#so now i need to do all this work to build up the foundation everyone else already has that i neglected bc i was banking on not needing it

[bitchslapblastoids]

Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to in response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

[softness-and-shattering]

I kind of get how it can be a trauma response, to lash out at anything that feels safe or comfortable because its unusual which makes it scary.

You're allowed to be safe though. You dont have to antagonise everyone who might be your ally to drive us away before we can hurt you. Most of us, many of us - i dont have statistics on this - dont want to hurt you and do our best to avoid it.

Womanhood is not defined by suffering. Transness is not defined by suffering. Its an aspect, sure, just as suffering is an aspect of being human. But its not the point. Its not necessary, its not the foundation stone. You dont have to cling to it. Let it go.

Idk if anyone who needs to hear this has got this far but just in case. Acting like a walking trauma reaction is hurting everyone. Its possible to heal. Dont you want to heal? Arent you exhausted? Take a tiny little chance that it might be safer than you thought and put your shit down. Or open some space and think about what it is you like about being trans, about being a woman, of holding any identity that you find painful. What draws you to it? What do you want it to look like?

Ill go first. I love my voice. When it started properly breaking my first feeling was relief. I get to sound warm and rumbly and comforting now. Is that what I like about being trans or about being a guy? Idk, both maybe. I like that I get to define things for myself outside of imposed expectations. Ok your turn. Name one thing. Start building a sense of self around joy and contentment or at the very least, not pain. Start building yourself into someone who wants to live and can enjoy living. Its always possible.

And yeah maybe Im shouting compassion into the void but I hope someone somewhere is listening, that I might influence them a tiny bit make their life a little better. If someone is plain nasty to me I wont engage.

And yes people who are so caught up in their fear and pain and making up lies where theyre the victim - on the one hand, its a defence mechanism, I get it. On the other hand, its hurtful, and its extremely rude and also ludicrous. Like who is this crowd of cis women running to transmasc's defence everywhere? Cis women are weird and entitled with us. They know they have cis privilege over us. They act like the fact we started as the same sex gives them rights to be invasive "because we're all just girls". Cis women are less privileged than cis men but theyre second on that food chain, theyre cis. And sometimes they enjoy holding power over someone else for a change.

Which is to say, if youre lashing out at everyone because youre scared, you need to get yourself under control. Youre hurting people who dont deserve it. You need help, in the most genuine of meanings. You need to be able to function healthily as part of society, and yes theres a lot of transphobes out there, but most people dont carr one way or the other. Your overwhelming fear is not of equal size to the danger, which does exist, but is not all-encompassing of everything forever.

For everyones sake including your own: life can be better. Please work towards it being better. Get your shit together and let yourself be helped.

you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

[letbuckfuck]

really hate how i feel like i need to be exceptional at something to make up for the fact that i don't know how to be human

[laokim]

aphroditeapprenticee

the void obsession is anti-neville, anti-law, anti-mental health, anti-well being, anti-manifesting, anti-everything. i hate it. it's all coming from the lack of understanding of the very fundamental foundation of the law. creation is finished. nothing and no one to change but SELF.

but, do you really understand that creation is finished? because if people did, i highly doubt they'd try to get into the void. creation is finished means you don't "create" anything. everything you can ever conceptualize is already created. if creation is finished, that means there is nothing to achieve, nothing to change, nothing to try, and nothing to fix. all you need to do is align yourself with that reality(state). you shift to that reality(state) in imagination/consicousness. that's literally it. here is a great post i highly recommend reading regarding the concept of creation is finished. If you're in your room right now, do you have to build a kitchen in order to be in a kitchen? no. you leave your room and go to the kitchen. because your house is already built. it's the same thing. you don't "change" your 3d. you leave your current state and move to your desired state.

the reason you're trying to get into the void is because you don't like your current life and because there are so many aspects you want to change, you're carrying the burden of changing the 3d on your shoulders, you're viewing the void state as something that will magically change and solve everything. so you're trying to get into the void so you can finally change the 3d. but again, nothing and no one to change but SELF. you're not changing the 3d. I need you to understand this, you're NOT changing the 3d. you're changing your SELF. when you change self, the 3d changes on its own because everything and everyone is SELF pushed out. i have no experience with the void, so i can't give you any advice on how to get into the void except for relaxing and just focusing on being.

but if i were you, I'd let go of the void. what is your obsession with the void helping you in any way? how long have you been obsessed with it? please let go of what does not serve you.

you're lacking. you're feeling lack. you're desiring. I suggest you scroll down my blog and read my other posts and replies to other asks. the very first step is to stop desiring NOT by suppressing your desire, but by fulfilling it all in imagination only. there is only fulfillment or lack, you have to make a choice. will you fulfill your desire in Imagination or will you continue to live in lack in imagination. in imagination, which is your kingdom, where all things exist and fulfillment is totally unconditional?

leave the 3d alone. i mean it when i say manifesting has nothing, i mean NOTHING, to do with the 3d. it's all about you. your inner self. you're not changing your face, you're changing your SELF. you're not changing your body, you're changing your SELF. you're not changing your bank account, you're changing your SELF. you're not changing your family, you're changing your SELF. YOU'RE NOT CHANGING THE 3D YOU'RE CHANGING YOUR INNER SELF (state of consciousness aka self-concept).

if you were my sister, i'd do anything to make you completely give up on the void state and study and apply the law instead. but, i can't do that to you because the choice is up to you. will you continue to do yourself a disservice by obsessing over something that doesn't get you anywhere or will you let it go and study&apply the law which guarantees the fulfillment of your desires?

your 3d doesn't need to be changed. no matter how horrible it looks, there is nothing wrong with your 3d. your 3d is perfect as it is. it's your consciousness. you have to change your consciousness, your SELF.

if you have time to obsess over the void, read neville. read edward art's series. You think manifesting is about changing the 3d. that's why you see manifesting as something that requires hard work, that's why you're obsessing over the void because you think the void will remove the "hard work" you think you should do to manifest. when you realize that all you need to do is literally just fulfill your desire in imagination only, you will no longer be interested in the void. the void obsession started last year. never have i ever once tried to get into the void. because to me, manifesting isn't about changing the 3d. it's all about my imagination/ consciousness.

if you want to take my advice, which i hope you do, unfollow every single void blog you follow. delete void information you wrote down anywhere. unsubscribe to every channel relating to the void. cut off every online friend you made talking about the void. let go of it. and i can guarantee you this much, if you focus on changing yourself in imagination, your results will show up in the 3d SO fast you'll be scared(in a good way).

it's up to you whether you're going to obsess over the void for the next 3 months and get nothing out of it but worse mental health OR spend the next 1 month on studying&applying the law and reap a good harvest, if you do, your results will be satisfactory.

Start tonight. start with at your command and the power of awareness. the law and the promise contains over 50 success story letters neville eceived from people. Read this series, his interpretation of neville's teaching is amazing and he also touches on subjects neville barely did that people may be struggling with. neville and edward art are the only teachers you need imo. debunk everything you know about the void and read what i linked above and apply. You will reap a good harvest.

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 5: Heartbeat Havoc

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 6.3k

Chapter 5/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: it's only up from here

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

"So, the release went well, but now we need to capitalize on the momentum. What we don't want is for you to disappear after the premiere," You leaned back into your chair, twirling a pen between your fingers as you spoke on the call. Your tone was confident but measured, ensuring there wasn't too much enthusiasm. You knew your client well enough to know this was a serious conversation.

Tanya Lawrence, an early twenties actress who had just starred in a blockbuster film, was on speaker, along with her agent and manager. You were coming up with a game plan to keep her in the spotlight and sustain the momentum—not only to continue promoting the film but to elevate Tanya herself.

Tanya's voice was thoughtful as she replied, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. But I don’t want to do the same press rounds everyone else does. I mean, how many times can you sit on a couch and tell the same story?”

You smiled, fully expecting her reluctance. Tanya was always searching for something fresh. It was part of what made her appealing, but also part of the challenge of keeping her relevant without overexposing her.

"I hear you," You said, jotting down a note on your tablet. "The late-night circuit can get a bit tired, but we still need to keep you visible. How about this: we skip the talk shows and go for an exclusive feature with Vogue or Elle? We’ll craft a personal story—something deeper than just promoting the film. We’ll show your evolution from indie darling to blockbuster star. It’s more narrative-driven, more you."

There was a pause, then her manager chimed in, his voice skeptical but intrigued. “How personal are we talking?”

“Not too much," You assured him. "We’re not looking to dig into her private life—just enough to give the audience something to connect with. We’ll focus on her as an actress and philanthropist. Maybe highlight her charity work? The key is controlling the narrative.”

Tanya's voice came through, warmer now. “I love that idea. I’ve been wanting to talk more about the foundation. If we can connect that, it would feel real, not like I’m just selling myself.”

You nodded, already sketching out the potential angles. "Exactly. And we can play it across platforms—get some behind-the-scenes content on social media to drive engagement, maybe even a short Instagram series showing a day in your life. That way, you’re not just doing the standard PR push but building a brand around authenticity.”

The enthusiasm on the other end was palpable now. Tanya's agent was already chiming in with ideas on how to expand the campaign, and her manager was starting to see the vision.

"You’ve always got the best ideas," Tanya said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

You chuckled. "That’s why you keep me around."

The call wrapped up, and you took a moment to breathe. Another client managed, another fire successfully put out. You were in the zone—this was what you were good at. A notification lit up the screen as you closed your notebook and checked your phone.

"Is Love in the Air? Natasha Romanoff Seen Leaving Concert with New Flame"

Your stomach did a little flip. The photo was grainy and interesting for today’s time, but you knew it was the two of you leaving the concert venue last weekend. It hadn’t taken long for people to start talking, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it all. You tried not to think about the sudden influx of followers you’d gotten or the interest of every possible gossip rag in suddenly taking a deep dive into your life.

As a publicist, you were no stranger to media frenzy, but it was different when you were the story. You’d spent years helping clients navigate this kind of attention, knowing exactly how to spin, deflect, and maintain privacy. But now, as the headlines circled you and Natasha, it felt oddly invasive.

You sighed, locking your phone and rubbing your temples. This wasn’t exactly how you imagined things going with Natasha. A quiet fling, maybe, or just a few months of fun before things inevitably fizzled. But the way her hand had lingered on yours that night, the way she looked at you when she thought no one was watching—something about it felt more... real. And now, the world was catching on.

Focus, y/n, you told yourself, pushing the thought aside. You weren’t going to let this derail your work. Natasha had dealt with the media for years—she could handle it. The question was, could you?

Your office door creaked open, and Monica strolled in, her usual swagger in every step. She leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing her arms with an amused smile.

“You see the headlines?” She asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You shot her a look, already knowing where this was headed. “You mean the ones making me sound like some groupie?”

Monica laughed, moving to sit across from you. “Please, Natasha Romanoff’s mystery woman has a much better ring to it. Plus, who says groupies can’t be successful?”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “I didn’t ask for this attention, Mon.”

“You’re dating a rockstar. What did you expect?” she teased before her tone softened. “But for real, how are you feeling about it?”

You hesitated, twirling the pen in your fingers, not quite sure how to put it into words. “It’s... strange. I’ve always kept my private life private, you know? And now I’m on the front page, just because I went on a date.”

Monica nodded, her expression shifting to something more serious. “It’s a lot. But you’re the queen of handling this kind of thing. You’ve dealt with bigger fires. And Natasha... well, she’s used to it.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, but this feels different. It’s one thing to be in control of someone else’s narrative, but when it’s you...”

Monica tilted her head, studying you. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. You hadn’t even allowed yourself to fully consider that yet. Did you? The two of you were just getting to know each other. It wasn’t supposed to be serious. But the way you smiled at the thought of her, the way your stomach fluttered when her name popped up on your phone—it was all too familiar.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “It’s moving fast.”

“You fucked didn’t you?” Monica began to grin.

Your eyes widened. “Jesus, Monica." You cursed. You looked back to your office door, the one she'd decided to leave open, and then back to her. She folded her arms knowingly and you sighed.

"Maybe?" You responded with a smirk. "Or... several times? I lost count that night."

"Oh my god!" Monica cackled. "I knew it. I'm so proud of you."

"Proud shouldn't be the word used for that," You shook your head. "Oh, and Sam decided to bring Isabella home early the next morning so they met each other much sooner than I expected. She also introduced herself as my girlfriend."

"Ooh, and how did Sam react?" Monica knew your ex-husband just as well as she knew you.

"He was shocked but also not shocked." You begin. "I just hoped it wasn't something that made Natasha question what we have going on. I mean anyone would be threatened to have the ex just casually standing in the living room."

"Nah, the woman is head over heels," Monica assured. "Besides, Sam's a good guy, and he's not a possessive ex. So, back to the importance, was she good?"

You couldn't help but smirk. "Yes, she was very good."

Monica smiled, nodding approvingly. "Good. Well, I'm happy for you. It's been a while since you've had some good sex, and even longer since you've had a good woman."

"Somehow you and my daughter are the same person just in different fonts," You mused at her words. "You have no idea how much Bella asked about her."

"What can I say, we both have good taste," Monica smiled. "Anyway, back to work. I'll let you enjoy your celebrity-adjacent status. It’s interesting really how you’ve managed to stay so lowkey. I mean Sam is famous, your parents are famous…”

You chuckled. "It's a blessing and a curse. You can't blame them for being overprotective though. They just wanted to protect their daughter and granddaughter from the limelight. It's why I stayed off the radar."

Before she could question it further, there was a slight knock at the door. An unassuming man with a delivery hat and a gorgeous bouquet caught your attention.

"Are you, Y/n?" He asked.

"Yes," You replied, a little surprised. You watched as the man set the vase down, signed for the delivery, and thanked him. Monica watched in interest.

"What's that for?" Monica asked.

"I have no idea," You replied, a little puzzled. You plucked the card from the bouquet and unfolded it, curious. As your eyes skimmed the neat handwriting, your heart skipped a beat.

“Just in case you needed a little brightness in your day. My time with you was amazing, being with you makes everything even better. — N”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. Natasha had a way of being sweet without overdoing it—something that caught you off guard every time.

Monica raised an eyebrow, leaning over to get a glimpse of the card. “Ohhh, so the rockstar is a romantic.”

You laughed softly, tucking the card back into the bouquet. “Apparently. She’s full of surprises.”

Monica grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.”

You tried to ignore the flush that crept up your neck, your eyes drifting back to the bouquet on your desk. Maybe you did.

**********

Natasha wiped the sweat from her forehead, adjusting her grip on the barbell before settling into her seat. The gym was practically empty, just the way she liked it. Wanda was a few feet away, doing leg presses with ease while music pulsed through the space, the rhythm of the beats syncing with the steady clank of weights hitting the floor. Just as Natasha was about to dive into her next rep, her phone buzzed on the bench beside her. She hesitated for a second, but the moment she saw your name flash across the screen, she abandoned the barbell with zero hesitation.

Y/N: Thank you for the flowers 🌸 They’re almost as beautiful as the woman who sent them. Almost.

Natasha smirked as she leaned against the bench, typing back with one hand while the other still held onto the towel slung around her neck.

Natasha: Almost? I must be slipping. I’ll have to step up my game. 😏

She hit send, already imagining the soft laugh she knew you would give at the response. She wasn’t usually one for the whole romantic gesture thing, but with you, it felt... right. You were different, and Natasha could feel herself getting pulled deeper into this thing between you.

Wanda finished her set and glanced over, eyebrow arched as she caught Natasha mid-text. “You’re supposed to be working out, not flirting,” Wanda teased, giving her a knowing look.

Natasha didn’t bother hiding her smile. “Can’t help it. It’s... motivation.”

Wanda chuckled, moving to grab her water bottle. “Yeah? Motivation or distraction?”

Natasha shrugged, her eyes flicking back to her phone as it buzzed again.

Y/n: If this is you slipping, I can’t wait to see you in top form. Maybe tonight?

Natasha’s breath hitched slightly at the invitation, her mind already racing ahead to the possibilities of your date later. She glanced over at Wanda, who was watching her with mild amusement.

Natasha: Tonight, then. I’ll pick you up. Get ready to be impressed. 😉

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she stretched her arms. “You’re really into her, huh?”

Natasha paused, glancing at her friend before nodding. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Wanda smiled, something in her expression softening. She knew how guarded Natasha could be when it came to dating, so it was a relief to see her opening up again.

"Good," Wanda said simply. "I think you two look cute together. She's a breath of fresh air."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "She's different."

Wanda's smile grew wider. "You're different with her."

"Different how? I mean you've only seen us together once," Natasha wiped her brow again.

"Just different, a good different. You've got that glow that you used to have when you and Carol were first starting." Wanda pointed out. "You know before shit hit the fan."

"Hmm, maybe. We'll see." Natasha took a swig from her water bottle. "She's cool. She's secure in herself which is a pretty huge deal. It doesn't come across as cocky or anything."

"That's important. Especially in our field." Wanda nodded.

Natasha smiled to herself as she thought about the last time you’d kissed her goodbye. Your lips had tasted like mint toothpaste, your hands gentle and warm against her skin. It was such a simple thing—just a goodbye kiss—but it had stayed with her all day. She couldn’t wait to spend more time with you tonight.

"Well, I’m happy for you," Wanda said, breaking Natasha from her thoughts.

"Thanks," Natasha replied, feeling her cheeks warm as she thought about you again. "I'm... happy too."

It was true. Happy wasn’t a word Natasha often used to describe herself when it came to relationships. Her past romances had always been complicated, intense, and full of drama. It was almost a given that things would eventually blow up—whether it was her fault or the other person’s. But with you? It felt different.

She wanted it to be distinguishable.

For once, Natasha didn’t want a relationship that was marked by chaos or suffocating intensity. She didn’t want someone who would cling to her or become overly dependent, and she didn’t want to lose herself in someone else’s need for attention or validation. She’d been there before—too many times—and it always ended with someone getting hurt, usually her.

But with you, it felt like things could be... simple. Easy, even.

You weren’t trying to force your way into her life or demand all her time. You didn’t seem interested in changing her, and you weren’t fazed by her fame or reputation. If anything, you were the one who kept a distance from the spotlight, which Natasha found both refreshing and grounding. She liked that you had your own life, your own career, and your daughter to focus on. You didn’t need her to complete you.

That’s what Natasha craved—someone who wanted her but didn’t need her in the way that had always made her feel trapped before. She wanted love, yes, but not the kind that suffocated. She just wanted something real, something healthy. She wanted to feel safe and comfortable, the way she already did with you.

For the first time in a long time, Natasha felt like this could work. It was early, sure, but she couldn’t help but hope that maybe this time things would be different. Maybe this time she wouldn’t screw it up.

She glanced at her phone again, re-reading your last message. Her heart did that annoying little flip it had been doing more often these days, and she chuckled to herself.

***********

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at the dress you’d just slipped into, second-guessing yourself for what felt like the tenth time in an hour. It was a deep burgundy, with a flattering neckline, but was it too much? You tugged at the hem, frowning.

“I don’t know about this one,” You muttered, glancing over your shoulder at Monica and Isabella, who were both sitting on your bed, staring at you with varying levels of judgment.

Monica leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed. "It’s cute, but it feels a little... formal."

"Yeah, Mom," Isabella added, making a face. "It’s like you’re going to a wedding."

You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror. "Why is this so hard?" you grumbled, tossing your hair over your shoulder. "It’s just a date."

Isabella giggled, swinging her legs back and forth. "Not just any date. It’s Natasha Romanoff!"

Monica snorted. "Right? Rockstar extraordinaire."

You rolled your eyes, walking over to the closet and grabbing another dress off the hanger. "She’s just... Natasha," you said, trying to sound casual, but the butterflies in your stomach betrayed you. The truth was, Natasha wasn’t just any date. She had a way of making you feel both grounded and completely out of control, and that was terrifying.

Monica raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You tossed the burgundy dress on the bed and slipped into a simpler black one. “Okay, how about this?” you asked, turning to face them again.

Isabella tilted her head, considering it. “Better,” she said. “But... kind of boring.”

Monica nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it’s cute, but you can do better. You’re going on a date with a rockstar, not attending a PTA meeting."

You huffed, pulling the dress off and tossing it aside, feeling a mix of frustration and nervous energy. "I just... want to look good," you admitted. "Not too overdressed, not too underdressed. Just right."

Monica smiled gently, getting up from the bed and walking over to your closet. "You’re overthinking it," she said, flipping through the hangers. "Natasha likes you, right? So whatever you wear, she’s going to think you look great."

You sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Isabella, who leaned against you, her little arm wrapping around your waist. "You think so?"

"Definitely!" Isabella chirped. "Plus, you always look pretty, Mama."

You kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, baby."

Monica finally pulled out a deep green two-piece pantsuit, simple but elegant, with just the right amount of edge. "What about this one?" she asked, holding it up.

You stared at it for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah... I like that one."

Monica tossed it over to you with a grin. "Perfect. Now go get ready so I can get the scoop later."

You laughed, slipping into the outfit and smoothing the top down over your belly. "You’re not getting any scoop."

"We’ll see about that," Monica teased, winking at Isabella, who giggled.

As you slipped on a pair of heels and checked your reflection one last time, Isabella tugged at your hand. “Mom?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

"Do you like Natasha?" she asked, her voice innocent but curious. "Like... like like her?"

You paused, looking down at your daughter’s wide eyes. Monica raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response. It was a fair question, and one you’d been asking yourself a lot lately.

"I do," You finally said, feeling a little nervous saying it out loud. "I really do."

Isabella smiled. "Good. I think she likes you too."

You chuckled, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Yeah? You think so?"

Isabella nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! I saw the way she looked at you when she came over last time. She was smiling a lot."

Monica smirked from the corner of the room. "Out of the mouths of babes..."

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered at Isabella's words. Was it possible Natasha was already falling for you too?

A knock on the door made you jump, and Isabella squealed, running towards the door. "She's here!"

You took a deep breath, smoothing the front of your shirt and trying to calm your nerves. "Tell her I'll be right there."You called after her.

Isabella was more than happy to answer the door for Natasha. She swung it open with gusto, Bear hot on her tail, as she greeted the woman.

"Hey," Natasha said with a big smile.

"Hi, Natasha," Isabella said with a toothy grin. "Mama's almost ready. You can come in." She leads Natasha over to the living room and sits across from her on the couch. "Before she comes out I want to ask you a few questions."

Natasha was taken aback in an amused sort of way. "Questions?"

"Yup," Isabella said, a serious look on her face. "If my mom makes you mad, are you gonna write a mean song about her?"

Natasha had to hold back her laughter. She loved Isabella's forwardness and honesty. It was refreshing. "No. I don't write songs about people I care about. Plus, I'm not sure your mom could ever make me mad."

"She has her moments," Isabella shrugged. "Another question, Why do you like my mom? Not just for her body or her money or anything. I've been reading a lot of old school magazines lately and I have all of the information."

Natasha bit her lip and cleared her throat. "Uh, well, your mom is very kind and sweet. She's smart, and she has a really good sense of humor."

"And you're not using her for money?"

"Of course not."

Isabella seemed satisfied with her answers. She nodded. "Okay. Good. I like you, Natasha."

"Thanks, kiddo. I like you, too," Natasha chuckled.

"Do you think I could score backstage tickets to your next concert? I promise I'll behave."

"Isabella..."

Isabella rolled her eyes at your stern tone as you rounded the corner. "Fine." She sighed.

"Hey," You said softly, walking up to the pair, a small smile on your lips.

"Wow." Natasha breathed, taking in the sight of you. You looked incredible. "You look... good."

"Thank you so do you," You leaned into her embrace when she stood to kiss you on the cheek. You subtly glanced at her outfit, glad that you'd picked your casual one too. Natasa's dark denim jacket draped effortlessly over a loose white t-shirt. She wore Black skinny jeans, slightly distressed at the knees, and hugged her legs, giving her a subtle edge without trying too hard. Clean white sneakers grounded her look. A simple silver chain glinted at her collarbone, and her hair fell in tousled waves around her face, giving the impression that she hadn’t overthought any of it—yet still managed to look effortlessly striking.

"Thank you," Natasha said.

"You're welcome," You hummed as you pulled back from the hug, the scent of her perfume filling your nose.

"Okay, we'll be fine, Mama." Isabella gave a thumbs up. "Go have fun. Don't stay out too late."

You laughed. "We'll try not to," you promised. "And no ice cream past ten, okay?"

"Okay," Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Don't forget Bear's walk," you added.

"Mama," Isabella whined. "We got this. Go!"

"Alright, alright," You chuckled, turning to Natasha. "Ready?"

"Lead the way," Natasha smiled.

"Have a good time, ladies!" Monica called as the two of you made your way out the door.

Natasha held your hand as the two of you walked to the car, her fingers rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

"So where are we going?" You asked, glancing over at her.

Natasha grinned, squeezing your hand. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, a surprise?"

"Yup," She said. "Wait," She said just before opening the door. You turned to face her questioningly. She leaned forward, pressing her lips gently against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected move, and you let yourself sink into the kiss, savoring the way her lips felt against yours. It was soft and sweet.

"I figured you wouldn't want to do that in front of your daughter," Natasha mumbled awkwardly.

You laughed, resting your hands on her shoulders and pecking her lips again. "That was very thoughtful. Are you really not going to tell me where we are going?"

"I could tell you, but where's the fun in that?" She smiled, opening the car door and ushering you inside. As the car rolled down the busy streets, you found yourself stealing glances at Natasha. The way she carried herself, with a mix of confidence and ease, was enchanting. Her posture was relaxed but commanding, and even the simple act of driving seemed to radiate a kind of effortless cool.

The radio played a mix of tracks that Natasha had curated—a blend of classic rock and some modern hits that seamlessly complemented her edgy style. You could see the genuine enjoyment on her face as she sang along to the lyrics, her voice harmonizing effortlessly with the tunes. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the depth of her passion for music and the way it intertwined with every part of her life.

As the car pulled up to the restaurant, Natasha turned to you with a soft smile. "Hope you like this place. I've been wanting to check it out for a while."

You read the giant side on the outside of the building, The Cooking Institute.

"Cooking classes?" You guessed aloud. Natasha glanced over at you.

"I hope that's okay," She said quickly, suddenly a bit unsure of her plan. "I know it's a little unconventional, but I figured it could be fun. If not, we can just grab a drink somewhere or-"

"Natasha," You cut her off, resting a hand on her knee. "It's perfect."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave you a relieved smile. "Great. I'm glad."

You were soon ushered inside by an eager host, who led you to a spacious kitchen, equipped with every cooking appliance imaginable. You expected to see more guests inside of the space but instead only found an instructor.

"Welcome to Cooking Institute," The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-40s, greeted the two of you with a warm smile. "My name is Lisa. We're so excited to have you."

"Is this only for us?" You questioned Natasha.

"I rented it out for the night," She shrugged. "So, we could have some privacy."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture.

Lisa clapped her hands together. "Well, I'll let you two get settled and we can get started." She gave the pair of you a thumbs up and made her exit, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

"So," You glanced over at Natasha. "What's the plan here?"

"Well," She grinned. "We're going to cook some food."

"Gee, I never would have guessed," You teased. "But what kind of food?"

Natasha's eyes twinkled with amusement. She leaned against the counter, her excitement barely contained as she outlined the evening’s menu. "Alright, here’s the plan," she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"We’re starting with a Classic Wedge Salad—simple, and something I can make with no problem." She paused, savoring the anticipation. "Next up, we’ve got Cheesy Potatoes Au Gratin." Natasha’s smile widened, clearly proud of the menu.

"And then," she continued, "we’re making Oscar-Style Beef Filet. It’s a bit fancy but worth it." She chuckled at the look of awe on your face, clearly pleased with herself. "So, ready to get cooking?"

You nodded, laughing. "This sounds amazing. Let's do it."

As the night progressed, the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was easy, being around her, and the conversation flowed naturally. The host led you both to your designated cooking station, complete with all the utensils and ingredients needed for the evening’s menu. Natasha's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she glanced around, her enthusiasm contagious. You could see the genuine pleasure on her face, which made you smile even more.

"How do you like your steak?" You asked.

"Medium rare," She said.

You nodded. "Same. This looks so amazing. I can't wait to taste it."

"Me too," Natasha admitted, glancing over at you. "I love a good steak."

You smiled, shaking your head in amusement. "Of course you do."

"What?" She chuckled.

"Nothing," You said. "It's just... you're very cool, Natasha Romanoff."

She grinned, leaning closer to you. "Well, thank you. That's very sweet."

You bit your lip, feeling a blush creeping up your neck.

"See, blushing," Natasha said smugly.

You nudged her, trying to hide your grin. "Stop it."

She smiled, her eyes softening. "Never."

As the meal came together, you were surprised by how much fun you were having. It turned out your cooking ability was light years beyond Nataha's. Which wasn't that surprising. It's not like she had a child to cook for or anything.

"Nope. You've got it all wrong," You said, trying to keep a straight face.

"What?" Natasha looked at you, perplexed.

"The salt, Natasha," You chuckled. "You need a lot more salt."

"Are you sure?" Natasha looked down at her mashed potatoes.

"Yes, I'm sure," You replied, trying not to laugh. "You can't eat those."

"Aw," Natasha frowned.

"It's okay baby," You assured her, patting her shoulder. "I'm here to help."

Natasha grinned. "Okay, Chef."

You smiled, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. "You're cute."

"Thank you," Natasha said.

"Alright, enough messing around," You declared, picking up the wooden spoon. "Let's keep this going." As you both continued to cook, the kitchen became a lively space filled with laughter and playful banter. Natasha's attempts at seasoning and timing were endearing, though they often resulted in humorous mishaps. The contrast between her occasional culinary blunders and your surprisingly deft cooking skills became a running joke.

Often there were times you two forgot Lisa was even there, too wrapped up in each other to notice her. Finally, your meal was finished and you both sat in the dining area to enjoy it.

"Okay, I've got to admit, that was pretty amazing," Natasha said, sipping her wine.

You smiled, savoring the bite of tender beef. "It really was. Thanks for bringing me here."

"You're welcome," Natasha said. "I'm glad you liked it."

You looked up at her, your heart beating a little faster. She was looking at you with such fondness that it made your chest ache. "So, I figured we should get to know each other a little better."

"You mean we don't already know each other well?" She smirked, referring to your night together.

You blushed. "You know what I mean. I mean, the basic stuff. What's your favorite color? Your favorite movie? Things like that."

Natasha nodded, smiling softly. "Sure. My favorite color is blue."

"Like the ocean?" You asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "What about you?"

"Green," You answered. "Like the trees."

"Interesting," she murmured. "Movie?"

"I'm a big fan of romcoms," You confessed.

"Really?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah," You shrugged. "The Proposal. Anything with Sandra Bullock or Jennifer Lopez and I'm sold."

Natasha laughed. "Good to know."

"What about you?" You questioned.

"Well, I'm a sucker for anything with Ryan Gosling." She grinned.

"Good choice," You agreed.

"Favorite food?"

"Anything sweet," She winked.

"I can work with that," You chuckled.

"Favorite TV show?"

"That's a tough one," She paused, thinking. "House."

"Nice," You said.

"Favorite song?"

"Don't you already know?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," You laughed. "But I want to hear you say it."

"Fine," She sighed dramatically. "The Scientist by Coldplay."

"You have a good taste," You mused.

"I think so," She said, winking at you.

"I like The Night We Met," You replied.

"Really?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," You said. "It's a great song."

"It is," She agreed. "I just didn't think you had a real liking for that particular genre."

"I'm full of surprises," You wiggled your fingers.

Natasha took a sip of her wine. "Clearly."

"Okay, last one," You said. "Favorite band."

"The Beatles," She replied without hesitation.

"Nice," You said.

"They're classics," She shrugged. "Can't go wrong with them."

"That's true," You said. "I think I have a lot more to learn about you, Natasha Romanoff."

She smiled softly. "Same goes for you, Y/N, Y/L/N."

As the two of you finished dinner, the conversation shifted into a more relaxed tone.

"So," You said, leaning back in your seat. "What's next on the agenda?"

"That depends," Natasha replied. "Do you trust me?"

You grinned, your heart skipping a beat. "With my life."

"Well, then, let's get going."

As the night progressed, you found yourself growing more and more intrigued by Natasha. She was intelligent and witty and had a surprisingly dry sense of humor. Her eyes lit up when she spoke about the things she was passionate about, and it was clear she was truly a free spirit. You could see why she had risen to fame so quickly.

***************

The next stop was Echo Park’s Swan Boat line, the sight of the bustling park filled with families and couples enjoying the evening brought a smile to your face. The iconic swan boats bobbed gently on the water, their white feathers illuminated by the soft glow of park lights.

"This is beautiful," You breathed, taking in the sight.

"It is," Natasha agreed, slipping her hand into yours.

"You ready to get out there?" She asked, grinning.

"I'm a little nervous but I'll get over it," You held her hand. You joined the queue, the line stretching a bit as people chatted and waited for their turn on the boats. As you neared the front of the line, you noticed a group of teenagers in front of you. One of them, a lanky teen with a mop of curly hair, kept glancing back at Natasha with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. After a few moments, his eyes widened, and he nudged his friend, whispering loudly, “Hey, isn’t that Natasha Romanoff?”

Natasha caught their gaze and offered a friendly if slightly reserved, smile. She knew being recognized was part of her life, but she also valued moments like these where she could enjoy a quiet, semi-anonymous outing. There was a moment when both of them argued about who would talk to her before they made a choice.

The teen, gathering his courage, turned around and said with a shy grin, “Hi, um, I don’t mean to bother you, but are you Natasha Romanoff?”

Natasha chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Guilty as charged. How are you doing tonight?”

The teen’s friends crowded closer, their excitement palpable. “We’re huge fans! This is so cool,” one of them exclaimed.

"Would you guys mind taking a picture with us?" Another asked, pulling out their phone.

Natasha's smile grew warmer. "Of course not. " She pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist. You tried not to blush as the teens gathered around you, their phones held high.

"On the count of three, smile!" The first teen instructed. You obliged, smiling brightly as the phone flashed.

"Thank you so much," he gushed. "This is so awesome. My friends won't believe this."

Natasha grinned, giving them a wink.

"Are you guys on a date?" One of the teens, a girl with an oversized hoodie and glasses asked.

"Maybe," Natasha's eyes sparkled. "Or maybe it's just a casual hangout between friends."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I can tell you that I'm a fan of hers." You played along.

"Me too!" The girl squealed. "I'm your biggest fan, Ms. Romanoff."

"I'm flattered," Natasha chuckled. "Well, have a good night, everyone." She pulled you toward the front of the line as it was now your turn to ride.

"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff!" The girl called out. "This is the best night ever!"

"Any time," Natasha called back. You couldn't help but smile as the teens began animatedly talking amongst themselves.

"That was nice of you," You murmured.

Natasha's gaze softened. "They were sweet kids. Besides, I don't mind the occasional photo op. It's all part of the job. You ready?"

You looked at the small boat tethered to the dock, a mix of nervousness and excitement fluttering in your chest. "Is it safe?"

Natasha laughed softly. "It's perfectly safe. I promise."

With a deep breath, you nodded. "Alright, let’s do it."

You both climbed into the boat, Natasha taking the oars and maneuvering it gently away from the dock. As the boat drifted into the middle of the pond, the moonlight cast a soft glow over the water, creating a serene and almost magical atmosphere.

The gentle lapping of the water against the boat was soothing, and you glanced at Natasha, who was focused and confident as she rowed. After a few moments, she set the oars aside and leaned back, her gaze meeting yours.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Surprisingly well," you replied, your heart racing a little from the adventure. "This is actually kind of thrilling."

"I'm glad," Natasha grinned, reaching for your hand and squeezing it.

You gazed up at the night sky, admiring the twinkling stars and the bright moon. It was a beautiful night, and you were happy to be sharing it with her.

"I know this is a little cheesy," She started, her gaze turning soft. "But I've always loved the idea of a first date."

"I love a good first date," You chuckled. "I think you knocked it out of the park for sure." You said.

"I'm glad," She whispered. "I was hoping you'd like it."

You smiled, your chest tightening with emotion. You felt a connection with Natasha that you couldn't explain.

"So, my girlfriend..." You grinned, alluding to Natasha's introduction of herself to Sam.

"It has a nice ring to it," She laughed aloud. "I saw you fumbling and took the opportunity."

"Thank God for it," You shook your head. "I don't think I would have known what to say."

"You would have figured it out," She assured.

"Not fast enough," You replied. "I want you to be my girlfriend." You said with such confidence Natasha's head whipped over to you.

"Wait, really?" She asked. 

"Really," You nodded.

Natasha smiled, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

"I was hoping you would," She replied.

"Well, consider me your girlfriend," You declared, feeling your stomach do flips.

Natasha's gaze met yours, and she leaned in, kissing you tenderly. The kiss was soft and sweet, filled with the promise of something more.

"Thank you," She whispered, her breath warm against your skin.

"You're welcome," You murmured, your heart pounding.

You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"So," She finally spoke, her voice quiet. "Where do we go from here?"

"I guess we figure it out together," You replied, your gaze locked on hers.

"I can't wait," She said, her eyes shining.

--->

[gem-de-lune]

Seunghan's Destiny

So as yall know I am not 100% perfect at keeping a schedule, which is due to other things but also bc when I sit down to do a reading sometimes it just is not time to do it energetically.

Today i tried to do some other things but they just were not working. Then I got the feeling to do this one and WOW the energy I felt was immense and powerful here.

Anyways, though, let's begin.

Main destiny:

The Tower + 3 of Swords + 3 of Chalices, 7 of Chalices

This is a timeline. He is meant to go through some great unheaval that completely breaks down everything he thinks he has. This leads him into a period of mental anguish and solitude.

However, the tower is meant to break things down that are fragile, so they may be built up stronger. In the 3 of Chalices, this represents the aid of others encircling him and helping him build things up again- a solid foundation. Lastly, at the 7 of Swords, we have this representing the end of the climax and the most destined part of his life, which is having a decision to make for yourself. (Note this card is a 7)

The result of his destiny:

Knave of Chalices

This is all for him to be the best version of himself- through reflection. He needs to become more resolute and ambitious to achieve his goals. He need to learn to persevereance and to never give up but learn from his past.

The greater purpose of his Destiny:

Judgement + Ace of Chalices + Queen of Pentacles

This is about taking responsibility for the actions that affect others emotionally. We are talking about caring for and about other's physical, emotional, and mental wellbeing. With this karmic event comes a new wave of changed sentiments towards certain things, practices, and beliefs on a larger scale.

What does this all mean?

I think everyone going on right now was meant to happen. I think it's a part of Seunghan's destiny. If you have been following these readings for a long time they you'll know that the 3 of swords is very familiar because that was the state he was in for a while. But things are shifting towards the 3 of Chalices now, which I literally pulled the other day, too. It's all a timeline of his destiny. Whatever is happening and whatever the result is, no one is going to be left untouched by this ordeal once they've involved themselves.

Final Notes:

Although this is short, my energy has been completely depleted by this reading. This may seem simple, but I was very much nodding off into idk what dimention bc I hardly even remember what was happening when I did this reading.

Anyways tmw all members check in, and I will finally get to concept reading if my phone doesn't delete it again 🤪

[bunnysbrainrot]

Bourbon and Mead

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝' 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader, Jackson!AU

Content: Alcohol consumption, flirting, slow-burn tension, slow dancing with Joel, teasing, POV switch. Bear with me, folks, this'll be worth it.

Summary: It's been a busy first week in Jackson, but you're finally starting to feel at home. Even still, you haven't made many new connections, but hopefully tonight's big event can help. Despite your nerves, you go anyway, and see some familiar faces.

Word Count: 4,300+

It had been just under a week since your patrol with Joel and his group, and you're settling in rather well. For such a shabby spot, you have decorated your living space impressively, and it settles something in you. After so long, you're really starting to have a place to call home.

Knock, knock, knock.

The noise shakes you out of a stupor, and you make your way to the heavy wooden door, and tug it open to reveal a friendly face, Maria.

You've had little chance to interact with new people since arriving in Jackson - when you're working as a community this directly, a hell of a lot of work goes into it. Which means, everyone's busy. Just about constantly. That being said, outside of your own room, Maria has been your only companion.

She can sense your loneliness, too, but she hasn't let on. The last thing you needed was the pressure of making a name of yourself in the first few days, so she had kept you busy with chores, patrols, hunts, you name it. To her, that plan would help you adjust to how Jackson functioned as a whole, so you could have the foundation of being a community member, to get your bearings.

Her smile is bright as she speaks, "Hey, sweetheart, just wanted to let y'know about the dance happening tonight. If you're feeling up for it, you should stop by."

The offer erupts a warmth in your chest.

"The dance?" You ask eagerly.

Maria nods, "Used to call it a square dance, but not enough folks know how to, so it's more of a get-together now, but we'll have music, drinks, the whole nine."

It doesn't take long for you to choose your answer. You cheerfully tell Maria, "That sounds wonderful. Where is it, and when does it start?"

She starts to describe the layout of the nearby buildings to the dance, waving her hands in front of her methodically, "But trust me, you won't be able to miss it. Just follow the music." Maria ends her sentence with a wink.

"What do I wear?"

There's a beat as she looks you over, and past your shoulder to your chest of drawers, which she helped stock when you first arrived.

Maria waves a hand dismissively as she replies, "Some people take the chance to dress up, some people dress down. You do whatever you're comfortable with, honey."

You flash her a grateful smile, and she issues a small goodbye before walking off.

---

A good few hours buffers you before the dance. The optional dance, but something in you will stop at nothing to go. You need to see people, have some laughs, live a little.

You take your sweet time getting ready, too. Some downtime is well deserved and rare, but it gives you the perfect window of time - debating on your outfit takes the longest. You opt for a casual hairdo, one that won't get your neck all hot and sweaty once you start dancing. The watch on your left wrist reads 6:47 PM up at you.

Whooping voices can be heard outside your window as people saunter down the street, toward the festivities, you assume. You sneak a peek through the curtains, eyeing a gaggle of townsfolk laughing alongside one another. Their eyes are bright, voices uplifted and loud. The men clap each other on the shoulder aggressively, while the women jab each other in the sides with their elbows. There wasn't much to make out, but whatever they were joking about had them roaring with laughter.

Seeing the crowd inspires you to make way out the door. You ensure all your lights are off, save for your nightstand lamp to come back to an inviting space. A deep breath later, and you were out the door, too.

There's a new feeling in the air, and you can place it precisely. Upbeat music plays far down the small Jackson streets, but its effects are widespread. All around, the other residents beam brightly as they go about the evening. Most people nearest you exchange small 'hello's' and wave politely, others still smile your way. Tightness wells in your chest as you realize just how long it had been since you'd seen so many friendly faces.

The music's volume eventually blares as you near the open area for the dance. The weather proves to be fair enough to host the event outside, so rows of string lights hang between nearby poles and sides of buildings. In the back of the venue is a group of people wielding a variety of instruments, nodding and bouncing with the quick beat of what you knew as bluegrass music.

"Hey, look who's here!" A voice calls out. You glance around until you realize the call was for your attention. You turn to the voice and recognize the woman from last week's patrol, who'd given you the rundown of who your partners were.

You greet her in return before registering the rest of the group. A few of them could be familiar around town, but for the most part, new faces.

Except for one.

Joel's eyes aren't on yours when you find him in the group. He's looking to one of the men, seemingly in a deep conversation. Perhaps he could feel your eyes on him, because his eyes flicker to yours for a split second. He pauses, lets his conversation partner speak, while he gives you a polite nod, before turning back to the man.

The fluttering in your gut was a dead giveaway, this is why you wanted to come. The prospect of seeing Joel again was exciting, but usually slim. And here he was. If only he could just move on from his conversation...

A hand lands on your arm comfortingly. The kind woman tells you, "It's so good to see you again! How have you been settling in?"

There's a twinge of an accent in her words, Southern, but more subtle. Her words are as soft as a hug.

"It's been going alright, finally getting to decorating," you start. The woman listens. Wait... did she ever introduce herself? Shit. How were you supposed to see someone this much without knowing their name?

"That was the best part when I got here. Once I had my space set up, it really felt like home," she replies.

There's a beat of silence between you, and it breaks when you ask, "I'm sorry if this is awkward, but I never got your name the first time we met." You briefly introduce yourself before she replies.

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles, "I'm Cara. I never introduced myself, but I wanted you to have at least be one friendly face here."

"I'm thankful for it, I really am. It feels better now that we have names to the faces," you offer with a nervous smile.

Cara looks at you mischievously, softly grabbing your bicep, "Let's get a drink. Whaddya say?"

That kind offer melts your anxiety away, and all that's left is you, Cara, and the joy of sharing a drink with a friend. In moments, you have a glass of homemade mead in your hand.

Someone else from the group calls Cara over, so for a moment you're left alone with your cup of fermented honey goodness. It's sweet, slightly bitter, but leaves your stomach feeling warm as it settles. The burn in your throat is numbed by the warmth in your belly. You make it back to Cara's group and decided to strike up conversation with those folks, thinking that it'd be a good place to start.

The first few conversations are long - a flurry of questions about your background, your journey out to Jackson, and how you've been adjusting to the move. You learn some basics about some of them, but there's a distraction lingering in the back of your mind.

Joel.

A few people in the group break away to leave for the dance floor, the jovial music beckoning them ever closer. You don't follow immediately, which leaves you with a few stragglers, and him.

For the first time in days, you hear his voice again, "What'd you get?"

The question snaps you to attention, looking down into your glass. You glance back up at him and motion with the cup with a swish, "Some mead, I think. Pretty good."

He nods, "Pete makes some damn good mead, 'specially if it's for a party. Pulls out the good stuff."

Part of you wonders if his lighthearted talking is to make up for the blunder on last week's patrol, to ease the embarrassment you still held from it.

"What's in your cup?" You retort.

"Usually it's bourbon, but tonight, it's beer," he replies with a gaze into his own cup. He copies your motion and swirls the cup a few times. A bit of the foamy liquid sloshes out and onto the dirt in front of your, nicer, combat boots. Some of the beer spatters onto your feet and into the dirt.

"Damn, maybe they should cut me off," Joel jokes, reaching into his back pocket and revealing a handkerchief, holding it out to you. "Sorry 'bout that."

You take the cloth, "Making a mess of the place already, and it's not even eight o'clock yet, impressive."

The joke seems to land with Joel; you can tell by the way the corners of his eyes tighten.

Joel

What you say makes him chuckle. It's rare to find someone with a sense of humor these days. That kind of fresh attitude can bring a lot of life in a world like this, especially around here, especially after the loss these people have felt.

New folks were few and far between, given how desolate Jackson had become since the world fell to shit, but there was a wind of change when you arrived last week. Joel could tell from the second he saw you on patrol, even trotting ahead of the group at one point. The light in your eyes when you awed at the mountains tugged at his heartstrings. A type of longing for that kind of simple joy. To be young, without most of his hardships, seeing new parts of the world, even though it had shrunk.

On the patrol, you had gotten too far ahead, in line with Joel in the lead, and you knew it wasn't your place, but you hadn't shied away from him. In fact, you had embraced it, and listened keenly when Joel advised you keep your distance. Normally it'd feel like taming an unruly child, but you had a certain curiosity in your eyes, you were eager to learn.

Joel knows how harsh he can be, let alone to new faces. The worry of how that attitude rubs off on people subsided decades ago - one could say that Joel has truly embraced that 'grouchy old man' stereotype. That attitude has saved his ass more times than he could count, and has kept him safe after all these years. But, there's an unavoidable weight when it comes to hardening yourself up as much as Joel has. It's a truth that he's been evading for years. You make yourself untouchable, but you forget how much you need someone else.

Even so, it's easier that way. You keep losses to a minimum as long as you're not attached. Living that way had gotten him this far.

But now you stand in front of him, with beer-splattered boots and a kind smile despite your new shoes being soiled. You take his handkerchief and bend down to clean your shoes, and hand the cloth back to Joel. His fingers brush against yours when he takes it back - yours are delicately soft against his calloused ones, and it takes him by surprise.

In that split second, Joel's eyes search your face for any change, to see if you freeze like he does, to see if your breath hitches like his did, for any sign that this isn't just some fluke.

It could be a trick of the light, but Joel swears there's a new redness in your cheeks. When you look at him next, it's with bright, innocent eyes, a type of innocence Joel would surely ruin.

"Thank you, Joel," you say softly. His name on your lips is the sweetest thing he's ever heard, it's almost sickening.

Joel clears his throat and gives you a nod, "It's the least I can do."

The sun is dipping behind the mountains, streaking the sky with glorious pink hues against the emerging stars of dusk. A fiddle lilts happily as the song picks up pace, the tune itself serving as an invitation to get yourself moving. In the distance, Cara flashes you a wide smile, and waves a beckoning hand over to her gaggle of folks. You can barely make out her words as she mouths them.

"Let's dance!"

Joel notices your distraction, looking back at Cara trying to whisk you onto the dance floor. There's a good number of people breaking into a flurry of moves, all whooping and laughing as they pass one another. Joel looks back to you, the softness that was there before is seeming to dissipate. His face is hardened again, resigned.

"Guess I'm being stolen away," you say.

"Be careful," Joel replies, "Carried Away Cara doesn't let up. You'll be dancing for hours."

You comment, "Didn't know I signed up for that kind of night."

You've reached the group by now, and Cara is already handing you another glass of mead, and a huge smile to go along with it.

----

You're onto drink number four, you think, and the sky has shifted from a pale pink to a deep indigo, littered with bright stars and a beautiful crescent moon. It seems like the music has blurred together without beginning or end, and your boozy haze doesn't reveal any tiredness, so you keep dancing. Joel was right, Cara's had you dancing for what feels like hours at this point. But damn, did she know how to party.

The song the group's playing begins to slow down, and part of the crowd disperses away. Chattering can be overheard amidst the quieting music. You place a mostly-empty glass onto a nearby picnic table and look around the venue. Folks pass you by with a pep in their step, their faces flushed red from alcohol and relentless dancing.

A breath of fresh air wafts through the venue, rustling through your hair that had tacked with sweat to the nape of your neck. You smile from the sensation, relishing in the cool air across your hot skin. Shit, what time is it?

Your watch beams 10:13 PM back up at you.

Damn, where did all that time go?

The night has given you a rush of adrenaline you haven't found in what feels like months. Something about this dance is erupting a sense of joy you were sure you'd never feel again. Laughter, dancing, good people. Such simple things really do lift the spirits.

You can feel a pointed stare at you off to the side, but do you dare look? Of course you do - it's not like the mead is letting you act composed. Being as subtle as you can muster in your state, you glance to the side, where that looming sense had come from. Far off, leaning against a tall wooden fence, is Joel.

While he had practically ignored you when you'd first seen him tonight, he can't take his eyes off of you in this moment. Your heart skips a beat when he holds the stare, his deep brown eyes never leave yours, even as other partygoers pass between you. It's as if the world had paused, but perhaps just for you, frozen under Joel's gaze, the sole subject of his attention.

He stands alone on the side. No one to interrupt you if you go over...

Before you decide, you wave and smile. A silly drunken grin you'd normally hide. Right now, with his focus only on you, is the most alive you've felt in months. The high of it creeps up from behind, whispering encouragement in the form of a dare. Go up to him.

Your legs make the journey before you register what's happening; your body suddenly has a mind of its own, no way to back down now.

The narrowing distance from Joel pushes your heart to your throat. While your legs carry you smoothly, your senses are turned upside down. The anxiety you have about Joel is nothing but a distant memory. Tonight, you'd overcome your nervousness.

"Not much of a dancer, hm?" You call to him over the music.

A small smile spreads across his lips, "With these knees, I'm lucky to do a damn foxtrot. Someone out there was having the time of their life, though."

He truly has a gift. The moment he speaks, everything else seems to disappear. God, you'd ask him question after question just to hear that voice - deep and gravelly, but the accent is thick and sweet like molasses. A slip of your imagination has you wandering into uncharted territory. Imagine a "baby" or "honey" or "sweetheart" in that voice... Your mind vacates long enough for Joel to arch an eyebrow at you, and you're immediately brought back down to earth.

"I don't know how I went dancing for that long," you exhale.

Joel shakes his head with a chuckle, "You'll get some damn good sleep, that's for sure."

It'd be better if you were sleeping with me.

The unfiltered thought jolts through you, snapping you back to attention. Maybe the mead was making you a little too confident.

Behind you both, the music group's slow beat has pulled folks into a smooth rhythm. The dance floor littered with small groups and couples as the song continued. This new intimate energy could not have been timed any worse. You took a big breath and let it out slowly.

"It's getting late, I should probably head home."

Joel pauses, looking toward the band, then down into a cup of amber-brown liquid. Maybe he resorted back to his usual bourbon.

You follow suit and watch the band play on. A tug in your chest begs you not to go, not yet.

"Think you got time for one last go?" His question snaps your head to him. There's a new spark in his eyes, a softer glint amidst the chocolate brown.

Your answer is immediate, breathless, "Of course."

Anything. Anything for him.

As long as it reveals a glimpse of the man underneath the tough shell. It's still in him.

Joel extends his hand, palm up, to take yours. You lay yours on top plainly, holding a breath at the sensation of your skin against his. It's not like before with the handkerchief. This time, it's intentional, he wants to touch you.

The way his fingers curl to hold your hand settled that debate. His touch is careful. It didn't take a genius to know how rough he could be, with those toned muscles shifting under his plaid shirt; in contrast, he held you with such delicacy, as if you'd break if he gripped too hard.

"You know how to dance at all?" Joel asks.

You bark a laugh, "With this many drinks in me? Highly doubt it."

Joel's laugh is louder this time around. You can actually make it out, and you can feel that it's genuine. "I warned you about Cara. Now I get a drunk dance partner."

"Hey, you asked me to dance. You don't get to give me shit for havin' a good time," your words slur together, proving Joel's point.

Amidst the crowd, Joel manages to find you two a nice spot with plenty of room. The surrounding couples look how you feel - entranced with their partners, focused and attentive, like the other person is the only one left in the world.

"How 'bout this? You lead me."

You freeze, "But, I-I don't know what to d-"

"Do what you want. I'll follow."

"And if I make a fool of myself?" You question.

His other hand migrates to your waist, holding you gently at your side, "The you better really sell it."

Your laugh is giddy. He lets you have room for mistakes. There's room to be human around him.

A deep exhale later, you place your hands on Joel's shoulders and begin to sway, a slow and steady pace with the beat of the song. Seems the mead has done its work of clouding your judgement - you're locked in the swaying motion.

"Is this okay?" You ask softly, finding Joel's eyes. There's a warmth in them you hadn't seen before.

He nods gently, "You lead the way, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."

Who'd have known that a single word could melt you completely. Your mind instantly hooks on it, cycles it in your mind as if to brand it into your memory.

Sweetheart.

Your smile is instant, but feels like one of those sloppy, stupid drunk grins that reveal how not-yourself you are at the words.

And so, you sway. As promised, Joel follows right along.

He shifts closer, readjusting the hold on your waist, spanning his fingers along the small of your back. A polite caress, not meandering and wandering around like most drunk men you'd encountered. Joel can keep his hands to himself. Joel has manners. Joel has self-control.

There's a lead to follow with his movements, you discover. It does feel more natural to wrap your arms around his neck like this...

In a swift moment you've melted into him, and with it, your nerves.

You also find that it's far more comfortable to rest your head on his chest. A beat later, your senses return, and you raise yourself back into standing position, realizing the crossed boundary.

"Gettin' tired already?" Joel asks bemusedly.

Maybe he didn't catch it. Thank goodness.

"You're basically rocking me to sleep here," you quip back.

Joel reminds you, "You're the one leading us."

You roll your eyes as you shake your head, bringing a laugh from him again. The sound of it lights you up from inside, flipping your stomach. You'd already learned that that sound was rare.

"Some dance partner I am," you say sarcastically. Joel's smile broadens, and the hand on your back shifts. His thumb idly sweeps across your spine.

Somehow, your arms are back around his neck, and your head is against his chest, all without protest. Joel's thumb still caresses your back as a sign. The song in the background changes to something simpler, with fewer instruments, giving highlight to a slow solo from the fiddle player.

"You're right, I think I'm gonna sleep like a log tonight," you murmur.

Joel's chuckle vibrates against your cheek. The huff of his laugh gives you a whiff of bourbon, sickly sweet and smoky, blending in with his deeper woodsy scent.

"You gotta be more careful next time," his voice slows. "We'll get some water in ya, help fight that hangover tomorrow."

You nod against him, smiling broadly, knowing that you're in good hands. Your words come out sheepishly, "I'm sorry I got so drunk. I... didn't think you'd see me like this."

A gentle squeeze on your side.

Joel's breath skirts across your neck when he mutters, "You think I'm gonna blame you for havin' a good time?"

His lips graze the shell of your ear as he speaks, and his words have a secrecy to them, an intimacy you hadn't seen from him before. You pay attention to the feel of his lips on your skin - they're soft and gentle, but know where to drag along in all the right places.

It's enough to leave your knees wobbling in your drunken stupor, high purely off of his touch, head spinning as you search for a new sensation.

"It has been pretty fun," you reply between trembling breaths.

There's a subtle brush of lips against your neck when he speaks, "I'd say I'm havin' a pretty good time."

Your knees practically buckle beneath you.

The rush of it all has you pulled back from him now, staring at him with surprised eyes. It's not that you didn't enjoy or accept that move, just that quickly, in front of so many people...

Joel's look shifts to something of embarrassment, "Maybe I've had a lil' too much."

You let out a nervous laugh, "I think I'm right there with you, I... I'm sorry."

He doesn't ask what the apology is for. He knows exactly which line was crossed. The hardened look returning to his eyes tells you that this moment of bliss is coming to an end.

"You don't got anything to be sorry for," the thick Texas accent is palpable in his reassurance. "I'm bein' a fool."

A fool. For doing this.

Hopefully he can't see the way that word breaks you. You force a bigger smile, a dismissive one that says 'we can just forget this ever happened', with a wave of a hand.

You offer, "Like you said, just having a good time."

His smile is wry. There's something unreadable in his expression.

Nonetheless, his grip of your waist loosens, releasing you as the fiddle in the background song comes to a silent end. Something akin to tension hangs in the air between you, pulled taught like a string to be severed.

"Well, I won't keep ya any longer. I... appreciate the dance. I know you're probably itchin' to get back in bed, so..." Joel says, trailing off, pressing his lips into a thin line.

You nod, collecting yourself, "Y-Yeah, probably good to get some sleep soon. You, too."

Joel smiles again, but his heart isn't in it like before.

He gives you a quick pat on the shoulder, eyes averted, "Get home safe, alright?"

Before you can wish him the same, he's lost amidst the crowd.

Hello, my sweethearts! So glad to be developing this story more, and I hope you've been enjoying so far! If you'd like, vote in the poll below for how'd you like to see this story develop (if you catch my drift)

As always, thank you so much for your support. And if you're new, it's nice to meet you! Love you all!

-Bunny

{all banners/dividers are from cafekistune on Tumblr}

[beauregardlionett]

did i rant to my friends about dorian and orym just to be called a simp? yes i did. and i'll do it again.

these two characters? consume my waking thoughts. because just fucking think about this from a timeline/literary point of view for a second with me.

orym lost his husband and his father-in-law (who he always calls dad because he didn't have a dad growing up) in a violent attack on his leader a while ago and whatever magic was used to kill them kept them dead - no reviving magic worked to bring them back. in the space of a single attack, he lost two of the most important people in his life, and now he's a widow who still mourns and loves in equal measure even while far from home trying to save the world. he loves even though he's scared of losing again.

dorian is a runaway heir to a title he never really wanted, a musician for himself, a charlatan hiding behind an easy smile, who has really only ever wanted to see the world in his own time and make real friends for once in his life. and he did that! all on his own! he was with the group at the beginning of the campaign but then they ran into his older brother who was in trouble and needed to lay low and dorian went with him, falling back on old instincts that family by blood comes first. he ran from the group and from the foundations he was building with them. because dorian has only ever run from the things that scare him. but now he's back, re-traced his frightened footsteps toward the daunting promise of tomorrow - not yet with the group, we're getting his side of the story first. and he even said it himself, that he ran from the group and now he's not sure why he did it, why he left, when he stands here now and realizes everything he wanted was already in front of him.

they have sending stones, a once a day chance to say something to each other in 25 words or less. they've been using them, keeping each other updated on where they are, that they're still alive, and kindling this flame even without dorian at the table, without even seeing each other, and liam has been carrying this torch alone for 78 episodes but damn it the flame is still lit regardless!

and orym always updates on their progress and location first, and with whatever words he has left he drops in a sentiment to remind dorian that they still care - that orym still cares. and orym is practical through and through, he's a strategist so he always always always uses his words wisely because he's so fucking limited by this spell but the last message he sent? he repeated himself, he admitted a weakness, he faltered.

he told dorian where they were. he asked if dorian could come their way. he admitted to struggling while his voice broke. he asked again but in a different way if dorian could come their way. he ended the message with the most heartbreaking "fuck, i miss you," i have ever heard in my life.

orym, the man who messaged dorian 52 episodes ago and said "glad you're not here, wish you were anyway." because they're constantly in danger, and he wouldn't wish that on dorian, but he still aches to have him near. orym, the man who confessed 13 episodes ago during a trial with his friends that he's lonely, that he misses dorian and sometimes he thinks it's okay and sometimes he doesn't - because he was married and is still mourning and how dare he have feelings for someone else? how dare he move on even when his husband would WANT him to be happy again? he indicated dorian was missed by everyone in three of his previous messages before the trial, before finally shifting to 'I, orym, me - it's me who misses you'.

and dorian, the one who replied to a message orym sent him with "stay steadfast, sending you fairer winds" in the most longing tone i have EVER heard. dorian, who kissed orym's forehead when they parted ways but that is the closest they have come to acknowledging whatever is between them. dorian, who has been to orym's home between exu and c3 and met orym's mom and knows about orym's husband.

when orym died 58 episodes ago, he went limp and the sending stone slipped out of his hand because he was trying to message dorian before he died, before he ran out of words and breath. before he was revived, there was a moment he stood in the beyond and saw his husband and he told orym "you're not done," and orym said "i really wish i could stay," and then his husband said "i'll still be here," and orym said, heartbroken, "oh, i miss you so bad."

he told dorian, "i've really missed you," and "fuck, i miss you." i miss you is orym's way of saying i love you.

they're so close. they are so close. and orym fully died 19 episodes after dorian left, but he was revived and then never told dorian via sending that happened. part of me wants dorian to find out and the other part hopes he never has to feel like he failed orym by leaving. because nothing could have changed that from happening, not even dorian.

they are so close to reuniting, orym has needed dorian back for WEEKS and he's so close. i'm begging them to hold on so they can hold each other again.

and, again, from a literary point of view, you know the wildest part about all of this?

none of it is scripted.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi! Are you still taking 1K event request? I saw it now...

If yes, i would like to ask for a ThorinXHis Queen SFW headcanon if that's okay?

When you sent this request in, I was still taking requests, so you’re absolutely good! I decided to make this Thorin x Queen!reader, so afab!reader applies here. Thank you for sending this in. Enjoy!

Content & Warnings: fluff, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Thank you to everyone who have sent in requests for the 1k follower event. Requests are currently closed, please do not send any further requests in. Thank you!

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very affectionate but mostly in private or during a relaxed public moment. For example, if you and Thorin are in the throne room, Thorin is less likely to show affection to you during that time. Same goes for any official business. You and Thorin are ultimately there to work. Thorin would however be more affectionate during a festival, party, feast, etc. This is a more relaxed atmosphere, and he’d be more inclined to openly touch you, kiss you, and even serve you food. He is much softer with you in private than in public.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It’s a friends to lovers situation. Thorin needs trusts and friendship to build on first before he can dive in. I suspect that you and Thorin met during a meet cute situation where the two of you had a good laugh over something and the friendship grew from there. A good foundation built on friendship is important for a lasting marriage.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Thorin is a cuddler and snuggler. You cannot change my mind about that. When it’s been a particularly long day, Thorin loves nothing more than curling up beside you and drawing you into his arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Wants to settle down, but isn’t the best at domestic life. And by that I mean, Thorin isn’t particularly dirty, but I wouldn’t say he’s the best at cleaning and cooking. He is a King now, so there are other people who help with that.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Thorin is never separating himself from his Queen. Ever. But if he had to break off a relationship, I can—in an unhealthy way—try to run or turn cold before you’re the one who confronts him over his behavior.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Thorin believes in commitment, and knows himself well enough that he’d know rather quickly if this is something he wants in life.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Very gentle, but has his moments. Thorin is strong-willed, and sometimes that causes him to be insensitive when he doesn’t mean to be. However, he will own up to his mistakes—with you, but maybe not others—and you can forgive in that capacity. Otherwise, Thorin is aware of you needs, and is not one to cause harm.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Doesn’t give them often, but they are some of the best.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Thorin will say it quickly if he knows his heart. He’d find a quiet, private moment to say it in the hopes you’d say it, too. (And obviously you did).

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s more protective—and slightly possessive—rather than jealous. Thorin knows where he stands with you, but that doesn’t mean he likes all the attention you receive. Before you were Queen, Thorin did lean toward jealousy whenever he thought someone else was stepping over the line and making a move when they shouldn’t.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His facial hair is always scratching your skin but you like it. Thorin will often give you absent, almost chaste kisses most of the time. He saves the more passionate ones for closed doors.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Good with kids. Endless patience for them even when he has none.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Depends. As King, he has lots of duties, and doesn’t always have time to sleep in. But when he can stay, it’s spent casually.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, it depends. If he’s working late, don’t expect much. You will be in bed before him, but if he has an early night, expect him to use this time for you. Might be completely innocent, might not.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Thorin isn’t one to info dump about himself. He will likely reveal small pieces of himself over time to you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Thorin is easily angered/irritated but rarely with you. He sees you, his Queen, as a buffer to his responsibility. If anything, he’ll easily anger or grow irritated with advisors and people wasting his time.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Thorin is the kind of person to not forget anything but he’ll leave you guessing. It might seem like he’s forgotten something and then he’ll turn around and completely surprise you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Thorin’s favorite moment is when you first kissed him. And not on the lips. Your first quick, chaste kiss on the cheek did him in.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective, sometimes overly so. Thorin will go out of his way to ensure your safety before his own, and he finds it cute when you try to return the same effort.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Thorin would try, but he wouldn’t be perfect it. With his duties, Thorin might slip up in the moment but he’ll eventually remember, or even do something delayed for you. He’s very stressed.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I’ve talked about this before in another post, but this man would absolutely leave things around, especially smithing tools and random weapons. Thorin is not organized.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Hardly. Thorin knows he’s good looking but he’s not going to flaunt it around.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, but Thorin also understands the importance of duty. That duty might force him away from you for periods of time. That doesn’t mean he won’t yearn until he returns.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Whenever he’s feeling a bit tense, Thorin only needs to reach out for a quick reassuring touch to calm him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Arrogance—which is funny since Thorin can be arrogant and prideful, and doesn’t always see it in himself. But he hates it in other people. He also wouldn’t want a Queen who didn’t love his people, but Thorin wouldn’t have married you if that were the case.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Can fall asleep almost anywhere. Life on the road drilled that into him.

taglist:

@glassgulls @childofyuggoth @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet

@singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @coffeecaketornado

@miaraei @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @ferns-fics @ninman82

@thewulf @beebeechaos @hantheconqueror

[pisoprano]

piso’s guide to writing Luka music metaphors that make sense

Now I know what you’re thinking: “Luka’s shtick is that his music metaphors go over people’s heads.” In canon, certainly, Luka will just say something poetic about how music works. However, what he says may or may not follow how music actually works and that disconnect from reality can be jarring for the audience (the wind cannot play like it’s a bow no matter how you hold your violin up to it). What I prefer to do instead is to write music metaphors that would be an authentic part of Luka’s musical experience and it only goes over people’s heads because he assumes that everyone knows what he’s talking about and doesn’t think to explain what he means.

For example, Luka might say something like “We have an incomplete rhythm section” to say that someone foundational to the group is missing. Does the average person know what a rhythm section is? No. (It’s the people on drums, bass, and keyboard (usually) and they provide the basic groove that the other performers build off of). But Luka lives and breathes this stuff, so he’s going to overestimate how much other people know unless he’s actually asked to explain.

There is, however, a potential pitfall for writers trying to do their research to keep Luka accurate: music isn’t a monolith. If you try to look up something like “music terminology,” you’re most likely to end up with only words from classical music because it’s such a rigorously defined music tradition. Luka, however, is a kid in a rock band—yes, he does have experience with making violins as well, but his default musical experience is popular music, not classical. Kids in rock bands usually do not go to music school to learn music theory, they just listen to what other bands are doing and get inspired to make their own music—it’s not even necessary to know how to read music, given that many highly popular music icons didn’t bother to learn. With this in mind, it would not make sense for Luka to use words like “madrigal” at random, given that that is a form of vocal music from the Renaissance and completely outside of what he spends his time thinking about. Instead, he’s going to think about things like how it feels to get in the groove, experiences of being onstage, needing to deal with a broken string after playing too hard, etc. And those sorts of things are not likely to be found by looking up words you don’t know, it’s going to be found listening to people who have experience in this particular area of music.

But that still leaves the question: if what Luka is talking about is supposed to go over people’s heads, how is the reader supposed to follow what’s going on? That is where you plant just enough context clues for the reader to get the basic gist. To use our earlier example (where Luka likens his situation to an incomplete rhythm section), you can then add a more comprehensible line to help interpret it, “and it’s going to be difficult to find the groove without all the players here.” You might even forgo the terminology altogether and just describe the situation more plainly—for example, “the audience started clapping on the on beat” might not sound like a bad thing for non-musical people, but calling it the “wrong beat” is going to make the problem clearer (even if they might not fully understand why misplaced clapping is so annoying). The point is that you give the non-musical reader enough to go on to understand the thrust of the conversation, but if you do have knowledge of what Luka is actually talking about, it makes what he says all the richer.

[berylcups]

Could I maybe request SDC +Dio with a s/o that gets their work hours cut in half, and maybe they go scare the manager or smthn? Idk I'm not creative with prompts lmao. Thought it would be funny, thank youuu!!

SDC + DIO x Reader with their hours cut

CW: Death mention, horny old people,

Notes: hey! Sorry it took so long! I really tried with this one. 😭 I hope you like it! I’m still fleshing out their personalities. I’m still getting used to writing new characters. Even if this sux I hope you and everyone else can find some sort of enjoyment from this! 💜 Beryl

*also for my non-murican’ readers Target is a like a smaller scale Walmart but pretends to be bougie 🥴

Joseph

-Platonic-

“Why ask for xtra hours when you can get an allowance from your greatest grandad ever???”

-Romantic-

“Who needs a job when you got a sugar daddy ??? 😘”

SEND THAT HORNY OLD BASTARD TO THE NURSING HOME 🏠

——————————————————

Richie McRichardson doesn’t realize that you need to build a good resume. 🙄 or the fact we live in the real world where we have to make our own money.

Well no friend of his is going to get their hours cut! He’s going to use hermit purple to fuck around with electronics section and manipulate the tvs to make them glitch out and act possessed.

“GiVe Y/n FuLl TiMe HoUrS aNd BeNeFiTs…. Or ElSe. GiVe ThEm A pAy RaIsE ToO…”

“AlSo… ClEaN uP oN IsLe 6…”

Jotaro

“Good grief. Do I really need to get involved in this? Fine. Let’s go.” He sighed as he cracked his knuckles.

Your boss might die today. 😬 tell him to hold back a bit kay? I don’t think the Speedwagon Foundation wants to bail him out for getting into a onesided fist fight with a Target supervisor.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to do much. All he has to do is stare your boss down menacingly.

“I heard you were cutting Y/Ns hours. How about you fix that?”

Your supervisor is literally pissing their pants. 😰 He doesn’t leave until you get all your hours. Then he’s gonna smoke INSIDE the damn store because he’s disrespectful. If anyone tells him there’s no smoking allowed in the store he’s going to tell them to go fuck themselves 😭

Kakyoin

He’s going to use his charm to get his way. He’s gonna get you your hours back. If his charisma SOMEHOW doesn’t work he’s going to use Hierophant Green to string himself out so the boss and other employees keep tripping over what looks like nothing. 😂

The boss is freaking out getting slapped in the face and his ass whipped and has no idea what’s going on.

“Was this store built on a fucking graveyard?!” Your boss panics.

“You should really watch where you’re going sir.” He says smugly.

The boss finally gives in to your demands after they get clotheslined by HGs tentacle limb 🥴

Avdol

“Hmm? You're not getting any hours? That’s not according to YOUR fortune habibi/habibti! 😉”

He got some tricks up his sleeve. He’s going to get you your fortune…as told by his fortune! 🔮😅

“I have seen your fortune! You’re in grave danger. According to the ___ card it means you are going to lose all your wealth, health, and happiness!”

Your boss somehow believes this. Who wouldn’t believe a charismatic self assured middle eastern man in ornate robes and jewelry??? That’s a person you won’t forget!

To add some extra razzle dazzle he catches your bosses hair on fire. 🔥

Now he really thinks he’s cursed.

“Tell me mysterious customer! How do I fix this?! 😭😭😭”

Return the slab— “Give Y/N their hours back! And give them all the benefits and pay raises they need to live comfortably!”

Your boss gives in and does everything Avdol says. You’re officially getting paid as much as your boss now in fear of getting “cursed” again. …and to prevent 3rd degree burns 🥵

Polnareff

Your boss is about ready to taste some metal and I’m not talking about guns.

“Hey—! What gives?! First you don’t give my amour their hours and now your toilets are filthy and broken as hell! They won’t flush! 😤”

He’s already a menace for clogging the toilet. 😬 he’s going to go Karen mode on your boss.

“What the hell kind of economy do you think we live in pal?! I demand you give my baby all their hours! What do you expect them to live off of? Ramen noodles?! Not on my watch buddy!” He’s loud af and poking him in the chest.

If he back sasses the mighty Polnareff he’s going to have to sword fight Silver Chariot with a pool noodle from the outdoors section. 😅

He uses his craftsman’s swordship to slice the bosses belt and pubically pantses him 😂

He has no idea how he was able to air sword fight and cut his belt but he did and that’s why you have all your hours and why Polnareff is banned from every single Target ever in existence. Like that’s gonna stop him 🥴

Dio

“Why work such a meager job when you can work for me and kill the joestars instead ~?”

Because we don’t want to get our asses hospitalized and we live in the real world asshole. 🙄

Very well~. Dio is a generous partner, he will gladly solve your employment problem. 😈

But first—shopping spree~ 💅 he’s gonna fill up on some hair gel, green lipstick, sunscreen, and other unnecessary Knick Knacks. Yes he has a Live Laugh Love poster decoration in the basket. 🤢

“So I heard from my lovely Y/N that you aren’t giving them enough hours. How about a compromise? I’m in a good mood today so I’ll let you live if you give them all their hours back plus a raise.”

Your boss can’t believe you had the audacity to bring in a metrosexual bi vampire to scare him into getting what you want! He’s not gonna take you crazies seriously and tell you to take a hike!

“Oh ho~…” he has a mischievous glint in his eyes. Well you can’t stop him now!

“The World!!!” He summons his stand and takes his shopping cart.

“Road roller at target!!!” He laughs like a mad man as he runs over your boss.

…I think he’s dead ☠️

Dio somehow uses his charm to make you the new boss of Target. You still do the same job you usually do— you just get the pay and title now while everyone else does the hard work…. Honestly I don’t think you even need to go to work anymore. You’re just getting paid just to be paid!

[valorascult]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 / 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝)

**disclaimer**

I am not against self improvement. Wanting to be the best version of yourself is your birthright. There are a lot of helpful books, ‘gurus’, articles, practices, etc; that are beneficial & have valuable information to share.

That being said, lets move forward.

Many start their ‘self improvement journey’ when they are at their lowest because that’s when you are most aware that something is ‘wrong’ - making you more vulnerable / susceptible to deception & addiction.

It usually starts by reading a book, watching a yt video, etc;. You watch / read one and then continue to consume more, because ‘maybe the next one will finally get me to where i need to be’ - not understanding that this is just another form of entertainment and procrastination.

There is satisfaction after immediately reading a self help book. You have a quick rush of ‘I’ve accomplished something’ (dopamine) - giving you the illusion of progress until you get stuck inside a cycle and realize, nothing has changed.

Sitting behind a screen is not the self improvement you think it is. Is there good knowledge shared? Yes, of course, but the real self improvement starts by actually DOING. Living life will give you more answers than binging content.

Action Faking - ‘the practice of confusing being 'busy' with making actual progress towards an intended goal and often involves a lot of over-analysing and planning, but very little meaningful action.’

Listening to someone talk about their own lives & share their own improvement stories is not going to help YOU. Gurus try to fit everyone into a mold when self improvement is not a ‘one size fits all’ & when something doesn’t work for someone after its worked for others, they usually see themselves as a ‘failure’ so they move onto the next thing that doesn’t fit them & this becomes a pattern, soon they start to build levels of guilt and shame.

Before consuming anything, you should know the specific problem you want to solve, if not, you are coming into something without a strong foundation, soon, you will start to believe there are 500 other things wrong. Don’t get sucked into a black hole.

Also, understand that many other these therapists, psychologists, content creators, etc; all thrive off of people who are at their lowest. It’s important to know when someone really wants to help vs when someone keeps wanting you to come back. The industry is worth billions.

Many have been accustomed to pacifying the silence. Always picking up the phone, turning the tv on, listening to music when there is downtime, instead of tapping into our bodies - their thoughts and feeling have now become distorted & influenced by ‘the noise’.

Fake positivity instead of facing reality is an issue within itself. These ‘positive’ messages / posts about encouragement and ‘never giving up’ convinces you that it’s ‘wrong’ to changes paths / passions in life & you then see yourself as a failure instead of a soul, growing.

With all of that being said, remove yourself from artificial motivation & start doing. I have nothing against self improvement, but I do have an issue with the addictive side of it that seems to only profit a select few.

xoxo,

valora

[guitarstringed-scars]

on stage- s. hinata

act two, scene four: opening night and final bows

masterlist

the morning passes quickly. you spend it pacing back and forth in your apartment, changing your outfit 6 times, and freaking out. you’ve done this before, directed a play. this is what you want to do for the rest of your life, but it feels so nerve wracking every time. sure you told shoyo that you weren’t nervous, he doesn’t need to know anyway. it’ll only make him nervous, and he needs to give the performance of a lifetime tonight.

finally its 1:00, and you head out of the apartment. you want to get there early to make sure the house is all clean, and ready for however many people come tonight. the programs have been delivered and sit on the front desk of the theater building. you grab the box and start to unpack them. on the front cover, it reads ‘directed by y/n l/n’ and you can’t help but smile. directly under it there is ‘written by keiji akaashi’. you feel proud of your friends and all of the hard work they dedicate to this, just to help you out. kozume who spends late nights setting up lights. shimizu who learned how to work the sound for you. hitoka who adds on costumes for your plays on top of her mountain of items to make for her studies. you also feel grateful for koutaro who even though you’ll never let him in one of your productions, he continues to be your biggest cheerleader, and toru who always puts his heart into every performance.

you feel especially grateful for shoyo, who has quickly become a shining light in this production. even if you barely spoke for 3 weeks, the rest of the time he was the kindest, most enthusiastic, excited person on the cast. you are snapped out of your thoughts by hitoka and shimizu entering the building.

“happy opening night!” hitoka cheers, bounding over to you and tackling you in a hug. “we did it!”

“don’t jinx it! we haven’t even opened yet!” you say, quickly shutting her down.

“well everything you and me can do is done, it’s on everyone else now!” she continues celebrating.

shimizu laughs and leaves to set up for sound. kenma shows up soon after.

“you’ll be in the booth tonight, right?” he asks you.

“yup! i’ll probably show up a bit after show start.” you say. he nods and heads into the booth.

you and hitoka continue setting up the lobby for the next half hour as the cast starts shuffling in. you greet everyone, and hitoka heads down to the costume closet.

shoyo shows up at exactly 2. he rushes in, and half hazardly shoots you a distracted nod. just as soon as he’s there, he’s gone in the costume shop without a hello.

you spend the next 4 hours doing busy work, trying to distract yourself from the show, and rushing around when you bump into shoyo.

he’s in his costume, and looks absolutely perfect. only downside is he isn’t wearing his stage makeup.

“oh shoot, i completely forgot i said i’d do your makeup, come on shoyo!” you grab his hand and drag him to the dressing room. it’s emptied out by this point, just soft music playing off of a speaker in the corner. shoyo plops down in a chair as you grab some makeup. as you pat the foundation into his skin, he finally begins to speak.

“i’m nervous.” he says.

“i know. you’ve been quiet today.”

he laughs a bit as you brush his face with powder.

“i don’t want to mess this up.” he says.

“and like i keep saying, you wont.”

he goes quiet again, looking at his reflection from the corner of his eye.

“this makeup makes me look funny.” he says, giggling a bit.

“thats the point.” you say, focusing on darkening his eyebrows.

“really?” he asks.

“no, not really. it just is to make your expressions easier to read from the audience.”

“hm.” he mumbles as you pick up the lipstick. it’s about the same color as his lips now. as you open the cap, he speaks again. “can i kiss you before you put it on?” he asks. you look up from focusing on the lipstick. you giggle a bit before applying the lipstick on him. he frowns slightly.

as you finish up his makeup he stands up to leave. you turn his face before he can stand up, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“break a leg!” you shout, rushing out of the room. you don’t look back, but if you did, you would’ve seen a flustered shoyo standing in shock.

you rush to the lobby, greeting audience members as they enter. you cheerfully hand them programs up until 10 minutes until show time. you hand off your stack of programs to hitoka and rush back stage.

“PLACES” you shout, and then the rushing around intensifies as actors swarm backstage. you rush to the lighting booth, slumping down in the seat next to kenma.

“good job.” he whispers, patting your shoulder as he hands you a headset. you take a breath.

you completely black out during the show. the last two hours are a blank space in your mind. there are two things you know.

one, it was amazing

and

two, you need to get on stage and address the audience.

so number two is exactly what you do. being a director, you aren’t really used to being on stage. so when the hot lights hit your face, you feel the nerves kick in.

“hi, my name is y/n l/n and i directed this play. i wanted to thank you all for coming and supporting university theater, and i also want to recognize the hard work for our cast and crew, so please give them another round of applause!” the audience erupts into cheers. “i hope you find the time to come back tomorrow, or tell your friends and family to attend. thank you again!” you smile and quickly rush off the stage as the audience begins to file out. you quickly rush through the back doors where you are greeted by the cast. toru tackles you in a hug before running off to the lobby with the others. you look out for a head of red hair, but find nothing, so you head to the lobby as well.

as you make it to the lobby, you spot all of your friends. shimizu and kozume both look exausted, hitoka and koutaro are both excitedly chatting about the costumes, and toru looks especially proud of how opening night went. as you approach, you are swept into a suffocating hug from koutaro.

“great stuff y/n! i hope you let me in the next one!” he speaks, a little too loudly for the enclosed space.

“in your dreams bo.” you say, laughing into his shoulder. “if you two are tired, you should head home. i can clean up here tonight, since we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow.” you address shimizu and kozume. shimizu falls into your arms and hugs you.

“y/n, you are the best.” she says as the two of them head off. ”lets all go find shoyo!” toru says, leading the group to the large gathering of boys volleyball players. in the center is the man himself. he smiles and laughs with the others and you feel your heart pang. he notices you quickly, and tackles you in a hug.

“you were incredible.” you mumble into his chest. he says nothing, but you can feel his smile grow against your face.

“i brought these for you.” he says, pulling away from the hug. from his bag he pulls out a slightly smushed bouquet of your favorite flowers. “thats why i was so rushed getting here today, because i was afraid you’d catch on to the surprise.”

you just smile and hug him again.

“i don’t want this show to be over!” he complains.

“hey, we have another show tomorrow, and a date on sunday, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” you say.

and you feel perfectly comfortable.

a/n: IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! there is a possibility of bonus stuff but i need a break from this! my first ever fic is done! this may be some of my worst writing ever, but that is okay because it's done, and i love it and i love shoyo. OKAY YAY BYE READ MY OTHER STUFF!

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 40

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Homophobia

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, January 18th; 7:50 AM - School Grounds.

Anxiety slowly takes over me. I’m about to meet my new class in a few minutes. Fortunately, I won’t be doing it alone. Both  Leah and  Lotte are accompanying me on this new adventure, thank God. I would have gone crazy otherwise. As if I hadn’t already had a disastrous night… Nothing is ever normal at home anyway. Everything always happens at once. My nightmares came back stronger than ever. I found myself drenched in sweat in my little bed at three in the morning. I was lucky not to have woken up Lucy. I was in a terrible state. I even had to get up and change. I think she noticed I wasn’t wearing the same pajamas this morning, but she didn’t ask me about it. She’s understood my need for space since her rejection. I don’t want to deal with her until I’ve sorted things out in my head. It’s painful, but I have to look at things positively... I’ve finally granted her wish to sleep in separate beds. Even though it worked against me last night, it’s also what I want now. It was a mistake to get used to being in her arms. I should have known better. I suddenly remembered why I keep my distance from people. But now it’s too late. Too late to regret what’s been done. The problem is, I’ve become dependent on her. That’s an undeniable fact. I found myself lying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. Her steady breathing calmed me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone, but I still couldn’t sleep. The realization that it was her, her presence against me, that I missed completely overwhelmed me. I had never reached this stage with anyone before, not even Mapi. Instead of swallowing my pride by waking her up or joining her, I locked myself in the bathroom and slid down to the floor. I was on the verge of breaking down, realizing the situation I was in. Everything hit me all at once, and I hadn’t seen it coming. I let her into my life, and now there’s no turning back. I could have cried out in sheer pain, but I didn’t. I held it in because I had no right to do otherwise. I put myself in this situation. The rest of the night gave me plenty of time to reflect with my tormented mind. I ended up spending the rest of the night on that floor until it was time to sneak back to my bed. I didn’t want  Lucy to notice my suspicious absence. My plan worked, and it’s likely to be very effective next time. Though, I doubt my body can endure this for long. I’m already struggling now. I noticed dark circles in the mirror this morning, and my eyes sting.  Lucy couldn’t see them. I rushed to the bathroom as soon as the alarm rang to cover my face with foundation.

“Relax,  Ona,”  Leah chuckles, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You’re acting like we’re going to a funeral. Your stress is palpable from miles away.”

“You’re funny,” I grumbled. “You both know everyone here, unlike me. It feels like I’m starting school all over again.”

“You weren’t even this tense when you first arrived here,” she mocks.

“I didn’t care about being here back then,” I say, shrugging. “Remember, I was looking for a way out.”

“Not anymore?”  Lotte asks.

“Looks like things change.”

“Little Batlle is evolving!”  Leah jokes. “I thought we’d finally get to see a rebel.”

“Pff, nonsense. Of course, Bronze managed to train her student again.”

That unknown voice was harsh. I look around to find the person who dared to listen in on our conversation. I spot a student I don’t know at all. She seems to be mocking me.

“Got a problem?” I reply.

“Me?” she answers, feigning outrage. “Not at all. I was just saying  Bronze succeeded again in taming the camp princess.”

I furrow my brow. Camp princess? What kind of nonsense is this? How do the students know that nickname? An inexplicable rage builds up inside me. So this is what they think of me here? That I was a little rebel that  Lucy managed to tame? If Alessia hadn’t had her hand on my arm, I would have grabbed her collar by now to make her regret her words.

“Let it go, Athenea,” scoffs a girl who just arrived. “The rumors about her must be true. She’s probably a lesbian who can’t resist the charms of our dear instructor.”

I clench my fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white as snow. This is really not the time to provoke me about that. I take a deep breath, telling myself they don’t know what they’re talking about, but that girl’s smug smile is infuriating. Looks like I’ve already found someone to despise in my new class.

“Let it go, Ona. Let them think what they want.”

I take Alessia’s advice and turn my back on those two troublemakers. I’m not going to stoop to their level by getting provoked. They’re just trying to irritate me, but I won’t give them that satisfaction. The best response is to ignore them. I was ready to continue our conversation until I felt a presence behind me.

“By the way, my name is Korbin,” she whispers in my ear. “You’re going to remember my name very quickly with all the trouble I’m going to cause you… filthy dyke.”

She walks past me, turning around to give me one last malicious smile before entering our classroom. Great. This couldn’t have started any better. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s messing with.

“We should go inside,” Alessia gently reminds me.

I nod without taking my eyes off the doors she just walked through.

“Are you okay?” she murmurs.

I sigh, nodding again while trying to hide my slight tremors. This is the first time I’ve experienced a direct homophobic remark. She pats my shoulder before I follow her into our new classroom. Most of the seats are already taken. Luckily,  Leah and Lotte got in before us and saved us seats in the back. I sit next to Alessia, taking the spot by the window. I take out my supplies and put my bag on the floor, then lean against the wall to get a view of my new class. I quickly spot the infamous Korbin, who gives me a twisted smile. Looks like I’ll have to find out more about this girl.

“Good morning, everyone, to your new Business Management class,” my new teacher’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “I’m Mr. Tompson, your new homeroom teacher for the rest of the year.”

I’m surprised to see a young teacher at the front of the class. He’s nothing like any teacher I’ve had before. I’d guess he’s in his early thirties at most. He has a certain charm with his slight beard and tousled chestnut hair.

“I’ll be your management teacher for the rest of the year. We’ll start off slowly by taking roll,” he continues as he heads to his desk. “Just so you know, I have notes on each of you from your previous teachers as well as instructors. This will help your new teachers and me to understand you quickly.”

 Lucy didn’t mention anything about that… Damn. I’m going to be labeled right from the start. I wasn’t particularly liked by my previous teachers.

“Well, let’s get to roll call,” he says, sitting down. “I want to put faces to the names I’ve read about.”

I sink into my chair as he calls the first name on the list. I glance at Alessia, who smiles at me. I was disappointed not to be in the same class as Alexia for the rest of the year, but maybe this will give me a chance to get closer to others. It might be a blessing in disguise. Maybe I’ll be able to forget  Lucy in the process. I furrow my brow when Alessia nudges me.

“ Batlle, Ona?”

“Sorry,” I say aloud, realizing what’s happening. “Here!”

I look my teacher straight in the eye. His are a very plain brown. He gives me a warm smile. I feel like he’s judging me in some way.

“So you’re the famous  Ona I’ve heard so much about,” he says. “I have mixed opinions about you,” he tells me. “A lot of people seem to believe in you. Let’s see how that turns out.”

“She must have slept with Bronze to get positive remarks,” the bitch from earlier snickers.

“Shut up!” I snap without thinking.

I glare at her to emphasize my words. She just smiles at me maliciously. This girl is pure poison, it’s unreal. Many laugh at her stupid joke. I really didn’t need any more rumors about me on top of everything else.

“Hey, that’s enough!” the teacher shouts. “Quiet down,” he demands, silencing the class. “There’s no place for that kind of remark here, got it?! Next time, you’ll explain your inappropriate comments to the principal.”

“Oh, come on, I was just joking,” she giggles.

“Real funny,” I growl.

- "I said that's enough!" he lectures. "I’m going to finish taking attendance, and then we’ll start the lesson right away as a punishment."

Discontented sighs are heard. They better not even try to blame me. The entire class acted childishly. I rest my head against the palm of my hand until attendance is over. I feel like this day is going to be even longer than I expected. My lack of sleep isn’t helping, but it’s best if I don’t draw attention to myself on the first day. Once attendance is over, he follows through on his threat by starting the lesson. This day isn’t much different from other Mondays. My schedule is almost identical. It’s just the content that changes. Today we have two hours of management, then two hours of math. Since it’s the first day, the hours pass more quickly. The teachers take their time getting into the thick of things. We lost half an hour in each subject listening to their spiel and their attendance list, as they don’t know most of us. Finally, lunch arrives. I was chatting with Alessia on the way to the cafeteria until a brown-haired bundle jumps on me, making me lose the little balance I have. I catch her by the thighs to prevent us from falling to the ground.

- "Oh my Onita, I missed you so much!"

- "Alexia," I chuckle. "It was just a morning!"

- "That’s already way too long. I want to see my crazy friend in class!"

I laugh as she hugs me tighter. This position must look hilarious to the others. It’s exactly what I needed after this disastrous start to the day.

- "Putellas, get down immediately," a voice I know too well commands.

My roommate must still be traumatized by Lucy to have listened so quickly. I turn to see her with a stern expression on her face. I simply adjust my backpack properly, then turn on my heel towards the cafeteria with Alexia, who places her arm over my shoulders.

- "Is there any tension in the air with Bronze?" she asks hesitantly.

- "We’ll talk about it later," I reply simply. "How was your morning otherwise?"

- "Calm... Too calm," she sighs. "I really missed you. Plus, I’m with Alba now. I have to behave seriously."

- "Oh, don’t say that," I laugh. "I’m sure she’s not as serious as she pretends to be, little Alba."

- "Oh, not her... But she makes sure that I am."

- "Hey! I’m not that bad," replies Alba, who must have overheard us.

- "Prove us wrong then," I challenge her. "Let your sister live a little!"

- "Well, she lived with you! She only had comments about talking too much in her file."

- "Oh, they gave you your comments? We weren’t so lucky. They only said they couldn’t agree on me."

- "Not surprising," Alba mocks. "Do you have a good class?" she continues.

- "Eh. I have a bitch who’s taken me as a scapegoat."

- "What’s her name?"

- "Korbin, if I remember correctly."

- "Ouch..." she comments. "Avoid her as much as possible. She’s a pain."

- "I noticed. Do you know her? If so, you’ll need to tell me everything you know about her."

- "No problem," she smiles. "We’ll talk about it at the table."

She winks at me before moving forward in line. I realize this is the first sensible conversation I’ve had with Alba. I mean, I talk to everyone around the table, but never one-on-one. The only people who’ve had that privilege are Alexia and Leah. They were the only ones I focused on because I feel close to them. I regret not opening up more to others. I now understand what Mapi meant when she said I was so hooked on Lucy that I could barely talk about my friends. In reality, I gave her so much importance that I didn’t give the same to the other people around me. I think this distance will show me all the things I’ve been missing out on.

Monday, January 18; 5:00 PM - Classroom

I pack up my things as soon as the Alba rings. I absolutely hate my first classes. I just endured two hours of accounting, and I’d be lying if I said I understood anything. It’s a subject that bores me so much that I don’t wait for permission to start packing my bag. I’m the first one standing when the teacher gives the green light to leave.

“In a rush?” Alessia asks, holding me back.

“Uh, yeah. I need to see Wiegman about something personal. I’ll catch up with you in the common room when I’m done.”

“Didn’t you say you’d study in Bronze’ office after your classes?”

“Oh, right. I changed my mind. I’ll study with you guys, so you can help me with what I didn’t understand if that’s okay.”

“No, not at all. I’d be happy to.”

“Cool,” I say with a small smile. “See you later then.”

I quickly escape from that hellish classroom, heading straight to Wiegman’s office as I mentioned. I know the way perfectly, having been there several times already. I don’t hesitate to knock on the

 door. I open it when I’m given permission to do so.

“Good aft-”

I stop in my tracks when I see not one, but two pairs of eyes staring at me.

“Well, hello,  Ona. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to discuss something with you. I can come back later if I’m interrupting.”

“Don’t be silly, we were just finishing up,” she says. “Come sit next to your supervisor. It shouldn’t bother you to talk in front of her, right?”

She couldn’t have picked a worse time to be here. I must be cursed; there’s no other explanation. Having no other choice, I shake my head before closing the door behind me. I move as slowly as possible to the empty chair next to  Lucy, placing my bag between my legs. My pulse quickens, and I can’t control it.

“What did you want to discuss?” she asks.

How did I end up in this situation? I should have left. The topic I want to discuss isn’t one I should address in front of  Lucy. Anxiety takes over me. I lower my head to avoid facing them directly, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling their eyes on me. I shake my head briefly to regain my composure. Her presence should not influence my decision. I’ve had enough time to think it over during the night. I take a deep breath. I’m ready to defend my point if necessary.

“I want to go back to my room,” I blurt out like a bombshell.

With my eyes lowered, I can’t see their reactions. Judging by the silence that follows, I doubt it’s a good one. Surprise, maybe. I gather my courage and raise my head to indeed see that expression on their faces, at least on Wiegman’s.

“I’m feeling better,” I assert confidently. “I still have restless nights, but I’m not having any more episodes. I’ve already caused enough trouble for those around me because of my personal issues.”

Laughter fills the room. I quickly regret meeting my supervisor’s gaze. It’s hard and filled with anger.

“Are you kidding me?” she hisses. “Are we talking about those dark circles under your eyes? You can hide them all you want, but it doesn’t work with me. I absolutely do not agree with this room change.”

And there it is, as expected. I’m screwed. Damn observant! I thought she hadn’t noticed. We both turn to Wiegman, waiting for his decision. She scratches his head while observing us closely. I’ve noticed it’s a habit when she’s thinking. She looks back and forth between us before finally focusing on me.

“Why do you want this change, Ona?”

“I’ve already troubled my supervisor enough. She’s losing sleep because of me, and I don’t want that to continue.”

“She volunteered for this. She’s doing it willingly. Unless you’ve changed your mind, Ms.  Bronze?”

I sense agitation next to me. She’s probably seething right now. I won’t come out unscathed from this meeting.

“Absolutely not,” she growls.

“Good. In that case, it’s up to you to decide what’s best for your student.”

“Her episodes are unpredictable,” she responds. “There’s no way she can return to her room right now.”

The tone she uses sends shivers down my spine. I don’t even dare look at her anymore. She’s going to hate me after this… Maybe that’s what I was aiming for when I made this decision. I raise my eyes to our principal when she speaks again.

“So the matter is settled,” she says, causing my shoulders to slump in defeat. “Don’t feel embarrassed about such small things,  Ona. We’re here to help you, don’t forget that. We were just talking about the remarkable progress you’ve made in your behavior.”

“Um… right,” I respond indifferently. “Can I go now? My friends are waiting for me.”

- "Yes, of course, you can go."

- "Thank you for seeing me. Goodbye."

I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder. I head for the door, feeling the weight of  Lucy's eyes on my back.

- "You can leave too, Miss Bronze. We were finished."

I suddenly pale. Damn! I hear her thank Wiegman as I make a run for it to get out of there. I was on a good track until I heard her after slamming the door.

- "Not so fast, Batlle!"

Ouch. It's not a good sign when she uses my last name. I do the exact opposite of what she asked, running towards the exit. I was about to reach the door when  Lucy couldn't control her momentum in the chase and ended up crashing into me as I stopped. Her body pins mine against the door before she grabs me by the collar of my jacket. She forcibly drags me to a room I recognize as the restroom when we arrive. She immediately locks the door behind us to prevent me from escaping.

- "What the hell is your problem?" I snap.

- "My problem?!" she exclaims. "What about yours? You've been avoiding me like the plague since this morning! You haven't said a word to me, and now I find you in Wiegman's office asking for a room change? When exactly were you planning to tell me, huh?"

I've never seen her this angry before. She's so red with rage that I don't even dare to speak. I'm paralyzed. She seems to notice my fear because she closes her eyes for a moment. I could have taken the opportunity to slip away if she weren't standing in front of the door. I don't feel ready to face her now. I probably never will be. But I know she won't let me out of here without getting her answers, thanks to those two determined emerald jewels of hers.

- "Answer me. Explain yourself, or... I don't know. Do something!"

Her tone is harsh, and she's losing patience.  Lucy has never been someone who loses patience. My silence is affecting her more than I imagined. I lower my head, trying to come up with some reasonable excuse for what I've done, but what's the point? There’s none that can replace the truth.

- "I-I can't,  Lucy."

- "Can't what?"

- "Act like nothing happened! You rejected me, and I accept that, but... But don't blame me for distancing myself. I've been hurt by rejection enough in my life. I don't want it to happen again."

Her shoulders slump at my response. It was like she just realized the consequences of her decision.

- " Ona..." she says in a strangely calmer voice. "I-"

- "No, shut up. I don't care about the reasons, okay? I don't even know if there are any, but I understood your choice. You can't or you won't. I don't know, but the result is the same. Either way, I can't let myself develop any further feelings for you."

- "It's my fault we've come to this... I should have maintained my professionalism and avoided giving you false hope."

I laugh bitterly. I don't regret how I feel about her at all. It's her reaction I regret. I say nothing, preferring to play along with her.

- "Yeah, maybe you should have, but it's too late now."

- "I never wanted things to get to this point,  Ona. I-I thought we could stay friends, that I could help you. That's all I was trying to do."

- "You don't get it," I spit out.

She doesn't understand that it's her that I need, the relationship she's denying me. She reignited something in me that had been destroyed in my downward spiral. I'd never felt as good as I did with her by my side. I take a deep breath as I see her watching me curiously. If she thinks I'm going to make it easy for her by saying all this, she's dreaming. Who knows why she doesn’t want me? Maybe she’s seeing someone else, like that girl from the other night. They seemed close and she was pretty cute. I shake my head to get that image out of my mind. It’s none of my business.

- "Forget it. I-I... You know, today I realized that I've deprived myself of so much by focusing on you. I never wanted to feel these things for you, but it's not something you can control. I can't turn back now. Just when I thought I had finally discovered the real you..." I murmur thoughtfully.

- "Nothing is stopping us from continuing..." she murmurs, almost desperately.

- "N-no... I-I'm really sorry... B-but, I need to step back. That’s all I’m asking. If you care about me even a little, then... Stay out of my life until I need you again."

These words hurt, but it's the only solution I've found if I don't want to lose her entirely and waste the progress I've made. Running away has always been my way of protecting myself. I know  Lucy can understand that. She’s always been able to read me with unsettling ease. That’s probably why she looks so sad. She knows it’s the only way to keep me intact. She’s the one who transformed me, but she could also be the one who destroys me in the blink of an eye. That thought terrifies me. I should never have gotten so attached to her or developed these feelings. And then my friends wonder why I don’t open up anymore. It was to avoid moments like this that I stopped trusting new people. I should have kept going down that path. You always end up disappointed, even with someone as perfect as  Lucy.

- "Okay," she resigns. "I want you to know that I never wanted things to get to this point, but I'll give you the space you need so I don’t lose you completely..."

I avoid looking at her so she doesn’t see how much her words affect me and how they sting my heart. She doesn't even try to stop me or change my mind. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her for putting barriers between us. No matter what she says, I know our relationship isn’t meaningless to her. Or maybe it is. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.

- "Thank you for respecting my choice..." I say, not without difficulty.

- "It’s not without conditions."

My jaw tightens. How dare she ask something of me? Seeing that I’m not planning to respond, she continues.

- "I’ll give you the space you need, but you’re still sleeping in my room. I’m also offended that you wanted to talk to Wiegman about it before consulting me."

- "To forget about this whole thing, I need to cut ties completely..." I admit. "I knew you’d never let me leave, which is why I went to her directly without consulting you."

- "I figured as much, but that’s not going to happen," she says, frowning. "No matter what happened between us, there’s no way I’m going to let you spiral down again."

- "I’m not spiraling."

- "I know you. This is my condition,  Ona. I also want to keep our evening classes. Just because we had this little falling out doesn’t mean you should jeopardize your education."

I scoff at her words. So this is just a "little falling out" to her? I doubt she understands my feelings for her, then.

- "I’m not planning to jeopardize my education," I reply coldly. "But I’m not keeping those classes. I asked Alessia to help me instead, and she agreed."

My answer seems to surprise her. She doesn’t realize how thoroughly I’ve thought this through. She almost looks disappointed. Knowing that I’m still attending classes, she has no reason to forbid it.

- "I guess that’s non-negotiable...?"

- "Exactly. I need to spend time with my friends and distance myself from you."

- "Very well..." she sighs. "But don’t completely ignore me like you have the last couple of days. I want you to talk to me at least a little."

- "Yeah, whatever you say, Commander. Can I go now that the negotiations are over?"

- "Hmm... I’ll see you tonight," she says as she opens the door.

- "Yeah. I’ll probably be with Alexia before I come."

I walk out with my head held high. I feel relieved of a burden after confessing my feelings and proud of not backing down for once. But that confidence fades once I’m away from her. I have no idea how I’ll feel in the coming days... I’ve focused so much on her these past few months that it feels like I can’t live without her, and the consequences are starting to scare me. I take a deep breath when I get outside. I’m determined to prove to her—and to myself—that I can live without her. If I can make her regret her choice in the process, that would be the ultimate goal. I stop thinking about her when I reach the common room. All my friends are there. I join Alessia and Alexia, who are sitting around a table working. Well, if you can call it that. It looks more like they’re chatting than anything else.

- "Oh, Onita!"

- "Don’t start calling me that," I grimace.

- "I think it’s a cute nickname," Alessia comments.

- "Would you prefer ‘Princess’ instead?" Alexia teases. "I heard that one’s making the rounds at school."

I sigh and nod. Unfortunately, I think I’d rather it be "Onita" spreading instead of the other one. It’s going to remind me of  Lucy, and that’s exactly what I would have preferred to avoid. The first days are going to be very long. I take out my notes while replying.

- "Yeah, it seems so... I wish it weren't the case. I don’t even know how they could have found out."

- "Who knows," Ale smiles. "I heard you were at Wiegman ’s?"

- "Yeah. Bronze was there too."

- "And...?" she asks hesitantly, which makes me shrug.

- "If you want to talk amongst yourselves, I can step out," Alessia offers.

- "No, don’t worry. We’ll talk about it tonight."

- "Hey Ona, you’re finally here!" Alba enthusiastically says. "Want to play a game of foosball?" she suggests.

- "Not tonight, sorry. Alessia owes me some tutoring and it might take a while... I’m really completely lost in my new subjects."

- "To that extent?" Alessia asks. "It’s not that complicated."

- "Oh yes! It’s like Chinese to me, seriously! How can such things even exist?" I grumble.

- "Okay, I get it," Alessia chuckles. "We’ll review everything from the beginning."

I nod with a small smile. I move my chair closer to her with my stuff. I just grab some scratch paper, as I used to do with Lucy... Alessia returns my smile and gets into the groove of going over our lessons for the day. I hope the motivation will be with me; otherwise, I’ll never make it through the year.

Monday, January 18; 8:30 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room

- "How could I have missed so much?"

I’ve just confessed everything to Alexia. When I say everything, I mean the entire story between Lucy and me. I couldn’t keep it to myself knowing how I’m going to feel in the coming days. She would have found out something was wrong anyway, and I doubt she would have stayed quiet without getting answers this time. All I can say is that she is not at all happy. She’s upset that I hid the progress of this relationship from her. I bite my lip, realizing the stupidity of excluding Ale from my life. I should have confided in her rather than Lucy. Her eyes did light up when I admitted that I’ve been sleeping with her recently or when I explained how much I care about her, even now.

- "Are you in love with her?"

- "No... I said I care about her, not that I’m in love with her."

- "It was just a simple question... You know, you’re allowed to be."

- "No, I’m not allowed," I sigh. "I just told you she turned me away. Developing feelings for her would destroy me..."

- "Good grief," she sighs. "Can’t you hear yourself? It can’t be like this. Didn’t you see the way she looked at me at lunch when I was on your back? I thought she was going to kill me with that hurt look!"

- "You’re exaggerating," I roll my eyes.

- "No, I assure you... There must be another reason she doesn’t want to develop your relationship."

- "Whatever... I extended an olive branch for her to change her mind, and she didn’t take it. She accepted me stepping away rather than keeping me by her side. It’s pretty clear as a response, don’t you think? Besides, this break won’t hurt me. She just made it clear that I need to continue being wary of people."

- "I doubt she wants you to react like this..."

- "I don’t care. I just need to clear my mind, and this is the only way I can do that."

- "Alright... If you say so."

I put down the pencil I had between my fingers and let my sketchbook fall between my thighs. It’s been so long since I touched my drawing materials that I’d forgotten the relaxing effect they gave me. As far back as I remember, they were always my best means of escape. Staying in my room with Alexia was probably the best idea I had to escape Lucy for the evening. Lucy hadn’t forgotten that I owed her an explanation, so she dragged me to come with her, but I admit I should have thought of that from the start.

- "Lucy had become my pillar, but I need to prove to myself that I can live without her."

- "You’ve become addicted to her, huh?"

I frown when she says that. It’s not the first time someone has said that to me. Mapi was the first, and I’m starting to question it.

- "No... Haven’t you been talking to Mapi?"

- "Oh, no... Not at all," she mocks.

- "Of course! What did she tell you?"

- "Nothing. She wanted you to tell me yourself. I assure you," she smiles. "But now that you’ve explained everything, I can finally understand what she was talking about, and sorry for you, but I can only agree with her. You’re in love with Lucy, and you’re denying it."

- "That’s not true," I protest.

- "Yes, it is. Just admit it."

- "Definitely not."

- "Say it. It will set you free, you’ll see."

- "No," I say, shaking my head. "You don’t understand," I say desperately, making her sigh.

- "Come here."

She pats her bed. I sigh but join her, grabbing my pillow and hugging it like a stuffed animal. I then curl up when she forces me to rest my head on her shoulder. My eyes fix on a point as I lose myself in my thoughts. Ale’s strokes in my hair, meant to relax me, have the opposite effect. I hate her. That’s how I feel about Lucy right now. All the recent moments of my life are related to her. She has taken up too much space, and now I have to live with this idea while trying to resume my life before she came along. The problem is, I don’t know how it works anymore. She took care of everything. It’s as if she did my thinking for me. I wasn’t ready for everything to turn out like this. I suffocate as I release the lump that had been stuck in my throat for too long.

- "Let it out."

That’s all it takes for my tears to start flowing down my cheeks. I can’t control myself anymore. Everything comes like a tornado. I let myself fall against Alexia, who opens her arms without hesitation. I never thought it would hurt this much.

- "I love her, damn it."

I close my eyes as Alexia encourages me to let go of everything my mind has prevented me from doing. I haven’t cried this much since I’ve been in this damn camp. I’ve felt sad more than once in my life, but I’ve never expressed it so much to others. I feel like I’ve become sensitive to everything. I collapse onto my roommate’s lap as she lets me unload my emotions. She achieved what she wanted. I feel drained. I’ve poured out everything I could until I ran out of strength. Alexia holds me against her, giving me soothing pats on the top of my head to calm me down. I look pathetic with my pillow clutched against me. We stay like this for a while until a muffled noise is heard at the door. I straighten up with my back to it to wipe my face as best as I can. The door opens without permission.

- "Oh, hello Bronze..."

I freeze at Ale’s clearly deliberate hint. I can only mentally thank her for making me realize it was her behind me. I was expecting her if I came too late to her room. I think curfew must be approaching. I squeeze my eyes shut to compose myself before facing her.

- "I was told I’d find you here," she says. "Curfew is coming soon, and it seems you still need to take a shower."

- "I was about to come," I mumble.

- "Hmm... I just wanted to make sure. I was afraid you might skip out on me despite our conversation."

I haven’t discussed this part with Alexia. I didn’t want to rub salt in the wound for now. I guess I’ll have to talk to her about it tomorrow now that she has brought it up.

- "I’m coming. You can go. I’ll tidy up first."

- "I’ll wait."

I sigh and grab my sketchbook from my bed with a brusque motion. I put it away in the cupboard with the rest of the materials, taking care not to turn around even once. It’s only when I pick up my jacket from the desk that she’s likely to see my disheveled state. I approach Alexia, who has already gotten up in the meantime. I give her a huge hug of thanks. I struggle to detach my head from her neck. I imagine her smiling to give her a rare and intense contact from me.

- "Rest, " she whispers in my ear. "It will be okay."

I nod and give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. She smiles softly as we wish each other goodnight. I put my hood over my head to hide the aftermath of my evening. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Lucy, who immediately comments as I pass by her. I simply keep my head down so she doesn’t see my face as we walk.

- "I thought you weren’t coming..." she murmurs. "Sorry for barging in."

- "Trust reigns," I snap. "But it’s no problem."

- "How was your day?" she tries to continue the conversation.

- "Great. Yours?"

- "Good... And your new class?"

- "I’ve had better."

- "With Alexia, I assume."

- "Not just that."

My short, undeveloped responses make her sigh. I would have loved to tell her about my day, but I promised myself to keep my distance from now on. It’s always her who gets my debrief normally, but today it’s not the case. I’ve done it with Alexia and Amba for once. We talked a lot about that pest Korbin. I learned a few things about her, but nothing crazy. All I learned is that she’s not a person worth hanging out with. We finish the walk to her room in silence. I directly look for my pajamas and clothes for tomorrow before locking myself in the bathroom. I stay there for a good half hour for a shower. When I come out, Lucy is already ready for bed but absorbed in her laptop on her lap. I ignore her and lie down on my small bed. I still wish her goodnight before turning my back to avoid the small light she left on her side. She seems determined to leave me alone, as she responds with a simple goodnight in return.

[indie-summer]

The Cycling RPF Rec List

for @wtfanworkclassification

(tagging the blogs of the authors I know!!)

1. Favorite smut: a vocabulary, expanding by @strigimorphaes

It’s almost unfair that I made myself choose only one for each category, but yes, if I must, this is The One Smut for me. To put it mildly, it makes me weak in the knees every time I read it. It must have been like five times by now. To be read with the AC on and a glass of water by your side. Gotta love p*rn with feelings.

2. Favorite multi chapter: Faking It by @goingslightlymads

Am I biased when talking about this fic? Yes, because it was one of my Secret Santa gifts. Do I think I am unfair? Nope, not at all! I’ve never had any other experience in Cycling RPF like when I read (scratch that, binged) this one: it made me laugh and cry and it had my heart racing and had me hugging pillows at 3am. What a ride.

3. Favorite Sci-fi AU: jonas vingegaard goes back to the sea by @bakurasilver

Beautiful and clever. A reflection on the meaning of life and love, undercover as sci-fi. Bawled my eyes out with this one.

4. Favorite Fantasy AU: Fierce Creatures by @inbetweenpages

Great world building, incredibly fun and hot. Come here for wouthieu and stay for mathsper friendship, a very mysterious vampire!Jonas and a sentient house.

5. Favorite fluff: Worth it by @ridingupsaturn

Melancholic fluff. My favorite kind of fluff. Read it about ten times and had my heart fluttering through all of them. Love is kind of awesome, isn’t it?

6. Favorite angst: Drought by booming_business (part 2 of the A Study in Water series)

Shoutout to sad carpenter!Jonas who made a complete wreck out of me. The entire series is excellent, but this fic in particular is a masterpiece on its own! Also foundational exes!tadejonas fic before it was even a thing. Groundbreaking!!

7. Favorite drabble: doing what heroes do by @etapereine

I have two favorite types of drabbles: the one in which you feel like you read an entire story in just 100 words and the one that immediately makes you feel in absolute need of a 50k story as a follow-up because of all the possibilities it introduces you to. This one is definitely the second kind. I really need a full Percy Jackson AU long fic on my desk in, like, a week ago. Olympian demigods at the Olympics maybe??? Someone please???

8. Favorite crack/comedy: The 2024 Paris-Roubaix mass heat incident by Anonymous

Top 5 funniest shit I’ve ever read in my life and I’m not even exaggerating.

9. Favorite non-cyclists AU: all hearts in love use their own tongues by @thedeadparrot

I’m sorry, I’m not really a well-studied person when it comes to English literature. This is the only way I could ever read Shakespeare. I regret nothing.

10. Favorite remix/fix-it: Unbelievable, or only in Gotham by Lili_Writes_Banhof

Yes I’m parcial yes of course I am biased because it’s fixing one of my fics, but I don’t care. It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s fluffy (like all the awesome works from this author), you should all immediately go read it!

11. Favorite Soulmate AU: All your life by @interdisciplinary-disaster

I never once had given any thoughts about geese before this fic. Also this is the only cycling fic where the main character is not one of the cyclists, but an adorably exhausted old goose (at least the way I see it, because frankly, what a scene stealer). It changed my core!!

12. Favorite rarepair: Jonas is the boss by @mundanememory

Because ok, now everyone loves Jonas/Matteo but back in April it was a rarepair!! And this fic is awesome and hot and clever and features little big boss being… erm, well treated by a lovable giant ginger, so it deserves a million recs!

[spacelazarwolf]

that college post is wild. as an engineer (with a degree in engineering) the idea that we're either taught everything we need to know in grad school or on the job so we can just basically ignore our bachelors is crazy! your bachelors degree is the foundational knowledge you need so you can be taught in grad school or on the job! (maybe not for all jobs, but for stuff like engineering at least)

like to be completely honest here, i already struggle some to apply what i learned in college to what i do now. but without a doubt if i tried to do this job having completely cheated my way through my bachelors i would be absolutely fucked rn.

(also ai cheating sucks anyway, if youre gonna cheat at least do it the old fashioned way so that you can network with your classmates and build better support systems.)

yeah!

when i was in college i had a professor who was very much anti-establishment, he'd struggled through college himself so he knew what it was like, he had a lot of empathy for me and my difficulties keeping up with endless assignments and essays etc. he was probably one of the only teachers i'd ever worked with who didn't make me feel like shit for my very obvious untreated adhd. he's the reason i made it through. he also taught a class where the tests were the exact same every time and had been for years, and he knew full well people were passing around old copies of those tests so people could memorize the answers. he said as long as we were getting what we wanted to out of the class he didn't care. we were never going to be asked to do what we had to do on those tests in real life. we just needed the knowledge he was sharing in the actual class, it was the administration that forced him to give tests.

that, to me, is an ethical form of cheating. having an ai, that has probably ripped work from people who had no idea their work was being integrated into an ai, to write an entire essay? no. writing is an important skill! everyone has to do it in some form or another! i know it sucks but just write the essay! even if it sucks! even if you have to rush through it! even if you have to ask for an extension! it's better to turn in a paper that's kind of shitty than one that is very clearly written by ai and might get you in huge trouble. you'll never learn anything from the ai essay. you might learn something from feedback on the shitty essay.