#she's reformed now don't worry

[evvwenthome]

Studied for half an hour be proud of me

[irrevocablecondition]

i have nothing to say that hasn't already been said in regards to the Uk Supreme Court hearing, nor do i have the mental capacity right now, so you get rhis long draft from february for now instead:

there is no feminism without trans rights. there is no feminism if you are pointing towards trans women and assessing whether they are "womanly enough". there is no feminism if you are pointing towards trans women and saying they can't get periods. "they can't birth a child, how are they women!?". there is no feminism if you turn around to trans men and ask if they've considered their future fertility. if you reduce their worth and their livelihood to their ability to bear a child. there is no feminism if you come after hrt because you can say it's trans healthcare all you want... until they come for your hrt. for your birth control, for your plan b, for your viagra, for YOUR hrt. there is no feminism if you insist on restricting trans healthcare. "no no, they need more time to think about it!" anyway, i'll wait 6 months for a doctors appointment only to be told i must be due on. have you considered it's anxiety??? there is no feminism if you insist on verifying people's sex. hi, hello, sorry! mandatory genital check! yes, we have security stationed outside the women's restrooms! don't worry about it, i'm sure that viral video of a cis woman being hounded by cis men pretending to be security guards is fake, it mustttt be a trans thing. yeah. no, it isn't bad that this trans person got misgendered and hatecrimed and assaulted. look at them, they aren't even trying. if they wanted to not be attacked, they would've worn the right thing. it's what they were wearing, right?

there is no feminism when the arguments against trans people are just misogyny repacked

what makes a woman a woman? no no, wait. you're 18! have you thought about your reproductive future? what if you change your mind and want kids ohhh you're gonna regret that. yes yes, these puberty blockers that both cis and trans people on? those are harmful because we shouldn't be messing with children's hormones but we're only going to ban them for trans people. yeah, i'm sure they work differently for cis kids! don't worry about it, the blockers know when a person is trans and then it starts attacking their body because that is absolutely how science works!

if jkr was a feminist she would talk about women's rights without a trans person coming into the equation.

she would talk about the fact that violence against women has been declared a national emergency in the uk, and she wouldn't follow it up with trans bathroom debates. that 70k donation to stop trans women being legally recognised as women? maybe that could have been spent elsewhere in the legal system. perhaps in ensuring that rapists and abusers actually get convicted of their crimes and that the 1 in 2 women who are victims of this do not shake their head with an empty sigh when they're asked if they would like to press charges. she wouldn't have come online with 14m followers and debated the validity of imane khelif's success, wouldn't have argued that a woman of colour was trans because she don't fit her western ideals of what a woman should look like, because feminism isn't feminism if it isn't intersectional. she wouldn't have handed johnny fucking depp millions upon millions. she wouldn't have given marilyn manson fucking flowers. if jkr were a feminist she would have spoken up about farage and his proposed restrictions to abortion. reform are leading the uk polls right now, this is becoming more of a threat but no no, silence.

if jkr was a feminist, she wouldn't be Supporting Donald Trump. she wouldn't be publicly praising him for his work against transgender athletes in america when he has over double the amount of sexual assault "allegations" than there even ARE trans athletes at college level in america.

there is no feminism without trans rights, and you need to take the wool off of your eyes if you think that you as a cis woman are safe from this. because you're not.

when we start bringing arguments about reproductive capabilities back? when we start arguing about how much "effort" a woman puts in, how much makeup she wears. when we start reducing womanhood back down to aesthetics and reproductive value?

you aren't safe.

and if you aren't standing with trans people right now, if you aren't standing for intersectionality right now?

then you aren't a feminist either.

[hgfictionwriter]

Fitness, Flirting & Confessions

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: When you cave and join Jessie for a Pilates class, you expect sore muscles - not a jealous and flustered Jessie. Maybe a Pilates class is all it takes to turn your situationship into something more.

Warnings: G!P smut. Situationship. Jealousy kink. Possessiveness. Semi-public sex. Teasing. Power dynamics. Hand job. Penetrative sex. Language.

A/N: Response to this comment. Somehow Pilates served as a backdrop for emotional avoidant Jessie and romantic confessions.

"Okay, everyone, get on your machines and lie down - head on the headrest, shoulders against the blocks and feet on the footbar," the instructor said above the din of the room.

Your pulse picked up as you quietly observed students settling themselves on their reformers, going through the motions and seeming to know exactly what to do. You swallowed.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," you muttered out of the corner of mouth with a passing glance Jessie's way.

"You're going to do great," she said with a reassuring smile as she went to her machine.

"You got this," Sam said with a wink as she and Hina retreated to their own. All you could do was offer a weak smile.

They'd both already made a fuss about you joining. Praising you for giving it a shot, reassuring you you'd be okay and so on. Everyone knew this kind of class was really not your thing and despite their intentions it only made you more apprehensive.

"Don't worry, Y/N." The instructor's now-gentle voice filled your ears and you turned in surprise as her hand came to your arm to give a light squeeze. "These Thorns are some of my favourite people, so I'll make sure to take good care of you," she said with a smile.

She stood by while you climbed onto your machine next to Jessie. The instructor watched you, adjusting a couple of things to help you get settled and you felt an inadvertent blush of embarrassment forming as your face heated up under the attention and scrutiny.

"There, looking great already," she said with a charming smile as she stepped away.

You quietly exhaled, trying to relieve the tension from your body. You glanced over at Jessie only to catch her watching you with steady eyes. She didn't give you her usual warm grin or shy smile though. Instead, her gaze flicked over to the instructor briefly before falling back on you. You could see the thoughts clicking into place in her mind.

She was jealous. A confused, but admittedly pleased sensation rose within you at the realization. You bit the inside of your cheek.

You and Jessie had been seeing each other casually for a few months now. It was a wonderful, but confusing and at times frustrating situation though.

She didn't want to be official. She didn't want to be public. She claimed she was too busy and away too often to commit to anything. Yet, she messaged you at all hours of the day. Introduced you to all her friends, wanted you to hang out - to come to freakin' pilates with her - and it was your bed she lingered in despite her claims that she had to go.

She wanted you to herself, but wouldn't admit it or commit. Who knew you'd be getting the run around from Jessie Fleming, of all people.

As the instructor walked the class through some initial movements, she came back over to you to check on you - her hand coming to your body to offer light corrections here and there. You could feel Jessie's piercing gaze on you two.

Maybe this wouldn't be all bad.

As the sequences evolved and grew more difficult, the instructor's attention on you increased as well. You'd feel self-conscious about the guidance you needed if you weren't so distracted by Jessie's gaze boring into you, a subtle huff of irritation even coming from her now and then.

Her eyes remained on you as you went through pelvic exercises and eventually moved into strap work. Jessie's cheeks were flaring up and she wore a look of concentration, but her looks over at you were growing more and more fleeting. You frowned as you saw her clench her fists.

You watched her curiously and she nearly shot you a glare. You frowned before you caught her bunching up her shorts that she wore over her leggings.

Realization washed over you as you realized Jessie was not only jealous, but she was getting flustered as well from watching you. You bit your lip, beyond pleased by this turn of events.

You played it up. You locked eyes with her - for the moments her resolve failed - as you went through more exercises, doing your best to be slow and deliberate in your moves. You even asked the instructor to check your form, purposefully looking Jessie's way as the instructor guided your limbs through gentle corrections.

Jessie adjusted her shorts further and angled her body awkwardly from time to time as she continued to try to hide the bulge that was starting to show through her clothes. A particularly sharp movement accompanied with a frustrated huff caught the instructor's attention.

"You alright, Jess?"

"Oh, yeah," Jessie nearly stammered, face growing redder under the attention as she sat up in a particular way to conceal her growing erection and took a swing of water. "Just need some water," she said, waving off the scrutiny and shooting you a thinly concealed look of warning.

Not missing a beat, you gave her your best smile and continued your stretch. You stifled a laugh at how she immediately diverted her gaze and shifted away.

The class ended, and though your body was aching you were still on a high. Jessie, on the other hand, look flustered and irritated. She feigned going through additional stretches, still diligently working to hide her arousal.

"Come on, Jess. If we leave now we can still grab a table next door," Sam said as she gathered her things and worked to round the four of you up for lunch.

"Yeah, you guys head over. Just stretching out my calf a bit. I'll catch up shortly," she said as she waved them off, struggling to meet Sam's eyes.

"Oh, should I be doing more stretches? I can stay and do them with you," you inquired innocently as you cocked your head at her.

"No," she said, unable to entirely hide the curtness in her voice. She cleared her throat and offered you a pointed look, eyes shifting to peer over your shoulder at Sam and Hina who still stood nearby. "I-I'll catch up."

Coffees had arrived at the table by the time Jessie strode in. She didn't even make eye contact with you as she sat down heavily in her chair with a sigh, immediately picking up the menu and determinedly reading it.

"Feeling better?" Hina asked.

"Oh. Yeah. All good now," Jessie said, now offering a brief smile before returning her attention to the menu.

"Hey, I was looking at this," you said, lowering your voice slightly to speak with Jessie and not draw the others' attention as you leaned in to point at her menu, ensuring that your body pressed up against her and your breath was on her cheek. You turned your head to face her, again, looking as innocent as could be. "Have you had it before?"

She shuffled restlessly in her chair, exhaling audibly and giving you a cursory glance.

"Yeah, it's fine," she said flatly.

Jessie's grumpy attitude continued into ordering and you probably should've felt bad for her, but you couldn't resist how the tables had turned in your dynamic.

You texted her.

"How do you do those classes without getting turned on? I don't know about you, but I just kept thinking of spreading my legs for you."

You quietly sipped your water, watching Jessie out of the corner of your eye as she checked her phone. You steeled yourself to stop from smirking as she practically slapped her phone down onto her thigh with a momentarily bewildered expression before picking it up again to reply.

"What?" Sam asked with a frown, obviously catching the reaction.

"Huh?" Jessie asked distractedly, eyebrows high as she stopped texting and looked around. She clued in. "Oh. Someone's just being an asshole."

You nearly laughed.

"Who?" Sam asked, even more confused.

"Nobody."

You really were in a state, because her flippant response insulted you. You doubled down and texted her before she could finish replying.

"Nobody? Really? Good to know "nobody" was sucking you off last night on the couch."

You saw the message come through on her phone and she subtly eyed Hina and Sam to ensure they were distracted before she shot you a withering stare.

She finished typing.

"Yeah? Well, you're mean. You knew what effect you were having on me in there and you just played it up. And "nobody"? I must be nobody since you seemed to be all over [the instructor]."

"I think I like Jealous Jessie."

"I'm not jealous."

"Course not. I mean, I'm not yours, after all. Well, too bad. Cause it was turning me on."

Jessie huffed silently, her eyes absently scanning the restaurant as she contemplated what to do. You pre-empted her.

"I really, really just want to stroke you through your shorts right now. Knowing I made you hot enough that you were showing through your leggings and shorts? That's so fucking hot."

Jessie fidgeted further as she read your message. From the way she was shifting and adjusting her shorts again, you knew you were having the effect you wanted on her.

"Jess," Sam had to laugh. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and ran her hand through her hair a little roughly. She scooted back her chair. "I just gotta go to the washroom."

She got up quickly, hands strategically placed and hips angled in a way to conceal her tent forming through her clothes.

Hina and Sam's eyes followed her with concern. "Should we check on her?" Hina asked and you waved them off.

"No, no. I'll check on her. I'm sure it's fine," you relayed easily as you made your way to the bathrooms. They were individual rooms lining one hall and only one was closed.

"Jess?" You called gently as gave a light rap on the door. "It's just me."

"Go away," she said flatly.

"Come on," you urged with a soft laugh. "Would it help if I apologized?"

The door unlatched and swung open to reveal Jessie still in her full clothes, a slight and adorable pout on her face.

"You do owe me an apology," she said, stepping aside to let you in.

"I'm really sorry, baby," you whispered as you locked the door behind you and wrapped your arms around the back of her neck, her hands instinctively settling on your hips.

You weren't even really thinking, you just gently pushed her against the wall, your lips brushing against hers as you dropped one hand to start caressing her through her clothes. You could feel the firmness of her cock straining through the fabric already. Her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling and she exhaled through her nose.

"That's not nice," she said through near-gritted teeth.

"I'm trying to apologize," you offered with a lilt in your voice as you began to lay slow kisses down the side of her neck.

"Mm, shit," she whispered through a clipped grunt, her hips moving against your hand whether she intended it or not. She blinked up at the ceiling.

"You know, that instructor wasn't actually flirting with me," you said as you continued to stroke the outline of her cock.

"She was flirting with you," she retorted firmly, eyes now locking on you. "Fully."

You dropped your gaze with a faint shrug as you caressed her more firmly. "Well, I mean, I am single...," you said, lifting your gaze back up to her at the end.

She stared at you for several seconds, her mouth agape as her breathing deepened, her face freckled and red, hips grinding against your hand. You could see her internal struggle.

"I hate that," she eventually said, not breaking eye contact.

"Hate what," you asked innocently as you continued to massage her.

"That you're single," she said, voice curt as she struggled to remained composed under your ministrations.

"Oh," you said. "Like - I should ask for [the instructor's] number?"

She exhaled heavily, gaze flicking back up to the ceiling in frustration.

"No," she said a bit sharply.

"Really?" You asked as you coaxed her to meet your gaze once more. You licked your hand and snuck it under her waistband and grasped her cock, tugging slowly on it. Her knees buckled slightly and her eyes closed before she recovered. You went on. "I'm confused, then."

She huffed in frustration, her hands tightening their grip on your waist as she pulled you closer and gave you an imploring look.

"Y/N...you know how I feel about you," she offered lamely, and frankly, you were a bit tired of it.

"Not really," you said as you stroked her and ran your other hand up through her hair. "You say you like me. You want to fuck me. But you don't want to be more than 'friends' and you don't like me being single. I'm confused."

"I told you...," she trailed off in a faint whine, her hips rocking into your waiting hand.

"Jessie," you said with a smirk. "I'm well aware that you're busy and that you're away all the time. I'm not trying to change that." You snickered slightly , but gave her an appeasing kiss. "I'm not trying to tie you down."

"No, you're just trying to make me cum in my pants," she quipped, finally cracking a relaxed smile. You kissed her slowly.

"That would be pretty fucking hot. I have to say," you affirmed with a quiet grin.

She didn't say anything and when you pulled back you saw the intense stare she was giving you. You cracked a smirk and leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, your breath hot against her.

"I know where you want to cum," you whispered.

She inhaled sharply, her hands pushing up under your shirt and fingers digging into your skin.

"Fuck I want you," she whispered heavily into your neck as she turned you both around so your back was against the stall. She pushed her pants down, her cock springing up with need and began to hurriedly, even clumsily, push your pants down your legs.

She ran two fingers along your slit and let out a heady breath. You could practically hear the smile in her voice as she talked. "God, I love how wet you get for me."

She gripped your thigh and lifted it, encouraging you to wrap your leg around her waist. She grabbed her cock, pumping it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. You couldn't help but tease one more time.

"Easy," you warned. "[The instructor] worked me pretty good this morning. A girl hasn't made me this sore in a while."

Jessie's hurried movements stilled and she slowly lifted her gaze to set her eyes on you. A rush went through as she stared hard at you, pupils blown with lust.

"I don't want to hear her name on your lips," she said in a low tone, her fingers digging into your thigh. "Is she who you're wet for," she asked as she pulled her hips back, the head of her cock spreading your lips and rubbing across your clit before she pushed back towards your entrance.

"You know better than that," you said breathlessly as your core pulsed in need.

"I'm not so sure," she said as she drew her hips back to tease you again. You were frustrated in several ways now.

"I'm not going to tell you I'm yours," you held firm. Her shoulders tensed up under your arms and you argued further, "Because that's not what you actually want." She exhaled low.

"And what if it is?" She said, forehead resting against your shoulder as she kneaded your thigh with one hand, your ass with her other and continued to slowly tease you both with slow, firm strokes that nudged at your entrance.

You scoffed. "Well that's new, then. Miss Avoidant."

"I'm not avoidant. I'm serious. If I'm committed to you. I'm committed." She lifted her head to meet your watchful gaze. "I'm not fucking around."

"Kinda feels like we're fucking around," you couldn't help but quip. Her eyes flashed and you bit your lip in apology.

"I don't want to just fuck around anymore," she said as she drew her hips back and this time angled to slip inside of you. You gasped, your breath turning into a moan and you had to look away, albeit, with affection as she gave you a smug open-mouth smirk.

"What does-" you gasped in pleasure again as she moved once more mid-sentence, "-that mean?"

"It means," she said as she pushed her hips forward to sink fully inside you once more, "I want you to be mine. Officially."

Your laugh was interrupted with another soft moan you couldn't hold back as your body lifted off the ground slightly each time she bottomed out in you, her powerful hips pushing you up the wall with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Are you seriously asking me out while you're fucking me in a restaurant bathroom?" You asked, your laugh returning.

"Doesn't sound as romantic when you put it that way," she chuckled as she pulled out to the tip and rolled her hips back into you. "I just - I just really want you."

"Well, if you're finally making it official, Fleming, then I guess you can say this pussy's yours," you said flirtatiously.

"Mm," she voiced in a low growl as she gave a particularly strong thrust. "That sounds fucking amazing," she affirmed as her fingers dug into you.

"For someone who's been so commitment-avoidant, you're awfully possessive," you teased.

"Mm, you have no idea," she said as her hips ground into you with sharp, powerful thrusts that continued to jostle you up and down the wall. "Fuck. Just the thought of you being mine has me ready to bust," she panted.

"You're welcome, by the way," you teased. "For being so generous and not making you cum in your pants. I could've if I wanted to."

She pulled back to give you a lopsided grin. She shook her head in affection. "No wonder I love you."

Your jaw fell and she shook her head at you with a pleased smile.

"Nuh uh. Don't give me that look," she warned teasingly. She kissed you as she continued to pump into you, drawing a needy whine out of you. You smiled into the kiss and she bit your lip. "Don't make me fuck that smug smile off of you," she said. You gripped her hair and whimpered into the kiss further.

She readjusted her grip on you and began to pump into you mercilessly, the sound of her skin against yours clapping off of the tiling in the small room.

"Fuck, you're amazing," she praised as she thrust into you. She let her head fall back, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she panted, a lazy smile on her face. "I can feel your cum dripping down my cock and thighs. Jesus, fuck, baby. I should tell you I love you more often."

You wanted to give a witty retort, but all you could do was hold onto her, your nails digging into her shirt as she fucked you like a rag doll against the wall.

"Breathe, baby," she coached softly as she brought you back to the moment and you forced yourself to take a breath as the coiling sensation between your legs grew tighter and tighter.

"Fuck," she grit out as she held you tightly. "You're gripping me so tight." She lifted one hand to gently grip you under your chin with her thumb, her fingers on the side of your face. "Eyes on me, baby." You didn't react immediately and she stroked your cheek encouragingly. She smirked when you finally opened your eyes to look at her.

"There's my beautiful girl," she told you. "I want to see you when you cum for me."

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, your head falling back against the stall. Any semblance of control and power you had earlier was fully relinquished to her and you both basked in it.

"Fuck, Jessie, I'm going to cum," you panted, your head rolling from side to side as the pressure mounted deep inside of you with every thrust.

"I know, princess," she said gently as she caressed you. "I want you to."

You let out a wanton moan and pulled her closer to you. She kissed your neck with a soft chuckle.

"I want you to cum inside me," you told her as you clawed up her back, drawing up her shirt into bundles in your fist as you did so.

"Mm," she groaned in approval. "The only place I want to." She grunted into your neck, breath hot on your skin. "Fuck. You deserve all my cum."

You moaned again, white knuckling her shirt. "Jesus Christ, Jess."

You began to spasm around her cock and your entire body tensed up in her embrace. Your jaw fell and your breath caught in your lungs as you clung onto her while she pounded into you relentlessly, her jagged breaths in your ear.

A high whimper worked its way up her throat and her hips began to stutter against you. She dug her feet into the floor beneath her and she ground up into you as deeply as she could, grunts of effort falling from her lips as she spilled herself inside of you.

"Oh God," you nearly whined as your spasms slowed around her still-hard cock. She rut into you a couple more time, ensuring to push her cum as deep inside of you as she could.

"Holy fuck," she panted as she let her body grow slightly slack, though still holding you securely.

You absently ran your hand through her hair and she gave you soft, fluttery kisses along your shoulder.

"Did you mean what you said?" You eventually asked. "Any and all of it?"

She squeezed you tightly in her arms and planted a long kiss at the edge of your shoulder.

"I did. Are you okay with that?" She asked as she looked up at you with big, brown eyes. "And, thanks, for being so patient with me."

You smiled, kissing her sweetly. She stared up at you adoringly as the kiss ended and your smile shifted into a smirk.

"What can I say," you teased, "you're worth the wait. And good that you meant it, because I'm pretty sure the whole restaurant knows we're an item now."

[deathofacupid]

ᡣ𐭩 content — older boyfriend!satoru gojo. fluff/suggestive. requested!

older boyfriend!satoru isn't great at taking things seriously, which is something you thought you knew. so, you weren't that shocked when he told you that nanami had invited them to a dinner party.

now, you've never met nanami. you've never met nanami, nor any of the others, all of which older boyfriend!satoru said would be there. it's only natural to worry a little, to want to be able to make the impression you can.

older boyfriend!satoru who suggests letting him calm you down, but you'd spent too long on your appearance to set him loose. "i'm just saying," he grinned, a shit-eating smile, plastered on his face.

"no," you said, glaring at older boyfriend!satoru. for someone in his late-thirties, he sure didn't act like it.

when you'd entered the building, you were greeted by a tall, stoic blonde. it surprises you, though you try to not let it show, how this is nanami. well, to be fair, you weren't sure what you'd been expecting, but not this. not someone so... stark from older boyfriend!satoru.

actually, all of older boyfriend!satoru's friends differ from him. there's shoko, who's quite humorous, but it's not like his. her punchlines are short, easy, and effortless. well, maybe his are, too.

older boyfriend!satoru's jokes, however, take up the room. they don't take mercy on the people around, and no matter how ridiculous, it's his energy. that's why it's so hard not to laugh.

"so," shoko paused, musing. "this is your girlfriend? i was beginning to think she wasn't real."

older boyfriend!satoru is offended. "of course, she's real! woman love me," he drawls, hooking an arm around you, to pull you closer.

geto, another one, snorts. "can you blame us?" his hair captivates you. you don't think you could ever get yours like that.

nanami shakes his head, "i apologize, y/n. gojo just has... a track record." at that, you smile, nodding slowly.

"oh?" you ask, tilting your head.

shoko takes a sip of her wine, trying to cover up her laughter. "y'know, he just means your boyfriend is a slut."

"reformed slut," older boyfriend!satoru corrects, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. and, at some point, the conversation shifts to politics, or rather, the higher-ups.

nanami, pushing his glasses up, "there's a new policy, i've heard," he says. "it's—"

"oh, save it," older boyfriend!satoru scoffs. "it's all bullshit, anyways. who's actually going to listen?" you bristle at his language, but you can't be too shocked to hear him dissing his superiors.

"believe it, or not, not all of us are loaded, you nepo-baby. i hate rich people," shoko snorts.

"right, well," nanami continues, an attempt to get back on trap. he shoots him a look.

older boyfriend!satoru who's kind of a ridiculous man-child, but you don't think you'd have him any other way.

[moonselune]

your dark bg3 is so yummy‼️‼️‼️ gourmet stuff!! If possible then can I request about what if tav also got a bad ending? Maybe them turning into a monster and resenting them. (Sorry if my English is bad. I'm still learning to speak it😭)

Your english is amazing! Don't even worry! and yess dark!bg3 is my favourite snack

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Monster You Made

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, injury, cannibalism, gore so much gore, violence

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

Minthara had been riding high on her victories. Another temple razed, another chapel soaked in the blood of Lolth’s faithful. She had carved her defiance into the bones of every priest and priestess who dared stand before her, and she laughed at the Spider Queen’s silence.

"Where is your vengeance, Queen of the Abyss?" she had mocked, standing atop the ruined altar, her blade dripping with divine ichor. "Have you nothing but whispers and shadows? Cowardice and Sulk?"

For a moment, all was still. Then, the world lurched.

It started with a whisper, a soft skittering at the edges of the room. Then came the presence—thick, cloying, suffocating. The torches flickered, the very air turning heavy, and Minthara’s smirk faltered. It seemed Lolth's vengeance was making it's presence.

You barely had time to react before pain surged through you.

A terrible, unnatural heat spread through your veins like molten iron, boiling your insides. Your knees buckled, a ragged scream escaping your lips as your bones twisted, stretching and snapping like a puppet with its strings cut.

"What—no!" Minthara turned toward you, her face twisting with something between shock and fury, as she ran to your side. "Not them!"

But Lolth was not a goddess of mercy.

Your limbs cracked and reformed, your hands splitting open into jagged claws. Your legs—no, not legs, too many, too long—skittered against the cold stone, foreign and wrong.

"Minthara!" Your voice came hoarse and broken, thick with agony. Tears poured from your eyes, as the hells itself took root in your very being. "You did this!"

Minthara’s eyes went wide. "No, this isn’t—"

"You taunted her!" you spat through clenched teeth, your mouth sharp with fangs that hadn’t been there before. "This is your carnage. You slaughtered her priests, burned her temples! You mocked her, and now look at me!"

"I—" She stepped forward, but the shadows around you lashed out, keeping her at bay as your hideous form continued to develop.

"You brought this upon me!" you howled as your spine snapped into something monstrous, the lower half of your body hardening into a grotesque exoskeleton. The pain was unrelenting, a cruel symphony playing out in your flesh.

Minthara reached for you, but the shadows surged, wrapping around her arms, her waist, holding her back as she watched.

"I should have left you! Risked your wrath!" Your voice was a guttural snarl now, warped and inhuman. "I should have known instead I would pay for your sins!"

Minthara's face contorted—not with anger, but something closer to pain. "*I—I won’t let her take you!"

But it was too late.

Lolth was thorough.

Your mind fractured, your body fully contorted into its new, monstrous form—but the cruelest part, the final twist of the dagger, was the clarity that remained.

Lolth had left enough of you intact. Enough for you to understand. To remember. To resent.

Your breath came ragged, your new limbs shuddering with the weight of your transformation. You could still think, still feel, still hate. You turned your many-eyed gaze onto Minthara, the hatred burning behind them sharper than any blade. "I will ruin you."

Minthara swallowed hard, taking an involuntary step back. "No..."

"You did this to me, Minthara." Your voice, though distorted, still carried the weight of your wrath. "And I will make you pay."

Minthara flinched, for the first time in her life afraid. Lolth had given her exactly what she deserved.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Shadowheart had always been meticulous in shaping you. A memory here, a thought there—plucked, twisted, reshaped until you were exactly as she needed. Loyal. Devoted. Hers.

It had taken time, careful work, but she had done it. And she never once considered that she had done too much. Not until tonight.

You had come to her chambers, a soft smile on your lips, eyes warm with affection as you took her hands in yours.

"I’ve made dinner for us," you had said. "Something special."

Shadowheart had been pleased. It was rare for you to take such initiative, to offer something so intimate unprompted. She had brushed her lips against your forehead, murmured something sweet, and assured you she would join you in a bit as she finished up some threatening letters to some nobles.

As she walked to join you, she couldn't help but smile in pride, over how wonderful she had made you. But the moment she stepped into the temple kitchens—that pride shattered.

The air was thick with the iron tang of blood. The floors slick and wet. Bodies lay in ruin, carved open with surgical precision, organs missing, flesh torn. The kitchen fire crackled warmly, spitting grease, the scent of roasting meat filling the space.

Her stomach turned.

And there you stood, humming to yourself as you stirred a pot, the blade in your hands still dripping. Blood smeared across your cheeks, your fingers, your apron.

Shadowheart felt her breath stall. "What…"

You turned to her with that same soft smile—so sweet, so loving, and yet your eyes… Your eyes were wrong.

"I made something special," you repeated, voice light, dreamy. "A romantic meal. Just for us."

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Bile rose to her throat and for a moment she was sure she would choke on it.

You lifted a spoon to your lips, filled with the blood of the subordinates slain on the floor, taking a taste, and as you swallowed, tears welled in your eyes.

"I don’t… I don’t know why I’m doing this." Your voice trembled, so heartbreakingly genuine. "I don’t want to do this, Shadowheart."

A sob tore through you, your body shuddering as you stirred the pot, as though trapped in the motion. A finger and a toe bobbed up to the surface, and Shadowheart could only double over and vomit.

"I don’t want to be a monster… but you made me one." You shakily said, a smile still on your face,

Shadowheart’s knees hit the bloodied stone as she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "No…"

"Yes." Your voice turned sing-song, a lilting melody as you rocked slightly on your heels. A nursery rhyme, an old prayer—no, a doctrine. "Pain is love, love is pain, we are shaped by her hand…"

Shadowheart flinched. She knew those words. Had taught you those words. And now you were repeating them back to her, reciting them like a child lost in the dark.

You pick up a rogue organ you had on the side and tossed it int"She carves us, molds us, breaks us—"

"Enough." Shadowheart’s voice cracked, but you didn’t stop.

"We suffer and we are made perfect, we suffer and we are made whole—"

"Enough!" She surged forward, grabbing your face, forcing you to look at her.

Your eyes… there was nothing behind them. No clarity, no recognition—just a hollow, twisted thing wearing the face of the person she loved.

"What have I done?" she whispered.

You only smiled and offered her the spoon. "I made us something special."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

It was a gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.

Gale paraded you before his worshippers like a treasured relic—something precious, something his. The faithful adored you, sang your praises nearly as much as his, and every time you hesitated, every time your smile faltered, his hand would tighten around yours. Behave, the pressure said. Be worthy of their love.

You did as you were told. At first.

You smiled when Gale told you to. You accepted the prayers, the devotion, the endless kneeling at your feet. You let them call you holy, divine, a gift to their god. It made your skin crawl. So, one day, you tested them.

"Build me a statue," you had said, your voice lilting with amusement, feigning benevolence. "If you adore me so, let the world see my image."

They had obeyed without hesitation. Within a fortnight, a monument stood in your honor, towering, radiant, a depiction of you carved from the finest marble.

Gale had laughed when he saw it, sliding his arm around your waist. "They love you almost as much as I do."

He had meant it as a compliment. You had clenched your jaw and smiled. And then, you had asked for more.

"Bring me offerings," you told them. "Not coin or jewels—those mean nothing. Bring me something of real worth."

At first, it was trinkets. Heirlooms. Personal relics.

Then, it became more. A traitor’s severed tongue, presented on a silver plate. A nobleman's heart, still warm, still twitching. Bone, flesh, blood—sacrifices.

It was intoxicating. Not the power, not the reverence, but the corruption.

You had meant it as a game, a cruel joke at Gale’s expense. You had wanted to make a mockery of his faith, to show him how empty their devotion was, how easily they could be swayed. Instead, they had made you into something else.

The first time they slaughtered in your name, you had watched with something like detachment. The first time they burned a village at your word, you had justified it.

"Gale would have done the same."

"It’s what he deserves."

"I deserve this."

Until they spoke your name above his. Until they wept for you instead of him. Until they looked upon you not as Gale’s beloved but as something greater.

That was when the horror set in. You had done this. You had wanted to defy him, to twist his faith into something grotesque—but you had twisted yourself in the process. You had become the monster in the stories. The horror in the hymns. The nightmare in the prayers of the innocent.

And when you finally confronted Gale, you saw it—the flicker of fear in his eyes.

"What have you done?" he whispered, as if you had not simply become what he made you.

"What have I done?" you echoed, voice shaking with something terrible. 

You stepped closer, reveling in the way he tensed.

"You wanted me to be divine," you said, voice ragged. "You wanted them to love me. You wanted me to belong to you. And now—" your breath hitched, a bitter laugh escaping, "now they belong to me."

For the first time in a long time, Gale looked at you not as a lover, not as a prize—but as a threat. His throat bobbed.

"I never wanted this," he murmured.

"And yet, here we are."

You had wanted to make Gale suffer. Instead, you had ruined yourself.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

Astarion gives you everything.

Silks, diamonds, pearls—his little indulgences for his most treasured possession. You revel in it at first, in the weight of necklaces pressed to your throat, in the glimmering gowns that spill like moonlight around you. You are draped in wealth, adorned like an ornament of his empire, paraded at his side as his dark consort.

But it is not yours.

Not truly.

It is a gilded cage with velvet cushions and ruby-studded bars. And Astarion, lounging upon his throne, never lets you forget that you belong to him.

Even now, you sit atop his lap, stripped bare of both fabric and dignity, curled into him as he surveys his court. His nocturnal horde kneels before him, creatures of the night that whisper his name like a benediction, swearing their undying fealty to him and him alone.

That was meant to be yours too.

But there you are, a pet draped across his lap while he commands his empire, idly stroking your skin as though you were no more than a prized thing.

And with that realization, something in you finally shatters.

The ballroom is a ruin of pleasure and carnage, the air thick with the scent of spilt wine and fresher, richer things. The gilded chandeliers cast a dull glow over the carnage below—bodies twisted in the throes of excess, mouths still parted in laughter, ecstasy, or death. Your work. Your entertainment. The remains of another night spent reveling in your own descent.

You see yourself in the blood pooled across the marble floors, in the dark streaks on your hands, in the crimson sheen of the mirrors that line the grand hall. A thing no longer human. A thing made.

Astarion finds you there, barefoot on the ballroom steps, still wearing the remnants of your latest indulgence—the silken threads that cling to your skin, damp with blood not your own. His boots click against the marble, his presence as effortless and commanding as always, but there’s something else in his expression as he sweeps his gaze over the disaster you’ve left behind. Not admiration. Not amusement.

Disapproval.

“Oh, my love.” He exhales, his voice exasperated, but light, as if he’s speaking to a spoiled child. “You’ve made such an awful mess.”

You do not speak. You only watch as he lifts the hem of his fine embroidered coat to step over a broken body, nose wrinkling at the sight of their torn throat.

He turns his red eyes back on you and sighs, tilting his head. “I do miss my well-behaved pet. Whatever happened to them, I wonder?”

Something inside you—something still raw and burning, something still capable of feeling—snaps.

You laugh, a broken, breathless thing, the sound scraping out of your throat like it belongs to someone else.

“You happened,” you say, voice shaking, but not with fear. Not anymore. You take a step forward, and he watches you with the calmness of a predator indulging a weaker thing’s tantrum. “This is your fault.”

Astarion smiles, but it’s sharp, condescending. “Is it? I don’t recall forcing you to—”

You slap him.

The sound rings through the ballroom, cutting through the distant moans of dying things, through the flickering candlelight and the suffocating scent of decay. His head barely moves with the impact, but his expression does. It goes blank. Cold.

You shove him then, hands pressed against his chest, forcing him back a step, your voice rising, words spilling out with every ounce of agony he’s wrought in you.

“You made me this. You did this to me!” You shove him again, and this time he lets you, the ghost of something unreadable flickering across his features. “You fed me everything I could ever want and then took everything from me! My dignity, my humanity—” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. “—myself!”

Astarion tilts his head, his lips pressing into something almost resembling a pout.

“Oh, darling, you wound me.” His voice is softer now, saccharine, but there’s a new edge to it. He reaches for you, fingers ghosting against your jaw, and you don’t flinch. You can’t. He hums in amusement, gripping your chin with a opposing malice. “But perhaps you need reminding of your place.”

You meet his gaze without fear, without anything left to lose. “Do whatever you want to me,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “It won’t compare to what you’ve already done.”

For the first time, Astarion says nothing.

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, the distant flicker of candlelight casting both your reflections onto the bloodied marble. Monsters.

Neither of you look away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The spell had been meant as a safeguard. A gentle tether. A way to keep you from running again.

At least, that was what Halsin had told you when he cast it, his voice soft with reassurance, his hands warm as they cradled yours. A necessary precaution, he had called it, one that would keep you safe. You hadn’t understood what he had done at first—only that when you tried to leave the grove, the ground swallowed you whole.

The first time you ran, you barely made it beyond the treeline before something beneath your feet shifted. The grass turned to hands, vines to shackles. They dragged you down, piercing your flesh, rooting into your skin, becoming part of you. You had screamed, struggled, but no matter how you fought, the spell refused to let go. You felt yourself being dragged back, pulled home, the grove calling to you with a voice that was not your own.

When you came to, Halsin had been there, brushing damp hair from your face, his expression full of regret but his resolve unwavering.

“This is for the best,” he had said, stroking your cheek with fingers that should have been tender, but felt like iron bars. “You must stay. You belong here.”

You had believed him. Trusted him that this spell was minor. And so, for your convenience, you stopped running. But the changes did not stop.

At first, they were small. Your fingers turned green at the tips, dirt forever embedded beneath your nails no matter how hard you scrubbed. Tiny flowers sprouted along your collarbones, curling in the hollows of your throat. Your footsteps grew quieter, muffled by the moss that began to creep along your heels.

You had tried to ignore it, had begged him to fix it, but he had only smiled and called it natural.

“This is the grove embracing you,” he had said, tucking a strand of ivy-laced hair behind your ear. “You are part of it now.”

But you had not wanted to be part of it.

You began speaking less. Feeling less. You withdrew, shutting yourself away, closing off pieces of yourself in some desperate attempt to hold on to who you had been. But the more you pulled away, the more the grove took from you.

Your skin hardened into bark, rough and splintered, cracking open at your joints when you moved. Your veins thickened, no longer running red but gold—thick like sap, sluggish like decay. You stopped feeling warmth. Your pulse slowed. Your breath came in rustling sighs, the sound of leaves shifting in an unfelt wind.

You felt it inside you now—the grove whispering, calling, claiming.

The final straw came when you saw yourself in the still waters of the spring. Your reflection was not your own.

Your hands, once warm and full of life, had twisted into gnarled, wooden claws, fingers curling like branches reaching for the sky. Flowers bloomed along your shoulders, delicate and terrible, their roots embedded deep into your flesh. Vines wove through your ribs, your hair now little more than ivy and creeping moss. Your mouth—gods, your mouth—it had split at the edges, wide and unnatural, revealing jagged, thorn-like teeth beneath cracked lips.

You were not a person.

You were not yourself.

A sob tore from your throat, but the sound was not human. It was the groan of bending wood, the whisper of leaves in the wind, a hollow, aching noise that sent horror clawing up your spine.

You stumbled back, gasping, fingers clawing at the moss growing over your chest, at the wood encasing your body like a prison.

“No,” you whispered, voice splintering like old bark. “No, no, no—this isn’t real!”

You turned, and he was there.

Halsin stood watching, gaze filled with something unreadable. You couldn’t tell if it was awe, sadness, or something worse.

His lips parted. “You are—” He hesitated, brow furrowing before he let out a breath. “You are beautiful.”

Rage exploded inside you.

“Beautiful?” Your voice cracked, jagged like broken branches. “I am a monster!” You stumbled toward him, nearly collapsing as your bark-covered legs twisted beneath you. “Look at me, Halsin! Look at what you have done!”

He flinched but did not move as you grabbed his robes with shaking hands, your wooden fingers pressing against his chest. “You promised to keep me safe,” you whispered, voice raw, agonized. “You promised—” Your breath hitched, the sobs choking you. “I trusted you!”

“I only did what had to be done,” he said softly, reaching for you, but you jerked away, your body creaking under the movement.

“This is not what had to be done!” you screamed, your voice splintering. “You—You ruined me! You made me into this—this thing!” You pressed a hand to your chest, feeling the hardened bark beneath your fingers. “I am not a person anymore! I am not me!”

Halsin took a step forward, but you backed away, tears burning like resin in your eyes. “You are part of the grove now,” he said gently, like a parent to a lost child. “You are nature itself. And nature is beautiful.”

You let out a hollow, shaking laugh.

“Then you’re blind,” you spat. “Because all I see is a monster.”

His face softened. “I see you.”

You shook your head, chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. You wanted to scream, to tear yourself free from this prison of vines and moss and him, but you couldn’t. The grove wouldn’t let you.

It owned you now.

And it was all his fault.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The Grand Duke’s ballroom was a sea of gold and crimson, the finest silks and polished gems glittering under the chandeliers. You sat at Wyll’s side, as always, a perfect vision of what he had shaped you into.

Your hair was pinned just so, your gown chosen to accentuate the curves he favored, your expression schooled into a poised, regal mask. You spoke only when necessary, with words carefully selected to charm and manipulate. You were perfection—or so Wyll said.

Be better. That was what he always told you. Stand straighter. Speak clearer. Smile only when necessary. Do not sully yourself with sentiment.

It had started with small things. A change in how you walked, how you carried yourself, how you spoke to others. Then came the alterations to your wardrobe, the subtle corrections to your posture, the way he took your hand and guided you through social circles like an artist sculpting his finest masterpiece.

You had let it happen. At first, it seemed harmless and if it took his attention off accusing the staff at looking at you for 'too long' than all the better. But the things he asked of you became darker.

You began gossiping at his behest, slipping poisons into conversations like honey-laced daggers. Your words ruined reputations, destroyed lives. You turned cruel, mocking the servants for their missteps, calling for punishment when they faltered.

And worse.

You had ordered deaths. Condemned people.

You remembered the first time, the way Wyll had praised you for it, had kissed your knuckles and whispered against your skin how proud he was. That was what you somehow lived for now—his approval.

Or at least, that was what you had thought. Until now.

The execution platform loomed ahead, set in the center of the courtyard, draped in the banners of the Grand Duke. The crowd murmured with anticipation, waiting to witness the latest display of power. And standing there, shackled and trembling, was a girl you had once called friend.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Marcia.

She had been one of your favorite maids, gentle and kind, always bringing you extra tea on cold nights, slipping little sweets onto your plate when she thought you needed cheering up. You had once spent hours talking to her, listening to her laugh, telling her how much you valued her company.

And now she knelt before the chopping block, her hands bound, her cheeks streaked with tears. And it was your fault.

You had barely thought before you acted.

"Stop!" The word tore from your lips before you even realized you had spoken.

The crowd went silent. The executioner hesitated, his blade hovering midair. Marcia looked up, confusion flashing across her tear-streaked face.

Wyll, seated beside you in his resplendent robes, turned his head sharply. “What are you doing?”

You were already on your feet.

"I said stop!” You pushed through the gathered nobility, shoving past guards, moving before anyone could stop you. “Let her go!”

Marcia’s eyes widened. “My liege?”

You dropped to your knees before her, your hands trembling as they reached for hers.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I—I did this to you.”

She shook her head, stunned into silence, her lips parted as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

From behind you, Wyll rose from his throne, his voice sharp with authority. “Stand aside.”

You turned to him, your body shielding Marcia from view. “No.”

His expression flickered from irritation to disbelief. “No?”

“You made me do this,” you spat. “You made me into—into this—” You gestured wildly at yourself, at the elegant robes, at the jewels on your fingers, at the polished exterior that hid the rot inside. “I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

Wyll stepped forward, his jaw tightening. “You are married to the Grand Duke. You are mine. And you will obey me.”

“No.” Your voice was steel. “Not anymore.”

The words left you shaking, but they were the truest things you had spoken in years. The crowd murmured, scandalized.

Wyll’s face darkened. “You are making a spectacle of yourself.”

“Then let them see!” you cried, turning in a slow circle, letting your voice carry over the gathered nobles. “Let them see what you have done to me! Look at me, all of you! Look at what I have become under his hand!”

Gasps rippled through the audience. Wyll’s expression became something dangerous.

“Get out of the way,” he said, voice low, barely restrained. “Before I make you move.”

You shake your head, and lift Marcia to her feet. You turn to move off of the stage but the guards stop you. You frantically push Marcia back as they advance, knowing that they would kill her just to spite you. But as you turn and usher her the other way, another set of guard with gleaming swords and spears block you way. Marcia lets out a strangled cry and you bring her into your chest.

You do not dare to look at Wyll, you will not give the bastard the satisfaction. Instead you look into the crowd, hopeful to find someone, anyone, a noble, a peasant - just a being that were moved by your words, that would help you. But they all remained silent, unmoving. All but one.

You recognised that ginger bob and garish headpiece anywhere.

If Wyll had wanted a monster, then he was going to get one now.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

woooooweeee this was a big one to write, I had so many ideas but I am so so happy with how this came out and would love to hear everyone's thoughts and ideas. Hope you enjoyed it (and stomached it)! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[ronanlynchdefender]

The political stances of The Raven Cycle characters are so fascinating to me. You got Blue over here who is very much a progressive activist in the making. She recognizes things like misogyny and is not afraid to call those things out even when it concerns her closest friends. Because of that, I definitely see her as the type of activist who would be in the front lines at protests whether that be at the Capitol, college campuses, at the border, or as is the case in the dreamer trilogy, tied to a tree. She is the type of person who demands change in our current system and would demand it loudly and through acts of protest or civil disobedience.

Then you have Adam who displays no strong desire to change the system and whose only desire is to rise up in that system. He wants to climb the social ladder and assimilate to those of higher social status which is partially why he envies Gansey so much in the beginning because Gansey was born into it. Adam still tries to do this in the dreamer trilogy by essentially pretending to be a Gansey-like figure while at Harvard despite hating it. Eventually, Adam gives up on trying to belong within this higher social class and "climbing the ladder" but then strangely enough becomes a fed, which means just integrating into another form of hierarchy and power structure. And I feel like a more interesting arc would've been rejecting being a part of these societal systems altogether.

Which I suppose now leads us to Ronan who is a literal anarchist. He actually rejects all societal systems and rules and it permeates every aspect of his life. But actually, I shouldn't say all because there is one societal institution which he does enjoy partaking in: religion. With the exception of his catholicism, he does not engage in any other societal institution: education, law, politics. He hates it, in fact, It is antithetical to his being which is what makes his characterization so perfect because of course a gay farmer god would hate oppressive rules and structures (except for religion). That's not even mentioning that he is a canonical ecoterrorist that cost the US government a billion dollars. But what is really interesting about his character (and where his and Blue's political stances differ) is that because he rejects these systems he has no interest or stake in changing them. He'd sooner tear down the system than try to reform it.

And then there’s Gansey who doesn't seem to engage in politics and would rather spend his days reading his little Welsh books and going on his fun adventures. Of course, he is able to do this largely because he has the privilege to not worry about politics or social class. It seems that Blue's influence changes this as they are both chaining themselves to trees in protest during the dreamer trilogy. Other than that, I don't really have a lot to say about Gansey and his politics. But I find it very interesting that Maggie has created this close-knit group of characters with such varying relationships to how they view politics and social structures. I tried to draw out a 2-axis grid to show their differences, but I don't know if it really works because I feel like Gansey kinda screws it up but nevertheless I like how they each represent different ends of a spectrum sort of.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

The kids leave the next day, after Steve's heart has mostly reformed itself. It's still a little beat up and mangled, but it's clearly a heart again, and it barely hurts anymore.

He doesn't know how he'll ever be able to thank them.

Eddie doesn't call.

—

His house stops being empty.

Robin's over almost constantly, their hearts in each other's chests more often than not. He can tell Robin's worried about him, and he likes feeling her emotions - it tells him when she's upset, or sad, and he can respond without her having to say anything.

The rest of the kids are over almost as constantly, as though his house has just become the de facto hang out.

He minds it a lot less than he pretends to.

Erica sulks at him, and he can't figure out why until Lucas makes a comment about their heart sharing and she rolls her eyes so hard he's afraid they're going to pop out.

Steve frowns at her, hanging back after the others have gone on into the kitchen.

“That's an extra level of snide, even for you,” he says.

She gives him a look. “You want it directed at you?”

He holds up his hands. “What'd I do?”

Her look only becomes more unimpressed. “You had my brother over for your little healing pow-wow? He wasn't even part of Scoops Troop.”

Oh.

That's.

Oh.

Never in a hundred years did he think Erica Sinclair would be throwing a fit because she didn't get to be a part of their group heart sharing, but here it is.

“You want to swap?” Steve asks.

Erica scoffs at him. “I don't need your pity heart exchange.”

“It's not pity,” he protests.

This time the look practically burns through him.

“Robin and I do it all the time,” he insists. “It's easier. It means we can understand the way the other one feels without having to figure out how to say it.”

Her eyebrows raise. “And you want to know how I feel?”

Steve holds out his hand in response.

She stares at him for a long moment, then sighs in a far too long suffering manner before she takes her heart out and gives it to him. He exchanges his for hers, and -

“Is it messed up again?” Dustin demands. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He honestly isn't sure if the surge of somewhat affectionate irritation he feels is his or Erica's, and he exchanges what he suspects is a near identical look with her.

Dustin narrows his eyes at them. “What's this look you're doing, I really don't like it on both of you.”

“That's because it's bad news for you,” Erica retorts.

“We're just swapping,” Steve says.

“It's what you do when someone is a little too hard headed and out of touch with their feelings to realize how insensitive they're being.”

That is absolutely not what Steve had been going for, but Erica says it with such superiority and Dustin is looking so contemplative at it that he just sighs and goes with it.

Erica shoots him a smug little look - she knows exactly what she's doing and how he feels about it.

“Mike!” Dustin shouts. “Come here, we're swapping, so you can know that I'm right!”

Steve groans, but there's no stopping it now.

Swaps are called to settle arguments, to prove that this movie really is scary guys come on, for a dozen other reasons until Steve honestly can't be sure who has whose heart at any given moment.

He'd worry about the effects of so much heart swapping, but - the kids seem happy. Sometimes he even catches them just sitting with each other and swapping, and after everything they've lost - who is he to say what's healthy and what isn't?

Steve can't complain.

Well. He can, and he does, but he also knows this is probably the happiest he's ever been in this house, so he doesn't complain too much.

—

Eddie still doesn't call.

He doesn't answer, either, when Steve calls him. Any of the times Steve calls him.

Steve drives out there, once, stupidly. He's pretty sure he can hear Eddie's music, but the trailer’s dark, and no one answers.

Steve takes the hint after that.

He doesn't let anyone but Robin swap with him for a while, as long as he can get away with. He doesn't really have a name for what he's feeling - he doesn't want to put a name to what he's feeling - and she doesn't make him.

—

The Hopper-Byers are moving.

None of the party take it well, but it seems to hit Max the hardest.

Or at least, he assumes it does, because she's suddenly not over for a week straight, and Steve knows avoidance when he sees it.

He finds her sitting at the skate park, all alone, but she doesn't protest when he sits down next to her.

“Swap?” Steve asks softly.

Max rolls her eyes. “I'm fine.”

He gives her the most unimpressed look he can muster.

She scoffs, then gives him one right back. “Okay, so, what, you want to feel angry and miserable too?”

Steve weighs his options for a moment, considering how to respond, then decides just to go for honesty. “Yeah,” he says simply. “I'm not here just for the good stuff, Mayfield, I'm here for all of it.”

She looks at him for a long moment, her expression hard. Then she wrenches her chest open.

He pops his open, too, taking his heart out and offering it to her. Steve expects her to take it and put her own in his hand, but instead she shoves her own heart into his chest before he can so much as blink, snatching his out of his hand. He blinks at her, but - yeah, okay, fine, that works.

She is angry, and miserable. She hated Billy, and she's still sad, and El is the only one who really gets her, and she knows that's not true, and everyone leaves, and he hasn't left, and she loves and she hates and she's so tired.

Steve can't really put any of it into words, but he doesn't have to.

He just has to be there.

—

School starts, and it gets quieter. He and Dustin still have their weekly movie nights, and he plays ball with Lucas, cooks dinner with Max, but Robin's the only one over as much as she used to be.

It's - actually fine, this time. He gets a job at Family Video, and he hangs out with Robin and spends time with the kids and goes on dates, and he's still happy.

Well, except the going on dates bit. Something's missing, something obvious, but he tells himself that's fine, too.

—

Dustin starts talking about Eddie, a few months into school.

Well, he talks about Hellfire, which Steve doesn't really put together at first, but he's happy Dustin's having fun with his club.

When he mentions Eddie, Steve probes a little, asks how he joined up. Dustin lights up, talking about how Eddie looked out for them starting from day one, even if he's definitely a little scary at times, and Steve -

“Swap?” Robin asks the second she gets to his house later, like she took one look at him and knew he needed it.

They both need it, actually.

She has feelings about Vickie, and he has feelings about Eddie, and they're both complicated and messy and neither of them know what to do about it.

“Ask her out,” Steve tells her.

“She doesn't even like girls!”

“How do you know?”

“How do you know?”

And that's - point, okay, Steve has nothing to counter that. Yet. He just has to start collecting proof.

Robin feels his intentions and gives a dramatic huff, but she doesn't try to stop him.

She won't admit it, but she's grateful.

“Do you regret asking Eddie out?” she asks.

He makes a face. “I mean, I didn't ask him out so much as take him out a bunch of times, realize like halfway through it that's what I was doing, and then he ran the second I made it obvious, so… I guess I regret not actually asking him.”

She considers that. “Do you think it would have changed anything?”

“I don't know,” he admits. “Maybe I could have made it so he didn't feel like he had to run, maybe we could have still been friends? I wish I'd known what I was doing and I'd done it different, but… I think I'd regret it more if I didn't try at all.”

She drops her shoulder against his. “Of course you would. You always go for what you want, it's like you have no fear.”

He has plenty of fear - she's felt it - but not about shooting his shot. She's right; he's a man of action, and he's not sure he knows how to be anything else.

“Ugh, let's stop talking about it. I'm glad he's still a good guy and is watching out for the little shits, end of story.”

It's not the end of the story, but for now, they both let it be.

—

Dustin calls him to beg him to play in Hellfire with him, and Steve groans audibly.

“Does Eddie know you're asking me?” he asks.

Dustin scoffs. “Of course not, but I have to show up with someone on Friday.”

Steve frowns. “On Friday? That's the championship game. Lucas is playing.”

Dustin groans, and Steve makes a little bit of a face at himself when he realizes the kid sounds almost exactly like him.

“Don't remind me,” Dustin grumbles. “He's the reason we have to find someone in the first place.”

“Lucas asked you to find someone to sub in for him?”

Steve doesn't even need Dustin's heart to be able to tell the silence that follows is guilty as hell.

“Dustin,” Steve says.

“Ugh, fine! Lucas asked us to come to the stupid game. He asked us to get Eddie to move Hellfire so he wouldn't miss the last session.”

“And did you?” Steve prompts.

“Of course!” Dustin says, indignant. “Eddie was pissed. Called Lucas a traitor, said now it was our responsibility to find someone to fill in for Lucas since he ditched us.”

That - isn’t what Steve was expecting at all.

“And instead of standing up for Lucas, you're doing what Eddie says?”

“He ditched us!” Dustin insists.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go swap with Lucas.”

Dustin makes an almost incomprehensible noise of protest.

“Swap with Lucas, and tell him what Eddie said. If you guys come to an agreement and you still need a sub, I'll think about it.”

He'd rather watch Lucas play, and that's sure as hell what he's going to do if Dustin doesn't follow through, but if both Lucas and Dustin agree, then he'll sub in.

Not just to give Eddie a piece of his mind about this whole thing.

“You're no help!” Dustin retorts, hanging the phone up.

Robin leans against him. “Are we talking about it now?”

He considers that, then wordlessly takes his heart out and offers it to her. They swap, sitting in silence for a moment as they adjust to each other's feelings.

She's upset. He is, too, though not about exactly the same thing.

“I'm still not mad at him for how things went between him and me,” he says.

“I am,” she replies, sharp and firm. “He made your heart hurt, I still think I should get to kick his ass.”

It's not Eddie's fault, though, not as far as Steve's concerned. Steve was the one that fumbled around without knowing what he was doing, that came on too strong. He didn't get it then, but now that he knows Robin and Will and how difficult things are for them - he understands it better.

But one of the things that made Steve fall for Eddie in the first place was the way he watched out for people. It wasn't the same way Steve did it, but - they were both protective, both willing to take the hits so other people wouldn't have to. It's disappointing to see how he's pitting the kids against each other like this.

He wishes they were still friends, wishes he could call him and ask what was going on.

“If he hurts one of the kids’ hearts, then you can kick his ass,” he says finally, once he's worked through his feelings and felt Robin's support.

—

It comes back, because it always does.

It comes back, and Eddie comes back, and Steve wasn't expecting that.

—

There's tension in the boathouse even after everything's been explained, and Steve knows everyone can feel it.

Knows because it's only a few moments before Dustin's announcing, “Hearts out! We'll show you we mean it, right, guys?”

Steve sneaks a look over at Max. He still hasn't gotten a really good look at her heart since after the 4th, but maybe - no, she clearly hasn't shown anyone else here, because she's gone pale, and she looks a combination of pissed and afraid.

“Dustin,” Steve snaps, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice and failing a little. “Did you forget that some of us have hearts that aren't all that reassuring to see?”

Dustin's expression scrunches for a moment, and Steve feels most of his irritation fade away as he realizes that, yeah, Dustin did forget that.

“Oh,” Dustin says quietly. “It's okay, Steve, you don't-”

“No,” he cuts him off, still a little annoyed. “Look, we all know that I'm the one causing doubt here, right? I'll show my heart so Munson knows I mean it and we can get this over with.”

He doesn't want to, but he wants even less for this to put a spotlight on Max.

So he takes his heart out, gets back in close enough for Eddie to see it, says, “We're not lying, man, I promise.”

His heart beats true, true, true in his hands, but Eddie's eyes are going wide and wet as he stares at Steve's heart, and he isn't any less pale.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing you have to worry about,” he replies, putting his heart back in his chest as soon as he can. “It's not going to happen to you.”

It comes out a little more protective than he'd intended, and it makes Eddie's eyes dart up to his, trying to search for something in there. Steve can't tell what, and he doesn't have Eddie's heart in his chest to help him out.

Strange, how quickly he's come to rely on having that familiarity with those he cares about.

Less strange that Eddie is still someone he cares about.

“Do you want to see mine?” Eddie asks, soft enough that Steve's pretty sure he's the only one who can hear it.

Steve does, is the thing. He really does.

But not like this.

“Do you want me to?” he asks, just as soft.

Eddie looks away, silent enough that Steve knows what the answer is without him saying anything.

“People try to make me show it all the time,” Eddie says, a little bitter. “I'm not trustworthy, you know. I'm not honest. I'm just going to screw them over.”

Steve's quiet for a moment, unsure what to say. He doesn't know how to tell him that Steve's never seen him that way, that all those other people are stupid.

Finally, he settles on, “I still haven't asked.”

Eddie turns to look at him again, his eyes gone molten. “No,” he says softly. “You haven't.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “There you go then.”

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 9

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @cryptid-system @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @persnicketysquares @samsoble @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse @breealtair @shunna @xtraordinarally @thatdamnfan @justalittledrainbamage @strangerfolks @disrespectedgoatman @amber-ambience @anxietyfulloption @thepossummoldypasta @irregular-child @th30ra3k3n

[dreamweave01]

K, no rush to answer bc I already sent in a handful, but---

Did Michangelo suffer any adverse effects of reaching between timelines like this, or since Drazum, Splinter, and a bunch of other magic-experienced people were with him, it was a lot easier?

Since Donnie probably had a lot of negative experiences with the Footclan, (I just saw that they were reformed in one of you previous posts :D) what was his reaction to hearing that Mikey stopped them from summoning shredder, or does he not know?

No worries, you're totally fine!

Mikey's ninpo was strong enough that with the right spell he could see into other timelines, kinda like watching a television program. However, he knew that trying to jump timelines on his own would be too much for him (remember the movie?.)

Fortunately, his mom is Big Mama, and she has a very large collection of mystic artifacts, many of which can be used to connect to other timelines and alternate universes.

That's how he was able to get to his brothers without - well - dying.

Of course, it still took a lot of energy on his part, and he may or may not have extended his powers a tad too much. But it was all worth it to save his bros.

Donnie didn't know at first. He'd just assumed that the Foot had either been eliminated completely or had never existed in Mikey's timeline in the first place.

That is until Mikey took his brothers to go try out one of the Foot's coffee shops downtown and meet some of Mikey's friends, (aka Cassandra and the two foot lieutenants who I am now realizing I don't actually know the names of. Do they even have names??) Donnie took one look at them and just. . . froze.

These were the people responsible for the deaths of his family. And here they were, selling espressos and acting like the world was all cupcakes and rainbows.

In the show, Donatello was never one to show a lot of emotion (or at least that's what he tells himself.) This Donnie is ten times worse.

But seeing the Foot again? Donnie snapped.

[emeraldserenade]

Hotel Blues ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: it's your first time staying at a hotel by yourself

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, middle class family background, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Me projecting what I'm feeling in the hotel tonight? What? Nooooo. But seriously, tonight is my first night ever staying alone in a hotel room and I'm oddly really sad. I'm trying to keep myself distracted before going to bed.

➽──────────────❥

You've been in hotels before, a lot. You used to go on vacations and stay in them when you moved. But there was something about being alone, you knew you could call your friend you were visiting and have them come stay with you. However, you also knew that they were having some aches and pains and you didn't want them to be uncomfortable. So you were alone in the room with the deadbolt locked and your safety measures within reach.

You showered, it was at first freeing, showering and walking around without the worry about someone seeing you. But once you sat down and started to eat your dinner, you got hit with a sudden sadness. You realized you have spent the last over 24 hours with your friend, and normally you would have someone just a walk or look away. But you were all alone now, no one but you in the room and the TV could only do so much.

Which is why you threw on some extra layers, grabbed your room key, your phone, and left the room. You wandered to the elevator and decided that maybe some time outside where the benches are would help. It's how you met Joaquín, he was on the benches with his friends.

You heard about them, Captain America, Falcon, and the reformed Winter Soldier. You just smiled at them and sat on a bench a little farther away, you scrolled on your phone for a bit but ended up just staring out at the sky.

"You good?" You heard Captain America ask, you hadn't realized you were crying until then. The tears were just flowing down your face and you just nodded while you wiped them away.

"Yeah, thanks for asking," you told him and gave him a tight lipped smile. You could tell he didn't believe you but he didn't press any further. You watched as him and the reformed Winter Soldier walked away, Falcon stayed back.

"I'm Joaquín, by the way," he stuck his hand towards you.

"Oh, y/n," you offered your name quickly.

"I know you said you were ok, but do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitated, you didn't know him but who else could you tell? "I've never stayed in a hotel alone. My family wasn't rich, to save money we would all stay in one hotel room. And even last night my friend stayed with me but she was having some pain, so I let her stay at her house. And at first it was cool, but then I was sitting in bed and eating my leftovers for dinner. And suddenly, it was like I was just washed with sadness," you sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to rant to you," you told him.

"It's ok, I understand it. I come from a big family, I was an only child but we always had other family members over. When I moved out the first time and lived alone after bootcamp, it was jarring. The quiet and stillness," Joaquín confided in you.

"How'd you deal with it?"

"I got a dog."

"I don't think I should get a dog just for a few nights," you laughed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You hesitated outside your door, Joaquín had offered to stay in your room with you over night. You had agreed but now were realizing how odd it was. You bit the bullet and opened the door, beelining for the bed you were staying in. Joaquín walked to the other one and flopped down, the sound of the TV in the background of you two getting comfortable.

"I know I said this was for your benefit, but it was my night to sleep on the couch and I'm happy to be in a bed," Joaquín admitted and you laughed at him.

"Glad I could be of some help," you muttered and pulled the blanket up to your neck. "Feel free to turn the TV off whenever you'd like," you told him, sleep slowly pulling at you. You watched with half closed eyes as he set the sleep timer to 60 minutes on the TV before you both turned off the lights and went to bed. You didn't feel the wash of sadness anymore, just having someone you trusted, to an extent, was helpful.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[raayllum]

Anyway I did my 2nd watch of the season after sleeping / with the end in mind and it totally worked for me, especially with the understanding that there is 30% of the story left (and thereby Callum and Rayla's arcs aren't Over and room for more growth/plot had to be left open) and watching with the ending in mind.

I'm not upset that this is where Arc 2 ends, in some ways because it's sort of like season 2 of Avatar where Zuko doesn't join the Gaang in their 2nd arc (book two) because from a character basis he really wasn't Ready to do that / they had more story to tell, so I don't think with what they're doing it would've made sense to rush it in TDP. Nor do I think any of the previous set up for other outcomes (i.e. possession fight, salvation, etc) were wasted. Merely that TDP likes to do layer upon layer, and also have foreshadowing come back once (so you think you're safe) and then twice. I also don't think that Arc 2 resolved all the threads (i.e. Rayllum and greater good conflict / Aaravos & Callum) and ended them, and instead nudged them forwards in interesting ways for continued future exploration. I'll probably write more about the specifics later if this post doesn't get unwieldy or condensed with them for now.

In the meantime, these were things that I found really clicked for me on my 2nd watch through for S7 and with Arc 2 in general:

1) Arc 2's overarching focus on the Archdragons / the finale resolution with it.

We had a focus every season on at least one of the archdragons, with Zubeia (S4-S7), Luna Tenebris mentions (S4-S6), Rex Igenous (S4), Domina Profundis (S5), Sol Regem (S5-S6), and Avizandum mentions (S4-S5).

With that in mind, while I'm sure Aaravos' intentions was for no one to know of his plans ahead of time (7x01)... his actions also led to Callum and co. making connections to all the other Archdragons that they could pull on to bring everyone back to Lux Aurea, and Aaravos could destroy them (with no real consequence to himself, as his spirit was now free and his body could reform), taking a massive swing at the Cosmic Council's grand order that'd been enforced by the archdragons. He said the elves and dragons would fall hard... and now the dragons have, with the Cosmic Council being next (and thinking that the real focus on the Cosmic Council would be predominantly in arc 3 was, I believe, the general fandom consensus anyway).

AARAVOS: Now this is familiar, isn't it? Hasn't this all happened before? Arrogant fools. Again and again you make the same mistakes. (7x09)

Suitably, though, the Archdragons sacrifice themselves to protect all of Xadia, making amends for past / previous actions in their own way (narratively). They upheld the Cosmic Order, and then chose to break it.

Now, Aaravos will be returning to a world where there are no archdragons, and the only thing that can destroy his mortal form again would be the Nova Blade or some dark magic spell to take his spirit (but more on that later).

This also caps off S7 being about the destruction caused by one Archdragon (Sol Regem) and then the salvation through sacrifice from the other four as the finale. It comes full circle, but without repeating the cycle.

It also seems like the Nova Blade hasn't actually ever been used, as Aaravos states in 7x07:

She could have used the blade to destroy me, but chose instead to help imprison me. To spare me.

Or if it has, it still has a massive consequence that Zubeia is familiar with (the wielderdies if it's used to kill someone?), given that she is worried when Zym (and Ez wielding the sword) appears, intending to use it:

I'll also talk a bit more about why I think Aaravos designed 7x09 to be a win-win scenario for him no matter what when I get to Callum's section, but in the meantime...

2) Rayla's arc

Listen, y'all know I wanted Rayla to save Callum, like a lot, and thought there was a good chance she would if he was possessed again. However, neither of those things happened (also circumstances were crazy) and it was built up throughout the seasons, as well as in S7:

RAYLA: We can't save everyone, Soren. There's too much at stake. (4x05) RAYLA: But I can't help you yet... because right now, the world needs me. Callum and Ezran need me. There's a great evil returning to Xadia and we have to stop it, at any cost. (5x01) RAYLA: It hurts me to know they're trapped like this. It's agonizing. But our mission comes first. The world is in danger, and you can trust me to stay focused. (5x04) RAYLA: No, Callum. I want to help my parents, but I won't let it bias me. (6x01)

The season 7 setup is most prominently seen in S7 during Rayla's trial, in which she emphasizes that the assassins' deaths were not in vain due to the subsequent impact on the world as a whole, and in how their assassin pledges were upheld in their own way:

Life is precious. life is valuable. We take it, but we do not take it lightly. All of your lives were taken. But your sacrifices, they weren't for nothing. Callisto, you pledged your breath for freedom and we freed ourselves from an awful, pointless war. Andromeda, you pledged your eyes for truth. And we found the truth, a truth that changed the world. Skor, you pledged your strength for honour, and now humans and elves have finally begun to treat each other with honour again. And... Ram. You pledged your blood for justice. But what is justice? The king died that night. A life for a life. Is that justice? How much suffering is enough to paid for the mistakes we've made? I don't have the answers. But I'll carry you with me, all of you, forever.

So it made sense for her assassin oath to come back in some manner ("My heart for Xadia"). She had to honour her team's sacrifices by being willing to make her own (killing Callum and herself by symbolic extension), partially because her and Callum's "ride or die" dynamic had become a "ride and die" dynamic": this was his plan and his choice, and the alternative was to let him succumb to a fate worse than death AND to let Aaravos destroy the world through his hands.

And I get why this feels kind of backwards, because on the one hand, it seems like Rayla made a lot of progress, even questioning the validity of her own suffering for mistakes she / choices others have made, which is Huge!

And yet she's willing to suffer, and sacrifice Callum. The paying the price motif is even brought back in Aaravos' dialogue with the archdragons ("And what will your sacrifices buy?"). So what gives?

Well, I think in a lot of ways Arc 2 was Rayla learning to accept and ask for help (S5-S6), that she wasn't alone (S4, S7), and working to come back every time she leaves (S4) but... still being prepared to leave:

and still with sharing or acknowledging her own burdens not being her instinct.

There's a reason we all went "Rayla refusing to sacrifice Callum would be Character Development" after all. I also think it's quasi-similar to Rayla leaving after S3. She had a lot of opportunities to learn that she didn't have to do everything alone in arc 1, but those lessons didn't stick; in a similar fashion, Rayla had opportunities throughout arc 2 to learn that she doesn't always have to sacrifice something, but with Callum being increasingly sacrificial... Those lessons were there, but didn't stick. The other side of her sacrifice arc is not resolved.

With that in mind, I wanna talk about our favourite dorky mage, and then maybe arc 3.

3) Aaravos' Grand Plan & Callum's Corruption

This is a little hard to parse out just because we don't know what Aaravos' next step / goal was in bringing about Eternal Night (presumably to get the attention of the Cosmic Council, but who knows). That said, a few things I'm chewing on:

Aaravos, as previously discussed, found the most effective way to rid the world of (presumably) every Archdragon other than Zym

Aaravos, for whatever reason, wanted Ezran to have the Nova Blade, which Aanya even sets up for us in 7x09

Aaravos knew all along that Callum would turn to dark magic to take him down.

AARAVOS: Very soon, your brother will embrace dark magic to save those he loves. EZRAN: I suppose you've seen that written in the stars? AARAVOS: I have seen it written in his eyes. (7x07)

Furthermore, he wanted to have Callum be corrupted again, gave him the apple in 7x01 as the first attempt. The apple corruption was lampshaded with "Is there anything I can do to help?" + identity/name motif. Aaravos was actively goading him into dark magic in 7x09, even when he knew there was an assassin ready to kill Callum (Runaan), and smiling even when Callum began the spell (once Rayla had stepped in).

As of S7, Callum has been called (and not disputed being at least partially) a dark mage, used Viren's staff and now has it in his possession (and we still don't know why it was never supposed to be used again), and has a white streak. The willingness to go that far "has always been a part of" him and is now permanently reflected in his character design.

Secondly, we know that Aaravos' game with his pawns is not over, due to the secrets of the cube being ongoing (but confirmation in 7x09 that it indeed points towards Elarion) and due to framing with Claudia.

While I did consider that maybe Callum's pawn intro imagery had come back around in the conversation in 7x06 featuring the cube so heavily (!!) and then Callum choosing to do dark magic to stop Aaravos and save everyone as his destiny ("The one I write myself")... He's still corrupted, Aaravos is still going to come back in 7 years with Callum as a vessel, and the Key to the Book (metaphorically to literally the Book of Destiny) is still unresolved.

TLDR; think about how much it'd Hurt in a Good Way for Callum and Rayla to both know she would've sacrificed him for the greater good (fulfilling her end of foreshadowing from 6x03) only to be smacked in the face that Callum refuses to sacrifice her in Arc 3 with the other side of his ("if you ever have to choose between me and the greater good...").

The fact that the Cube canonically points towards Elarion, which feature stories about "a fair exchange of beloved for beloved" after a season in which Aaravos mandates "Your beloved is an assassin who cannot kill" is just the cherry on top. It also means that both Callum and Rayla have accordingly hit the 50-75% wavelength of their arc(s), with us now having a definitive basis for her being willing to that sets up more clearly her being not willing to in the future, the circumstances we'd need for a possession fight re-established, and the cube beat still on the table because the cube itself is still waiting to be plot relevant.

Rayla always follows Callum's lead ("Say the word and I'll go back into that tower with you") and reflects him ("Who told you that?" "You did") and the lessons he teaches her about love. He'll pave the way, and she'll follow, and then their arcs will come to a close.

We just had to get here first.

Conclusion??

Anyway I hope you enjoyed, I want to do a bigger Arc 3 predictions post (the ruby project, Evrkynd, Claudia, Harrow, etc.) sometime soon, but I hope in the meantime this brought some potentially needed assurance, excitement, or another perspective to consider.

[lostwysteria]

Part 2 of the E-Soul arc. Not much to say other than you guys are awesome and have great theories and ideas! Keep them coming, guys!

Masterlist

Moon stared at her computer screen in dread. A fan art contest she started three months ago was biting her in the ass now.

She was an author and hero of her word, though. She hit send on each of the three emails. Three fics she would have to write.

Oh god.

She got a response within five minutes from one of the winners.

Oh god.

…

Shut Up and Dance @tiredfanfic

I can feel my sins crawling down my back.

Faejay @rockinrobin

What delicious sins they are, tho

Emi143 @emi143

We love thoes sins

Kara @wriceluvr

Enjoy writing my fic~

Shut Up and Dance @tiredfanfic

Fuck

…

Wreck was hiding in the closet because Nice was acting really fucking strange. He was glad that Lin Ling was out of the apartment grocery shopping with his new temporary(?) charges(?)

Nice had been even more off than usual the last few days and it had been worrying Ling. It had suddenly come to a head a couple of hours ago, though. Nice had jumped Wreck and had ravashied him. Wreck was utterly spent. Kaput. The soul was willing, but the flesh was not.

Speaking of knots. He wanted to find Shut Up and Dance and strangle them. 

Three 10,000 word oneshots came out last week from them. All contest prizes. All for the catboy and wolf series Wreck had once loved so dearly. 

Now Nice was actually in heat and Wreck now had the ability to pop a knot. 

Thank fuck that none of the fics had omegaverse or mpreg. He wasn't ready to be a parent. Or deal with a knocked up Nice.

…

Homemaker was with Shang Chao getting groceries for both households he was in charge of. Homemaker’s eye had developed a twitch from the feeling of danger he could sense. It had only been three weeks and yet the Threads that once connected Cheng and Chao to him were already reformed. He had never known such relief than when the two frayed ends of each thread knit themselves back together. There was just one more thread to reconnect and Homemaker could truly be happy. 

Back to the present moment, though. The two out shopping were having to take strange routes to avoid unseen enemies and hazards.

It was driving him up the walls!

His senses had sharpened since the last huge jump to rank 200

100 ranks had actually knocked him out. Too much all at once. He was crocheting even now as they walked and talked. Homemaker was officially in the big league.

Wreck wasn't far behind. His powers had grown exponentially and he destroyed and remodeled entire landscapes just to get them back under control. Moon had been opening random portals without meaning to. Nice was the only one not affected. As the 10 ranked hero, he had a massive gap in trust between him and the next rank. He was halfway there, though.

“Seriously, what the heck?” Homemaker muttered as he led Shang Chao down an obscure alleyway by the sleeve.

“Yeah. I hardly ever leave Hero Tower anymore. Something always happens if I do. So far we've gotten lucky and I’ve only gotten minimal injuries.” Chao said tiredly. He perked up. “It took so much longer for whatever is targeting me to find us this time, though.”

“Fudging heck.” Homemaker muttered. He then sighed.

“Fudging heck?” Shang Chao asked, seriously amused.

“I can no longer curse normally. For some reason. I also have the urge to start swear jars in both apartments. I think my fans have gotten it in their heads that I don't curse.” Homemaker sighed again.

Shang Chao grinned widely. “Oh my god. That is hilarious. You truly are the mom friend of our group!”

“Hush.” Homemaker groaned as a wave of intuition hit him again. He quickly made a plan. He got out his phone and saw that he had a text from Miss. J. He revised his plan. “Come on, we’re close to a favored cafe of mine. I’m calling a friend to pick us up.” Said call was quick and made while on their way.

“Friend? Not one of your other charges?”

Suddenly the feeling went away after a couple of minutes.

“Nope. Miss. J says that Nice and Wreck are indisposed for a while. I hope you don't mind me staying at your place for the week?” Homemaker asked as they entered the cafe. 

“Not at all. What's up?” Chao asked. They ordered a coffee each and some cake. Homemaker waited until they were in the most secluded seat to answer quietly.

“Miss. J says a new development from the fanbase has occurred and that Wreck is handling it. It's best that I stay with you guys for now.”

“Huh. Wonder what's up, then. Fans can be strange sometimes.” 

The cafe door opened and Bai Yuzhou walked in and beelined for them.

“You two okay?” He asked in concern.

“Yeah. Thank you for this. Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all! You were right to call me. Apparently, Hero X was in the area and took care of a few thugs near here. They might have been what you were sensing.” the black haired office worker told them with an easy smile.

“Wait, really?” Homemaker blinked while Shang Chao had stars in his eyes. 

Chao had always been fascinated with X’s abilities. Even if he wasn't a fan of the hero.

“Yup!” Yuzhou nodded. “My job is to help track the hero activity of the top 10. I also help monitor things at the Tower.”

“That sounds hard.” Homemaker remembered having to monitor the activity of Nice and Moon over their socials and the news to help with the adverts he used to make. That was tough on its own. 

“It helps that I used to work at FOMO doing general trend analysis for heros in general. I got scouted for work at the Tower, though.”

That drew Chao and Yuzhou into an hour-long conversation on hero analytics. Homemaker just basked in the good vibes.

[karasuno-planet]

Taking care of you

Kageyama x manager!reader who gets migraines !

warnings: migraine pain, vision loss

wc: 0.8k

summary: self-assured reader gets a horrible migraine and needs help, despite never asking for it. (pre-established relationship w/ kageyama) (fem!reader)

a/n: I LOVE THE HAIKYUU FANDOM SMMMM <333 you guys are my favs. requests open !! and the tsukki academic rivals fic is in the works for anyone wondering...

(gif not mine !)

One thing you had quickly learned while dating Kageyama is that he's not one for public displays of affection. You certainly weren't secret, hell pretty much everyone knew and was talking about you two, but you kept it private. Especially in front of his opponents. That's why it came as such a shock when you felt his arms aroudn you suddenly in the middle of a practice match.

To say you had a migraine that day was an understatement. Three days into the trining camp, in excruciating heat working late to help the team reform their entire strategies form the bottom up— you were exhausted.

But you were used to the migraines. It was something you could handle. The team is already under so much stress, especially Tobio. His sets hadn't been satisfactory, and he was re-learning everything he already knew from scratch. You couldn't imagine the pressure you knew he already felt, so keeping the pressure of your aching head a secret was nothing in comparison.

That doesn't mean nobody noticed, though. Walking into the first practice set of the day, Coach Ukai made a comment.

"Y/n, are you feeling okay?"

"Yes! Feeling good..."

"Okay, just let me know if you need to take a breather or something."

Had you already been exposed? The last thing you wanted was to be a burden on the team, but the floaters in your vision were a bit hard to ignore. And when the ringing in your ears set in, it got worse. Much worse.

By the third set of the day, you weren't faring well. You stood on the sidelines, taking notes on gameplay, when your vision started to black out completely. You widened your eyes to realize you couldn't see a thing. Your head pounding, you focused all your energy on just staying on your feet.

A deep voice yelled out, "Y/n? Are you okay?"

You recognized it as Daichi's voice, "Don't worry Daichi, I'm just fine..."

You heard Asahi chime in, "uh.. That was Kuroo talking...on the other side of the court..."

Before you knew it, Kageyama rushed off the court, running towards you and supporting you with his hand on your back, "Damn y/n, you can't see a thing, can you?" You recognized his touch and sent in front of you immediately.

"I'm okay, really."

"Sure.." he dismissed you. "I've got you okay? Must be scary, not being able to see..." he mumbled. "Can you walk if I support you? Here.." He started slowly helping you walk towards the exit of the gym.

"KAGEYAMA!" Hinata shouted, "What's going on??"

He sighed, looking back at the court, "She gets bad migraines, but she'll be okay, don't worry."

There was a collective sigh and chatter resumed across the volleyball court now that everyone understood the issue. Some players were wishing you well, but you could hear next to nothing with the ringing in your ears.

"I'm walking her to her room," Kageyama declared to Coach Ukai before continuing to support you to walk.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. SUGAWARA, get in there."

Suga jolted into action, stepping onto the court to fill Kageyama's place.

And that's the last moment you could clearly make out before you woke up.

You were laying on your back, a cold towel draped across your forehead and a blanket over your body. Tobio sat on the floor next to your bed, and turned around to face you quickly when you heard you moving.

"Y/n," he whispered. "Here, have some water." He handed you a bottle of ice water and you took a couple sips.

"Thank you..."

"No problem, but, why didn't you tell me something was wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to distract you."

"That's ridiculous, your migraines are serious and I deserve to know."

"You're right, I'm sorry."

You felt his hand slowly wrap around yours, "No, I...I've been so stressed out and mad at myself I didn't even realize what that might do to you. So absorbed in my own world..."

"My migraine is not your fault Tobio."

"Drink some more," he pushed the water towards you, noticeably keepin ghis voice low and soft to not irritate your head.

You took another sip and sighed, "I'm serious. You have nothing to do with it."

"Regardless, I have everything to do with it now. I'm not leaving your side until you're back to one hundred percent, okay?"

"You don't need to do that."

"But I'm going to," he assured you, squeezing your hand tightly in his, "besides, I'm lucky to be your nurse when you've got quite a few people eager to see you..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but I don't think those guys have ever whispered in their lives," he chuckled softly, "I told them to piss off until I say you're ready."

"You're the best, Tobio."

"I know."

Before you could even open your mouth to thank him, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and set you back in your thoughts.

"I don't mind taking care of you, you know."

[masterlist]

[chibifox2002]

Does Jaybird have a set schedule for Doey when he splits into the three boys. Is there somewhere she gets frustrated with Kevin.

Each of the boys actually have their own pre-planned days to spend with Janet! So that way they have their own time to spend with mom whenever they're separated!

Also that second part inspired me to write a fic so hope you don't mind that!

====================================

The autumn sun shone brightly as Janet drove down an old trail just a bit down the road from her house. It was a slightly bumpy ride, with the trail being slightly deformed by the numerous storms that had passed by since she last drove down it, sticks and twigs littering the path.

Normally, she would be picking up the mess so the next trip wouldn't be as bumpy, but she didn't want to take too long with this drive. Not with her current passenger, who was seated on the right side of the back seat of her old mustang, looking out the window with a sour expression on his face.

Doey- no, Kevin, had a bit of an outburst a couple days prior, and separated himself from the others since then.

Literally. He had removed himself from Doey and locked himself in the basement storage room. It had surely shocked Janet when the situation was explained to her after returning home from work. She had no idea that the boys who formed Doey were capable of doing that!

Although she was able to convince Kevin to come out of the basement, he was still silent and distant from the others. Especially Jack and Matthew, the other two boys of Doey. Refusing to reform with them, and the two were starting to get worried about their friend and brother.

Well, today Janet had decided that enough was enough, and invited Kevin on a drive with her. Telling the red colored doughboy to grab a jacket and that she had a special place that she wanted to show him.

Leaving DogDay in charge, she had set up a movie marathon for the other toys, along with snacks and instructions on how to use the popcorn maker, and set out with her son.

Which led to now, Janet finally pulling up to her destination, an open space next to a decent sized lake surrounded by trees, and stopping the car and walking to the trunk to grab a blanket and a small basket of snacks for the two of them.

Might as well make this a picnic.

After setting everything up, the two sat and chatted about the week while snacking on the sliced fruits and grilled cheese sandwiches that Janet had prepared.

About an hour passed before Janet decided to initiate the plan.

"So... Did you wanna talk about what happened a few days ago while I was out?" Janet asked with a gentle voice. Knowing (and expecting) that the boy may not want to talk about it just yet.

Kevin paused mid-bite of his sandwich, and placed it back into his paper plate. Falling silent once again.

Janet nodded. "That's alright baby, you don't gotta talk about it if ya ain't ready to." Janet reached into the basket and pulled out a water bottle for Kevin, holding it towards him as an offer. To which he accepted.

Janet continued as Kevin opened the bottle to take a sip. "I just want you to know that I know what it's like to lash out like that. To have something eat away at your mind until it drives you mad. Until you feel like you HAVE to get it out SOMEHOW, and how violence seems like an easy way to do so..." Janet paused, sighing. Kevin paying full attention to his mother.

"But that's not the best way to go about it... It can hurt you, as well as those you care about..." Janet looked up towards the tops of the trees.

"Back when I was in therapy, my physiatrist suggested finding a better outlet for my anger. She suggested practicing breathing techniques, hobbies to get my mind off of it, and even to try writing it down in a journal." Janet shifted, suddenly moving to stand up.

"But, I found that the best way to deal with my issues for me, was to come here and release it!"

"Either by just screaming my heart out here-" Janet bent down and picked up a rock. "Or by throwing rocks into the lake." She reeled back her arm and threw the rock as hard as she could into the lake. It splashing close to the center of the lake.

She stared towards the lake for a bit before hearing footsteps approach her, she looked over just in time to see Kevin pick up a rock, look out to the lake, and throw it as hard as he could, shouting as the rock flew from his hand and into the water. Landing just a bit farther from where Janet's had landed.

"Nice throw honey!" Janet applauded as she walked over to him with a slightly bigger rock. Handing it to him. "Wanna throw this one too?" Kevin took the rock and threw it. Landing a bit closer to them from the last rock's landing spot.

Janet then suddenly picked up a pebble, and skipped it across the lake with ease. Which shocked the doughboy.

"How'd you do that?!" Kevin asked, amazement in his voice and on his face.

Janet chuckled.

"Well, first you gotta find a flat pebble or rock-" She held up another one as an example. "You hold it so it's like a tiny frisbee in your fingers. Then you flick your wrist as you throw it like this!-"

She once again skipped the stone as Kevin searches for a suitable stone to skip.

It takes him a few tries, but eventually he's skipping stones with the same amount of grace as the human woman who taught him.

They laugh and continue to skip stones for a couple minutes. Before Kevin speaks up again.

"... I hate that I'm mad all the time..." Janet turns to him. "I hate that I still get nightmares about that place and what happened to me. I just want to TRY and get over it all, and I am! I'm trying so hard to just enjoy the present with everyone and I just- I just can't!" Kevin yells as throws his hands up, before letting them drop to his sides in frustration.

"I just-" Kevin pauses, sighing before finishing his thought. "I'm just so tired..."

Kevin stares out into the lake, watching as a group of three ducks land on the water and begin to swim around.

A hand gently appears on his shoulder. Gently squeezing it as he looks up towards the kind face the hand belongs to.

"Sweetheart... It's completely normal for you to still be affected by your trauma. Heck, I still have moments where I'm reminded of mine and I just completely freeze because of it... Trauma doesn't just disappear overnight, despite how much we all wish that was the case."

Janet slowly wrapped Kevin into a hug as she continued.

"But the fact that you want to do something about it is good!" Janet began to gently sway side to side to help calm her son. "If there's anything I can do to help you with that, just let me know and I'll figure something out for you." Janet stepped back, keeping her hands on Kevin's shoulders.

"Is there anything you want to do about your frustration right now?"

Kevin was silent for a few moments.

"... I wanna scream..."

Janet nodded and took a couple steps away from Kevin. "Alright then, let's just-"

Janet didn't even finish her sentence before being caught off guard as Kevin let out the most blood curdling, soul ripping, rage filled scream she had ever heard in her life. Putting all her previous rage induced screams to shame.

Kevin's face had exaggerated to extreme levels as his red teeth exposed themselves and his angered expression morphed into a more monstrous version of itself as he screamed, small spikes forming on different areas of his body.

The three ducks that were on the lake flying off at the sudden loud noise.

The scream lasted for almost 30 seconds before Kevin stopped, his form reverting back to normal before he began to breathe heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

Janet stared at him for a bit before composing herself and releasing the tension in her body.

"... Ya feeling better sugar?" Janet asked.

"...Y-Yeah... A little bit." Kevin stuttered out, voice cracking a bit.

"...You want another hug?"

"...... Yeah..."

Janet took a step towards Kevin, wrapping him in another hug. Making this one a bit tighter than the previous one. Once again swaying side to side as the quiet sniffles and hiccups of her boy crying could be heard.

Looks like Kevin needed that more than he thought.

....

Two hours later after they finished their picnic, they drove back home and Kevin apologized to the other toys for his outburst. Eventually reforming back into Doey by the end of the night.

And now, whenever Kevin's anger begins to become too much, he simply goes to his mother and she then brings him to their favorite spot at the lake where they skip stones and yell into the sky together.

[ack-cough]

I’m being exposed because of no anons, but I want more Meow!sabeau angst :3333

This AU is *Totally* about silly cat man

There's *definitely* no "Mira is at her fucking limit and finds out that the god she's devoted her life to has been fucking with her friends" angst I *promise*/silly

(Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!)

(You've devoted everything! Your life, your time, your years of efforts!! You were willing to make changes you never wanted, do things you'd never do in order to be a TRUE house maiden!)

(and they just. . . and they just--)

(PLAY WITH YOUR FAMILY LIKE CRABBING TOYS!!)

(Without thinking you lunge forward. Grabbing the god by the throat with all your might before violently slamming them into the darkless floor of the void!)

(YOUVE HAD IT. YOUVE HAD IT. YOUVE HAD IT.-)

(For a moment everything is silent, and you try to catch your breath. The change god lies motionless with a stone chunk missing from their solid round face..)

"Oh no. No no no no Mirabelle what have you done no no no no!"

"Hah that was fun huh! Don't worry just wanted to scare ya(⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜"

(!!!)

(the Change God just.. reforms, completely whole, wearing the same stupid face you drew)

"First off OUCH .⁠·⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠(⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠.(⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠∧⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠)!!"

"And secondly, Don't worry Mira!! You're still my favorite! but it's time for you to wake up now. But it'll be so interesting to see how this changes you (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+"

[hawkette-heather]

➶| A Quiet Kind Of Longing

➶| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ➶| Summary: You and Kate dated for a year or so, until calling it off, after you thought you'd be better off as friends. It's been a few months since, and you've moved on. But Kate hasn't. ➶|Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst, lovers to friends (to lovers again?) Alternate universe where you and Kate are a part of WC Avengers led by Sam Wilson. You have magic. You're a part of the WC Avengers too. New Avengers included. ➶|A/N: Just literally had this idea, when I was listening to a song on repeat. Part 2 coming soon. :) [EDIT: I've found song inspo for the next part 😈]

Word Count: 1.2K

➳

Kate was...most certainly not over you. As much as she tried. She missed the kisses. She missed the hugs. She missed the wild nights you two would have, and mostly, she just...missed that sense of intimacy the two of you had. Now, you're both...just friends. After a year of being in a relationship, after a year of going out on dates, after seeing each other naked, vulnerable, you're both just...back to friends.

You both met back when Sam had first formed the West Coast Avengers. Kate was the team's Hawkeye. You were the team's Scarlett Witch. And well...it was love at first sight. She was practically lovestruck. After a few months, and cocky, yet nervous advances from her, you both started going out on dates, before Kate popped the question, and you became...her girlfriend. However, beautiful things don't last forever.

Missions were starting to strain your relationship: you'd always get worried when Kate went on duo missions with fellow senior Hawkeye, her mentor- Clint Barton, and Kate disapproved of your mission to find Loki, along with Doctor Strange, due to not forgetting the events of The Battle of New York, which was caused by Loki himself, despite him being reformed, leading Kate's father, Derek, to lose his life. And at the end of the day, you just realised, that you were holding her back, and it was likewise for you, and so...you decided to call things off.

Kate agreed, after seeing how stressed you were, but her feeling always remained. There was nothing awkward between the two of you after that, after all, you suggested to stay as friends, which she had happily accepted, but...she was still in love with you. She's gotten over many heartbreaks after well.... 2 months top- what can she say, she's somewhat of a hopeless romantic, but...it's been a few months, and she's still not past the loving stage, despite you seeming way happier now, not even bringing up your past together. And Kate hates that.

➳

"Ah, Kate...Bishop! I remember you." Yelena says, strolling into the WC Avengers' HQ, along with Bucky, Bob, John, Ava, and Alexei. Kate was sat on the couch, scrolling through a few old photos of you and her, during the duration of your relationship. Her head instantly snaps up when she hears the familiar Russian accent, with that slight rasp to it.

"You. Why're you-"

"She's with us. Don't worry, Kate." Sam says, walking over and leaning against the couch, his eyes focused on Bucky for a few seconds, before looking away. You, Kamala, and Joaquin are on a trio mission right now, regarding HYDRA, while Cassie, M'Baku, Jennifer, and Rhiri are back in the HQ, training.

"Wait, but...I thought you were doing that copyright infringement on them, for..." Kate starts, a brow raised. She never new Yelena was...an avenger. After all, the last time, and first time she saw Yelena, she was trying to kill her idol, Clint, after being hired by Kate's mother, Eleanor.

"He agreed to talk about it again. To come to a proper conclusion."

Bucky says, as Alexei looks around the HQ. Yelena's team took over Tony Stark's old tower, when they were appointed by the government as the New Avengers. Sam, however, didn't agree with the government's appointment at all, considering he was the new Captain America. After a few seconds, Sam finally speaks.

"Come." He says, before walking off into the meeting room in the HQ, with Ava, Bucky, and John following, Alexei and Bob checking the place out. Yelena, meanwhile, walks over to the couch and sits down next to Kate, looking at her phone.

"Who's that?" Yelena asks, a brow raised, as she looks at the photo displayed on Kate's screen. Kate's eyes slightly narrow, not really knowing whether to fully trust the former assassin, before sighing.

"My girlfriend- well...ex-girlfriend- she's my friend. Yeah." Kate mumbles, before locking her phone with the power-off button, rubbing the back of her neck. Yelena raises a brow, before lets out a laugh.

"You had a girlfriend? Wow." She says, to which Kate lightly rolls her eyes. Kate fumbles about with her fingers for a few seconds, contemplating on what to say, before speaking once more.

"Yes, of course I had one. 'M not a total loser, y'know?" Kate says, before getting up and stretching. She should...get you out her mind. There are things she should be more concerned over. Yelena's eyebrows slightly furrow over Kate's comment, not sure what to say. But before she can decide what to say, 3 people enter the HQ through the elevator: Kamala, Joaquin, and...you.

"We're back!" Kamala announces, stretching her arms out, before seeing Yelena on the couch, Bob looking around, and Alexei searching the fridge. Joaquin stays silent, just quietly looking them all up and down, as though addressing threats.

"Uhm...who're you guys?" You say, as you take your purple cloak off, and set it on the hooks near the door. Kate's eyes instantly move to you, to your body, to your hair, to your legs, to your chest, before moving to your face, her cheeks turning slightly pink, before she clears her throat.

"Remember when I told you 'bout the Black Widow assassin that tried to kill Clint?" Kate starts, to which Yelena scoffs.

"Not an assassin anymore." She says, to which you slowly nod, still not understanding, but not bothered to ask any more questions. You give Kate a smile, before making your way to the kitchen to wash your hands. Joaquin walks off to the meeting room, after Kate explained where Sam was, while Kamala makes her way to the training room in the HQ, to find Cassie.

"Hm. She's cute." Yelena says, with a smirk, to which Kate's cheeks heat up, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I know Y/N is cute. You can't say that though." Kate states, before walking around to get the numbness out her legs, from sitting on the couch and scrolling through her albums for a bit too long.

"Ah, why is that, huh?" Yelena teases, her Russian accent prominent as she laughs. Kate's jaw clenches momentarily, before refusing to say anything else to the former assassin. You come back from the kitchen, holding a pink popsicle, Bob beside you, with a orange one, before you sit down next to Kate

"Up for some training?" You ask her, looking up at her with that...smile, before taking a small lick of the popsicle. Kate swears you must be doing this on purpose. This just...doesn't feel friendly. Even though you told her, months ago, that you both were better off as friends. It doesn't feel like that. The way you lean your head against her shoulder. Kate takes the popsicle, putting on her normal, cocky smile, as she tastes the pink lemonade popsicle, before giving it back to you.

"Yeah, sure. Why not. Got a hair tie?" She asks, to which you slide the black hair tie off your wrist, handing it over to her. She puts her hair up in a messy bun, before you walk off, to get changed into your training gear.

"Kate Bishop. Might as well come train with you two, eh?" Yelena says, before getting up with a groan, shaking her arms, before walking over to Kate, leaning up to speak in a hushed voice. "You still like her. Don't you? I don't know you a lot, Kate Bishop. But you...are an open book." Yelena says, to which Kate lightly huffs, walking down the hallway to her bedroom in the HQ.

"Of course I still do." Kate mutters, before she enters the key to her bedroom, opening the door, and stepping foot in, letting Yelena come in, before rummaging through her drawers to find her training clothes.

[problematicsashawaybright]

Oh she definitely looks really normal and trustworthy and like she's very sorry for her various crimes and betrayals and is reformed now. I wouldn't worry about it. What the hell, sure she can have a meeting with the king. I don't foresee any issues.