#she is still writing about my life after all these years

[seneon]

INTERTWINED GAZES ──── katsuki bakugo

about. in which, everybody's watching her, but she only has eyes for him. romantic fluff. wc of 700+

notes. inspired by "this is what you came for" by calvin & rihanna. okay maybe katsuki is interesting to write too... forrr @seumyo aka katsuki's girl and @angeliicheartt my pooki

you took a trip down to a memory lane ingrained and portrayed with the best moments in your life back in UA. it all started with the very first step you took into hero class 1A, and it all travels to your final year in 3A.

it has been a journey. to grow in your quirk and to grow in your friendship with your classmates. for whatever reason, your love for katsuki seems to grow as it has with the other aspects that bring your whole life up.

now you're standing amongst all the other future heroes who danced and reveled in the pool of their sweet graduation. the bass of the party song finds a funny comfort at the back of your ears as the colourful lights run around in every direction, painting your skin whatever hue the light shines.

the emcee announces for a time where the next song will be the momentary dopamine boost for the students, a dance with a partner. by now, most of the students have their own partner. you can tell, they've grown on each other. they've fallen in love. they've locked their fates together.

not that you aren't a fan of romance, but the eyes of every other student that darts to you right after the implication of a partner dance has your eyes locked onto one boy, and only him.

every soul is watching you, but you're looking at katsuki. dear sweet katsuki who stands at one corner with a fruit punch in one hand, and his other hand stuffed into his pockets. he takes a sip of his drink before his scarlet eyes shoot to your direction and he freezes.

katsuki freezes because the girl he's always admiring from afar is looking at him. she's on the dance floor with so many other boys, but her sights are set on katsuki.

your heart starts to speed up as your hands are gently pushed against your chest to stop the rapid beating. even under the blaring colourful lights and the music that is almost ending, you looked like the ultimate beauty to katsuki. even though your eyes are taken off from him, his gaze is still fixed onto yours.

“dance with her,” midoriya breaks katsuki out of his trance and glances at his friend who shot him a smile. “you’ll never have this chance again, kacchan.”

midoriya’s words seemed to puncture some sort of idea in his mind. katsuki walks towards you, pushing his way through the crowd while setting his drinks aside so he could tap on your shoulders to get your attention.

when you looked at him, he lost all his confidence. it's all because in this moment, he feels so vulnerable under your gaze. your eyes that hold some kind of beauty in them and they see through all the imperfections of katsuki.

and though there are many people special to him, you are the only soul who can touch his cool heart with your warm smile that surfaces.

“i want to dance with you,” the blond blurts out with a murmur, the colour of roses painting his cheeks and you couldn't help but feel your blush own deepening. “i’ll dance with you, katsuki.”

everything was so sweet. the way his hands held yours so gently, a monstrous contrast to how aggressive he usually is. his touch is so warm and it has you falling in love all over again with this boy. you had your first dance with the first boy you liked.

and when you look back at it, you've always wondered why it took three years for you to confess your love to katsuki. you still wonder until now, years after the graduation party where you're now a pro hero, just a few ranks under katsuki.

“are you looking at our graduation picture again?” the voice of your husband asks as you pull your gaze off from the photo album and nod at katsuki who takes off his costume gears.

“it was on this date where you asked me to dance with you, and we ended up confessing to each other,” you said as he walked over to you sitting on the couch and gave your cheek a peck.

“of course. i still remember."

katsuki will never forget about it. because if a genie grants him a wish, it will be for him to ask you to dance with him over and over again.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Belonging with them

Day 3: Belonging.

Summary: He knew where he belonged now.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1150

Warnings: azzie continues being jelly of kaden lolll

A/n: i love hazel sm yall dont get it 🥺 this fic is based on a short i saw on yt and the dad is like the biggest hunk and gave such cassian vibes and he genuinely cried 🥺 i was gonna write this fic for cassian but then i decided to give this to azzie cus he deserves to cry hehe

(if you dont know hazel and kaden, theyre from my mini series overprotective bat. it was a 2 part series which can be found on my azriel masterlist. all the fic in this week will be revolving around these two cuties hehe)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"I don’t really know where I fit in anymore."

"I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries and I’m not sure of that, either."

The day he had said those words to Feyre seemed like a lifetime away, as if experienced in a dream centuries ago when he was younger and could not differentiate between reality and what his brain had conjured up. But he knew, it had merely been five years.

The five years he had cherished the most in his life.

He loved his family. He adored the way Rhys and Cassian bickered during their annual snowball fight, the way Amren found a way to slide in a snide remark at every dinner, the way Mor would always be ready to go partying. Above all, he adored how all his family including the Archeron sisters would be ready to help him and be there for him any day. Even in the middle of the night when he did not want to wake up his wife but knew he needed someone to help him with his crying daughter.

But… they did not complete him. He loved them to bits and would readily give his life for them… before he met his now wife and decided she was the one he would spend his life with, mating bond be damned. He had lost all hopes of finding his mate back then after waiting for five centuries.

Imagine his shock when on their wedding day, he felt another thread of gold tying him to his wife.

Now as he sat watching his daughter pet a purring Nuts lounging on the low table in front of him while explaining to him how tea was made, he smiled.

He had found his place of belonging. And it was with his wife and daughter.

Of course, there had to be that boy trying to take his daughter away from him. What was his name? Kade? Kaden? Azriel thought bitterly.

He knew he was being dramatic. His daughter was barely four years at this point, no four year old was going to steal her away.

Hazel turned to Azriel, making him focus all his attention on her. He offered her a smile when she handed him a small pink cup.

"What is this?" He asked, bringing the empty toy to his lips.

She shot him an incredulous look. "It’s the tea you ordered daddy."

"Oh, yeah sorry, I was thinking about something."

She shook her head. "Stop thinking and focus, daddy. Kaden always pays attention."

Azriel stilled.

I am being compared to a four year old boy now? What has life come to.

He sighed, mumbling out an apology even though all he wanted to do was tell her to stay away from that boy.

He did not want to be forced to go apologise again.

She began fumbling with the littered toys on the desk once more, completely ignoring Azriel in favour of mumbling instructions to Nuts, as if teaching him how to cook.

As he watched her move over to the huge armchair and place a cup on it, conversing with what Azriel could only hope was not spirits of the deceased, his curiosity peaked.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he needed to make sure that she was not getting overly friendly with Kaden.

"Hazel, this tea is amazing." He waited till she giggled before continuing. "By the way, how’s school?"

It was daycare to help her get accustomed to going to school next year, but Hazel insisted she was a big girl and attended big girl school.

"It’s fine. Miss Black gave me a gold star yesterday because I helped her." Hazel was focused on the air she was stirring in her red pot as she talked, lips pursed slightly in concentration.

"Hmm. Who’s your best friend?"

Please don’t say Kaden. Not Kaden. Please.

She turned around to glare at him, and he wondered if by any chance he had said the words aloud. But he knew he hadn’t. Azriel wouldn’t let himself speak without permission from himself.

Her brows bunched up, lips pouting and eyes narrowed, she looked as offended as an old grandma being told her grandchild was full and did not want more food.

"Daddy, it’s you. You’re my best friend." She rolled her eyes.

Azriel watched. He simply watched her return back to stirring her pot.

Cassian had been the one to teach her the eye rolling. Azriel had been amused. Seeing a child barely reaching his knees roll her eyes at him like she had lived five lives was nothing short of funny.

But right now, it felt anything but.

It’s you daddy.

His eyes were prickling, that was his first conscious thought after long moments of silence in his head. His vision was getting blurry, throat clogging. Tell tale signs of a sob session oncoming. But he could not bring himself to care as he stared at this little faeling, who did not even realise what she had done.

You’re my best friend.

Azriel simply sat back against the couch, the cushions pressing against his bare back, and let the tears have their way on his skin.

I’m her best friend.

Even despite the emotions Hazel had brought forth, somewhere in the back of his mind Azriel was rejoicing that her best friend was not Kaden.

Guess I’m never beating the territorial illyrian accusations.

The shadows settled down on his shoulders, swirling softly against his skin as they too watched Hazel play and pet Nuts occasionally. They did not inform him of his wife’s arrival in the living room. They did not have to. He simply felt when her presence was near. The all consuming feeling of love growing stronger in his chest being another indicator.

"Hazel, it’s bath time baby. Let’s go."

Hazel huffed as if what Y/n had said was the most outrageous thing ever. "Mommy, I can’t leave yet. There are customers."

Azriel practically felt his wife’s eyes narrow. "Daddy can attend to your customers."

Hazel turned to look at Azriel pleadingly, her eyes wide and placating before they filled with shock. "Daddy why are you crying!"

Y/n drew closer. "Azzie?"

Azriel blinked, smiling up at his wife before picking up his daughter. "It’s nothing. Just some dust."

Hazel turned to scowl at Nuts. "I told you to clean up properly. Now see, because of you my daddy is crying."

Azriel huffed out a laugh, pressing his lips to her round cheek.

"Let’s go shower baby. I’ll even get your toys, yeah?"

Azriel’s gaze swung to Y/n at the end of his sentence. She gave him a knowing smile.

"Can Nuts come too? Please daddy, mommy!"

"Fine, but no splashing." Y/n pointed a finger at the father-daughter duo, eyebrows raised.

Hazel had begun to whine, but even she knew not to argue when mommy was serious.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[gale-gentlepenguin]

Epic What if

(What if Odysseus chose his crew?)

-The events of the story won’t change much at the beginning. But there is one small part.

-Odysseus feels a twinge of guilt still. The song “Monster” didn’t help him completely embrace ruthlessness.

-And so the events leading up to the mutiny and thunderbringer are the same.

-But one key difference was when Zeus asked Odysseus what he’d choose.

-“You, or your crew.”

-Zeus believed he knew the answer. The crew that had just betrayed Odysseus. The man desperate to see his wife. It seemed so obvious.

-But Odysseus’s next statement came as shocking.

-“If I choose my crew… would you let them get back to ithica?”

-Eurylochus realized what he was asking.

-Zeus, being the thunderbringer, smiles

-“They would get to Ithica, but your journey ends here. You will no longer have your kingdom.”

-Odysseus takes a minute, he takes a piece of paper and writes something. He hands it to him.

-“Give this to my wife.”

-Eurylochus speaks

-“Captain wait!?”

-Zeus was surprised by the call. But is seems he swallowed Ody had swallowed his pride. In the end, he was just a man.

-Zeus Killed Odysseus. Leaving the crew on the boat.

-Zeus looks at the crew.

-He takes his lightning and blasts the back of the ship.

-Sending it flying and right to Ithica.

-Zeus decides to head back to Olympus. His work done.

-Eurylochus felt his heart ache. No one wanted to get home more than his best friend… yet when the time came to choose, he chose them. The crew that betrayed him.

-He looked at the note. He noticed there was a second note. One for him.

-He read it. A new song called “To my friends.” Plays

-Tears fell from his eyes. But he wiped them.

-“Raise my son to be a king better than me.”

-“I will Ody, on my life.”

-Eurylochus and the remains of the crew arrived at the palace. Where suitors had gathered. Antinious asked where the king was.

-Eurylochus said that Odysseus was dead.

-The suitors cheered, Telemachus heard and was saddened. The 12 year old was left without a dad.

-Antinious was about to say it’s time for her to choose, only for Eurylochus cut his head off.

-The song “Wolf pack attack” replaces fight little wolf.

-The suitors were all killed by the remaining soldiers.

-Eurylochus goes to Penelope. And the next song. “I’m sorry.” Which is sung by Eurylochus to Penelope.

-Penelope vows to never marry. As only Odysseus was the one she loved.

-The next song is Eurylochus song to Telemachus. “What was he like.” Which is Eurylochus telling Telemachus about his father and the man that he was.

-several years later Telemachus is made king at 18. And he is the spitting image of Odysseus.

-He ends up befriending Athena, who feels guilt over Odysseus and decides to not make the same mistakes she did with Odysseus. The song “Like him.” Is played as Telemachus sings of how he is training to be like his father.

-Telemachus goes on an excursion for a diplomatic mission.

-Where Posideon appears. He thought he was Odysseus. And Telemachus knew who he was.

-The next song is Poseidon singing “Sins of the father.”

-Eurylochus was on that ship and protects Odysseus with his life. The last part of the song has Eurylochus die.

-Telemachus striking back. The song is called “Father son Strike” and thanks to Athena’s help. He manages to beat Poseidon. And like his father did in canon. He goes ham until he surrenders

-After that, Telemachus sings an alternate version of “Legendary”. In which he sings it about his father and Eurylochus.

-He heads home to Ithica, where he goes to rule over his kingdom.

[redroomreflections]

When in Bloom

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

10/10

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 7.9k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Note: I spent my entire Sunday writing this. I paused and rewound the movie 50 times. I utilized ChatGPT to help me with timelines. I read the script. I pulled out all the resources to ensure I did my big one for y'all. Special shoutout to Grammarly Premium for making my writing look and sound professional-like. Enjoy =)

Breakfast was always something Natasha found important. In her mind, it was more than just a meal; it was the fuel that powered her through the day. She never skipped it, a rare and comforting constant in her life. Even now, in a quiet city apartment far removed from the chaos of her past, the ritual of making breakfast each morning grounded her.

In the Red Room, food was always viewed strictly as fuel, something utilitarian and calculated. She never spoke much about those years, especially not with Nicky—he was still too young to understand, and she didn’t want that darkness clouding his view of her. But she could remember the harsh regimens, the rigid routines, the lessons drilled into her: taking care of herself wasn’t a luxury; it was mandatory. A weak Widow was a liability; weakness was something she had never been allowed to show.

She tried not to think too deeply about what her training had left her with—it was just one more thing in a long line of things that had happened to her.

"Mama, I'm almost ready," Nicky shuffled to the room with his laces untied and jacket hanging from his body. Ollie walked with him at his tail. He sat next to Natasha, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.

"I don't have anything for you, sweet boy," Natasha smiled apologetically. Ollie whined and laid his head on the floor. Natasha turned away from the dog to inspect Nicky. He was sitting on the floor, his hands attempting to tie his laces as his little tongue stuck out.

"What do you need, Myshka?" Natasha asked, and Nicky held his foot up.

"I can't do the knots, they're too small."

Natasha smiled and tied his shoes. She stood up, and Nicky followed suit, his coat fully zipped and his backpack slung over his shoulders.

"Can we stop for hot chocolate on the way to school?"

"I made breakfast," Natasha shook her head.

"Eggs and toast again?" He asked as he sat at the table.

"Eggs and toast," Natasha nodded. It was all she knew how to make without burning.

"Okay," Nicky sighed, "but I want a donut tomorrow."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"We'll see," she answered.

"It's a promise!" He said.

"You know how I feel about those," she chided. "I don't make them unless I can follow through."

Nicky dug into his eggs and toast with a resigned but good-natured sigh; Natasha sat across from him, her phone buzzing softly on the table. She’d promised herself that breakfast would always be their time, uninterrupted, but the messages were piling up.

Okoye: "Natasha, we’re seeing unusual cartel activity in Mexico City. I think it’s Barton."

Rhodes: "Saw the same. We have casualties this time—he’s not holding back anymore. Might be time to intervene."

She rubbed her temples, reading over each message carefully. It had been like this for months: catching glimpses of Barton’s brutal one-man war, getting vague reports, but never close enough to reach him. And each new incident seemed to confirm what she already knew—Clint was spiraling, slipping further away with every mission.

Nicky munched on his toast, his little eyes flitting between her and Ollie, who was sulking on the floor. She gave him a quick smile, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders, and typed a response.

"I'm on it. I'll be at the compound in an hour," She typed.

"Who's that?" Nicky asked, his eyes still watching Ollie.

"A friend," Natasha said, putting her phone down. "They're working on a case."

"The Avenger kind of case?"

"Exactly the kind," she nodded.

"Can I go on a mission with you someday?"

"Hmm, you have to finish first grade and learn to tie your shoes," She said. "Then we can talk."

Nicky finished the rest of his breakfast, and Natasha helped him clean up and get his backpack ready. As she grabbed her jacket, Natasha saw a message flash from another chat, this one from Nora.

Nora: "Hey, are we still on for tonight? Let me know what you’re in the mood for."

They’d only met a few months ago, but Natasha was easing into an unlikely friendship with Nora. They both tried to ignore the fact that they'd almost slept together. Their camaraderie was something she needed during this time. Someone who didn't know her world. Someone as a listening ear.

She hadn’t told Nora much about her past or work—what she could share, anyway—but Nora seemed to sense her guardedness and never pressed for more.

Natasha quickly typed back:

Natasha: "Still on for tonight. Maybe something low-key? Let’s catch up."

She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket and helped Nicky and Ollie out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

Their walk to his bus stop was uneventful. Nicky counted the steps to the corner, babbling to her about something she had no idea about. Traffic at this time was nonexistent, especially after the Snap. It was just her, Nicky, and Ollie walking, their steps in sync.

"Remember your homework and ensure you're practicing your cursive," she reminded him.

"I know, I will," Nicky huffed.

"Have a good day at school," Natasha said, crouching down to Nicky's level. "I love you, always."

"Love you too," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Ollie!"

He ran off, his backpack bouncing with him, as he met the other children at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, and the children all piled in. Natasha stayed until the doors shut, and the bus disappeared from her view.

This was their normal.

********

The training room was quiet, and the soft hum of electricity was all around her. She could hear the shuffling of her feet and the clank of the bag as it hit the floor.

It had taken Natasha a while, but she found her rhythm again. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black shirt and sweatpants, her feet grounded to the floor as she pulled her hair into a tight, controlled bun. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, twisting and pinning the strands into place as if the routine and discipline would quiet the noise in her mind. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control.

The soft padding of her shoes across the floor felt comforting as she moved to the center of the room. She stretched, her arms reaching above her head, bending into a series of quiet, fluid motions. There was a certain peace in this, a kind of grace she hadn’t known she needed until she found it again.

She moved through pirouettes, the motion sharp and fluid before she landed softly back onto the floor. Natasha paused, standing tall, breathing steady. She was a soldier. A leader. A mother. But for this moment, she was just a woman, letting her body regain balance.

When she had the time, she would sit in this training room. Sometimes, she'd cry. Other times, she would dance when her mind and body needed it.

Today, she'd danced.

Her hands came up in a strong pose, her right leg pointed, and her left hand raised.

The music started with a quiet melody.

Her muscles remembered. Her body knew what to do.

Natasha took a deep breath, and then she began to dance.

The ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every motion, a dull, constant throb she couldn't shake. It wasn't the physical exhaustion, the burn in her legs from stretching too far, too long—it was the grief, the absence, a constant reminder of what had been taken from her.

The anniversary was coming up. Eight and a half years together. She tried not to think about it, but the numbers wouldn't leave her alone. Five years lost. It felt impossible to imagine what those years might have been. What would life be like now if it were not for the Snap? If not for the universe tearing itself apart?

Stella would be nine. Natasha could almost picture it: a small girl with dark, wild curls and an infectious smile. Her eyes would have sparkled with the same mischief as you. She would have been old enough to start thinking about her future and to ask questions that Natasha would have been too tired to answer. But you'd have done it together, as a family.

Natasha stopped suddenly, her foot hitting the ground hard.

A lump had formed in her throat, and the tears threatened to spill.

The pain was like a knife, a sudden, violent stabbing deep inside.

There may have been another baby by now. Maybe she'd have been thinking about balancing the mission, the children, the quiet mornings, and the long days filled with reports and decisions. She'd have retired by now. She'd have given up avenging, given up this life of constant motion, just to hold onto the people she loved.

Her mind wandered, remembering how you’d looked when you held Stella for the first time, the joy in your eyes as you held that tiny life. Natasha wanted to hold onto that memory. She wanted to feel the weight of her daughter in her arms again. But she couldn’t.

Her foot faltered as she spun, the motion too sharp and quick. She caught herself, steadying on one leg before continuing the movement. Her body knew the steps. It was the heart that was falling behind. She could push through it—she always had.

But today, the ache felt too much to ignore. She wished for a moment that she could turn off the grief, pretend that it wasn’t there, that it didn’t eat at her every time she saw a family or a couple. Every time she saw a child running through a park or a mom at the grocery store. Every time, she thought about the future she would never have.

*********

Natasha sat among the ring of holo-screens, only half listening to the chatter from each team member. Rocket, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rhodey spoke, trading updates and frustrations across the galaxy. She held a small peanut butter container in her hand, absentmindedly scooping out spoonfuls as she listened. The sandwich in front of her remained untouched. The familiar, salty taste grounded her, though it did little to quell the churn of thoughts spiraling within her.

The screen shifted to Rocket, whose frustrated voice was loud and clear.

Rocket's voice rang from the Halo. "So, thanks for the hot tip."

Natasha smirked a little despite herself, watching the banter continue between him and Carol. But her mind kept flickering back to the breakfast she'd rushed with Nicky, how she'd promised him she’d be home after her day at the compound. She'd need Nora to pick him up from school again.

Carol’s voice cut through the chatter. "The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time."

Natasha swallowed another spoonful of peanut butter, feeling the weight of Carol's words settle over her. It was a reminder of just how enormous this loss was—this endless damage, stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. She’d stayed, kept her footing here, but even her little world seemed to be slipping. Her family was fractured, Barton somewhere out there in the shadows, and her friends scattered across the world, each dealing with their own aftermath.

"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open... This channel’s always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me." She said.

One by one, the screens blinked out, each goodbye leaving her feeling slightly lonelier. Only Rhodey remained. She knew what he’d say before he even started.

"Federalés found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys... Guns still in their pants. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev."

Her chest tightened, the peanut butter sticking in her throat. She nodded grimly, acknowledging what she'd known was coming but dreaded to hear.

"It’s definitely Barton," Rhodey said.

The confirmation settled in her like a lead weight. Clint was too far gone, and whatever had driven him to this point was something she couldn’t pull him back from—not yet. Her fingers clenched the spoon tighter, and she stared at the empty container. She’d been so focused on keeping things together, on somehow pulling everyone else back into orbit, that she hadn’t noticed just how close she was to breaking herself.

"What he’s done here...what he’s been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesn’t want to find him." Rhodey continued.

Natasha let out a long breath, steadying herself. She had to keep it together for Nicky, Clint, and everyone else who still counted on her to lead them through this unsteady world.

"Find out where he’s going next." She fought through the tears to hold it together. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to ease her tears, before dropping it onto the plate.

Rhodey nodded, the screen flickering off, leaving her alone. She rubbed her eyes, letting herself sink back for a long, quiet moment. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem sad enough already."

She looked up, eyes weary, but a small smile breaking through. Steve could always tell.

Natasha turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her.

"Come by to do your laundry?" she asked, arching a brow.

"And see a friend," he replied.

She forced a small smile. "Your friend’s fine."

Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression softening with the familiar look he reserved for her. "She leave the house today?"

"Nothing out there I particularly want to see."

"I spotted a pod of whales coming over the bridge," he said, almost wistfully. "Closer to the city than I’ve ever seen them."

A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Natasha’s lips. "Guess nature’s making a comeback, huh? Nice to know someone’s doing alright."

They fell into silence, and Steve watched her, something unspoken settling in the quiet. He leaned against the doorframe.

"How’s Nicky?"

Natasha's face softened at the mention of her son, her usual guarded expression slipping just a little.

"Growing faster than I can keep up with," she murmured, almost to herself. "He’s asking a lot of questions these days. Hard questions."

Steve nodded, his voice gentle. "He’s smart, like his mom."

She let out a small, tired laugh, glancing down. "Smart... yeah. And stubborn. Keeps me on my toes."

"Sounds like he’s a lot like you."

She shook her head, smiling faintly, before looking back at the table where her half-eaten sandwich sat. "He’s everything we hoped he’d be. Kind, curious... Sometimes, I wonder if he’s too gentle for this world. For what’s left of it, anyway."

A heavy silence followed her words, and Steve moved a step closer, an understanding look in his eyes.

"He’s got you to look out for him. And you’re both stronger than you think."

Natasha gave a small nod, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe."

After a long moment, Steve looked up at her, his gaze steady, honest.

"Group was interesting. I keep telling them to move on. Grow past it," he said, his voice laced with something like resignation. "And some of them actually do. But not us."

Natasha held his gaze, the weight of it settling heavily between them. "If I move on," she murmured, "who does this?"

"Maybe it doesn’t need to be done," he replied quietly.

The words lingered, sinking into her. Steve was thinking of letting go. She could see the traces of weariness on his face and how he looked around the compound.

She glanced around, taking in the remnants of what had once been their team, their family. "I used to have nothing," she said softly. "Then I got this. This job, this family..."

Her voice caught, a flash of grief breaking through her carefully composed exterior. She took a breath, collecting herself.

"And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be... better."

Steve’s expression softened. "I think we both need to get a life."

She let out a small, almost hollow laugh. "You first."

He gave her a slight smile, then tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "What about Nora?"

Natasha’s face shifted, her smile fading. "It’s nothing," she said, brushing it off. Her gaze fell, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want my family back, Steve. My wife... Stella..."

A deep silence settled over them. Steve nodded slowly, understanding without needing any more words.

"We did our best, Nat," he murmured. "There wasn't anything more we could have done."

"That's the difficult part," She nodded.

They stared at each other, a long, quiet moment of shared melancholy. The silence wrapped around them, a reminder of all they’d lost and the people who weren’t there to share it with them anymore.

Then, a sudden ping broke through the silence. Natasha looked down at her console, swiping to a CCTV display, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight on the screen.

Scott Lang’s face filled the monitor, his expression hopeful yet bewildered, with Luis’s old van parked behind him.

“Hello?” Scott’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang? We met a few years ago. At the airport?”

Steve leaned in, frowning as he watched Scott on the screen. “This an old message?”

Natasha shook her head, stunned. “It’s the front gate.”

********

Vormir

Natasha and Clint were climbing, their breathing ragged from the exhaustion of the long ascent. The mountain seemed endless, and with every step, Natasha felt the air become thinner. It was suffocating. Her thighs were burning, her legs shaking, but she pushed through, her heart pounding in her ears as they reached the top of the cliff.

They approach an archway carved into the mountain's face, and Clint mutters to himself.

"Really starting to regret my choice here," Clint said half-jokingly.

Natasha exhaled, a dry laugh escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. She didn't answer immediately, her mind racing. "Yeah. I'm going to bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain."

"I don’t think technically he’s a raccoon..." Clint grinned.

"Whatever. He eats garbage." She cut him off. But as Clint spoke, Natasha's smile faded, her gaze distant as she took a few more steps, each one harder than the last. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that grew with each breath.

For a moment, the mountain felt less like a physical challenge and more like an emotional one. Every part of her wanted to stop, to tell Clint it was not worth it, but she couldn’t. She couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. They turned, guns drawn, ready for a fight.

"I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," The hooded figure affirmed.

"Creepy," Clint commented.

"Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The hooded figure gestured to her. "Clint, son of Edith."

"Creepier." He murmured.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked.

"Consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the Soul Stone."

Their journey ended here.

********

"If we don’t get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead." She said firmly.

Clint’s face was grim, but there was no question in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He already knew what’s been weighing on both of them.

"Then I guess we both know who it has to be,"

There was a pause. A beat where emotion played all over their faces - pain, love, heartbreak. Natasha looked at Clint, and something on her face shifted.

"Yeah, I guess we do," She said.

"I'm starting to think we don't mean the same person," Clint tilted his chin. "Nicky needs a mother."

"And he'll have her," Natasha said. As Natasha began to pull away, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, something changed.

Suddenly, the world around them shuddered. A strange, heavy pressure filled the air, like reality was bending. Natasha stumbled, her eyes snapping around, searching for the source. The ground trembled.

Suddenly she was alone.

"You think this is the end of your choice? I think you’ll find... it’s just the beginning." Red Skull's voice played around her ominously. She searched for the source but couldn't find it.

"What the hell," She cried out.

Before she could process what was happening, the world shifted again. The landscape around her warped, colors bleeding into one another as if she'd stepped through a rift into another plane of existence. Natasha closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She only listened to her breathing and her senses until her feet hit solid ground. She could hear the running of water. If she could guess, it was a stream or... a river.

"What is this place?" She asked as she blinked her eyes open. Red Skull stood before her. Natasha looked around, hoping to find her bearings, but nothing gave her the indication that she was still on Vormir or Earth. It seemed like a purgatory of sorts. Someone else's dream.

"You’ve come this far. But I think you deserve more than just a simple end. A choice so great—perhaps you should have the chance to reconsider." Red Skull explained.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded. "Where's Clint?"

"I offer you a choice—one you may not have considered. A way out. A chance to undo it all... in a different form." He ignored her questions, only causing more confusion.

"What’s your game, Skull? What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "I swear to-"

"Mama?" A voice called. Natasha froze. Her heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing into a single point of focus. That voice. Her heart dropped and then soared all at once. She didn't understand how, but she knew exactly who it was. Her stomach churned.

She turned around, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape, and then there she was.

Stella was the same age as when the Snap happened. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Her hair was the same—soft, messy curls that fell around her face. Her eyes were just as bright as those vivid green eyes that Natasha had only seen in her dreams. The little girl looked up at her, pure joy in her expression, a smile that could light up the entire world.

"Hi, Mama," Stella grinned up at her. Her face was unchanged, frozen in time. She looked just as Natasha remembered. Still three. Still lost in a world that didn't seem to age her.

Natasha’s heart felt like it would shatter. She rushed toward her daughter, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She pulled Stella into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Her eyes stung with tears she couldn't contain.

"I don’t... I don’t understand. How—how are you here? You... you’re—"

But before she could finish, Stella pulled back slightly, her little face furrowed with confusion.

"Where is Mommy?" She asked

"Oh God." Natasha choked back a sob. She wants to say something, but she doesn't have the words. It was too much.

"Why is Mommy not here?" Stella's confusion turned to frustration. "You said Mommy was coming." Stella directed her anger at the Red Skull.

"Stella..." Natasha began.

Natasha’s world tilted on its axis. She held Stella tighter, her mind racing. A thousand questions rushed through her thoughts. How was this possible? What was happening to her?

But the reality of her daughter, there—now—overpowered every rational thought. The warmth of her child’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling her away from the edge of the unknown.

"I'll find Mommy, don't worry," Natasha soothed the little girl. "We'll find her together."

She rubbed her daughter’s back, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her emotions were a whirlwind—relief, pain, confusion. But something didn't feel right. Something was off.

"I offer you a choice." Red Skull interrupted their reunion. "Stay here, in this moment, with your daughter, forever trapped in the purgatory, or return to the world you know... in a different form. I can give you a new life, a new beginning—a second chance at everything. But there is a price, of course."

Natasha’s breath hitched. "What's the price? What happened to giving up a soul?"

"You will be reincarnated. Your soul, your essence, will live again in a new body. You’ll be free from the pain of this life and the burden of the past. But you will lose everything you know. You’ll forget this life, your memories, your loved ones—your daughter. You will be someone else."

"So either way, I'd die," Natasha guessed. She licked her lips nervously. "Either way, the people I love will lose me. How is this better than the other deal?"

"Not death, Natasha. Rebirth. A chance to begin again, free from the weight of your past. But yes, in this new life, you will forget. The pain, the grief... and the love. Your soul will live again, but it will be untethered, unburdened by the memories of this life. It will be a clean slate.

"So I get to live again but lose everything I ever cared about? I don’t even get to remember the people I’ve fought for, the ones I’ve sacrificed everything for. You’re telling me to give up my life again?" She shook her head. "I would forget her. I would forget all of them."

"You will gain something more valuable—freedom. You will be someone else, someone better, with no shackles. No more ghosts of the past, no more running. You will be given a chance to make a new path. But there is no turning back once you choose. Once your soul is reborn, it will not remember this moment. You will be free of the pain of your past... but also the joy of those moments, those people."

Natasha swallowed hard, her mind racing. The thought of losing everything she fought for—the memories, the bonds she’s built, especially with her daughter—twisted like a knife in her chest. But the idea of freedom and redemption tempted her in a way she couldn't ignore.

"And if I choose the other way? To stay here, to die for the stone... What’s the difference? Isn’t it all just... an end?" She said quietly to herself.

"The difference is that you remain as you are in this choice. You will stay in this moment, this world, and be trapped in it. Without her. A death without peace, a loss without redemption. The universe will continue without you."

A beat passed as Natasha processed the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, to demand more answers. She wanted to tear through this reality, but all she could do was stare at Stella, her little face looking at her with that innocent, trusting look. That face is the one thing that keeps pulling her heart in two directions—back toward this strange, illusory world where she can hold her daughter or forward toward an unknown fate, a second chance.

"Why would I choose freedom if it means losing everything that made me who I am? What’s the point of living again if I can’t remember why I fought so hard to be here in the first place?" She frowned. "Do they come back? Does Nicky get his mother and his sister?"

"The people you love will remember you. They will mourn you. They will grieve, but they will move on. They will find a way to live without you, and eventually, the wounds will heal. It will not be the same, but there will be peace, eventually."

"I don’t want to forget... I don’t want to forget her. I can’t." Her voice broke. She was crying now.

"You are not choosing to forget her. You are choosing to give her a future. A future where the world is saved, where the people you love have a chance to live. That is the sacrifice you make. The world needs you, Natasha Romanoff, more than your memories."

"And if I choose not to live again? What happens then?"

Red Skull’s gaze sharpened, his voice heavy with the finality of his words.

"Then you will die, and the universe will continue without you."

The reality of his words sank in, a heaviness weighing her down. She was faced with an impossible choice—die and have the possibility of everyone coming back or reincarnating with the same result.

Her fingers traced the outline of her wedding band, the cold metal a reminder of all she had lost.

"Why me?" She asked suddenly. Red Skull looked at her with something close to pity, though it was difficult to read on his stone-like face."Does everyone get this option?"

“No,” he replied, his voice cold but edged with something else—something ancient. “Not everyone. Only those whose actions have carried weight—those whose sacrifices have been… significant. You’ve walked a path of endless struggle. Death has followed you, yet you fight; you sacrifice, again and again, not just for others but for a purpose greater than yourself. It is rare to see such a soul. That is why I offer this choice to you.”

Natasha absorbed his words, her mind racing. Her life had always been a series of choices, but this… this was different. A chance to leave it all behind and be reborn, or to give everything, including herself, to save others.

Her thoughts drifted to Stella, still tucked in her arms, her innocent eyes full of love and trust. Could she really leave this behind? Could she live with the knowledge that the mother her children knew would never return to them?

“Why me?” Natasha repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. “Why offer this to me and not to someone else? There have been countless others who’ve given everything… so why now?”

Red Skull didn't answer immediately, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

Red Skull's gaze softened, just for a moment. “Because you are more than what you think yourself to be. You have been a weapon, a force of destruction, and a beacon of hope. You’ve fought against fate, against what you thought you were destined for. This is your moment to choose what you wish your legacy to be. Either way, you shape your own fate.”

Natasha stood still, her heart thundering. Red Skull waited for her decision. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with the moment's gravity.

Natasha swallowed, her hand tightening into a fist at her side. "And if I choose to leave? To reincarnate—what happens to them? To Clint, to my team… my daughter?"

"They will live," Red Skull said, his voice almost too calm, too sure. "They will carry on, their memories untouched. But you will be gone. Your place in the universe will be filled by someone else."

Natasha closed her eyes, the words weighing heavy on her. It was an impossible decision, one she couldn’t fathom.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't choose."

"Mama," Stella questioned. It seemed she was waiting for an answer, too.

"I'm sorry," Natasha let the tears fall this time. "I'm so sorry, Solnyshko." She whimpered.

Red Skull looked at her, his expression almost sympathetic.

"It is not a choice, Natasha. It is a sacrifice. One you have already made."

"Okay, okay, I'm ready." Natasha breathed. "I'm sorry, baby." She kissed Stella's forehead. She could only hope you would forgive her.

*********

"It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it," Clint ranted. "She jumped, and one of us had to explain this to Nicky."

Thor and Banner exchanged puzzled glances. The tension in the room is thick; Clint’s grief is a raw wound, and their shared loss weighs on everyone. But this—this was something they hadn’t anticipated.

"Who is Nicky?" Bruce questioned.

Clint’s shoulders slumped as if the question's weight was too much. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nicky’s her son,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nat didn’t talk about him much… she didn’t want to endanger him. She kept him safe, hidden, but he’s… he’s still so young.”

“Are you telling us that Nat… that she left behind a child?” Bruce asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

Clint nodded, swallowing hard. “She did it for him, you know. She did it for all of us, for everyone that got snapped. But he was part of that, too. Part of the reason she…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Thor’s expression shifted from confusion to a deep, somber respect. “A mother’s sacrifice… to protect her child,” he murmured almost reverent.

"Children," Tony supplied.

"What?" Clint looked at Tony.

"There were two children. She had Stella," Tony reminded him. "It was for them. For her wife."

Clint glanced up, anger and anguish flashing in his eyes. “And now he’s alone. She’s gone, and he’s got no one.” His voice cracked as he stumbled over the words. “Who’s going to be there for him? Who’s going to tell him why his mom never came back?”

Bruce placed a comforting hand on Clint’s shoulder, his eyes sincere. “Then we’ll be there for him,” he promised. “If Natasha’s son needs family, he’s got us. Whatever he needs—support, protection, anything.”

Thor nodded firmly, the resolve clear in his gaze. “We owe her that much. And I’ll ensure he knows exactly who his mother was—a warrior, a hero. The bravest among us.”

That landed heavily among all of them.

*********

You'd been appalled when Happy suggested a joint funeral for Tony and Natasha. The idea left a bitter taste in your mouth. A funeral for Natasha—your Natasha—sounded absurd. She wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. Not her.

You’d spent five years in limbo, caught between one breath and the next, with no awareness of the time passing. One moment, you were home in Missouri, watching your children play in the den, and the next… nothing. It wasn’t like sleep or even unconsciousness. It was as if you simply didn’t exist. And then, just as suddenly, you were back. But the world you returned to had shifted and moved forward in ways you couldn’t yet wrap your mind around.

Nicky had grown so much taller than you remembered. No longer the little boy you’d kissed goodnight, he was older now, with five years of life etched into his features, years you’d missed as his mother. The last time you saw him, he was just one year old, approaching his second birthday, which you'd planned together. Now, at eight, he was still small but no longer the toddler you had once held in your arms.

In some ways, he was a stranger, a person with a life outside your knowledge. You missed five years of his life.

And now, with no warning, the universe had ripped away the only constant in your life.

It didn't make sense. The universe had brought you back only to take her away. She couldn't be gone.

So you refused the funeral. It was a denial, an attempt to reject the reality thrust upon you. You didn’t need a funeral for someone who wasn't dead. She would come home. You wouldn't bury an empty casket.

And then you looked at your children—two pieces of your heart, tethering you to a reality you could hardly stand. You wanted to honor Natasha, for them, if nothing else. None of this made sense. None of it felt right. But you knew you had to push forward.

That morning, you dressed them with shaking hands, pausing often to steady yourself. Your eyes were bloodshot from a night spent wrestling with grief, exhaustion, and disbelief. You’d barely slept, remembering Natasha and the impossible circumstances that had brought you here. But for Nicky and Stella, you had to keep going.

They sat before you now in Tony’s lake house, their small, trusting faces watching you closely. Everyone else was waiting downstairs—the Avengers, friends from all over, people whose lives she had touched. But before you joined them, you needed this quiet moment with your children to prepare them for the hardest goodbye any of you had ever faced.

"It's time for us to say goodbye to Mama," You breathed. You took both of their hands and kissed each of them. "I know we don't want to. This is the last thing I want to do, but..."

Stella was staring at her feet, a sullen, pained look on her face.

"It's going to be hard. I'm gonna miss her, too," You told him. "But we're gonna get through it. We're gonna be okay."

You turned to Nicky. He was watching you, his face serious. He'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking. He'd lost both parents at different periods of his life. He didn't know what to make of the idea that this was his reality.

"Do you have questions?" You asked him. "About anything?"

"Is Mama... is she coming back?"

You took a deep breath. "No, Nicky. She's not."

He looked down at his shoes, his little eyebrows drawn together. You wanted to hold him and make the pain disappear, but you couldn't. He barely knew you. It would take more than the days you'd known each other for him to trust you. The Snap had taken that bond away from you.

"We'll always remember her. And she'll never forget us," You promised. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said softly.

You looked at Stella. She was probably so confused. You tugged at the skirt of her dress to get her attention.

"Baby, you alright?" You asked.

"Mama's not dead," She cried. "Why is Mama dead?"

Your heart broke into a million pieces.

"Oh, baby." You knelt and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish she were here."

"Where is she?"

"She's in heaven. She's with Grandma and Pop-Pop. They're taking care of her."

"But why?" Her lip trembled. It was in that way that always broke your heart.

"The world was a very bad place, and she sacrificed herself to fix it. She was a hero. She saved everyone, including you and Nicky."

"But why does that mean Mama's gone? Why can't she stay?"

You tried to blink away the tears forming.

"Sometimes things happen, and there's no reason, no logic. Sometimes, people leave, and we can't understand why."

"I want Mama. I don't want her to go," Stella's eyes watered. "Please."

"I know, baby. I know. So do I. I'm so sorry."

Stella leaned her head against your chest, her body shaking as she cried. You ran your hand through her hair and held her close, willing your warmth to be enough for the both of you.

Neihter of you were ready but it was something you had to do.

*********

Walking out of the lake house behind Pepper, Morgan, and Peter felt overwhelmed. It felt so wrong. There was no way Natasha was gone. You wanted to turn and run, find a way out of this reality, this nightmare. You scanned the crowd, noticing familiar faces and others you'd only ever heard about through Natasha’s stories—a reminder of the secrecy you had kept to protect your family.

Clint and Laura met your eyes, offering quiet support, and you gave them a faint, shaky smile in return. Nicky clung tightly to your hand, his other hand holding a small bundle of Natasha’s favorite flowers. You adjusted Stella on your hip, feeling the weight of her tiny arms wrapped around you, grounding you in this surreal moment.

As you stepped closer to the water's edge, you noticed the questioning looks of some of the people gathered there. They didn’t know who you were; they didn’t know Natasha’s family had quietly existed all this time. Ignoring the stares, you focused on what you came here to do, offering Natasha this final act of love.

Pepper placed her flowers gently on the water, a quiet tribute to Tony. Then, with a soft nudge, you guided Nicky forward. He stepped up, his small fingers trembling as he let the flowers slip into the lake. Nicky's dog, Ollie, had darted out of the house and now pressed his nose against Nicky's hand, sensing the boy’s sadness.

"Goodbye, Tony," he said softly, his eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye, Mama."

Pepper reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then she did the same for you and Stella, her expression solemn.

"Bye, Tony," Stella murmured, her face pressed against your chest. "Bye-bye, Mama."

Stella didn't know him. She didn't have memories of Tony, but she felt compelled to follow in her brother's steps.

You listened as Pepper began speaking, sharing memories of Tony and words of remembrance. You held it together, swallowing back the ache in your chest as her voice wavered over the water. She looked at you when she finished, nodding gently—it was your turn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, holding Stella close, and faced the gathering.

"Natasha is..." You breathed. That wasn't right. "Natasha was my wife." You began. "She was a wife and a mother." You looked down at Nicky's proud eyes. "She loved harder than anyone I'd ever known. She was kind and strong and loyal."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"But above all, she was brave. She was the bravest woman I'd ever met. And we will miss her. Every day. Every second. We will carry her memory with us." You sighed. "For eight long years, Natasha was my rock. Long before then, she was my everything. She gave me two beautiful children. Two amazing little humans who made every moment worth it. They remind me so much of her. A lot of you never knew about me. Never knew about us. It was better that way. Our own little secret. This family was something only we knew."

"But I'm telling you now because... If anyone needs to know about Natasha and how incredible she was, it's the people here. You knew her better than anyone. You've shared her battles, her victories. She was part of your family. So, for everyone who's not part of mine, let me share it with you. Let me tell you about her." You continued. You felt stronger the more you talked. "Having a person makes life easier to live. Having Natasha made my life so much better. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. "Natasha and I didn't meet under ideal circumstances. She was a spy, and I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We worked together on missions. Eventually, those late nights turned into something more. I was lucky enough to know her as a teammate. Later, I got to see the other side of her, the one only a few people knew. She was a good person. One of the best."

Your eyes found Clint's, and he nodded in understanding. He was the one who'd first introduced you.

"It wasn't always easy. Life never is. There were times when it was difficult. Hard choices, difficult sacrifices. But she always made sure to make things right, no matter what it cost her."

You wiped away a stray tear and took a shuddering breath.

"We will never forget her. Not a day will go by when I don't think about her. Her sacrifice will be felt for generations." You sniffed. "I can't promise I won't spend every waking moment wishing she were here. Wishing I could kiss her or hold her or hear her voice one more time. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure our children never forget her. She deserved better. A long, happy life. A future with all of us."

The dam burst, and you held back a sob. Pepper's soothing hand rubbed your back. She felt this grief, too.

"But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan. And that's okay. We'll figure out how to move forward without her. We'll carry her in our hearts and minds and keep living the best lives we can."

*********

It had been three weeks of slowly packing away Natasha’s life, boxing up memories and fragments of her identity. Clearing out her apartment felt surreal; each item you wrapped and labeled was a bittersweet reminder. The decision to move Nicky away from his childhood home had been hard, but you knew it was time for a fresh start, somewhere the kids could grow and heal.

At precisely 8 a.m., the moving truck pulled up, ready to transport everything to your new brownstone. Natasha’s SUV idled in the street as you trailed behind the movers, the last piece you had yet to part with. It wasn’t as if you needed it in New York, but something about selling it felt too final, like letting go of another piece of her.

You ran a hand along the dashboard, the smell of Natasha still lingering, even after all this time. Going back to Missouri felt even harder—that was the home you had chosen together. You’d have to make the trip eventually to pack it up, but the thought alone made your chest tighten.

Lost in thought, you were brought back to reality by a voice from the backseat.

“No, I’m the big sister!” Stella was arguing, her voice firm with a tiny pout on her face.

You turned around, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Stella, honey, you’re not the big sister anymore. Nicky’s older than you.”

Stella scrunched her nose in defiance. “But I feel like the big sister!”

You laughed softly. “I know, sweetie. But it doesn’t work that way.”

Before she could fire back with more questions, something outside caught her attention. “Look, Mama! Another moving truck!”

You saw the large truck parked halfway across the road, its bulk blocking your path. Irritated but resigned, you parked Natasha’s SUV and climbed out, hoping to get them to move just enough so you could pass.

"Excuse me, I have a m—" you started to say but stopped. Your breath caught in your throat, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine.

The movers were busy unloading furniture and boxes into the back of the truck, oblivious to your sudden stillness. You watched them work, your heartbeat growing louder, filling your ears. As you approached, a woman stepped out beside the truck, brushing her hands off her jeans. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight and sharp green eyes that locked onto yours. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though you couldn’t quite place it.

“Hey there! Sorry about the truck blocking the way. I was just helping unload,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m Kelly. Just moving in next door.”

You introduced yourself, feeling a slight tug of recognition but pushing it aside. “Nice to meet you, Kelly. We’re actually moving in too. Guess we’re going to be neighbors. Where are you moving from?"

"Nebraska," Kelly nodded. "I'm a doctor. I wanted a bit of change. For some reason, I felt drawn to New York, so now I'm here."

You gave her a tight smile, wondering why her voice sounded so familiar. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it here. We'd love to have you over for dinner once we get settled. "

Kelly's smile widened, her gaze turning almost hopeful. "I'd like that."

fin

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously

[mosneakers]

Alex: [Smiles warmly] Hi Coraleye…

Coraleye: [Smiles back] Hi Alex…

Alex: Ready for one last take before we officially call it a wrap?

Coraleye: I guess so! Alex: So how’s life treating you now? You adjusting okay?

Coraleye: Oh… well it's been a whirlwind, to say the least, heh. But I’m finding my footing again. Finally finishing up school. Just barely keeping my head above water some days, but yeah, I’m getting by. Trying to find my new normal.

Alex: [Nods thoughtfully] I want to talk about that a little bit. You’ve had to deal with the aftermath of everything that happened on election night. Do you remember when Cam and I came out to visit you in Brindleton Bay?

Coraleye: Mhm. I sure do. You interviewed some girls I went to school with.

Alex: So, Mackenzie, Briella, Logan… I’m not sure how much you’re aware of, especially with how quickly the media coverage was shut down after election night. But I’ve gotta ask—have you reached out to Coraleye at all since then? Offered any kind of support?

Logan: [Quickly glances at Mackenzie] I’m not sure if we got the chance to reach out yet, have we? Mackenzie:[Feigning innocence] She hasn't filled us in completely, but we’ve heard bits and pieces... Briella: We heard about her and her boyfriend. They broke up, right? [Big grin] Life has a cruel way of teaching us lessons!

Mackenzie presses her lips together, appearing to hold back a laugh, but finally cracks as a sharp cackle spills out.

Mackenzie: Oh my mod, Briella, stop! You can't say that! I just love you. So sorry about her, she's so crazy. Anyways, yeah. We wish her the best. I hope it all works out for her, I really do.

Cam: Well, I think that will probably do it for now, thank you ladies. Alex: Cam's right, thank you for your time. We'll be in touch. Have a happy Harvestfest.

Several weeks later, Britechester-

Alex: Cam and I try not to get too involved with work matters, but I'll be honest, that interview was upsetting. I wonder if they'd still be snickering if they saw what you've been through in these past few months.

Coraleye: Nah, they're the least of my worries. Pretty sure I got the last laugh when it comes to them. [Mischievous grin]

Alex: I'm in awe of your optimism, Coraleye. After all this, you’re really not bitter? I mean, look at Tycho—he lied, tried to erase your memories. And you still take the high road?

Coraleye: Oh no, please don’t get me wrong, Alex! I definitely went through—and sometimes still go through—my naughty phase, from time to time. Alex: [Leans in] You have my attention... Coraleye: Maybe it was for revenge, or a way to cope, or maybe deep down I was just really lonely and had a void to fill. Either way, it got me through some dark times. Perhaps you should book a follow-up interview with Briella, ask her if she found my panties in her boyfriend's room yet. [Waves at camera, winks, and mouths, ‘Hey, Pierce!’] Alex shakes his head amusedly and softly chuckles.

Alex: Damn! You really don't mess around. I'm guessing this doubles as punishment for Tycho as well?

Coraleye: Nope. Actually, his punishment is even better. I'm giving him exactly what he wants. After this documentary is over with, I'm erasing all of our shared memories together. He wanted to mess with my mind so badly, I'll do it for him. Alex: And how do you do that?

Coraleye: Through a spell, of course. You didn't forget that I'm a spellcaster, did you? I'll put the memories in an amulet and give it to our sage of untamed magic. They'll perform a ritual to destroy the memories. Alex: Wow. Remind me to never break your heart... Coraleye: [Smiles] Oh, I will. Alex: [Sighs] Well... Last question we're asking everyone else: Is there any question that you have, after all of this, that still haunts you?

Coraleye: [Tilts head, as she pauses to think] Hmm… I’ve still got to write that paper on my ten-year plan, and somehow I feel even more lost than before. I guess it’s time to start figuring that out now.

[carrottheluvmachine]

Help me move to Scotland to be with the one I love

Hello, my name is Colie and I'm trying to raise the money needed to be able to apply for a partner visa to go and live with my girlfriend in Scotland.

3 years ago, my life was in a hellish place. My step-dad, the greatest person I have ever known, was diagnosed with cancer and put on hospice care. He took me in when I had to leave my old life behind me; when I lost my home in New York and had no where else to turn to. He accepted my 3 elderly cats and cared for them like they were his own. Although he came into my life late, he acted as a father and a friend to me.

In August of 2021, right as my step-dad was diagnosed, I met the love of my life. I wasn't looking for love. I was searching for a writing partner and she came along. 2 weeks later, I told her I thought I might be in love with her, and to my surprise she said she felt the same way.

Steph was there for me as my step-dad grew weaker and weaker. She was the first person I told the morning when he passed away. I helped my mother care for him in his last days. I listened obsessively at the wall between our bedrooms for his last breaths. To this day, I still refuse to go into the spare bedroom where he passed away. I am traumatized, I am broken, but to Steph I am so much more. She was there for me to lean on whenever I needed her. She cheered me up with her silly puns. She made me smile and she reassured me that I was worth loving.

My life has never been easy, but the easiest thing in it has always been Steph. I knew right away that I loved her. I admired her from the first moment I met her. She stuck by my side despite my disabilities, despite my losses, despite my will to end it all.

I have severe anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder. Because of this, it has never been easy for me to keep down a job. Because I have never been able to hold down a job, I have been living off the good graces of others and cannot afford therapy. Only recently did I find a way to receive remote therapy and I'm working to improve myself.

I have lived a sheltered life since moving down here to Florida. I lost everything I ever knew in New York. I have seen family members only a handful of times in the past 11 years, and I haven't visited any of my friends since. I have lost touch with the people I called my friends back home, and I haven't been able to make new friends down here.

It's a different world here, and I am very fearful as a gay person in a red state. I do not tell anyone that I'm gay because I fear for my life here. Especially after the 2024 election results.

I have become a recluse who has nothing but her online friends, her mother, and her cats. The one shining light in all of my life has been Steph. We were able to meet in the summer of 2023 and I flew to Scotland to be with her. For the first time in my life, I was living and doing what I wanted to do. I was happy. I smiled every single day. I was traveling outside and seeing things I've never seen before, all with the person I loved most in the world. At the end of my trip, Steph turned to me and said "So, what do you think about living here?" and I swear to you, I've never smiled brighter.

The reason I have started this campaign is because of the financial requirements to obtain a visa to move to the UK. The financial requirement is £29k, which is roughly $37k USD. Steph just graduated from university with a degree in screenwriting, but she has yet to find a job in her field. For the time being, she's working in childcare, which she also has a degree in, but it does not make the kind of money needed to sponsor me for a visa.

Our choices were either to make the 29k annually, or to have 31k in savings (equating roughly to 39k USD) so that I could apply for a visa stay support both of us for 2 years before I would have to apply again. Unfortunately, the income earned cannot be combined with any savings to meet the financial requirement. The requirement also does not allow me to contribute with a US income, as the person who is responsible for sponsoring me has to be the one earning the money because I won't be able to work in the UK until I have a spouse visa.

It is incredibly difficult not seeing the one you love day in and day out. My life has never been easy, as I said before, but I feel as if it has been put on pause ever since I was forced out of my home to come and live in Florida. I haven't been living, I have been surviving.

I want to live again, and I want to live with the girl I love.

Please, if you can, donate. Even if it's just a dollar, anything helps. Please help my dreams come true.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

~Colie

Link to gofundme

If you could reblog this post, I would greatly appreciate it!

[cloveroctobers]

HOME | 1 of 2 SERVINGS — JJ MAYBANK x OC [Fall Randoms] 🤎

A/N: This wasn't planned! The fandom makes it a little unenjoyable to write for this show but I like many have always had a soft spot for JJ. So here I am, after a while writing something because he deserves it.

WARNINGS: Language + better endings (delusions)! & the usual banter between the rest of the pogues like a family would! + Kiara x femOC as well.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔

IN A PERFECT WORLD no one would have to worry about a thing. People would live exactly the way they want to live without any judgment—as long as you’re not harming others of course—and just go on about their business.

Life’s good because it all worked out in the end.

The comforting thudding of a certain heartbeat only made Alma want to bury her head further into his chest. It was a common morning routine, waking up in each other’s embrace. The insomnia didn’t bother Alma much anymore, she can speak for herself on that, because the longer she stayed awake, the longer time she had. This journey through earth goes by as fast as you blink. This bothered JJ to his core, that after all this time, Morocco was still on her mind—not only that but Portugal too.

No amount of pills or melatonin (or "the purple devil," she liked to call it) was a friend of Almabelle Layton’s. Unfortunately in her teen years she was a bit of a pill popper, it all started because of her mild case of vertigo and her mother—whenever she decided to fly back into the OBX for a couple of days—forced her to go to the doctor, after getting tired of her daughter constantly choosing weed over “proper” health.

Alma was a huge advocate for natural remedies, knowing that majority of the medicine given to you is nothing but poison, since it may fix one problem but cause another.

We can talk about that at another time, though!

Regardless she’s grown used to being up with the moonlight and sunrise just monitoring JJ’s heartbeat. It wasn’t healthy by any means, she didn’t need a therapist (Dr. Montague) to tell her that but this brought her relief. Every morning, JJ would squeeze her shoulder and kiss the top of her head, voice full of sleep while he wished her a good morning.

Then she would respond with pressing a kiss to the old wounds of his abdomen from five years ago, 1-4-3 times before lifting her head to meet his hues of blue-green. The hand that didn’t hold onto her shoulder, would run a thumb along the rings underneath her eyes. He’d tried to hide the worry in his own but a soft smile was still on the corner of his lips the longer he looked at her.

She always had his heart so he felt like she didn’t have to listen too hard.

Never in a million years would JJ believe you (Reader) or a physic? If they told him this is where his life would be now. Owner of two properties, with his childhood home being transformed into an adoption agency. However with the treacherous adventure to get the blue crown, and all that they went through to get it back, it was only right that he did something that made sense.

JJ talked about it constantly with Alma and even mentioned it to the rest, who were skeptical but once it was pulled off, there were equal amounts of pride in their eyes at the grand opening. So where was his physical home? JJ got the Genrette home after the whole DNA testing process and the will was brought to his attention.

Let’s just say, shout-out to Paw-Wes!

“Is it weird that I’m choosing this place over my own home?” Alma remembers JJ asking her, after she plopped down on one of the old couches and tried not to inhale any dust.

He was walking all around the heavily decorated living room, touching any and everything. This was the day right after he agreed to take on the Genrette residence permanently.

Alma lightly shook her head, her short dark hair falling into the corner of her eyelashes, “No, I think you’re choosing what’s best for you and there’s nothing wrong with that. You get the chance to choose now because baby JJ didn’t, your mother didn’t.”

And there’s a new glint in his eye at Alma’s words when he plops beside her. Her hand goes to rest on top of the one JJ has resting on his knee. Immediately he intertwined their hands, peering into Alma’s ink colored eyes. “Thanks for being here with me, Kit.”

“Course, pumpkin.” She replies with her own personal nickname, before resting her head on his shoulder.

Building a home here, gave JJ the chance to know a family he never had the privilege to. It was a ball of emotions but he took it on because he felt like he needed to. A new beginning on his own terms this time around. To try to be close to what could have been, but also finding what always felt like what was missing in his life and holding on to it as best as he could. Although they couldn’t be physically here, JJ made it his mission to have talks with both Larissa and Wes out in the mausoleum often.

That was a project Alma took on, cleaning it up while paying her respects. It was sort of a birthday gift to JJ and once received, he thought he couldn’t love Almabelle anymore than he already did. Of course he could have paid someone to continue with the upkeep of his relatives but the pogues weren’t meant to accept handouts. It was all work hard and play hard. Being an investor in the adoption agency (which took a lot of learning and patience! Something JJ barely had.) along with still taking part in Poguelandia—which was mostly ran by John B and Sarah now—and having his own landscaping business, JJ found himself finally letting out a much needed long exhale.

Life was meant to be lived and it definitely was.

And for once it felt alright.

More than.

Like the floating of waves at your back, gliding you back to shore.

“Hey!” Sarah’s all grins as she throws her arms around Almabelle in a tight embrace, as the two women lightly sway from side to side.

It was almost as if the two weren’t just hanging out last weekend, or talking on the phone the day before last. Alma and Sarah grew even closer since her little one was the godson of JJ and that automatically meant Alma was the number one auntie.

Cleo, Wheezie, and Kiara all thought otherwise!

“There’s my favorite little guy!” JJ boasts, yanking the five year old from John B’s arms to hold upside down by his ankles before pulling the squealing chocolate haired boy back into his embrace.

Smiling softly at the two, Alma enjoyed seeing JJ with Jeremiah (yes, named after JJ himself) John Routledge. Having “little j” in their lives changed everything for the pogues; let them all be aware that there was more life out there and all of them had no problem going after it.

John B playfully shakes out his arms at Little J’s weight, making Sarah playfully whack his shoulder, before he slips in to give Alma a side hug in greeting, “What’s going on, Alton? I’ve got the pies out in the Twinkie.”

Yes, she was still (barely) running and although The Routledge’s have a more dependable car, the Twinkie was still their go to. Plus little J loved it and as parents, they would do anything to bring their child happiness.

“You say hi to the pretty lady.” JJ whispers into Little J’s ear, who already had his bright eyes (that were handed down to him from Ward) set on the bronze skinned woman.

Alma holds her arms out, Little J comes right to her, pressing a slobbery kiss to her cheeks. “Aw, thank you! Glad to see you too, pea.”

He was the perfect combination of his parents: chocolate ringlets for hair, almond shaped eyes like his mother with her father’s color eyes, high cheeks bones like John B, faint dimples on his cheeks from both parents, and a sweet smile just like Sarah’s.

Sarah laughs as she informs her friend, “If you need napkins, I have plenty!”

“That’s my boy!” JJ claps and points at little J, “But remember, that’s still my lady, huh?” He ruffles his hair, then winks at Alma before stepping out of the home to help John B with the desserts.

Leaving the men to deal with that, the three make their way towards the slightly closed off emerald green kitchen.

“I hope you didn’t overdo it with the pies this time, Sarah.” Alma says to the almost completely blonde woman, who gives an innocent shrug.

Sarah opened up her own cafe, Wet Bean Café, which was unfortunately in constant competition with Ruthie’s shitty restaurant. It’s been five years and that pathetic Ruthie still couldn’t stop her bullying ways. After dealing with massive flooding out in the cut, Sarah decided to make the decision to move it into town, using the inheritance Ward left behind, where she had to pay more for rent on the building, which Rafe was the property manager of. Go figure! The original WBC was a small lavender painted space, with a little drive-thru on the side, with two sets of bistro tables outside, and only room for three tables inside that were set up along the brick walls, with checkered floors. It felt very diner-like inside with its quirks and jukebox. The café was filled with Sarah’s baked goods and became a favorite in Kildare. It was Sarah’s but she had to make the decision to move back into town after the land had severe damage and couldn’t be built on anymore, which JJ helped confirm.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah replies as Alma holds her son on her hip for a moment longer, “As much as these guys eat? There’s never enough! Plus it’s less than what I started with since most were donated all over the communities.”

This didn’t shock Alma.

In almost every way, all of the pogues found ways to give back, especially for those that were still struggling to make it.

“Did you hear from Cleo yet?” Sarah suddenly asks, after stealing a pineapple chunk from the charcuterie board.

Alma shakes her head before putting Little J down on his feet but he still holds onto the end of her wine colored shirt, “Only in texts. JJ was originally going to pick Pope up from Dare County because Cleo wasn’t sure if she was going to get in on time…there were delays with her helicopter situation.”

That’s right.

Cleo decided to heavily get into engineering and undergoing flight training. Sure she’s spent much of her times on boats, like most of the pogues but once Pope actually enlisted into the service to be a marine, it just made sense to want to know the mechanics of how boats and helicopters worked. Cleo’s always been a traveler so this path and with her cut from the blue crown, she had the skills that were already instilled and amplified them once she hit the books.

She had her own helicopter that she flew over on her own back to the OBX from time to time, his name was “squiggly” because he never flew straight once first brought into the air. Alma honestly preferred taking a boat rather than a flight to Nassau but that one time for John B and Sarah C. Routledge’s anniversary trip was unforgettable that’s for sure!

“I’ll check on her after I come back from the bathroom.” Sarah informs, “Are you okay with—

Blowing out a raspberry, Alma peeks down at little J who was already grinning up at her, “We’ll be just fine, shoo.”

Bending down Alma picks up little J to sit on the counter, lightly singing at him who was full of giggles at her source of entertainment, before she plucked up a slice of pear from one of the pear tree’s out front to hand over to her nephew. Her hands rested on the counter, caging him in as he snacked on the fruit, leaving her the chance to look at all the food that covered the spacious island. A large yawn rips through her lips before she can stop it, which makes little J laugh at the woman. “Auntie Mama needs a nap,” the boy teases one of his many aunts.

Alma playfully scowls at the boy, going to tickle him by the neck. Even if Alma wanted a five minute nap, her mind wouldn’t grant her that pleasure. She could have laid in bed forever with JJ but knew there were a few last minute things she needed to get done for this dinner, although Alma’s been preparing for the last week! A host’s job is never truly done. This wasn’t Alma’s first gathering for the holidays but it did bring a sense of joy that both she and JJ could provide this for their friends.

“I knew it would smell delicious in here!” A familiar voice called out, making Alma glance over her shoulder.

A smile graces the woman’s lips, “Is that Kie-Kie?!”

“The one and only.” She flicks her blown out hair over her shoulder as she pulls her friend by the elbow to embrace the sleep deprived woman, followed by her hands thrown over Alma’s shoulders.

Kiara had her eyes set on Little J, just in case while she embraced Alma before the two separated.

She then makes grabby hand motions to the five year old, “That’s right come on over to your favorite auntie!” Kiara smirks as she peppers the kid’s face with kisses while Alma scoffs.

Alma walks over to the stove across the room to turn off the handmade potpourri, “Girl, whatever! You look good! That have anything to do with your time out in the big apple?”

Kiara met Joey Del Marco who was a touron, funny enough about a year after what transpired during the fourth of July. Joey was originally from the east coast but vacationing with her new friends and she captured Kiara’s attention. It was hilarious trying to see Kiara deny her attraction and then feelings towards Joey, who extended her time out here just to see what would happen between the two. Joey fit in just as well with the group of friends: she was loud, proud, rebellious—you readers can only imagine what kind of shit she got into with JJ, both Alma and Kiara made a few trips to bail the two out of jail—before Alma got pissed enough to make JJ stay in there.

There was never anything wrong with fun but after the time the friends all had across the seas? Was too close and JJ had to learn that.

Alma was just overjoyed to see Kiara in a happy relationship. The girl was glowing, traveling back and forth from the south to the east coast since Joey’s dance career has taken off. Of course New York was the place to be for it and the distance between the two seemed to work for them just as it did for Pope and Cleo.

“Maybe,” Kiara dragged out and sent the short haired woman a wink just as the loud chatter from John B and JJ hit her ears in the background, “She wanted to be here but you know how showbiz goes.”

Alma only knew part of what Joey shared and it was exactly what Alma did not want. She could not stand the spotlight being on her yet these few pogues absolutely made a name for themselves, along with her being in love with the most well-known trouble maker on the island, who surprisingly (to those around the island) turned their life around in the span of five years.

Alma fans her hand about, just happy that Joey’s craft was also successful, “Ah, tell her to not to worry about it. There’s always Christmas and New Years to catch up.”

JJ interrupts as he carries some lavender colored boxes into the kitchen, “Christmas will definitely be at JB’s and Sarah’s! And New Years in New York with Kie and Joey?”

John B used his portion to start rebuilding the chateau before Little J was brought into the world in late April. That of course did not come easy and they took Alma and JJ up on their offer to stay with them (mostly in Demp’s quarters of the property, in which Alma scrubbed extremely clean, shout out to another trigger and coping mechanism! that is up until the colder months approached and squirrels decided to come down the fireplace) until they got the chateau the way they wanted. That was a story in itself but definitely brought the couples all closer.

Kiara pushed her lips out in thought, “…I’m down.”

“Y’all don’t know what cold is until you spend time in the city.” Alma tells the four, after inhaling the mixture from the boiling pot in hopes that the spice will give her a burst of energy.

When she was younger and not allowed to stay at home on her own, Alma had the chance to travel more with her mother who brought her to California and New York every so often. Her mother was a U.S. Customs agent who was originally from California and where she got her start in her career. She never meant to get pregnant with Alma but again, life happens and you do what you have to do. She moved Alma to the Outer banks simply because her parents lived out there and felt that would be a better place for her to grow up. Most of her time was spent in an empty home or with her hearing impaired grandparents until their passing when she was fifteen. She learned a lot from her grandparents and always thanked them for how she turned out. Alma never knew her father but she had a god-father who filled in as her father figure although he too, also lived on the west coast. Her step-father tried to be in her life but he was constantly on the go just like her mother and their marriage felt like convenience rather than love.

Alma never wanted a repeat of that kind of life in her future. She needed to be present, true, and never neglectful and of course things can never be perfect but it’s always the effort that matters.

Kiara huffs as she holds out her hands for Little J to keep high-fiving her hands, “Ha! Not with global warming constantly being against us.”

“Oh here she goes.” John B mutters, reaching out to spin little J in the air to say to him before putting him down, “Tell auntie Kie, you’re too young to listen to this crap.”

“It’s far from crap! The earth is burning and y’all need to stop being so ignorant. It’s never too late to learn about the state of the environment.” Kiara argues, fists going into her jean skirt covered hips.

Alma smiles at the brunette with a shake of her head while JJ rolls his eyes, and starts mocking her with his hands. Which makes Kiara pick up and chuck a grape at him that bounces off his forehead.

“Hey!” JJ yells, reaching for the chunk of some overpriced cheese, “Don’t start a war you can’t finish, Kie.”

Kiara furrows her thick brows, “I’ve won plenty. Do you need to see my resume?”

“Ooooo,” John B instigates.

That is coming from your very own Mayor of OBX!

Kiara’s always been political and environmentally friendly for as long as Alma’s known her. She juggled a lot, from creating a sustainable healthy smoothie drink business that was often sold in WBC but she eventually sold that off once she got deeper into politics. However Kiara did not completely sign over her rights without the promise of keeping her deliveries of supplies in Sarah’s cafe.

The doorbell made Alma zone back in on the typical arguments the two were having. She seemed to be the only one who heard it, taking her leave to the front entrance of the home to answer the door.

Rafe Cameron stood on the front step, arms full of alcoholic beverages. “Hey,” he starts.

He still looked the same, no longer sporting a buzzed hair cut, hair grown out in some sort of a mullet with spiked ends followed by a bit of facial hair growing in. He looked older yet his eyes still held unresolved issues and secrets.

There’s confusion in Alma’s brown eyes since she knew that she didn’t invite him to Friendsgiving and she also knew JJ didn’t invite Rafe either. Their beef ran deep and had its ups and downs, considering that the two knew just how to get up underneath one another’s skin. Yet the events that occurred in Essaouira and Lisbon did shift something in their relationship.

“Aren’t you going to let me in or let the dragonflies fly in?” Rafe’s sarcasm was possibly an attempt to break the ice or at least be funny but all Alma could do was blink.

There’s footsteps Alma hears and it doesn’t take long for her to figure out who they belong to. Considering…you know she’s lived and been around the guy for a while now!

“The hell are you doing here?!”

Rafe lifts his shoulders, “What’s it look like?”

“Like you’re about to get the door slammed right in front of your stupid lookin’ face.” JJ snaps.

Rafe rolls his eyes, “I got an invite just like everybody else…you got a problem with it—

“Yeah I do. It’s our house!”

“Which I can easily buy from you, Maybank.” Rafe smirked and Alma pinched the irritation forming in between her brows.

Those two still had their moments.

The dark haired twenty-something year old immediately grabbed onto JJ’s forearm, to stop him from moving around her to get into Rafe’s smug face. “We’re not doing this, alright! Rafe, I don’t know who invited you…but you better be lucky I’m in a good mood—

JJ exasperates with furrowed brows, “No Alma! No freaking way!”

Alma knew Rafe had nobody but Sarah (and Wheezie from time to time, the younger of the Cameron’s high-tailed it out of the OBX as soon as she hit eighteen). Then there was that up and down relationship he had with Barry (Alma’s ex) and she definitely did not need him here either so she would allow it. Of course Rafe didn’t want pity and this wasn’t that, Alma was just in the spirit of…giving thanks. As corny as it sounds and in simplest terms, Rafe was helpful across seas. As much as the pogues all had their personal feelings towards the eldest Cameron, he did pitch in on getting JJ help out in the desert.

A part of Alma felt like she would always be grateful for that.

“Rafe? You actually made it.” John B speaks from behind you all, keeping a hand on Little J’s shoulder who held onto his pants leg, still snacking on a pear slice.

A ghost of a small smile appeared on Rafe’s face as he stared over at his nephew.

JJ turns his glare to the brunette who raises his brows, “Don’t tell me you invited him here?”

Kiara didn’t wipe the scowl off her face either, arms crossed.

“I did.” Sarah announces her arrival finally returning from the bathroom with her phone in hand, “I know I should have asked you two since it is your house but…I wanted everyone I love here. And I hope you guys would be okay with that, to continue moving forward.”

Alma’s eyes met JJ’s, who appeared as if he was ready to chew his bottom lip off in annoyance. However the longer he stared at his lady, he loosened up, some. Flaring his nostrils he says to Sarah first, “I still wish you would have had a conversation with us first but…I get it.”

JJ turns back to Rafe who meets his gaze, “Fine. You can join our Friendsgiving but the second you act like an asshole, I’m throwin’ you out on your ass. Got that, Rafe?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my best behavior, just like you, right?” He winks at the blond before barging his way in.

JJ flings the door shut behind him, tapping his elbow into the palm of his other hand, and starts swatting at the air at Rafe’s back for practice, earning laughs and snickers from John B, Kiara, and Alma.

Who moves to slip an arm across her boyfriend’s waist, “We can play nice, right? Our house, our rules.”

“Damn straight,” JJ answers, eyes connecting with deep brown hues as she pokes her lips out for him to peck.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔

Part two can be found here since limits have changed for text posts now!

[fic-dumpster]

The road so far

Summary: Have you ever wondered what goes through a writer’s mind while she’s trying to complete the stories you like so much? Well! Wonder no more! Here’s a first look into a writer’s unstable mind!

Characters: Bonten against Omi (no x because it’s war)

Word count: 1K

Content Warnings: fighting, slight breaking of the fourth wall, sitcoms, crackfic, it’s a joke. Yes, it can be read as x reader… just pretend. Hostility, a meme, DIH references, other fandoms mentioned.

A.N: TAKEOMI IS NOT OMI. I am Omi. I wrote this in 15 so it’s very rushed. idk… this is me trying to portray my internal struggles while I write. I just worked joke of 1000 words… and yes, characters never listen to what we want.

“If you think we’re gonna cooperate with you after leaving us for almost three years, you’re delusional,” Kokonoi crossed his legs once he sat down in front of Omi.

Omi had called a meeting with Bonten in hopes of coming to an agreement. She needed to work on her WIPs but her characters weren’t cooperating.

“As a matter of fact, I am delusional,” Omi answered, sipping from her water bottle, “anyway, I just need to finish the rest of the meetings and we’re done! Swear!”

Around her, the rest of Bonten sat with serious faces. Nobody was happy to be there. After her disappearance a few years ago, things weren’t quite as peaceful between them as they used to be.

“Yeah, yeah. I see how you are. Use us and drop us.” Sanzu sounded bitter and angry. He didn’t take the vanishing so well. He had bonded with her and she just left him. That wasn’t right in his book.

“Ugh, women…” With a sigh, Rindou stretched his long limbs, showing how tired and stressed he was.

“What do you mean ‘ugh? Women?’” Omi harshly questioned Rindou with a frown on her face.

“Nothing…” he replied nonchalantly, sitting up straight once again.

“Forget that! You clearly have preferences for certain members.” As she heard that voice her skin began to crawl. Hair standing on end, Omi slowly turned towards the source— once she saw his obnoxious face, only irritation was left behind.

“Oh, shut up, Ran! I wrote your story with your brother first! Why are you complaining?” She quickly replied, raising her hand in protest.

“Because he’s one of those,” added Mochi in a whisper.

So much of a whisper that was… half the men present burst out laughing which caused Ran to sigh in frustration. He was done. So many years and he still didn’t know what the hell that meant.

“We can't just hop back in,” Takeomi’s voice raised above the hysterical laughter of his peers.

Omi deflated at his words. She dreaded the worst… Was this how things were going to end?

“Please, I’ll do anything! I can’t leave the story like that!” Her eyes began to water as desperation crept in.

“Well, too bad! You left!” Sanzu’s bitterness didn’t falter, not even at the sight of unshed tears in her eyes.

“I said I was sorry! And I was busy with life, you know?”

“Yeah? Life? Then who are those guys? Rhysand? Sylus? Jinshi?” Sanzu spoke each name with disdain.

“Yeah! Who’s Umemiya? And some dude named Hoshina?” Rindou backed him up.

“More? I only heard about Sanji—” Kakucho suddenly intervened but was cut off by Omi.

“Okay! Stop! Oh my gosh!! Stoop!” Omi’s face had changed three different types of red in the last few seconds, “That… has nothing to—“

“Bullshit! I call bullshit! You created a different blog for the Stylus guy!” Sanzu was not dropping the subject.

“Oh my gosh! Let it go! And his name is Sylus!”

“AHAA!” Pink hairs wildly flew everywhere as Sanzu stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Omi.

“Just… just help me write the few chapters I’m missing and the end. That’s all I’m asking… I lost the WIPs and I can’t by myself…” she pleaded. Internally praying they understood her dire situation.

“What do we get in return?” Mikey finally spoke after observing the back and forth between his men and Omi.

That sentence perked her up. A ray of hope finally came in between the stormy clouds.

“What-what would you want?” She asked with bright eyes and a new determination ignited.

“We can discuss that later,” Mikey waved his hand dismissively.

Omi nodded eagerly in return. Finally! Some progress. “Okay, fine… that’s good…”

After Mikey’s short exchange of words, they decided to end the meeting. It was time to move forward and begin working. Everyone stood up and began to leave the room.

They saw Omi move to the side with Takeomi and they started to talk amicably, with smiles and very friendly hand gestures. It was like time had never passed for them. She didn’t treat him differently and Takeomi seemed comfortable with her.

“Why does she like the old man…” Kakucho wondered out loud.

“It’s the daddy issues, I bet,” Sanzu was seething as he kept watching the scene play in front of him.

“What did you say?!” You turned your head like the exorcist once you heard those words leave Sanzu’s lips.

“Does she have superhuman hearing? How the hell did she hear you?” Ran said with a bit of panic in his voice.

And it began. Omi had been chasing the pink-haired man for a while now…

“I DON'T NEED YOU, SANZU! I CAN FINISH DIH WITHOUT YOU!” But before she could catch him, a pair of hands caught her first, “UGH! KAKUCHO LET ME GO! HE’S DEAD!”

Meanwhile a bit further away from the commotion.

“We have agreed to help her. Was it really necessary to do all the drama?” Questioned Takeomi to Mikey and Mochi. The three men watched the rest battling it out.

“We voted and the majority chose to make drama before agreeing,” Mikey said as his eyes followed Sanzu speeding away from Omi,

“Even Koko?” Mochi was surprised by that information.

“Even Koko.” Mumbled the short man.

“RAN, YOU TOO! BOTH YOU AND SANZU ARE DEAD!” Omi yelled, still being held by Kakucho who was trying to help diffuse the situation.

“What did I do?”

“YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE!” She kicked her feet in an attempt to be let loose, “I SHOULD HAVE KEPT WRITING FOR HAIKYUU! They wouldn’t treat me like this!”

“Yeah? Well, go and play ball with your sporty boys!” Ran screamed back.

“You’re insufferable!” Omi screamed as she tackled Ran to the ground.

“She became way more violent in the years we didn’t see her,” Mikey commented and the rest of his executive nodded in agreement. Everyone just watched Omi and Ran scuffling on the floor.

Bonus:

Omi: and then you do as it says here *points to the script*

Kakucho: that’s too mean. I don’t want to do that.

Omi: you’re a criminal! How is it mean to push her face down and—

Kakucho: shhh no please *blushing*

Omi: I’m working with amateurs… *throws her stack of paper into the trash*

[galadhir]

i think that there was a fanwriter named Nemis that wrote a lot of fics about E/C? i liked those fics!

My memory has never been good and after 20 years away it's completely unreliable, but still, that name rings a bell. I vaguely remember her being a nice person that I was aware of but never really interacted with because our areas of interest didn't quite intersect.

i hoped the show would give some spot to Celebrian … and instead. lol.

Indeed! I can just picture the show writers turning their noses up at the thought of writing Galadriel as a mother. She can't be a mother! Whoever heard of a mother being interesting? No one would think it was cool for Galadriel to be an actual queen and seasoned diplomat and seer, with a husband and a child.

Not to mention that Celebrian can't be interesting at all because she dies as a damsel in distress, so she must be a wimp all her life (ignoring the fact that everybody dies in distress.) People can't imagine that her life could have been interesting before that :( Sexism and failure of imagination again.

it would be interesting to see if anyone else had my idea … of course i have not read all the Galadriel/Celeborn fics out there so if someone has those, feel free to drop!

LOL! I'm sorry to end up dropping my own fics on you, but it sounds like you might enjoy my Oak and Willow

(Ignore all the tags, they were auto-imported from Henneth Annun when that archive backed up all its stories on Ao3 and then shut down.) And you can probably ignore chapters 1-4 if you're just in it for the C/G romance. They are world building for Doriath and setting up Celeborn's position in his home, with Thingol, Melian, Luthien and Daeron.

I originally started out intending this one to be a Sindarin history of the world, from the rising of the sun and the moon. But it rapidly became the story of C&G in the First Age. If I had known it was just going to be their love story against a backdrop of the events of the First Age, I might have left off chapter 1 at least, as that was setting up something I didn't actually write in the end.

But it is more or less what you're talking about. So if you're interested, you might like it :)

oh that's interesting, may i ask if it's still online? my beef with peter jackson started muuuuch later with the hobbit movies, but i like to see how other people reacted to the LOTR trilogy when it comes out

Yes, Battle of the Golden Wood is on Ao3 too - also imported from HASA (Henneth Annun Story Archive, which was the place to post elf fanfic back in the day.)

I agree with you about the Hobbit movies! Way too much bloat. There was the occasional nice thing in them - I enjoyed seeing Beorn's house and his bees, for example - but almost everything that PJ put in was grotesque and unfunny and unnecessary. The Hobbit would have made one great film, but there just isn't enough story in it to stretch to three.

as for what you say … i think that that's the current approach of Warner Bros, with its War of the Rohirrim stuff or whatever. i'm not enthusiast about it at all and i would probably complain about it too,

I know what you mean. I'm not enthusiastic either about a Rohirrim spin-off because it seems like they've picked the most low-effort story imaginable. Yes, you can use props from The Vikings and Game of Thrones. You can probably crib story lines from Bernard Cornwell's Anglo-Saxon stories. Have we not seen enough pseudo-early-medieval stories already?

I would have liked to see something we haven't seen before! (Which doesn't mean I won't at least check out the first season. But my hopes are not high.)

i do not want to be mean but btw i do have the feeling that a lot of rop fans are mostly migratory dark romance fans

Oh, the Reylo folks from Star Wars? That would actually make an awful lot of sense. They certainly behave like them. I managed to avoid them by being in the Kylux fandom at the time, and the Kylux fandom was numerous enough to just block them all and carry on doing our own thing regardless. Also a good time :)

it's lowkey … limitating? flattening? because neither galadriel nor sauron fit into this archetype and i do think that forcing them in this dynamic … just doesn't make them sauron and galadriel anymore? but i digress

I know exactly what you mean. I've mostly spent my fandom life in slash (m/m) fandom and there is a migratory slash fandom which is the same. If a pairing gets big enough then the msf will arrive and reduce it to a set of tropes and stereotypes, and then move on to the next big thing as soon as it arrives. In that case, you just have to wait for the next big thing and hope there is someone left still writing to pick up the fandom once they've gone.

Yeah at this point i do honestly wish that everyone can write its own retelling of lotr and publish it.

At least there is the opportunity for us to do it in Ao3, even if we're not allowed to make money on it. We can do it for love :)

Hoo, boy. I am definitely going to unfollow the Celeborn tag again, since it's full of Haladriel shippers arguing that Celeborn stans are harassing them.

I'm not getting into whether that's true. I have no interest in Rings of Power, and as far as I am concerned, Halbrand does not exist in Tolkien's world. I can't be somewhere where people mix Amazon's fanfiction with actual lore.

Also ship wars are not for me. I was a massive Celeborn defender during the release of the movies, and I wrote several novels worth of fanfic then. I think I'm spent.

Still, as a Celeborn fan I thought the Celeborn tag would be a great place to go to find stuff about Celeborn. How could I have been so foolish!

My poor lad! Not even his own tag is about him. Which is exactly what I should have expected, now I come to think about it.

[lillymakesart]

my new OC: cempaka!

she is based on the story/universe that my friend @haydardotjpg's OCs indra and yuwei exist in! pls go checkout haydar's art he is amazing!! his ocs can be found more easily on his ig but if you're lazy this is his oc indra (cempaka's one-sided love interest) and yuwei (indra's fated lover)

also, cempaka means "magnolia" in malay!! (she gets a flower name bc my name is lilly which is also flower c:)

bonus first iteration under the cut!

i accidentally had "poinsettia" flower in mind when i did this iteration instead of an actual magnolia, hence the color scheme. but yeah, this is as self-insert as it gets LOL like she's literally MEEEEEE but still very different and i love her as she is <3

[good-beanswrites]

Hear me out:

Kotoko adopted Es, and Fuuta went ballistic.

Rip Fuuta... he can never catch a break... Asdfsdf thank you for this, it was a blast thinking of all the ridiculous ways this could have played out! (One possibility I toyed with was Fuuta's competitive instincts take over, he fights her for Es, only to realize too late "*I* don't want to be responsible for a whole child WAIT") It's a similar format to the last one, with a knock-at-the-door reveal, but I still think it works 😂

“Don’t fuck with me, Es.”

“I would never.”

Lying brat. Fuuta knew they would every chance that they got. It was the reason he was so relieved that Es decided to find somewhere else to live after Milgram’s end. Fuuta had nothing left to fear from his former warden, but the others’ suggestions that Es become his new roommate still made him shudder. Three interrogations in a closed space with the rude kid were enough for him, thank you very much.

However, it wasn’t all a relief. He couldn’t help feeling concerned about who they’d gone to live with. Given how cryptic they were being, Fuuta would have been convinced they walked into the woods to find a furry family of Jackalopes or something to raise them –except, they showed up for this walk with clean clothing and internet access. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re fucking with me right now. Why can’t you just tell me who it is?” 

“It isn’t any of your concern. Hey, I thought you swore to stay out of others’ business. You turned over a new leaf and all that?”

“Tch. I meant other people’s business. You’re different.” 

If Es had vanished off the grid like some of the other prisoners, Fuuta wouldn’t have cared. But they were here, near enough to arrange some lame meetup, which meant they were going to remain in his life for a while longer. And that meant, as the model citizen that Fuuta was, he felt responsible for ensuring they didn’t get themselves kidnapped by some creep. 

He asked, “how much do you know about them, anyway? I mean, what kind of person can house a random weird kid on incredibly short notice? That’s definitely suspicious.”

Fuuta pulled the mask up on his face as they turned down a more crowded street. He knew people were going to gawk at his eye anyways, but it still helped him feel like he was blending in. With his thoughts on the injury for a moment, he was glad that bitch Kotoko was one of the prisoners who had gone off the grid. Good riddance.

“I promise, she’s fine. Not weird with children at all. In fact, she’s really good with them, which is why she could help me on such short notice.” They muttered, “but it’s not like I’m that young…”

“That’s still not normal. Is she some old housewife or something?”

“Ah, are you trying to do the interrogation this time? Actually, I’d say she’s around your age.”

“It’s just you two living alone? I’m still worried about Milgram coming looking for us again – can a girl like that really protect you?”

“Is everyone supposed to live with a big, strong man, like you?”

“Wha–!” Fuuta’s cheeks burned red. “That’s not what I –!”

“I’m only teasing. It’s cute that you care about me.”

That only agitated him more. “It’s not cute! I’m being realistic! One of us has to think about your safety while you’re just distracted by some pretty girl.”

“What makes you think she’s pretty?”

“Well, why else would you be so careless in deciding to live with her?”

All of the sudden, he saw it in Es’ eyes: that spark of mischief that Fuuta had come to loathe. He could never tell what they were plotting, but it was never a good sign.

Es held up their hands in mock surrender. They put on a ridiculous, overdramatic voice. “Ah, you caught me, Fuuta! I’m hiding her identity because she’s the most beautiful, capable woman in all of Japan, and I want to keep her all to myself!” 

He groaned, but they weren’t deterred. “She’s got everything, I couldn’t risk you falling for her! She’s quite capable of defending me. She’s very strong, with protective instincts much like your own. She understands our situation like no one else could. She’s got intense eyes, and you wouldn’t believe her singing voice. She enjoys deep conversations, she’s a dog person, she –”

“ – now you’re being the creep! Just shut up, I get it already...”

When they finally had the decency to pull it together, they reassured him. “It’s all true, though. So there’s no need to worry about me. I’m in good hands.”

Good hands, his ass. In only a brief conversation, the caretaker had gone from sounding a little suspicious to sounding way too good to be true… meaning she was extremely suspicious.

“Maybe someday I’ll introduce you, if you’re lucky...”

He turned his eyes away. “At least let me run some background checks on her first.” 

(He would just stalk her on social media, but that still counted.)

“You’re just going to stalk her on social media. That doesn’t count.”

“Eh? I have legit methods!” He hid deeper under his mask.

Even after the topic was dropped, after he and Es parted ways on an awkward goodbye, Fuuta was left thinking about this mystery woman. It took a bit of digging (and maybe a tiny bit of social media stalking) but at last he found where Es lived with this stranger. Contrary to what they may believe, he had turned over a new leaf. There would be no more hiding behind screens or letting others do the confrontation for him. Now that he was a changed person, he’d do the healthy and normal thing with this information: he’d march on down there himself and confront her like a man. 

He made it all the way to the front door with his chin high. He knocked with confidence. 

Then he began to shift nervously. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the woman’s description out of his head. Sure, he was here to check on Es, but if someone happened to check him out at the same time, it was only right to be prepared… He straightened his shirt collar. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered if he should have covered up his eye to look more presentable.

The door swung open. 

The surprise on Kotoko’s face was nowhere near the amount on Fuuta’s.

“Oh, for fucks sake –!”

From somewhere behind her, Es’ laughter rang out.

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Giving a complicated tragic childhood backstory to your favorite character is all fun and games, until you realize you need to account for how old all the other adult characters would have been at the time and realize that scenes that would work perfectly if one character was twenty three and the other was fourteen stop working when you need other characters who are played by adult actors clearly younger than they are to be in college at the same time so your story beats line up thematically.

[fatehbaz]

.

[love-songs-for-emma]

i was on zillow today, fantasizing about being able to live somewhere, when i came across the listing for my childhood home. it wasn't active/being sold, but it was on there with some pics of the interior. and my GOD. THEY MADE HER UGLY. THEY TOOK HER RUSTIC PUSSY OUT. WHAT THE FUCK