. 

- it helps for me to actually actively write a little bit of a character, just a snippet, even a few sentences of dialogue, something that feels more tangible and gives you a grasp of who they are (this can all just be on a page of notes or something for your reference, maybe even key phrases you want them to drop one day in a story)

- also always, always REMEMBER TO HAVE FUN WITH IT, it’s kinda like giving birth, it’s friggin weird but awesome at the same time, take a step back if it stresses you out and just come back in intervals, have fun!

- really hoped any of this helped, sorry it all seems like nonsense 

[s13e06]

Recuerdos Perdidos Pt 3

Draco Malfoy / Female Reader

Harry Potter AU

Warnings: mentions of vomit/ puking

Words: 3.1K

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4 

-

Chapter 3

It was clear to you that whatever Draco had to say, it must have been serious. Judging by the nervous gulps and tense posture, you knew he didn’t want to do this. But you deserved to hear the truth… and he must have known that much too.

“What I’m about to say may be a little hard for you to believe. But I can promise you that it’s all true.” He told you after clearing his throat. The look he gave you was so intense and focused. So even though you wanted to laugh about the notion that it would be hard for you to believe, you simply nodded your head in understanding and waited for him to continue.

“When you came here five years ago I had no intention of becoming acquainted with you in any way.” He began, talking slowly. The anticipation to hear what was to come ate away at you. “But despite all my efforts to keep you away… you never learned to quit. You were so persistent in getting to know me that eventually, I surrendered to you completely. Not just in terms of friendship…” he paused, looking into your eyes carefully.

“What do you mean?” you asked even though you already had a good idea of what he was alluding to.

“We became lovers… not overnight or anything. It wasn’t just some simple summer fling. No… it was so much more than that. I’d never let anyone in the way I let you in. I never knew I was capable of feeling so many things. It was the first time in my life that I felt truly happy” he spoke with a smile playing at his lips.

It wasn’t easy to process his words. The fact that you had been in love with each other years ago was jarring enough. But the fact that you couldn’t remember anything about it… that was… well, it made you feel almost mournful over a past you couldn’t even recall.

A part of you wanted to reject his words outright. To call his bluff and leave this stupid mansion for good. But you knew deep down that he was telling you the truth. His eyes… the way they looked into yours. You knew they were sincere.

The way he was speaking combined with the way he was looking at you now was completely different than the man you had been talking to previously. This new version of himself that was in front of you now was so very vulnerable.

“What happened to us?” you asked, choosing your words carefully.

Draco seemed to hesitate at your question, body shifting uncomfortably as he thought of what to say.

“You found out about something that you shouldn’t have…” he spoke in a whisper. You leaned forward to hear him better, the puzzled look was visibly apparent on your face. “It was only a matter of time before you figured it out… and a ridiculous part of me even hoped that it wouldn’t matter.” He swallowed. “But... what I am… who I am… it proved to be our downfall.”

His words were so vague you felt yourself becoming upset again. He wasn’t necessarily lying to you but he was certainly avoiding key details. You couldn’t keep dancing around the subject like this. Whatever he had to say. You needed to hear it.

“Who are you then?” you asked, voice stern. “Who are you really?”

This time he didn’t hesitate to respond.

“I’m a wizard, Y/N”

The look on your face must have perfectly reflected how dumbfounded you were because he immediately started explaining it to you further.

“You mentioned regaining a memory. One of a stick-like object” he questioned rhetorically. You nodded your head anyways. “Did it happen to look like this?” he asked while reaching into the side of his coat and producing a long, thin object.

As soon as you saw it you gasped in surprise. It was the same object you’d seen in your head and as you stared at it in his hand you felt the all too familiar pain begin to bubble in your brain once again. “Yes, that’s it” was all you could manage to reply as you fought to ignore the rising pain.

“This is my wand.” He spoke flatly. “One day you saw it by accident and after that, I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I thought you’d be afraid of me… or even call me crazy and leave forever. I was so scared of that. But instead, you laughed and said it was amazing. You accepted it so easily and began to barrage me with endless questions about my world.” He chuckled lightly as though recalling a fond memory. “I thought for sure that you’d be hesitant to accept me for who I was… but you said…” he paused for a moment, looking up to meet your eyes before quickly shifting them away again. “Well, you reassured me that it didn’t really matter how different we were.”

Now you knew what he meant when he said you might not believe him. This was a rather hard pill to swallow. However, something in your gut was urging you to trust him. So you did.

“I believe you. But what I still don’t understand is why we had to separate. You said yourself it was because of who you are that we had to part ways. Yet you’re telling me I accepted you unconditionally?” you questioned.

“It was my family… they would never approve of such a thing and they saw to it that what we had would be eradicated with absolutely no loose ends.” He stated coldly.

So it was his family that disapproved? But why?

“What didn’t they approve of exactly?” you asked warily.

“You’re not one of us… in any way” he replied quietly.

“Because I’m not a wizard too?” you asked a little unsure.

His face twisted a little. It was clear that he was thinking about his explanation carefully.

“Not just the fact that you’re a muggle… even if you were a witch you would have to be a pureblood of high status if we were ever to be approved of” he told you flatly.

A pureblood? It was a term you didn’t hear used often in modern-day yet you could guess what it meant. Some sort of squeaky clean family tree of sorts. No mixing allowed with so-called “muggles” like yourself. But something else that he said was sticking to your brain. The word approval. It was clear ha he came from a wealthy family so you were sure that he was most likely at their mercy; careful not to displease them. But so much to the point that whatever you to had… it wasn’t even worth fighting for? He’d give it up so quickly just because they wouldn’t approve? You didn’t understand much about the social dynamics in magical societies but you knew that he was still a person with free thought like you were. So it was clear where his priorities lied in the end.

“Ok… I think I understand what happened now. We were together but your family would never approve so you made me lose my memory or something with magic so I’d forget you and now here we are.” You replied blatantly.

His brows furrowed a little in discomfort at your words. Judging by his face you guessed that he felt a little hurt by your emotionless response. But why should you feel anything for this man anymore when he just admitted to throwing you out of his life forever to stay in his family’s good graces? You were intrigued by him in the sense that he used to be a big part of your life. A part that you’re curious to rediscover. However, whatever feelings you once had for him were definitely gone… and you had no intention of reigniting them.

“Yes… now here we are” he repeated slowly, looking into your eyes as though he was dying to say something more.

“Well…” you started while taking in a deep breath. You knew what you had to do now. “The past is just that… it’s not the present. I’m fine with that fact. But I’d be lying if I said I was ready to leave it here. I want my memories back. Not for us or what we used to have but for me… because I need to fill this missing gap in my mind” you said softly.

He was silent for a long while before he finally muttered a reply.

“I’ll see what I can do”.

The air was tense now. A thick uncomfortable feeling hung in the air. You both just looked at each other waiting for something else to be said. You weren’t sure what exactly was going through his mind but as you studied him you found that he looked quite distraught. Not in a very obvious way… no, this man was someone who was used to keeping a straight face, you could tell. But the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly mixed with the careful furrow of his browns said enough to you. Not to mention the fact that his body was oddly stiff. Like he was so tense not eve his fingers could relax.

You wondered what he was thinking about…

Just as you were about to ask though you heard footsteps coming from outside the door. They were distant but heavy. As though the person responsible for them was walking with purpose.

Draco’s face somehow became even paler as his body jerked into action. He grabbed ahold of your wrist and dragged you into the far corner of the room.

“Whatever happens he can’t see you here” he breathed out anxiously.

Who was he?

You didn’t have time to ask though before Draco was pulling out his wand and mumbling something quickly under his breath.

It felt like you were being squished. Like your whole body was being sucked through a tight vacuum. You couldn’t really see anything but the sensation in itself was nauseating. It only lasted a few seconds at most but it had felt like an eternity.

When you felt yourself on stable ground again and able to breathe you quickly ran into your bathroom and vomited like there was no tomorrow.

Wait a minute… you thought.

Your bathroom?

Looking around you confirmed that you were indeed back in your grandparent’s home, in your room to be precise. But how did you get here so fast?

Walking slowly out of the bathroom you saw that Draco was standing awkwardly by your bed, awaiting your return from the rather unpleasant sight in the next room.

“Sorry, I didn’t really have time to warn you that first-timers usually get sick,” he told you a bit sheepishly.

“What did we just do?” you asked a little bewildered.

“Something magical” he laughed a little.

You rolled your eyes as a smile grew on your face. He was teasing you.

“I gathered that much, thank you!” you huffed before walking over to your bed and plopping down.

He was smiling down at you now and for a moment you seemed to get lost in his expression. Something about his face at that moment… felt almost like home to you.

But you weren’t about to let yourself get caught up in such thoughts.

You cleared your throat a little before glancing to the side at your nightstand. The only thing that sat on it was a small candle and an old digital clock. You weren’t staring for any particular reason other than not wanting to look at him any longer.

Then you suddenly remembered. The pictures. You still had them in your jacket pocket. It may be a little awkward now but you figured he had the right to see them and maybe even shed some light on when each one was taken.

But just as you were reaching into your pocket he spoke.

“I suppose I should be going then”.

You glanced back up to meet his eyes as your hand slowly retreated from your pocket; nothing came with it.

“Okay, I’ll see you again… when you find out how to fix me” you replied with a little chuckle, even though you knew it wasn’t really a laughing matter.

“I promise” He smiled at you softly. He stared at you for what seemed like a long while before turning away and with another mumble of syllables and a loud crack he made himself vanish just as before. Except for this time you stayed where you were.

-

It was three days of complete silence.

Not in the literal sense but you hadn’t heard another word from Draco. You certainly hadn’t gone near his house since. Well, something of that size couldn’t really be called a house but the term was broad enough to you and mansion just felt… so unnatural.

Walking around outside your grandparent’s home you closed your eyes as the sunlight bathed down on you. A slight wind was beginning to pick up and something about the way it rustled your clothes made you feel so free.

Which was a rather welcomed feeling considering how lost and confused you’d been lately. In a way, you wished that you’d never even found that box. Never saw the pictures. Why couldn’t your lost memories just stay that way? But it was too late. Because once you knew they were lost… well, you just had to find them.

When you opened your eyes you jumped back slightly. Shocked to see someone standing maybe fifteen feet from you. It was a woman. She stood so still you could’ve sworn you were imagining it. But she was definitely real. She was tall and thin, quite elegant really, and her long brown hair was done up nicely around her head. She wore a long purple and black dress that wrapped around her body as though it was made just for her. Her skin was pale but not in a sickly way. Overall it was like she was from a completely different world than your own.

You just stared at each other in silence before she simply turned around and started walking away from you.

The whole encounter gave you goosebumps and you felt completely frozen to the spot as you watched her figure slowly fade in the distance.

Who the hell was that?

-

By the time you had finished dinner with your grandparents, it was nearly half-past seven and they were sure to go to bed soon. You, however, had much on your mind. That strange encounter with the woman from earlier was still stuck in your mind. The way she stared at you was almost disturbing… as though she was evaluating you for something. You didn’t bother to ask your grandparent’s about her because you had an inkling that they were just as clueless as you.

Making your way up to your room you decide to try and forget about it so that you could at least have a peaceful night’s sleep.

However, any hope of that vanishes from your mind as soon as you stepped into your room. For there stood in the middle of your room was none other than Draco himself.

His back was to you but he turned as he heard you come in.

“Sorry for the intrusion” he choked out before clearing his throat a little and twisting to face you completely, his hand falling to his side.

Something was off.

As you shut the door behind you, you walked closer to him, studying his features intensely.

His eyes were bloodshot and wet, the surrounding skin was red and puffy. His body was slightly rigid and as your eyes trailed down to his hand you saw that he was holding the pictures of the two of you in his hand.

He was… crying while looking at them.

Your face twisted into confusion which was quickly replaced by pity, as you reached up to touch his face softly.

He jolted a little at your touch as his eyes widened.

You didn’t want to overstep but you couldn’t help it. Whenever someone looked so helpless in front of you it was like you went into a different state of mind completely. Your heart ached as you took in his sorrowful state and you wanted nothing more at that moment but to comfort him.

So without another word, you wiped the lingering tears from his eyes and slowly embraced him.

At first, his body was tense against your own, completely in shock by the sudden contact. But eventually, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around you in return.

“Are you ok?” you asked him in a whisper, still hugging him as you began to rub your hand on his upper back in an attempt to soothe him.

You felt him let out a shaky breath before he sighed a little.

“I’m better now”.

Pulling away from him you looked up to meet his eyes. His face was only inches from yours and for some reason being so close was making you a little nervous. But you didn’t pull away further, not yet anyway.

“I’m glad” you smiled at him.

He stared down at your face with a look of conflict before he began to lean forward slightly.

At first, you were confused but as he got closer you realized what was happening and strangely enough, you didn’t make a move to stop it. Instead, you just stared back at him waiting for the moment his lips would meet yours.

But they never did.

Just before they were about to touch, he stopped himself. He pulled away completely and backed up a few steps before looking away from you.

You watched in confusion as he sighed in frustration and reached up to slide a shaky hand through his well-kept hair, completely messing it up.

Although… admittedly, he still looked good.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” he said with a notable hint of contempt in his voice.

“You didn’t do anything” you frowned. You weren’t sure if you were upset that he was beating himself up over it or… if it was something else you were disappointed about.

“But I almost did” he replied quickly.

“Draco, really it’s ok. It was just the moment. Don’t worry about it” you said trying to brush the whole thing off. Your feelings were beginning to confuse you.

Did you want him to kiss you?

“I promise I won’t do it again,” he said with a rather serious tone.

You simply nodded in response but didn’t miss the way your heart seemed to ache at his words. What exactly was happening to you?

“I can assure you I didn’t come here to cause such an awkward situation such as that,” he said while looking off to the side a little in disdain.

You raised a curious eyebrow as you studied his expression again.

“What did you come here for then?” you asked.

He turned to face you again as he spoke.

“I’ve found a healer”.

--------

AN:// Wow! I’m really sorry for the delay on this one. It feels like I’ve just been having the busiest year so far and we’re only in the second month. I neglected my writing for so long that this chapter came out a little rushed but I hope you all like this update regardless. Please let me know what you think and I promise that chapter 4 will come quicker than this one did!!

[tideridera]

STUDY    :   HARRY  HOOK.    TAGGED BY    :   taken  from  my  other  blog

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? he’s  considered  tall  or  above  average  height  at  6′0  or  183  cm

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? he’s  comfortable  with  his  height.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? harry’s  hair  is  short,  thick  and  wavy.  it  has  a  natural  flat  S  pattern  that  gives  his  hair  it’s  wave  but  is  still  somewhat  flat  and  fine.  harry  doesn’t  waste  a  lot  of  time  or  effort  on  his  hair  beyond  making  sure  it  doesn’t  get  matted.  relies  almost  entirely  on  his  own  natural  hair  oils  to  keep  it  healthy  and  clean.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? not  really.  he’ll  wash  it  every  3  days  or  so  and  will  brush  it  out  with  his  fingers  while  it’s  still  wet,  but  he  tends  to  just  throw  on  his  scarf  and  his  hat  most  days.  he  spends  the  most  time  keeping  himself  clean  shaven,  since  he  has  to  make  his  own  shaving  cream.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? to  a  certain  extent,  yes.  he  likes  to  be  clean,  he  likes  to  present  himself  a  certain  way  and  his  style  and  appearance  helps  with  that.  as  far  as  what  others  think  of  him,  he  wants  to  be  feared.  he  wants  to  be  intimidating.  but  beyond  that,  harry  doesn’t  care  what  people  think  about  him  personally.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?    outdoors. ▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?    rain. ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?    beach. ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?   precious  metals. ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?    perfumes. ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?   personality. ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?     being  in  a  crowd. ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?   anarchy. ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?   painful  truths. ▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?     neither. ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?    conflict. ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?    night. ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?   dawn. ▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?    warmth. ▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?   few close friends. ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?    playing  a  game.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? harry  can  be  very  provocative,  sometimes  without  cause.  he  likes  to  provoke  others  into  conflict,  whether  it’s  verbal  or  physical.  it’s  very  much  a  power  play  and  an  intimidation  factor.  he’s  also  incredibly  impulsive,  he  doesn’t  really  think  things  through  and  does  not  usually  consider  the  consequences  for  his  actions   long  term.  he  says  what’s  on  his  mind,  it  can  be  difficult  for  him  to  think  before  he  speaks.  he  has  a  tendency  to  self - harm / self - sabotage.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? harry’s  known  numerous  people  who  have  died,  gone  missing  or  been  killed.  he’s  seen  his  father  execute  members  of  the  roger  crew  that  he’s  known.  kid’s  he  knew  or  hung  out  with  when  he  was  younger  have  “ mysteriously  disappeared ”,  people  have  been  jumped  right  in  front  of  him.  people  have  gotten  sick  and  succumbed  to  illness  or  infection  or  disease.  this  has  desensitized  him  to  death  to  the  point  where  he  doesn’t  really  feel  much  of  anything  when  it  happens.  if  it’s  people  he’s  close  with  who  die  or  get  killed,  which  has  happened,  he  gets  angry  and  wants  revenge  or  retribution  for  it.  but  his  mourning  periods  are  very  short  and  impersonal.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ? i  tend  to  associate  “ fond ”  with  memorable  so,  harry’s  most  memorable  moments  are  with  gil  and  uma.  teaching  gil  how  to  tie  sailor  knots,  showing  uma  how  to  set  the  sails.  watching  uma  threaten  an  enemy  to  the  point  of  them  wetting  themselves.  seeing  gil  slam  dunk  someone  without  even  flinching.  uma’s  smile  when  the  candle  light  hit  her  just  right.  gil  staging  a  one - man  sit  in  after  harry  got  tentacle  slapped  by  ursula  that  one  time.  sitting  with  gil  and  uma  in  the  crows  nest  and  looking  out  over  the  seas  horizon.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? yes.  harry’s  been  so  desensitized  to  death  that  it’s  not  a  big  stretch  to  figure  out  that  he’s  also  been  desensitized  to  killing  anyone.  while  killing  isn’t  a  first  response  ( the  appropriate  use  of  force  and  violence  does  not  necessarily  mean  death  sentence ),  it  is  always  an  option  in  harry’s  book.  it’s  unlikely  that  he’ll  feel  guilty  about  it.  it’s  unlikely  that  he’ll  think  it  was  the  wrong  decision  even  if  someone  tries  to  convince  him  that  it  was.  harry’s  also  skilled  enough  that  killing  would  be  physically  easy  as  well.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? he  only  breaks  down  if  he’s  unable  to  use  sex  as  a  buffer  to  whatever  negative  emotions  or  intrusive  thoughts  are  driving  him  towards  a  break  down  but  when  he  does,  it’s  quiet,  lonely,  and  dangerous.  harry  self - isolates  when  he  feels  like  he’s  going  to  break  down  and  he  has  a  tendency  to  hurt  himself  when  he  does  this  ( case  and  point ).  following  the  incident  with  his  left  arm,  harry  manages  to  steer  clear  of  extreme  acts  of  self - harm  but  this  makes  the  emotion  break  down  a  lot  worse.  at  least  in  harry’s  opinion.  he  will  find  a  secluded  place,  find  the  darkest  corner,  curl  into  a  ball  and  break  down.  he  doesn’t  make  a  sound.  it’s  very  .  .  .  painful  and  lonely.  he  will  only  let  himself  break  down  in  front  of  gil  or  uma.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? yes.  he  trusts  gil  and  uma  with  his  life,  but  no  one  else.  even  with  other  members  of  his  crew,  he  doesn’t  trust  them  100%  with  his  life.

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? loud  and  loyal.  he  doesn’t  stop  being  scary  pirate  or  dangerous  scoundrel,  but  he  does  become  MORE  than  those  things.  he  becomes  a  best  friend,  a  lover,  a  teacher,  a  caretaker.  he  gives  all  of  himself  to  the  person  or  persons  that  he’s  in  love  with  and  he  holds  nothing  back.  there  are  no  half  measures.  he  can  be  very  intense  and  very  decisive  and  if  you  don’t  match  his  level,  he’ll  assume  you’re  not  as  in  love  with  him  as  he’s  in  love  with  you.

TAGGING :  @yoakkemae​ ( lin ),  @gggno​ ( uma ),  @floweringface​ ( ben ),  @sunreliable​ ( jay ),  @girlfaired​,  @bcppity​,  @auroriias​,  @shiprcked​  &  anyone  else  that  want’s  to  do  it !

[thegravecartel]

Character Interview (Repost Not Reblog)

NAME:  Kyung Hee Jee

AGE:  24

FAMILY:  Feng Ippuki (Adoptive Grandfather), Shinju Ippuki (Adoptive Mother), Tamara Marquis (Godmother), Lee Nickel Woolf (Adoptive Older Sibling), Luka Woolf (Adoptive Father).  Kyung also tends to be very inclined to seeing her close friends/allies/friends of her family as family in general, and addresses them as such if they allow it.  She also used to be a foster child to an American family, and throughout her childhood, was allowed to take trips to visit them even after being adopted into the Ippuki/Woolf family.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:  Since she is a multi-shippable muse on this blog, it depends on what continuity/AU/Crossover we’re going off of.

Kyung x Harpreet [@made-out-of-magic] [Mainverse alt. TL] ship where she is happily married to a Tulpa that was manifested from Great Tiger [@the-great-tiger-of-mumbai] that has a very long history!  

Kyung x Steward [@thelastresidents] [Mainverse alt. TL] that doubles as a Crossover into the Luigi’s Mansion 3 universe where Kyung found herself as a spectral guest at The Last Resort, and after spending a good amount of time there, became coupled with the head bellhop, Steward.  There are also other ships that vary in development that have been RP’d on, and off-blog that are in the other AUs;

Kyung was paired with a fictional Ringo Starr [the blog has been deactivated] in the 1960′s AU 

She was paired with a Slig [Garfunkle the Slig] in the Oddworld AU where she isn’t a human, but a made-up species of alien(?).

There’s a good bit of development in a ship that takes place in the Ornaments!AU where Kyung, as a gnome in this verse, gets an attachment to a maid doll, Beth [@flowermist7432​].

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻.

RELIGIOUS BELIEF:  Polytheist, most likely.  She doesn’t really associate herself with any religion, but fully acknowledges the existence of deities in her world because she’s literally died, rejected ascending into the Heavens/Cosmos, and cannon-ball’d into the inferno just so she could fight her way back to the Land of the Living.  Naturally, she’s going to be more open to the possibility of other religious figures existing in the universe.  Of course, she found herself becoming more curious about the deities in Voodoo, and Hinduism over time.

SINS:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / lust  /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath 

VIRTUES:  chastity  / charity  /  diligence  /  humility /  kindness /  patience  /  justice 

PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE:  To make her family proud (she’s achieved that already, but always feels that she needs to continue pursuing it); and to help people who are stuck in horrible life-situations (primarily domestic violence/abuse, abandonment, severe grief/mourning, and human trafficking), and get them on-track to making a better life for themselves.

KNOWN LANGUAGES:  English (her first and primary language), Mandarin Chinese, and Japanese.

SECRETS:  

She’s a vigilante who targets predators, other serial killers who go after innocent people/”easy prey”, and the unredeemable malicious folk.  

She takes on “clean-up crew” jobs for the more crime-savvy side of her family for the right price/reward.

She’s technically a madam(pimp) in the Las Vegas Strip district, but that’s mainly because she has devoted her strip club, The Velvet Rose Cabaret, to being an undercover sanctuary for prostitutes on the run from their abusive pimps, and has since expanded her operation into wiping out said pimps when she finds them.

Even though she isn’t necessarily in a gang, or a gang leader, Kyung has strong ties to various gangs that consider her as one of their own.

She doesn’t exactly know if it’s just a false-memory, or if it was real, but she may have tried to cannibalize her former assistant and close friend’s murderer in a blind rage.

SAVVIES:  Martial Arts, mortuary science, taxidermy, gardening, cooking and baking, and herbalism are main points of interest for her.  However, Kyung is quite fond of certain video games (Don’t Starve, Minecraft, Animal Crossing, Subnautica, Dead By Daylight, and Left 4 Dead), loves to sing, dance (belly-dancing, pole dancing, free-form), and enjoys doing gymnastics (even if her balance is a bit off sometimes).

𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻.

BUILD:  scrawny  /  bony  /  slender  /  fit  /  athletic  /  curvy  /  herculean  /  pudgy  /  average 

HEIGHT:  5′ 4″

SCARS / MARKS:  Kyung has two beauty marks on her face (one under her left eye, and one that’s constantly hidden under her hair on the corner of her right eye), and wears her scars proudly (unless she has to cover them up with makeup for special occasions/events).  Her scars are mostly stitches from when she’s been stabbed/cut, or where she’s been shot (two out of three of her deaths have been by getting shot).  Naturally, as a fighter, she typically nurses a few nasty bruises, and bloodied knuckles.

ABILITIES / POWERS:  Heightened levels of physical strength, flexibility, speed, durability, pain-tolerance, and stamina.  Fully trained in using firearms, blade-throwing, and is a master of various fighting styles.  As a ghost [LM3 universe], she maintains these abilities with the addition of having access to using her soul-bound scythe, and having the default abilities a ghost has.  On the off-chance her assistance is needed by her godmother, Kyung willingly allows herself to become a sort of magical conduit/vessel for Tamara to possess.

RESTRICTIONS:  She tends to take on more damage due to preferring to block certain attacks, instead of dodging.  Being a left-handed person, Kyung takes on a Southpaw fighting stance, which leaves her more open to attack from an opponent if she’s boxing.  Even as a High Functioning Autistic person, Kyung still has the occasional issues with timing her movements, short bursts of memory loss, and delayed reflexes. 

𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙴𝚂.

FOOD:  Kyung loves sweets, and various types of comfort food (spaghetti and meatballs, mac ‘n’ cheese, salmon, etc.).  While she prefers soups, stews, Asian and Western cuisine, Kyung tends to get very interested in different foods from other parts of the World.  This is especially the case if it looks good, and has certain ingredients that she knows that she loves.

DRINK:  She prefers coffee (generously sweetened), but loves tinkering around with floral/herbal teas, bubble tea, mocktails, milkshakes, and fruit juice.  If it’s sweet, she’ll very likely drink it, yet doesn’t care too much for sodas or energy drinks.

PIZZA TOPPING:  Pizza isn’t something she eats that often, but when she does, Kyung either gets extra cheese and black olives, or will branch out with less traditional toppings such as broccoli, carrots, sliced meatballs, and spinach.

COLOUR:  Red-Orange #ff3700

MUSIC GENRE:  No real preference for genre, and just loves a little bit of almost everything (for some reason, she’s not the biggest fan of Country, and it makes her sad that she can’t listen to it properly).

BOOK GENRE:  She reads a lot of anatomy and physiology books (especially the ones that are more “explicit”), hobbies/crafts, and various skin-leather bound books from her journey through Hell (she can’t really read them, but she likes the pictures).

MOVIE GENRE:  Horror, typically old ones with the exception of contemporary/modern flicks that catch her interest.  She also loves the more adult-comedies, and animated movies/cartoons that are for all ages.

SEASON:  Fall, and Spring.

CURSE WORD:  F-bombs for days, along with a lot of the S-word, and frequently uses the Christian lord’s name in vain out of habit.

SCENT(S):  Sugary sweet desserts (she especially loves vanilla), and sweet-floral (rose, sweetpea, passion flower, lily of the valley).

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼.

BOTTOM OR TOP:  Bottom bunk, unless the top bunk has safety railing.  Otherwise, she’s a versatile top depending on her partner.

SINGS IN THE SHOWER:  Surprisingly, no.

LIKES BAD PUNS:  Absolutely!  She finds puns hilarious in general, and probably laughs harder at them than necessary.

[words-of-fate-official]

Overrated | William T. Spears x Reader

"Love is overrated."

Will could never quite tell what originally drew him into you. There was nothing particular about you that stood out to him; you were quiet and you could maintain complete focus whenever the two of you were on the job. Your behavior didn't differ too greatly from his own and he supposed you were quite attractive, though he didn't believe those were the only causes for his attraction towards you.

Your personality was another factor to consider. Throughout his whole life of being a reaper, not once had he ever had a partner who mourned the life of the person whose soul they reaped more than you. You felt sorrow for everyone, people who you knew only through their own memories, and forgave them for all of their past wrongdoings, whether they were big or small. And despite all the sadness you felt, you remained unwavering and continued to do your job flawlessly.

If asked by anyone, Will would say your remorse for the humans was foolish or even downright pathetic for a reaper such as yourself. Yet deep down, even if he refused to admit it to himself, he couldn't help but admire those strong emotions of yours that moved him to the very core.

As much as he tried to push aside his ever growing feelings for you, it only worked temporarily. Every time he managed to convince himself that his feelings were merely fleeting, it only took a single glance at you for his emotions to betray him.

Relationships between reapers weren't necessarily something that was forbidden, albeit it was a rarity. The thought of forming a relationship with you was something that managed to cross his mind once or twice, though it was nothing more than a lingering thought. Perhaps if he were human, it would be something he'd take into consideration.

As months passed and his emotions slowly grew stronger and stronger, he began noticing that you were becoming the center of his attention, both inside and outside of work. At night, you were always the last thought on his mind before drifting off to sleep and at work, he always seemed to focus more on you than on the task at hand. That night, in particular, must have been the worst. The duty the two of you were tasked with was to follow an infamous drug dealer in the hours before his fated death.

"Do you suppose that's him?" you asked your partner, peering down from the roof of a building at a hooded man.

"Yes. That appears to be our newest target."

The two of you remained in silence for a few moments, doing nothing more than observing the man in the back alley, when another person showed up. He appeared to be much younger, most likely not even eighteen from the looks of it. He was scrawny and scared, yet he approached the drug dealer nonetheless with his money already out.

Will continued to stand there completely stone-faced as he watched the scene play out before him, though you couldn't even bear to look.

"Can't we stop him, Will? We can't just let a boy like him purchase opioids-"

"You're well aware of the rules, [name]," Will said, his voice free of any emotion. "We shall not meddle with the lives of mortals. If it is his fate to die of the very same drugs he chose to purchase, then that is how it will end."

"You're as cruel as ever, Will," you sighed, a hint of sorrow in your voice.

His lips parted as if to speak, but he was unable to breathe. Your words, although said to him before by other people, pierced his heart when they were uttered by you. Against his better judgment, he was almost tempted to go back on the very words he just spoke if only just to please you.

"Cruel, yet understandable," you continued. "In the end, he's the one making his own decisions. All we can do is hope that his life doesn't end here and that he'll make something better out of it in the future."

It was those words that knocked him back into reality. How could he possibly consider, even for just a moment, breaking the rules for nothing more than to merely please you? It was absolutely ludicrous, albeit it wasn't the first time he considered doing something drastic for your sake. Just how much of an influence did you truly have on him?

This urge to please you wasn't something he ever had for anyone before and just the mere thought of it infuriated him, yet he couldn't bring himself to hate you. No matter what, he didn't think he ever could. Out of every possible person who could hold any form of psychological power over him, he was certainly grateful that it was you, though it constantly made his work even more difficult for him. One of these days, he knew he would eventually make a rash move for your sake and everything he worked so hard for would be ruined.

As much as it pained him to face it, the idea of requesting a new partner was something that crossed his mind countless times. It wouldn't necessarily be unexpected of him; he was constantly requesting new partners whenever his old one would wear his patience thin. Once you were gone, he wouldn't have to worry about his feelings for you getting in the way of his work.

Everything would go back to norm-

"Thank you," you said suddenly, taking hold of Will's hands. "Despite your reputation as a reaper, you're far kinder than I expected. Thank you for always keeping me on the right track and for putting up with me for as long as you have."

Will was at a complete loss for words. Surprises were never something he was too fond of, and this was no exception. Between the sudden contact and your words, he forgot everything: how to move, how to speak, and even how to breathe. It took several long seconds for him to regain his usual composure.

Clearing his throat, Will said, "Well, of course. I can't have you ruining our operations for us, now can I? Now stop looking at me and focus on the target."

Despite his seemingly harsh words, you couldn't help but smile. "Of course."

As difficult as you made things for him, Will couldn't bear to imagine not having you as his partner. In his mind, love was overrated and relationships were pointless, though that didn't necessarily mean he wanted to stop caring about you.

No, his feelings for you could never be so easily forgotten.

[awkwardbluefish]

Different at the core

—

Cassandra Cain watched her brothers. They all may look so similar but in the core, they were quite different. It doesn’t confuse her like it would to most people.

Richard John Grayson-Wayne. The first Robin, the one that was born to fly. It shows in his movements, how he can’t stay in one place. Cass smiles, Dick was the easiest out of her brothers to read.

He was happy and had this fierceness that burned in him. Dick was a mother hen always ready to protect his family. The one that knows when others needed a break but couldn’t take his own advice. Always ready to spread his affection for the people he held close, he trusted so easily.

But Cass sees when he is confused. Watches as he frowns when Tim stiffens in his arms (at first), the flash of hurt in his eyes as Damian tenses, prepared for battle. How Jason refuses to go near him at times and Bruce, the person who adopted them all, gave them a home, is the person who is the most detached. So he holds on tighter but It still hurts her brother. It hurts Cass that he doesn’t understand. After all Richard grew up with the circus. All of them family, something the rest of their family didn’t receive.

Damian grew up believing affection was a sign of weakness, Jason lived on the streets, he never received any love. Tim was left alone, he grew up by himself with nannies that weren’t allowed to get close to him. Bruce is to afraid to show his emotions, to scared to get to close, not again. Cass knows it’s a losing battle.

——

Cass is laughing, so is her eldest brother. She is carrying him bridal style. Her brother had just ran up to her and threw himself in her arms. Cass smiles, her brother trusts so easily and loves spreading affection around like confetti. It warms her heart.

~~

Jason Peter Todd-Wayne. The second Robin. Cassandra had never met Jason before the Joker got to him but Cass believes the little boy is still there.

Jason is fierce and angry but he isn’t only that. He has a collection of books and loves older movies. Her brother, as Red Hood and Jason, looks out for the street kids. Cass has seen him give them advice, encourage them and scold them like a father. That is the softer side to her elder brother.

Cass has also witnessed his angry side, the fierce side. How he explodes, he doesn’t hold back. He is making a point and everybody is going to listen and if they don’t, well damn them, Jason doesn’t care. But Cass knows he does.

When Jason explodes he explodes as Jason Todd the adult or Jason Todd the kid. The adult is angry and shouts as if it’s the last words he’ll ever say. He doesn’t care what he says, doesn’t bother holding back, he lets a rip.

When the kid explodes it isn’t all anger and frustration, there’s something else there. A part where he is scared and a part where he is making a scene to get attention. A kid making a ruckus to get the attention they rightfully deserve. A child acting out is a child looking for something, and in Jason’s case, it’s love. A fathers or a brothers is what Cass doesn’t know. Cass doesn’t think it matters.

——

The room is quiet, comfortable. Just the way Jason likes it when he is reading, Cass knows. So she grabs a kids book and slides into the seat, next to Jason. She leans her head on his large shoulder and asks for help. He smiles and complies.

~~

Damian Al Ghul Wayne. Or Damian Wayne. Cassandra prefers the second, so does Damian. Her younger brother is the fifth Robin. He is different from the others. Damian was raised differently, he was taught differently.

Damian has a tough exterior but inside he is nothing more than a child with a tough childhood. A grandfather who wants nothing but power and a mother that is so willing to clone her own son.

Damian grew up to be a assassin, at least that’s what he believes. Cass has watched how he moves, how her younger brother acts. He did not grow to be an assassin as he believes. Damian Wayne was raised as a weapon, something much worse than a assassin. However his grandfather and mother never got that far and Cassandra will forever be grateful for that. She will never tell him either.

Because of that it makes it easier to see the child side of Damian. The one that fights and fights and, in the end, looks towards his father waiting for his approval. Soon Damian began looking at his brothers too and Cassandra, herself. This side is soft and kind, the side the animals around him helped create. Titus, Ace, Jerry the turkey, Goliath, batcow and Alfred the cat. Damian is so fond of them. Cass smiles every time.

But that doesn't mean Damian doesn't argue, Cass doesn't mind. He's a child after all.

——

“It’s disgraceful!”

“Yes,” Cass agrees.

“I have decided to become a vegetarian.” Damian states. He is glaring at the menu he holds. Cooked turkey. Cass can’t help but smile, he really is fond of his animals.

~~

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. He was the third Robin and now Red Robin. Cassandra doesn’t want to admit it but she is most comfortable around him. She doesn’t know why. After all wouldn’t someone that is easier to read be ‘better?’

Tim is smart, he is a detective. At the age of nine he deduced who Batman and Robin were, all he had was a camera and his memories of the night the Grayson’s fell. He figured out what grown up adults can’t. Ones who have training and tech and everything. Tim was a nine year old boy with too much time on his hands. When Jason died Tim kept an eye on Batman more than ever. He was slipping and Tim noticed. So Tim got up and faced the Batman and told him what he needed, not necessarily wanted, to hear. Batman needed a Robin and that’s what he became.

Cass isn’t quite sure of all the hardships Tim went through as his time as Robin but she does know of the people he lost. His father, his best friends and his stepmom, all in a span of a couple of years. Then Bruce. Bruce was stuck in a time stream and Tim had lost Robin. He was called an equal and a delusional. He went up against the league of spiders all the while taking out Ras basses. He became a ceo to Wayne enterprises to protect the people Bruce held close. And Tim, Tim lost his spleen and brought their father home.

Cass wish she was there for him. So she visited more. Talked and laughed and sat in comfortable silence with her brother. And when they spar, Cass still get shivers, it’s the closest call to David Cain she’s ever had. Red Robin isn’t the Robin he used to be. He’s viscous and has new moves, he doesn’t hold back and he is done playing games.

He’s faced some of the most dangerous people on this earth and is laid out to do tech support. That makes Cass angry. Yet Tim does nothing, simply smiles and nods. Cass still doesn’t understand.

But Cass can still see a little boy. A boy who never had parents around but loved them all the same. The one that people have tried to kill and is a punching bag for their insults. Still he does nothing and Cass hurts for him. But Cass has seen the little boy, how Tim, no matter the mission, will take five seconds to mourn someone’s death. To feel their death, to hurt for them. Someone he never knew. And Cass, she feels something in her chest every time she witnesses it. Her brother may never have met them but he mourns them, he remembers them. Cass will always love that about her brother.

Tim is- used to be such a great person.

——

Cass is screaming, yet no sound will come out and she just can’t stop crying. Her heart is breaking and she wants it to stop! Dammit! Tim, Tim is gone, he is dead. A sob racks her body and she lets out a screech. All that was left was his bo-staff. Blood as thick as heavy as a coat of paint.

Damian is standing behind her, so is Barbara. He wasn’t there, neither was Barbara and they are both watching, speechless. They haven’t seen the grave so Cass moves. Rolls her body over and cries for her brother. She hears the intake of breath from Barbara, the whispered “no….” As it passes her lips.

She is crying, their both crying. And Cass stumbles, stumbles to her feet and walks to her. Cass doesn’t get far before she’s crashing to her knees and hugging Barbara. She feels the tears.

The heavens cry today as they did the day he died. Cassandra wants her brother back, why did the world have to take him away?

—

A/n - this is actually one of my first fics, I think I must’ve deleted it 😬

[nadziejastar]

You’re metas and analysis of Isa and Lea are amazing. And ty for standing up for Isa. Nobody tries to make distinction between his real self and the possessed emotionless puppet he was a Nobody. You actually made me like Isa, and I’m desperate for Lea/Isa content.

Aww, that makes me happy that you like Isa now. I absolutely adore the entire concept behind Isa. He was such a fascinating character, in theory. Everything about him was conceptualized to connect to the Realm of Sleep and the concepts of rebirth and love. It was incredibly unique and well thought out. It’s just such a shame that he was not utilized in any meaningful capacity. Like, how do you just waste such a perfect setup for an amazing story? How? Why? It just…kills me. Makes me question my faith in humanity, lol.

The fact that people don’t differentiate between Isa and Saïx is SO sad. That was the entire purpose of his character arc. KH3 was so unfair to poor Isa. It went against everything the series stood for. I honestly feel bad for the writers. They must have been so disappointed after they put so much thought into his and Lea’s story. Just the stuff they did with the moon impressed me so much.

Isa: The Moon Goddess of Love and Rebirth

The triple moon is a Goddess symbol that represents the Maiden, Mother, and Crone as the Crescent, Full, and Balsamic Moon. It is also associated with feminine energy, mystery and psychic abilities. You often see this symbol on crowns or other head-pieces, particularly worn by High Priestesses.

In the Maiden, Mother, Crone aspects of the Goddess, Selene is the mother Goddess, Artemis the maiden, and Hecate the Crone. Two of Saix’s weapons are named “Selene” and “Artemis”.

The Balsamic Moon phase is visible in pre-dawn twilight; the darkness is nearly complete. We begin the Balsamic Phase with just a thin sliver of light, and by the end of the phase, darkness is complete. We are approaching New Moon; this is the last waning phase. She has withdrawn into the darkness, leaving the night wrapped in shadows. Disappearing from sight, she is resting, preparing for the next Lunar Cycle.

Isa’s symbol is a waning crescent. But Balsamic is the term used in astrology/magic. It’s the last phase of the cycle before the darkness of the new moon, visible in twilight. I love this since sunset is also associated with twilight. Axel and Saix’s relationship is Days is in a state of twilight. It’s the time when it’s not quite day, but not quite night. Twilight is a period or state of obscurity, ambiguity, or gradual decline.

This is a time of quiet contemplation. We withdraw into the shadowy depths of thought and emotion, resting, reflecting, thinking, feeling, dreaming, and preparing. To a great degree we exist in the ‘invisible worlds’ of subconscious, spiritual realms, daydreaming, and our own inner depths. We are often consciously unaware - much is happening, yet it seems that nothing is happening. The past slips away, quietly into the night as the future slips in. While the Moon releases her current cycle, extinguishing the light and preparing for the next cycle, we too are releasing extinguishing and preparing; even if we don’t know it on a conscious level.

This is just…perfect for the Realm of Sleep storyline. Like, too perfect. This is what Saïx’s Mystery Gear was all about. Xemnas conducted mind control experiments, as a way to get a person to renounce their sense of self. This would allow them to be open to his heart, and he could turn them into another Xehanort. That was his entire goal in the Xehanort Saga. It’s exactly what the letter chi stands for, which inspired the Recusant’s Sigil. The scar symbolizes that Isa had to die for Saïx to exist as another self of Xehanort.

But the rabbit on the moon is a symbol of immortality. The Jade Rabbit was so selfless, he was willing to give up his life for a hungry beggar, who turned out to be the Lord of Heaven in disguise. In reward for his deed, he was taken to the moon to live forever. It’s also a symbol for people on Earth to look at, so they never forget the rabbit’s virtue.

During the experiments on the darkness of the heart, all the subjects suffered the collapse of their hearts. None could be used as vessels. The entire idea behind Subject X is that they were a unique specimen that did not collapse, unlike everyone else. This crescent phase of “Moon Rabbit” is used when Saïx is in his normal state. The rocket is taking Isa’s heart to the moon, where it will live forever. His love and selflessness will never be forgotten. But…it’s not there yet. The rabbit isn’t on the moon. It’s still on the way. But Axel doesn’t know this. That’s why it was called “Mystery Gear”. Of course “Moon Rabbit” feels totally at odds with Saïx’s personality. That’s the whole point.

New Moon is the phase of new beginnings. It is also called Dark Moon. You may not be aware you are beginning anything at all. In fact this is often a time with little conscious awareness of direction. This is a time of emotion, desire, and spontaneity. This is also considered to be a very powerful time to do “destructive magic”, like hexing and cursing.

Saïx’s first weapon in Days is called “New Moon”, and it is also perfect. It’s a new beginning, though not necessarily a happy one. “New Moon”, “Werewolf”, and “Berserk”  are all shaped like the alchemical symbol for antimony. The metal antimony symbolizes the animal nature or wild spirit of man and nature, and it was often symbolized by the wolf. In alchemy, it is thought that antimony has the ability to free gold from impurities, and the innate power to have a similar effect on humankind. Basically antimony is poison, but can be transmuted into pure medicine. And that’s exactly what Saïx needs. A transmutation.

Roxas: What’s it like having a best friend, Axel?

Axel: Couldn’t tell ya. I don’t have one.

Roxas: Oh…

Days completely revolves around two parallel stories. Pretty much everything Axel talks about with Roxas relates back to his past. When he teaches Roxas stuff, it’s almost always implied that he’s speaking from experience. You can tell he is here, because he gets so sad about not having a best friend. Obviously he was thinking of Saïx. And it’s like that for the entire game.

Xion: But you have memories, don’t you?

Axel: Yeah. Not that they’ve ever done me any good.

The entirety of Days takes place in this Dark Moon period of death and darkness. Isa has been banished with deconstructive magic. Isa was the Old Moon. Saïx is the New Moon, the Dark Moon. In his heart, Axel could tell that Isa and Saïx are two different people. He knew Isa’s heart was gone. And he was mourning a loss, just like a death. He was doing a lot of soul searching. He struggled with how to come to terms with his grief.

Lea: In memories, you live forever, you know?

Isa: Well, you may be a really small part of my memories, but at least you’ll never disappear.

Lea: I’m SO flattered.

The best thing he can come up with is to try viewing things from the perspective that he held in the past. If you exist inside of people’s memories, you can live forever. He may have to let go of any hope that Saïx will be his best friend ever again. But he can still hold onto the fond memories of Isa. Those memories can stay separated from the negative memories of Saïx. They can remain pure and undefiled in his heart forever. Isa said that Lea would never disappear from his memories. As long as Axel remembers THAT Isa, he will live forever.

Gibbous is when the moon is nearly full. Nearly, but not quite. We are poised and ready, the goal is so near we can almost touch it, almost reach it. So very close, but not quite, not yet. The Gibbous Phase holds a great deal of power and potential. It may take some patience and determination to tap into it. We find ourselves at the precarious point of being very close to a goal. This phase is about refining, fine-tuning, and tuning in. What you have begun may seem ready, but it can be better.

“Crescent” and “Gibbous” have a similar shape to Lea’s Keyblade.

Challenges, really, are always opportunities in disguise. But this is more true than ever during the Gibbous Phase. When you find yourself encountering glitches in your plans, realize that it is fortunate they were discovered at this stage, and most likely the result will be improving and enriching your endeavors. Impatience is so strong you can feel it in the air during Gibbous Phase. Yet patience is one of your best allies. It will come. It will be soon.

In magical terms, these phases are about breaking hexes, and using constructive magic to attract the things you want.

The level of energy is higher on Full Moon than any other time of the month. We see it, feel it, and sense it. We feel our own power, and the power of the world around us. The moon is the natural astrological ruler of emotions. When she is riding high, so are our emotions. We aren’t happy, we’re elated; we aren’t mad, we’re furious; we aren’t interested, we’re excited; we aren’t sad, we’re depressed. There is an out-of-control tendency that can make it difficult to harness this energy. This is a powerful time, of excess and extremes, which can manifest in a positive or negative way.

And of course, the moon is what breaks Saïx’s icy calm. The Full Moon can bring out the very worst emotions from a person’s subconscious. And during the final battle, Kingdom Hearts is a big Full Moon.

The Balsamic Moon Phase is a time for acceptance and release. What has gone too far to be repairable, we must let go of. The Moon is now retreating into the shadows, withdrawing into herself, resting and preparing to come back strong and vibrant in the next cycle. This is the time we should be preparing ourselves to be refreshed and ready for great momentum and new growth to come.

“Balsamic” is a weapon similarly shaped to triple goddess symbols. The Balsamic phase describes Isa’s story so perfectly.  He disappeared into the darkness of sleep.

This phase of the waning Moon is particularly good for final endings. Anything you don’t want to return - now is the time. We must have faith in ourselves, and the natural cycle, knowing what we let go of now will be reborn. We are making way for something new, releasing emotions and beginning healing…

But “Balsamic” is Crisis Gear. Saïx gets this weapon after he gets the Phoenix-shaped ones. This time it refers to the end of a different phase. The painful phase of the Dark Moon. I think this was meant to represent the time after Saïx is defeated, but before Lea uses the power of waking. I’m sure he wouldn’t know how to use it immediately. The purple aura symbolizes spirituality. But a black aura symbolizes long-term grief.

The Sun illuminates the Moon; she transforms and reflects his light upon the Earth. The illuminated Earth transforms and reflects her light, producing a mystical, silvery glow. These energies of illumination and reflection are ingrained into the phase of Full Moon. We reflect upon our lives and selves, we see more deeply into our own souls, as well as others. We are drawn to the illusive and mysterious.

The Full Moon is when the moon fully reflects the sun’s light. The moon’s energy is at its peak, so it can bring out the worst emotions. On the other hand, due to its power, it is also good for healing.

Full Moons are times when the moon is reflecting all of the sunlight it receives, flooding the earth with powerful energies. These are great times to receive energy healing. The Full Moon energy helps us release that which no longer serves us. It lights up the night, and energetically, these are times when the light can more easily eliminate the darkness in our lives, releasing old blocks. It makes us aware of life patterns that do not work for us. On a subconscious level, we may feel safer holding on to certain toxic emotions such as anger, fear, and jealousy. But with the Full Moon’s energy we can work on letting them go.

This version of “Moon Rabbit” is used in Saïx’s Berserk state. When the rabbit appears on the moon, it is full.  

“I think you can be inseparable even if you’re apart. It’s like, if you feel really close to each other. Like best friends.”

“As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart.”

These quotes are very similar and that was no coincidence. It was definitely implied that Axel used to feel not just close, but inseparable from Isa. As long as you feel really close to someone, you can be inseparable from them, even if you’re apart. And as long as you remember each other, you’ll never be apart. He still felt really close to the Isa from his memories. He never wanted to be apart from that Isa.

“I guess the closest thing we Nobodies have got is our past. You know, memories of the stuff we couldn’t bear to lose, back when we couldn’t bear to lose it.”

That’s why he shifted his attitude on Day 150. Before, he said memories were “just baggage”. Now he says that what he can’t bear to lose are his memories of what he couldn’t bear to lose…back when he couldn’t bear to lose it. Isa is the only established character from Lea’s past, so this was no doubt referring to him. Axel was admitting that when he was a human, he couldn’t bear to lose Isa. Of course, Axel did lose him. So, the next best thing was to hold onto the memories of him. The sad reality was that Axel’s hokey speech was really about finding a way for Isa to live forever, and for them to be inseparable once again. In his mind he knew this was probably hopeless. But his heart just wouldn’t let go of Isa.  

Axel thought he lost something precious—a special heart connection he had with someone. But the heart’s connection can never be lost. Lea realizes Isa’s heart never died. His love allowed his heart to live forever. The rocket carrying Isa’s heart has finally arrived on the moon. The rabbit is now immortal and his virtue will be remembered forever. Under the light of Kingdom Heart’s Full Moon, Lea is able to give Isa a birth by sleep, awakening his heart from the darkness of sleep, and offering him new life. He was right all along. Inside people’s memory, you do live forever. And no matter what, Lea’s heart just could not forget Isa.

Crescent Moon is now visible and increasing in size and brightness, having moved from darkness in the New Moon Phase to a slender, but solid easily visible sliver during this phase. This is the energy we feel during this phase; the beginnings of solidity. Visions and intentions are beginning to evolve into manifestation. Momentum is building, and we are beginning to see and feel the formation of what we have began. Our vision is clear, and direction is chosen. This is a time of seeking, and developing. We are encountering details, and confronting the challenges we must face. The vision held is going from a dream to a goal; from an idea to a plan.

The final scene shows Isa’s pin and it symbolizes the beginning of a new cycle, and also the Maiden phase. This phase is good for constructive magic, attracting things like love, wealth, and personal development.

Roxas: This is gonna sound stupid. Do you know what love is?

Axel: ‘Scuse me?

Roxas: I found out about love on today’s mission–that it’s something powerful.

Axel: That’s true. It is. But I’ll never get to experience it.

Roxas: Nobodies can’t love?

Axel: You need a heart, man.

A few days earlier, Axel was pretty dismissive about Roxas’ girl issues. On the other hand, he was NOT so dismissive about love. Sounds like he had a lot more personal experience in this matter that hit a lot closer to home than girl troubles. Axel has been in love. And he longed to be in a relationship where that love is reciprocated to him. This is something he’s never experienced, so he had no memories of it to fall back on.

After Axel said that, I didn’t think it would be truly satisfying unless he found love. But he specified that the love he truly longed for was the special kind between two people that’s different from caring about your friends. His arc was setting up more than platonic love. He longed for romantic love. That’s why I don’t think his ending in KH3 was a fully satisfying one. Friendship was important to him, yes. But the story set Axel up to have a lover when he finally got his heart back.

Axel: Love is what happens if there’s something really special between two people.

Roxas: You mean, like, if they’re best friends? Inseparable?

Axel: Well, you can care about your friends, I guess, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

Everything in Days was carefully written to parallel Axel’s present situation involving Roxas, with his past involving Saïx. It was done very deliberately. Axel speaks of the past in broad terms, but he always speaks with a hint of wistfulness. The past is very personal to him. And the only established character from his past is Saïx. This was NOT an accident. It’s why I think the story was subtlely implying that Lea was not just best friends with Isa, but in love with him as well. They were best friends who were inseparable, just like Roxas and Xion. But Lea felt something else between him and Isa. And that something was different from the way he felt towards his other friends. What he felt for Isa was special. Lea felt love for him. And what better way to rekindle a lost love than under the heart-shaped moon of Kingdom Hearts, the heart of all worlds?

[snowydaydrabbles-blog]

AO3 Req. 1) Could you write some headcanons for The Doc (Dead by Daylight) and his shy s/o please?

how bout I do some Philip & Evan, too? maybe a lil drabble to show how they’d found you, too :^) I like the idea of The Entity doling out punishment when a killer strays from the rules of the trials tbh. might do something on that later. 

sorry if it’s choppy, or not super great quality! had a fussy baby in my lap all day, so i might rewrite at some point.

The Doctor / Dr. Herman Carter

Your connection to Doctor Herman Carter was unconventional- controversial. It was a dangerous, dangerous secret. The man-turned-monster was a shell, and took sick joy in toying with his patients. He was imposing, overbearing, and relished in the idea of breaking his obsession. It was almost endearing, in his mind, to watch this survivor squirm under the pressure of his presence. Something intimate, and shared only between you and him.

That sheepish demeanour was something he’d claimed for himself. The game became separating you from the others. Taunting you with swings that only missed by a breath, with agonizing jolts of pure electricity, and laughing over your broken body when you would finally fall to his pursuit. He could see in you what he once may have observed to be anti-social tendencies. A fear or discomfort surrounding other people, and their presence.

The Doctor had no desire to name his reason for choosing you- singling you out in each trial just to see you again, and again, and again. With enough of a push you showed your true colours- and it was delightful. Something the other, filthy meat hadn't yet seen in you. Your ability to lash out, to fight tooth and nail for yourself, and speak for the anger and desperacy that festered inside your mind.

You were different- at least somewhat, compared the slew of lost souls that swept through the ruins of his old hospital. When you would land in his trial, time and time again, he would ensure it dragged until The Entity itself intervened. To see you, to monitor you, and have the chance to interact with you while your unending life rested in his hands. It was a bond, of sorts, that blossomed in what remained of his heart.

Every time he caught your lonesome figure creeping in the mist, his favourite game began.

The relationship you had with The Doctor was less of a ‘relationship’, and more of a one-sided fascination. Herman saw something in you that he hadn’t in the others. The way you’d tense, when other survivors got too close, or tried to connect with you through the trials. It was vulnerability, at least in this world, and it was... precious. It drew him to you, much to your misfortune. 

He took that vulnerability and used it, to force a bigger divide between you and the other survivors. Herman couldn’t have you, technically, but that didn’t stop him from making himself the best shot you had at surviving. You would try to reach out, but something stopped you. An apprehension, surrounding the others. All you had to do was let him in, and you could be the lone survivor. 

It took time, but you got to a point where you’d let him close. He’d steal you away, if only for a while, to conduct his own tests. He’d pull you in and hold you close, ignoring the discomfort the live wire that infested him might cause you. The killer was like ice- his skin freezing, the muscle and flesh too firm to resemble any human being. It was clear that some part of him enjoyed you in your entirety. 

One might call it a territorial imperative that developed in him. Your demure disposition was alluring; the tremble to your voice when you’d speak, the heat that would flood your face and colour your ears when others overwhelmed you-- it was a unique flirtation. It was his, and he refused to share it. The survivors that managed to elicit these reactions were met with long, gruesome ends. Unworthy of his treatment, he let The Entity devour them whole.

Herman is always sure to reward you for indulging him, but only within reason. He wouldn’t help you cheat, not necessarily, but there were things he could do to help you get by. The thought of other hunters in the trial taking you from him spilled a fury into him like no other, so helping you to learn their shortcomings became his duty. No one was allowed to steal you from his afterlife.

The Trapper / Evan MacMillan

Evan was a man who hated wasting time with small-talk. He hated people, overall. The idea of trying to impress investors, or play it safe and kind with workers in the mine- it felt pointless. Tired. It was a fake face for the sake of cash.

The Entity absolved him of his duties. The mask liberated him, let him become the man he was meant to be. He was strong, silent, unabashed with his old identity. He became The Trapper; known in his own little realm for his expertise in the hunt. He'd never intended to find you, or somehow come to see you as 'different' or 'unique'. You were meant to be a rabbit in the trap- unfortunately, that was a role you happened to play too well.

You were timid, and so fast to evade his famished eyes. Avoiding other survivors, save for a select one or two. You were withdrawn and nervous- and something about that called him to you.

It didn't take much for the killer to do you in, catching an ankle in one of his gruesome traps. You didn't beg, or scream for help- all you did was wail at the pain. He admired the independence- the introversion. The steel you had that prevented you from grovelling at his feet, or crying out for some god-who had no power here- to save you. Instead you persevered; you fought in silence and used your skills to survive. You earned your time, and that made you special. 

Evan never played by the rules- it wasn't surprising to see that fault persisted into the Entity. He craved to know more. To kick in the door and force his way into your stubborn mind. The trap that brought you to your knees allowed him to make a crack in your foundations, to give himself an in, into your head. It was never felt like a waste of time to loom over your struggling form and experiment with what time the trial granted him. 

Against the rules of the game, he claimed you for himself. This was only the beginning, to what would surely be his greatest achievement yet.

The Trapper never liked wasting time. It was a commodity that he cherished, even before his final departure into The Entity. When he had finally caught you, he spent the short moments he was granted with chilling efficiency. He was a man of few words, but he made certain you knew his intentions from day one. He had a hunger for more- to know you from the inside out. See your instinct, your strengths and shortcomings. The questions he asked you were precise, and to the point. What made you so interesting to The Entity that it had summoned you here, too? Where you, the introvert, needed to depend on the people that entered these trials with you, lest you face a torture worse than death?

It didn’t take much to manipulate you to his will; out the other survivors, lead them into the iron jaws of his traps and survive in their stead. He embraced your intelligence, your cunning, and your silence. Everything that made you into the person you are, including your desire for solitude- a separation from the other sacrifices. You had quirks, and they brought a strange fondness he hadn’t felt for anyone- in life, or in death. This was something he could teach you, at least that’s what he believed; leave behind the guilt of surviving. Do whatever it takes to survive. It’s your life, or theirs. 

Between trials he would seek you out; the only person who dared to stray from the bonfire and relish in the distance you’d made for yourself. At first he only watched you, but his impulsive nature quickly ate away at any logic that kept him away. Evan wanted to be near you. There was much he could show you, a lot you could learn from him- from his shortcomings and failures in his life. He was soft once, tangled in the idea of doing what he should, instead of what he must. There was never much talking, but in a way unique to the two of you, you communicated through the silence. 

The Wraith / Philip Ojomo

Philip was a shy man, too, in another life. He understood the struggle, and the fear that came with meeting new people. Words often failed him. He once wished he could disappear, rather than face the stress of impressing new people every day. In some ways, his wish came true.

That was something the Wraith had seen in you, too. Distant memories of his old life sometimes slipped through the cracks, filled his mind with an all-encompassing grief for what he'd lost. In those rare, human moments, what was left of Philip Ojomo mourned for you. He could see that you were scared, and so alone in the freezing time-capsule of his old world. Hiding among the remains of old cars, sometimes too terrified to move from your fortress of twisted, rusting metal.

In those fleeting moments, when he would have a grip on what humanity still lived in his heart, he would show you mercy. Avoid you, as if to repent for the terror the Wraith had rained down upon you.

All it took was one moment, when a flicker of his old self got a glimpse of the agony in your eyes and the tears that wetted your cheeks. He'd caught you.

Having to piece together what had happened wasn't difficult. All that separated you from the towering figure of the killer was a heavy old car door. You'd tried to hide inside, it clearly didn't matter in the end. His gaze tracked downward, to your unmoving legs that were crushed and jutting from the bottom of the door.

Too shocked to scream, all you could do was watch as the Wraith had taken your ability to run right out from under you.

That trial changed him, at least in those moments. Fighting against the demand of The Entity, Philip tried to be gentle as he pried your sobbing body from the car.

There were no survivors left to witness him deposit you into the smoking mouth of the hatch.

Before disappearing into realm of The Entity, Philip was a fairly meek and timid man himself. He loved the idea of people- really, he did. He wanted friends, he missed his family when he’d left for his new beginning. However, he just didn’t have the talent of charisma or confidence to make meeting new people easy, or comfortable. Philip saw you, knew that you struggled as he once had. Whether you were scared, or uncomfortable, or just lacked the energy to handle new faces- he understood. What was left of him felt sympathy, and maybe a little pity that someone with your struggles was pulled into the same hell as himself. 

Over time he tried, when he was able, to reach out to you. A voice was something he no longer had, though. No mouth to speak. Instead he called to you, through a cacophony of a thousand voices, with desperate pleas to forgive his sins. He begged, in those scarce moments of clarity, that you run. Hide well, and please, be brave. Escape, and live to see another bitter victory. 

As time went on it became a skill, something he worked hard to refine, to reach inside himself and possess his lost humanity. He wanted to see you, to speak to you, to properly meet someone he could finally call a kindred spirit. And god, it was work, to finally wiggle himself into a place where you didn’t immediately run. It was dangerous, too, to put you in such a position, but he wanted to be selfish- just this once. So he spoke, everything that plagued his mind, until he couldn’t speak anymore.

You could never tell which voice was his- there were so many, fighting desperately to be heard. From those voices you got glimpses into his old life. The visage of a smile- warm and welcoming, comforting like a sunny day. He was so tall- but never intimidating, on the contrary he only felt scared. It bore a trust in you, for the towering monster that almost fed you to The Entity. 

You could never force yourself to speak to the other survivors much- which led to issues when it came to trials. You were shy, which is why Philip disobeyed the master of the realm. He helped you, where the others would see no mercy. Showed you the doors, the clever hides, and the lucky hatches that could save you from the other monsters you’d undoubtedly encounter. He held you, once, close to his heart as you wept over the life you were forced to leave behind. It wasn’t an ideal love- not quite, but something that led him to protect you. Someone who was just like him. 

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

In Time Things Grow

A fic inspired by my gardening today as well as a few childhood memories. Hope you like it 😘

In this fic you have a few thoughts about plants.

______________

You never had a green thumb. Your father had been able to grow and take care of anything, and from what you had heard from your father was that your mother had been a skilled florist. Sure, it could've been expected that you would have been a natural gardener, but you tended to kill everything you touched. It explained why your backyard had become a wasteland fit only for rocks and crabgrass. “It would've broken my dad's heart if he saw this.” you confessed as you looked over your yard which had at one point been full of the best blooms on this side of the county.

“None of this is y-your fault.”

“Of course it is. All that time my dad tried to teach me and how it all worked, I had allowed it to slip past my head in favor of my video games. This is the consequence of my negligence and incompetence.”

“Y-you kept the lilies alive.” he encouraged, pointing towards the random bloom in the leftmost corner of the yard. “It's only because they're the hard to kill hybrid you made. Face it,” you sighed, kicking a rock out of the way. “I'm not fit to be called a master gardeners daughter, and neither am I worthy of stepping into your conservatory.”

“D-don't say that.”

“I know I shouldn't, but I sometimes mourn for what used to be here. Probably not the best thing to do, but I can't help it because I know it's true.”

Wrapping an arm about your waist, he said softly. “It's never t-t-too late to learn. I can teach you if you'd like.”

“You tried to before. What'll make this time different? The timing? The urgency?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” he admitted. “but I-I know one thing: that y-you want to. And that m-mi corazón is the first step.”

______________

Zeta-7 had demonstrated how to cut crossover branches and hangover branches before, but instead of doing what you had been taught, you in turn destroyed, almost desecrated the perfect loveliness of a once overgrown rosemary bush, mutilated a hibiscus, and hacked away at some English ivy. He had been patient, and puttered around, checking on you every so often, but when you realized that the pile of cuttings all over the floor had been your doing, you dropped the pruning shears and apologized. “I'm so sorry. I can't believe I cut all that. Why didn't you stop me?”

Setting down his watering can, he confessed with a warm, sincere fondness, “You - you looked almost entranced. I didn't want t-to interrupt.”

It hadn't necessarily felt that way, but you did feel a certain freedom as well as responsibility when you cut away stems and branches, and they would fall around you. “I don't know, but I haven't killed them have I?”

“N-no, they'll be fine. You see, all of these are easy t-to grow from cuttings. So, in a-a sense, you did me a favor because I'll have more plants to care for soon. Isn't that neat?”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Like, y-you see this? The rosemary had become woody, but now it should - should be alright. It'll have a chance t-t-to thrive again and won't be bitter. This particular hibiscus needed t-t-to be cut back in order to encourage blooming and new growth. And well, the English ivy needed t-t-to be repotted since it had outgrown its current container. Good job princess,” Zeta-7 complimented as he pressed a sweet kiss on your temple. “I'm - I'm proud of you.”

“Rick, you really are too forgiving. I feel like I don't know what I'm doing or that I'd ever know. Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Gosh, it wasn't a mistake, but a-a happy accident. I know you'll get a feel for it. I can see it in your eyes how much y-you really want to understand. I ugh - I remember a time when everything I took care of would die.”

With this, a far off look came over him and reminiscence took place. Happy, sorrowful, and resigned thoughts, as well as flutters of acceptance, passed over him as he took your hand in his and lead you over towards the couch. He took a seat, and so did you. After a few minutes of silence, he explained. “As a-a kid, I used to get cuttings from around town and I-I had a little corner of the yard dedicated to my personal, childish garden. One of my issues was overwatering, and another was forgetting t-to water, but with practice, I got better. I grew beans, pigeon peas and whatever I-I could get my hands on. I had to do plenty of research when there was something I-I didn't understand and y-y-you can't believe how much trial and error it took before I could keep seedlings alive, but it - I wouldn't have all this today if I-I-I-I never gave it a try. Currently, all this is still a-a work in progress and so am I, but it makes me happy, just like you do.”

“But you're a genius. I find it hard to believe that you'd have any trouble.”

“I'm glad y-you think so, but I'm - there are still many things I-I don't know, but that's only half the fun: the learning part. I hope t-t-to keep learning as much as I can so that one day all of this will be ours and,” he blushed, his voice almost a whisper. “to our family.”

You said nothing after this, but you nodded and helped him pick up all the cuttings. Some of it went towards the compost pile, and other pieces he either stuck into some pots or into jars full of water. You noticed that there were jars with herbs, which were growing without an issue, and others which had labels with dates on them. One of them was dated a few weeks ago, but the cutting in that jar didn't look any different or appeared to have any growth. You wondered what had happened with this one, but Zeta-7 answered before you could ask. “Sometimes, it ugh - it takes a little time. It could take days, and other times it could take months, but it'll grow.”

Hmm, perhaps it would, and one day you would too. Although it'll take some time, you weren't going to give up, because you knew Rick wouldn't. And turning round to face him, you smiled up at the face which gave you hope. “So it will,” you softened. “and I can't wait.”

Fin

[incorrect-vrains-quotes]

What if the Ignis developed a Mother Complex towards Kusanagi (Shoichi)?Could be a virus or a glitch or just some plain misunderstanding of their own “self-perception/self-development” - Or it could be a concussion - Whatever (Everyone’s reactions?)

the first time I read this ask, my brain shut down after the very first line and it took me legit 2 hours to ready myself for the rest of it and despite the rather wild opening, the rest of it was quite tame. 

So my thought process is, quite long and roundabout so bear with me. So first, let’s lay the groundwork which immediately connects to the topic at hand. I posit that Kusanagi Shoichi is just a magnet for the found family trope. Something about him intrinsically attracts wayward teens who are looking for, like, a big brother figure or something. Not even Aoi would be immune to his brotherly pheromones. Thus, with this benign strength, it could be possible that Kusanagi has the potential to exert it over the Ignises.

In fact, I’ll argue that he already has. After all, the design parallels between him and Bohman and between Jin and Haru have been hot topic for quite some time. It makes sense: Jin created Lightning and Lightning in turn designed the 9000 Brothers. And based on what we’ve been given, Shoichi and Jin clearly had a great brother-brother relationship prior to the Incident which brings me to my next point. 

I believe that Jin feels betrayed that Shoichi was unable to save him from the Incident. Miyu had Aoi and Yusaku had Ryoken but Jin didn’t feel like he had Shoichi. Thus, this fed into how Lightning was created as an Ignis. After all, Lightning clearly took inspiration from the Kusanagi Brothers when he created Bohman and Haru; not to mention, we see this in his sort of intrinsic character values. 

If my belief is true, then if Jin felt betrayed by Shoichi being unable to save him, then that soured the make-up that Lightning was given, as compared to say Aqua or Ai in the previous cases of Miyu and Yusaku respectively. Thus, Lightning became who he is today: self-reliant and unable to truly form positive bonds with others because that’s what Jin taught him in his familial grief. 

On an unrelated tangent, but based on dialogue that Shoichi gave in the last episode, it seems possible that he was tasked with babysitting or playing with Jin on the day he was kidnapped and some sort of negligence, on his behalf, caused Jin to be stolen away. I feel that including this will help contextualise the previous paragraph further to truly embed the message Jin gave Lightning through the Incident.

Now, to reconnect it to the possibility of the Ignises being susceptible to Kusanagi Shoichi’s found family magnetism. So, if Jin taught Lightning family values based on the hurt he felt over Shoichi being unable to save him, or look after him, then its highly likely that Lightning has some sort of coding strand, in his genome possibly, which makes him the most likely out of the Ignises to feel some sort of ‘positive warmth’ towards Kusanagi Shoichi. After all, I think Jin did cling to the positive memories he had of his brother that he formed prior to the Incident, but they were twisted by the hurt that he felt due to the Incident or the immediate lead-up to the Incident when he was kidnapped.

Ideally, this would mean that, if Lightning was to be redeemed or defanged, that could mean a stable Kusanagi Brothers-Light Ignis household which is what I personally want. After all, Lightning could be given the opportunity to explore how he perceives the family structure from within it and that could give us good Lightning-HalMan Brothers development which could be excellent.

Which does not directly lead to the next point which is, if Lightning - the indisputable and cold leader - of the Ignises, has the potential to pack bond with Kusanagi Shoichi and his familial pheromones, what of the other Ignises?

Well, it does get a touch tricky. After all, whilst Shoichi has the canonically acknowledged (thank you Takeru for pointing out the bond between Shoichi and Yusaku as being like family or even possibly something stronger) ability to attract and soothe wayward teens hankering for familial connection they are otherwise starved for, he didn’t know the LI Kids (with exception of Jin, of course) prior to the Incident. Furthermore, based on what we’ve seen, Jin was the only LI Kid who had a sibling; Takeru and Miyu both seem to be only children, Yusaku doesn’t even remember his family at all, Spectre has no fondness for the other orphanage children (or anyone at all), and we can only speculate about Windy’s Kid but at the moment, a safe bet would be to assign him as an only child as well. Therefore, the resulting Fire, Water, Dark, Earth, and Wind Ignises likely aren’t inclined toward the sibling structure like Lightning was, as we’ve seen again through Bohman and Haru’s relationship. So, let’s analyse the present.

Shoichi has interacted with Ai and Flame the most. He hasn’t met Aqua in person yet, but he probably feels affable towards her but for the sake of this part of my response, we’ll focus on Ai and Flame (and even then, mostly the former). But, for convenience’s sake, we’ll talk about the latter first as it will be more concise. Flame and Shoichi have had little on-screen time together. Of it, it was amicable. Mostly, Shoichi would interact with Takeru and Takeru seems to genuinely like and look up to Shoichi. No doubt feeling the effects of Shoichi’s big brother magnetism. So, through that, Flame has a positive relationship with Shoichi, but not necessarily one which has roots in some sort of familial complex. Especially since Takeru’s familal troubles seem to be disagreeing with his grandparents and mourning the loss of his parents after their sudden demise. Contrast directly with Ai.

Ai and Shoichi are best buds. I feel that they jibed and got along super well in Season One, before Yusaku was able to open his heart to Ai abit more. Before that, Ai and Shoichi had great banter (the binary days and Yusaku can’t talk to girls jokes spring to mind first) and I think that makes perfect sense. Yusaku, who’s memories presumably rapidly decomposed on him during the Incident, was likely hoping that there was someone nice and jovial looking out for him, to contrast his shyer personality. Someone like Shoichi, perhaps, to contrast The Voice who had helped inspired him and turned him unto his Three Reasons Why. So, it is possible that Ai, similar to Lightning, has something with his code which predisposes him to connect in overly familiar ways with people and is therefore, susceptible to Kusanagi’s powerful big brother energy.

With the remaining Ignises - Aqua, Earth, and Windy - things get a bit more tricky. But, we’ll start with Aqua as she is the most straightforward of our remaining three. It is no secret that Aqua is the mother hen of the Ignises and admittedly, I enjoy characterising Kusanagi as being a professional herder of cats when it comes to Yusaku’s group because I find it charming and endearing, though not necessarily rooted in canon. Unlike with Aqua and her very mothering tendencies (I still think we were robbed of a brilliant red herring if Spectre had been Aqua’s Origin but I digress). Now, Aqua and Shoichi - as far as I recall - have not had voice lines together; they haven’t interacted, even over the line. Unsurprising given that Aoi is more closely entwined with Akira and Ema and their group and Aoi is still unaware of Playmaker & Soulburner’s true identities and of the Hot Dog Truck HQ. So, this next part is pure conjecture but Aqua would absolutely be susceptible to Kusanagi Shoichi’s found family magnetism and she would probably adore how he looks after the boys. 

To substantiate this claim, Aqua was partially modelled on Miyu’s perception of Aoi. And, whilst the girls didn’t talk about Akira on-screen and whilst Miyu didn’t meet Akira on-screen, it does seem plausible that Miyu is aware of Akira’s existence and how he factors into Aoi. So, similar to how Jin would have imprinted memories and ideas of Shoichi onto Lightning, Miyu could have done something similar to Aqua, teaching her of familial structures unlike her own. Especially since Miyu seems to come from a one-child family.

Now, moving on from Aqua, let’s go to Earth. Earth is quite unique in that he had the Origin who actively enjoyed the Experiment and actively reviles his life prior to it. He is also, as far as we know, the only Ignis whose Origin’s family did not love him and the only family Spectre did love was his protective mother tree. Now, the relationship between Earth and Spectre is bizarre to say the least given the fact that they are on opposite sides of the Human-Ignis warfare, never met, and yet Spectre mourned his passing regardless. So, it is difficult to identify what sort of ideas or memories that Spectre may have shared or taught Earth, especially since, unlike say Miyu and Aqua or Takeru and Flame, their relationship isn’t quite one to one or near it. So, this is speculation but, Earth probably would have the inclination towards familial relationships and probably has one of the stronger inclinations towards it because Spectre clearly craves that kind of connection.

It is no secret that if any Vrains character was going to have a mother complex, it would be Spectre (with, in my opinion, Dojun Kengo/Blood Shepherd in a rather distant second position). Spectre craves mother’s love very strongly and his only regret during the Incident was the fact that he couldn’t share all the fun he was having with his dear mother tree. This imprinted quite strongly on Earth, as evidenced by his duels with Playmaker and Onizuka wherein he uses a tree as his platform to duel. So, this strong bond for connections would absolutely cause Earth to adore Kusanagi Shoichi.

Now, to conclude the examination round with Windy. With Windy’s Origin’s status still hidden from us, save for his appearance and even then… there is speculation, it is impossible to make grounded claims. So, i’m not even going to bother save for reiterating it seems to be a safe bet to say that Windy’s Kid is an only child. So that’s that, even if its a cop out but what do we do with this information? 

Well, to long didn’t read, this was the perfect - if a little bizarre - case study to examine the Origin-Ignis relationships through and to long didn’t read, all the Ignises have some sort of proclivity towards enjoying familal pack bonding and Kusanagi Shoichi is just too powerful a big brother, but I couldn’t entwine the “mother complex” thing because I don’t perceive as being like ducklings who see anything go “yep, that’s my mum” because Shoichi has brother energy. Uncle energy if you stretch it. But thank you for reading!

[jasperlion]

TAGGED BY: stolen from @cavaliant​ im sorry dusk i keep nicking your memes TAGGING:  _(┐「ε:)_

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? Average, despite his lineage. Much is owed to the famine, which stunted his growth, since he grew up a commoner and thus was hit hard by the absence of food during his preteen/teen years. As an adult, however, he’d get a final sudden growthspurt before he stops growing completely, so he’d be kind of tall.

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? Yes, although at the moment he keeps wondering if his mother was short or something, considering the beast of a man who was his father.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? Fluffy and wild, often windswept, although it tends to fall into ‘place’, if by that you mean sticking out constantly. At the very least, he can quell the top, but the rest has a mind of its own. It’s very soft, though.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? Not at all. He’s given up on taming his hair, so a quick brush in the mornings before he slips on whatever he’s got to wear (headband at first, later on crown) is all he really puts an effort into. And it’s minimal at best.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? While he can get a little self-conscious in formal environments, he generally doesn’t care much as long as what he wears is practical. He tends to feel more shy or ‘dumb looking’ the more formal things he wears, and it’ll take a lot of getting used to before he treats it like business as usual. In general, ‘so long as I’m decent/presentable, it’s fine’ is his motto, something that probably frustrates his more noble savvy friends.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?  Outdoors ▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?  Sunshine ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?  Forest ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?  Neither, metals are more useful practically, though, so he might lean in that direction. ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?  Flowers ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?  Personality ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?  Mood and crowd dependent, if he likes the people he’d definitely prefer the crowd, but if he feels overly uncomfortable around them he might favor being alone. ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?  A little mix of both, he needs order to function but prefers spontaneous action to planned action on the dime. He does try to hold back and make plans/make sure things are in order if it’s important, though. Keyword is try. ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?  Painful truths, although for a while he tried to shield himself with (not so white) lies simply because it’d mean that a person he trusted wasn’t lying to him. ▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?  He tends to mix the two and they are intricately related back home. ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ? Peace, definitely.  ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  Either works, although he used to prefer the day while he lived in the village simply because of daily tasks. ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?  Both. ▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?   Physically he likes cooler environments, but warmth is comforting and familiar as well. ▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?  Both ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  Both

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? He tends to jump to conclusions with little evidence, mostly out of thinking he’s heard enough, and it’s something he needs to work on.  He’s also bad at holding back his emotions, be it anger, happiness or sorrow, and can be far too open with them whenever present. On that note, he does tend to hide personal feelings from people he doesn’t know well, despite his words that there’s nothing wrong with them, when it comes to specific topics that hurt him which he feels he has to push aside for the overall better. In trying to hold close his ideals that feelings are important and Mycen’s words that he has to push them behind him for more important things, it can confuse him on how to act or what to say. Alm tends to overwork himself so he can sleep, or otherwise turns to doing too much of something similar to tire himself out. It can lead to straining himself too much. While he believes it’s important to apologize if you’ve done wrong, his perception of when it’s his turn to apologize and when he needs to be apologized to can be easily skewed by other’s words rather than keeping a cool head and thinking of the situation as a whole. It can lead him to apologize for things he does not need to apologize for.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? While he did lose soldiers in the battles with Desaix and Rigel, although they were mostly not those close to him — it still hurt him to lose them, to have to bury them, and with his high empathy it’s not hard to imagine he’s felt guilt over the sacrifices they’ve ended up making along the way, intentional or not.

Berkut and Rudolf were not close to him, and neither were Fernand and Rinea; far from it, they were distant as could be. Even then, Alm felt for them, felt for those around him who lost them, and felt Rudolf and Berkut’s loss intricately and personally due to their blood relations. Rudolf’s death is already complex enough, in the man being his father, not having fought back, and having planned for this to happen — but Berkut’s felt a little worse. It could have been preventable (and how? he asks himself that a lot), it was someone he killed fully knowing they were relatives, and the man had lost his sanity only to then beg of him to finish it all when he regained it. It’s made a lot of uncomfortable, terrible feelings well up that he feels he can’t even address because he doesn’t deserve his own peace. That, in itself, was the message that Mycen’s words transferred to him, no matter how well-intentioned. He lost his family to his own hands, and how he feels about it is quite complex and terrifying.

The one that hurt him the most, however, was Celica. Like Rudolf, he himself did the deed, but unlike Rudolf... she was as close as could be in his heart. Despite the fact that she returns to him, and thus does not truly die, for a few minutes she truly was dead. He mourned her, he wept for her, and he has this memory to remember and think of for the rest of his life. The memory of how it felt to stab her, the memory of her dying breaths, and of how it felt to hold a corpse. It haunts him, and so does the guilt — it’ll never go away, no matter how necessary or how she managed to return, unlike everyone else. It doesn’t stop that it happened, that he did kill her, and the fact that it likely left adverse effects in her for the rest of her life. 

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ? The games he played with his friends in Ram, reading stories together, memories of Gray returning with little gifts for everyone from outside the village, seeing Kliff again after he left for school, playing with Celica in the flower fields, whenever he and Celica read stories late into the night, training with his friends, training with Mycen, the stories Mycen would tell him about his days as a Knight, hanging out with everyone in the Deliverance on down times during the war and thus befriending them, receiving mentorship from them as well, meeting Celica again in the balcony (despite the fight, it’s something he will always remember fondly), little shenanigans he used to get up to in Ram, receiving praise from those he looked up to in the Deliverance...

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? He gets no joy from it and he dislikes taking lives unnecessarily, but for Alm it’s almost second nature to kill his enemies. In the battlefield, it’s you or them, and while at times he’s regretted it more than he usually does, it doesn’t stop the fact that he has a steady hand when he does the deed. Alm is a warrior trained by a warrior from Rigel first and foremost, and what he knows best how to do is how to fight and, by association, kill.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? Alm is pretty sorrowful when he breaks down, less leaning to violence and more towards emotions in general, especially the negative. He becomes a lot more reactive and a lot less introspective, especially if what has caused the upset is something he doesn’t understand the reasons for. He asks questions, he cries, he gets even more upset when he cannot get the answer, and he... feels. A lot. Only rarely would this lead to violent actions on his end, but it can lead to anger, either to the cause or himself.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? He trusts others with it far too easily, and while it used to not bother him, well... things have changed.

However, he’s more than capable of trusting others with his life, and even more capable of giving his life for someone or a cause to see it through. While he’s by no means suicidal, he has the mindset of a soldier; he will do what he must.

Still, it’s usually others who trust him with their life by putting him in a leading position, which he finds strange.

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? Alm’s been in love for a long time, honestly, so it’s easy to tell how he is when it happens. He’s just more affectionate towards that person, will embrace them and generally hold them close. He likes to stick by their side, speak with them often, and thinks of them and their safety often. He holds their words to his chest and, if he upsets them, it will weigh heavily on his mind if he’s unable to apologize or stop it right away. Capable of thinking about a situation and realize where he messed up, he is sincere in his apologies (although, as mentioned before, at times his perception of where he messed up might heavily lean in favor of the other person, apologizing for things he didn’t necessarily do wrong as well — hopefully his partner helps clear that up for him, he won’t be able to see that without help).

Gentle and caring, he’s not one to just show affection in one way, instead doing so even with the barest of actions. Deliberate forehead touches, gentle cheek caresses, soft embraces, etc. He takes great care with his actions with the person he’s in love with.

It’s relatively easy to tell who it is, too. He’s very attentive and close to his friends, of course, and leans to physical affection for all. However, with the person he’s in love with, it’s always more thoughtful and mindful, always lingering and considerate.

He’s just a giant fluffball with them, basically.

[daresplaining]

Matt: “Daredevil told me how all this happened. You’ve got to know you were just a story, right? Something I did when I was young and dumb. I never had a brother. It was just me and dad.”

Mike: “All I know, Matt, is you got one now. I’m trying to see any reason it matters how I got here, or what I remember and what I don’t. Far as I can tell, I’m alive. The rest... I’ll worry about later. But I need your help, or there won’t be a later. Your buddy Daredevil’s chasing after me, trying to sic that Reader guy on me-- They want to, I dunno, unmake me. You gotta make ‘em stop. You talk about dad... good old Battlin’ Jack Murdock. Maybe I got more of him in me than you ever did. Seems like you’re just gonna lie down and let Daredevil and his creepy buddies take away the only brother you ever had. Well, not me. I’m gonna fight. Just like Dad would’ve.”

Reader: “Okay. That’s enough. Signal or no signal, this is over. [...] Now step back. You guys are pretty similar. Wouldn’t want to accidentally erase the wrong Murdock.”

Matt: “No!”

Daredevil vol. 5 #608 by Charles Soule and Phil Noto

    I’d resigned myself to the fact that this issue would be the end of this wild experiment, but thankfully, Charles Soule came to the same conclusion I hope we all did: Mike is just too good a character to scrap. And so Matt decides to save his “brother’s” life after this odd-yet-touching conversation.

    Over the course of this issue, Mike starts to become normalized. The situation is still patently absurd, but the way people behave toward Mike has started to change. This is particularly notable regarding Foggy, who has finally entered the story. He has no idea what the hell is going on, but it doesn’t take him long to decide to just roll with the fact that Matt’s fake twin brother is apparently now real. Mike is so in-your-face about his realness that there’s just no other option, and so Foggy quickly starts treating him like a person instead of an oddity. After a fun sequence in which Mike builds the beginning of a relationship with Foggy (not necessarily a good one, but definitely a relationship), Matt confronts his “brother” in civvies for the first time. 

    Up to this point, Matt was still looking at Mike from Reader’s perspective: as a blip in reality that required correction. But Mike’s obvious and dangerous desperation convinces him that he needs to meet Mike on his own terms and humor him. He decides to at least explain the situation to Mike, and do him the benefit of giving him what he wants before destroying him. But over the course of their conversation, Matt’s perspective changes. Earlier in the issue, Foggy has an unexpected bonding experience with Mike over Karen Page’s death, which gives them a shared history and hints at Mike’s humanity. And here, Matt experiences something similar when Mike starts talking about family.

    Matt is very, very good at reading people, and Mike’s sincerity and fear are likely apparent to him throughout this conversation. No matter what the nature of reality may be, Mike sees Matt as his brother, the only family he has, and he is relying on that perceived connection to save him. He reaches out to Matt for help, and then he brings up Jack. Last issue when Mike mentioned his dad, Matt’s reflexive response was to punch him in the face. Here, now that Matt has a better understanding of Mike’s identity and mindset, he actually listens. It becomes clear to him that-- again, reality aside-- Mike has fond memories of Jack Murdock. And just as Foggy briefly connected with Mike through their shared mourning of Karen, Matt is able to finally sympathize, if not empathize, with Mike through their shared love for their father. Matt is able to glimpse Mike’s reality-- a reality in which this guy is actually his twin brother, with whom he has an established relationship. Family is a sore spot for Matt. He doesn’t have much of one, and mostly associates that kind of relationship with loss. As weird as this whole situation is, Mike has appeared in his life as a possible new family member, and that’s really significant for someone in Matt’s position. He flips from seeing Mike as a figment of his imagination to seeing him as his brother, someone who shares a fundamental piece of his own past, and is faced with losing another part of his family. And so he can’t bring himself to let Mike die. It’s wacky. It’s psychologically twisted. It’s oddly touching. And I love it. 

Matt: “I don’t understand this, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. But... he’s my brother. Family. I chose family.”

    Obviously, this sibling dynamic was never going to be functional, and Mike ends this chapter feeling betrayed by his brother and making some really dumb life choices in response. But hopefully the events of this issue mean that Mike is here to stay, and that we can look forward further development of the Murdock twins’ beautifully bizarre new relationship.