#still thinking about that irl like. god. i love you but this is Plaguing me

[pissfizz]

Very frustrated!!!

[shmaimy]

Okay, I had a thought a few days ago and have been trying to get it right. But. I think I figured it out. (Don't expect 100% accuracy)

So, Pallas and Athena. Athena bursts out of Zeus' head, and confusion and chaos and Hera, so Athena ends up at Triton's camp/school/military base thing. There, she meets Pallas, Triton's daughter, and as such, is Poseidon's granddaughter. The two become close, very close. I've seen them be close as sisters and be lovers, and I'm not 100% sure what they were, but, I mean, they were Greek...

Nevertheless, Pallas means everything to Athena. Athena grows close with Pallas' family, I mean, her mom lives in her dad's head and said dad kicked her out, so...

Then, tragedy strikes. Pallas dies at Athena's hand. Whether it is a true accident, or Zeus' pride... Athena doesn't know what to think. She is sent away, basically banished by the grieving, who forget that she, too, is grieving a great loss.

Poseidon remains bitter, and continues pushing Athena away. They both remain bitter towards the other for thousands of years, and encourage their children to do so as well.

Put a pin in that.

Remember how there were a bunch of people that were really angry about Annabeth's casting? They were wrong, of course, but hear me out. Leah does look practically opposite to how Annabeth was described in the books. In fact, Walker looks more like Annabeth than Leah does (though, you gotta admit, they are their characters irl too, especially Walker)(also, i think the Annabeth being assumed to not be smart because she was blonde doesn't work as well as institutionalized and the many other types of racism. Athena's "gift/curse/however Annabeth described it" is still at play, so people really need to stop it with the hate towards Leah and Riordan)

ANYWAY I think it would be interesting if they made blondeness/light hair a Poseidon trait, and that's why Athena has avoided it like the plague since Pallas' death: its too painful. Contrastly, Poseidon gives his children light hair in honor of Pallas, as well as to torment Athena.

Specifically, Percy looks basically exactly like Pallas. It would drive this point further if the casting of Athena looks just like Annabeth, too. Thus, when Athena first tells Percy, "I do not approve of your relationship with my daughter," we see so much more than just a spat over Athens (I mean, really, a salt water spring?), we see a romance to last the ages, and a tragedy who's thorns grow ever sharper. Athena is not just being selfish, not wanting a reminder of love lost, but she knows the fierceness of an ocean's love, and would not wish it lost on anyone, especially one of her own. Percy has had a choice thrust upon him: he will be the prophecy child. To the best of everyone's knowledge, Percy will die at 16. Athena will do everything in her power to not hear her daughter cry tears over a child of the sea, not even she knows then so well herself.

(It could also be interesting if Percy looks like a mix of Athena and Pallas (because we know genetics are weird with the Gods), since that would cause extra pain in Athena's heart)(also makes Poseidon extra sad)

(OR Athena makes all her children look like Pallas to honor her. I don't like that one as much)

I also really like an idea I had that it was NOT Poseidon and Athena who invented the chariot, or however that went. Pallas and Athena invented it together, and Athena still uses that first chariot to this day.

Also, it could add some nuance to the Mark of Athena. When the Romans stole Athena, they erased Pallas from her story. Minerva looks like Pallas, and her love for Pallas is gone. She is not just searching for herself, she is searching for the string so interwoven with her own they are the same: she is searching for the soulmate erased from her story.

ALSO, or would be interesting to see this dynamic play out in the 4th book, when Percy is thought to be dead.

I want this to be released as a short film (I would be a great Pallas???? Think about it???? Am I selfish to think that??? Ambitious??? Yes???? What's your point?????????)

[johnslittlespoon]

fic/general updates bc i've been so quiet here, feel free to mute my yapping tag if ur just here for the brainrot posts idm one bit <3

dog coded fic ch4 is like 1/3rd done but it's a heavy one so it's taking me a bit aaa bear with me

I MADE MY FIC TAG SO SEXY i added moodboards to every single one. was this entirely self indulgent and unnecessary and an act of unintentional procrastination? yes. did it bring me joy while writing angst? also yes so

i have like 50 asks waiting for me again and I'VE READ THEM ALL OKAY and i've been losing my mind over them oh my god special mention to the anon leaving brainrot for my curtbuckbucky club au... you don't understand what you've done to me. i've almost opened a new doc so many times. i have Thoughts about what you've said and i will voice them and get back to as many other asks as i can soon!! just need an evening to lock in and sit down and reply, and there are so many fun prompt reqs to write too <3

i feel so fucking bad– i have not responded to ao3 comments or comments on my fics etc here for over a month and i reread them all so often and never want to seem like idc bc i DO they mean everything to me, literally the reason i stay motivated to write 😭💗 so i need to also sit down and go thru and reply to all of them, i just get overwhelmed by the love and sit there smiling like an idiot and then i feel the imposter syndrome and tell myself i'll reply later and the cycle repeats JDSGK <3

this week's gonna be pretty busy for me so i might still be a bit quiet, but after that i'm hoping i can get back to more regular brainrot in between writing my fic >:) me treating this like a job HSDGKJ jk i have so much fun here i rly do miss yapping all day :') anyway i think that's all, been making some edits too but i keep getting sidetracked before i finish them and i rly should be focusing on yad(iym) regardless smh! justice for pining bucky fr. but yeah if i'm ever not posting as much, just assume i'm either busy irl or focussing my energy on fic writing bc i'm so serious when i say every minute that i'm not busy irl is spent on these stupid men i'm literally plagued with thoughts of them 24/7 fml

[probablyaseamonster]

I just saw the trailer for the next Cult of the Lamb update and I'm having fuuuun/devious glee.

Sidenote but it'll be coming out a few days before my b-day so that's great! (I totally didn't need anymore signs from the gods that I need irl friends before I snap hehooo)

So, regarding the alternate universe vessel character.

(so far I've seen like 5 names that I love to death but I have a feeling I know the one in particular that is gonna settle before the others get considered. I could make a list if anyone wants to debate 'cause fandoms can settle Fast and I think there's some potential for layered contrast and just settling for the easy option would be disappointing. But I'm not the biggest fan anyway so maybe I shouldn't be so arrogant about it.)

I noticed how they were wearing purple robes and were often in purple lighting, obviously, the way everyone else did, but something might be wrong with my eyes cuz their crown colour seemed like, straight-up blue to me? I do have an eye injury atm so maybe that's legit. Seemed kinda glaring tho/pos

So now I've got two diverging paths I'm *scrawling* over/pos:

1- AU where Shamura is the one bound in chains (and Narinder the role of think no evil) and the player character serves the god of War instead of Death.

Look, the animatics just write themselves. Any God of War scene? You can warp and adapt. Also, the "Warrior of the Mind" animatic for anyone who got obsessed with Fate: the Musical recently. It's just potential!

I also like the idea of instead of the dynamic being black cat x deceptively wholesome shepherd, it's intellectual spider x scruffy goat with a knife.

On the OTHER hand, hear me out,

2- Kallamar & Narinder roleswap AU. This could have the personalities swap version (something something scaredy-cat), or a fun to imagine scenario where Kallamar became jaded enough to the point of nearly paralleling Narinder in formidable vengefulness while also having been just as much of a coward in the past. Basically he grew some courage but at what cost?

This would probably mean that Narinder stayed however he was before the betrayal and imprisonment, probably being the one to lose his ears, and maybe taking the role in the narrative as the sibling to run from the Goat after the two younger gods got taken out and the middle child realized he was next? I can't imagine Narinder throwing Shamura under the bus like that, maybe it was more like a "you can't kill me, it'll fuck everything up! You have to spare me or the last fight will take place in an even more fucked-up apocalyptic hellscape!").

If Narinder was still the one to first express discontent with Death, wonder how Sickness being restrained in the afterlife affected Narinder's situation... Or what if Narinder was like Shamura, and the two were conspirators, instead of Death by War it was Death by Plague? And Death stayed free but went deaf or insane? What would Kallamar have to gain from the idea of breaking past his cosmic role, thinking "okay but what if, immortality was an option?" remixed to be uh, maybe something to do with health? Immunity? Something bordering Frankenstein as an affront to nature?

As you can see I'm putting thoughts and curiosity into both ideas, the only thing I kinda hope becomes mainstream fanon is that the Goat is a bit like Lamb's opposite - wheras one is welcoming and soft but capable of horrors at night, and of course being a badass monster fighter - contrasted with an equally small and powerful but ig more unhinged-seeming up close for the first couple interactions (probably recruited individuals with a pitch like "look I'm the one with the weapon here, so you're gonna wanna get behind me even if you don't trust me with access to things") but then shows glimpses of a heart of gold that makes followers feel safe enough to stay. As well as a sense of responsibility and like, actual leadership skills lol.

Just, Sheep / Goat religious allegories make me very sad and I think this silly little game would make me feel better about things.

I can't WAIT to see how Bamsara handles this update. We gettin' the multiverse canon? Hopefully it doesn't get too crazy, and we stick with just the two purple/blue and red characters for a little while.

I wonder what other satanic animals could be vessels? Wolf, definitely, donkey makes sense also, and pig is usually ascribed with gluttony but there's something that could be done with cleanliness or intelligence but percieved otherwise... I also think there's something that could be done with birds though, like I'm pretty sure I heard somewhere that the Mourning Dove is angel coded, much like the Lamb. Could just be the Dove also, though I was kinda hoping that the Symbol of World Peace wouldn't be a drect Christian symbol, which was a wishful hope.

Um... yeah! Just wanted to get my thoughts out! And there's a certain other goatlike character who's been occupying my thoughts recently, dw, I'll get to that soon. I'll explain then.

um. I don't know if this is a function so I'm not even gonna try lol but I hope I remember to come back to see Bamsara's initial reaction to the alternate universe implicated update! Oh yeah and a daycare centre, that's a relief for everyone involved whoof! Hope there's an NPC willing to take up the job, and who would of course enjoy being around kids.

[the-golden-ghost]

OC questions!! Are any of your OCs religious or particularly superstitious? What are their favourite foods? Beverages of choice? Also is there any particular meaning behind their names, or was it a 'this just fits' situation? You can answer these for any of them you like, or all of them if it suits you!

I think Lilah is fairly religious. Faith is not, Davy I haven't decided yet but I don't think he is either. In the Old Version there were actually irl gods that were like walking around interacting with people so it was less "do you believe in the gods" and more "how do you feel about them" but then I scrapped all that. I still feel like there should be some kind of... spiritual power that is actually Tangible in a way that doesn't exist in our world, but I'm not sure how it'd work or what it'd look like or be.

I KNOW this is a fairly basic question I should just know the answer to but I do not know what their favorite foods are dgshjdgsdhgsjsg. I really just never think about it.

Beverages, well. Lilah's a bit of a Wine Aunt but otherwise she's probably just drinking plain water. Faith definitely loves hot chocolate. Davy? No clue. I do not think Davy eats or drinks anything. He is a vampire. (/j he isn't actually)

Davy was just Davy although I've been asked if I named him after Davy Jones (I didn't. But this is hilarious to me so I should probably say that I did). (Also it's not short for David. I've been asked that too; it's just Davy)

Lilah I just thought was a pretty name. I actually had another older OC named Lilah, unrelated to this Lilah. I was determined to use it eventually!

Faith... well, her older sisters Hope and Charity came first and I just called her that cause What Else right? I always intended to change their names but never did. The fact that she's unreligious with THAT name is very funny to me though)

Sam's family though I actually made Attempts with the names so here we go:

Hector: After the doomed Trojan warrior of Iliad fame. I was going for a name that'd invoke warrior-dom and also familial love because THIS Hector fails miserably as both a protector and a father and it haunts him.

Winslow: Okay this one isn't as good. It's an old surname of unclear meaning but the two I was able to find say it means "friend's hill" or "burial mound." Considering he's a character haunted by loneliness and grief I think it fits?

Maxine: Means "greatest" and Fuck Dude She Sure Is. Max's whole Deal is that she's the third-born child but works tirelessly to shine brighter than all her family members and outdo them all. She stays winning because she can't bear to lose. It's a blessing and she'll never admit it's a curse.

Samuel: Means "God has heard." Sam being one of the "cry out to god in a desperate rage and find only silence" types. I suppose his name is more Cruel Irony than fitting but so's Hector's, so

Cecilia: Means "blind". She was born last of her siblings and was raised blissfully ignorant of any of the Horrors that plague her family. Because what she doesn't know can't hurt her. In theory, anyway.

[tasteofyourblood]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you'd like to know better!

tagged by @lovingpoet (hi bestie! 💕💕)

what book are you currently reading?

just finished On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by ocean vuong last week!! and kinda started albert camus' The Plague (and by kinda i mean like.. 2 pages)

what do you usually wear?

love me a good oversized jacket, high waist wide pants, and currently layers of turtleneck & sweaters y'know how it is but the keyword to my style is Loose

how tall are you?

5'6 i think, average female height which is HATE, god i wish i was tall

what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event? 

aquarius & don't think so? (just googled, alicia keys that's interesting)

do you go by your name or a nickname?

nickname which started as like internet privacy thing but now it feels kinda weird even having irl ppl know my full name

did you grow up to become what you wanted to be as a child?  

HAH! i wanted to be a fashion designer so No but i am finally exploring clothesmaking as a hobby!!!!!!!!

what’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at?

good - languages & memorization. bad - planning aka impulsion (basically all the necessary precaution stuff for sewing & making clothes i Don't do and then suffer the consequences)

if you draw/write, or create in any way, what's your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year? 

did a lot of glitter edits this year gkdfnfn and the first one i made for saw 2004 is still my fav 👌 exquisite (oh! also knit a cardigan, first even knit project! and started a dress project just last month)

dogs or cats?

cats, smth about cat content just Hits more than dog content for me.. Oh also!! my black cat Bean and the 4 stray cats that constantly visit my door now

what's something you would like to create content for?

i really really really wanna write a merlin fic someday, it's been on my mind for years but 1. i hate writing and 2. haven't had an idea that Sticks yet (ALSO WANNA MAKE A BEAUTIFUL BIG RED KNIGHT OF CAMELOT CAPE WITH THE DRAGON SIGIL AND ALL SOMEDAY)

what’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

not obsessed but just spent the last 2 months slowly binging seinfeld and just finished the finale this morning so (tis good 👍)

what's something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

social event at work that turned out to be really awkward for me BUT! the 2nd one I went to ended up being a lot better :D

what’s a hidden talent of yours? 

words? idk i love long words so all that memorization during sat & gre studying i still remember And the word floccinaucinihilipilification that I learned from a child genius competition show probably back in 2014 or smth

what's something you wish to have at this moment? 

beautiful natural fiber fabric (preferably wool & linen AND LACE!) and all the knowledge of clothesmaking in all of history, PLEASE

tagging @inkmaze @mlentertainment @safodebuenosaires @eyeldritch @katealot @human-sweater-vest @lilmoonlad @meat-wentz and every other little molecule on this plane of existence 🪷🤙

[project1939]

100+ Films of 1952

Lawdy Miss Clawdy, I've made it to 150 films! My list has continued to grow, but I believe the final number will be 165. I think. There are still titles I could add, but my brain will likely turn to sawdust if I attempt any more...

Film number 150: Red Skies of Montana

Release date: January 20th, 1952 

Studio: 20th Century Fox 

Genre: adventure 

Director: Joseph M. Newman 

Producer: Samuel G. Engel 

Actors: Richard Widmark, Constance Smith, Jeffrey Hunter, Richard Boone 

Plot summary: Cliff Mason is a smokejumper fighting fires for the US Forest Service. After an especially hard mission, he is the sole survivor of six men. Unable to fully recall what happened, he is plagued by survivor’s guilt and fears that he might have saved his own life at the expense of his crew. When others start questioning his actions as well, he becomes consumed by bitterness and anger. 

My rating (out of 5 stars): ***¼  

When I saw the title of this film, I assumed it was a western, and after 150 movies, I am getting a little sick of them. I was very intrigued to learn that this movie is actually about “smokejumpers”- real life heroes who fight forest fires by parachuting right down into them. That’s a pretty exciting premise, and the film lived up to it for the most part. I enjoyed the action and the chance to learn about how these men work. I read up a little on the subject and was delighted to discover that the Forest Service still employs smokejumpers to this day. What a job! 

The Good: 

Richard Widmark. It’s official- he's another one of my loves now. He’s such a good actor, he’s handsome in a kind of unique way, and he sounds like he was a cool person irl. He always comes across as very natural on screen, and he’s really skilled at expressing emotions with his face and body language. He elevated this film beyond its somewhat predictable story. 

The real location footage used, and the real footage of fires, was impressive and stirring. 

I thought the story was pretty compelling- you have a guy with a harrowing job who essentially has PTSD and must find a way to work through it.

The scenes of fighting fires were thrilling to watch. The film more than earned its description as an action movie. 

As I mentioned earlier, it was fascinating to learn about who smokejumpers are and what they actually do when they place themselves directly into such danger.  

Although I wasn’t a big fan of the subplot with Cliff’s wife Peg, I thought it was adorable that they would audibly kiss each other over the phone! I love seeing a macho guy like Widmark be so sweetly affectionate. 

There was a pet Racoon named Henry and how could I not love that? 

The Bad: 

The “voice of god” narration was too much for me. Most of the information given via voice over could have been delivered in less obvious ways. 

Sometimes the score was too melodramatic for my taste. 

Jeff Hunter’s hair cut! He is such a dreamy man, but he doesn’t look good with a kind of flat-top buzz cut. 

The scenes with Cliff’s wife were pretty boring and expendable. Peg certainly had some of the “Classical Hollywood Good Wife Syndrome”- pretty much all she did was sit around and worry about her husband. Understandable, but not exactly material for character depth. 

The plot was relatively predictable- I don’t think anyone watching would really believe our main character, played by a Hollywood star, could be a coward responsible for the deaths of his comrades. 

[oflgtfol]

MarvelDC guy x4 NO YOURE SO RIGHT I FUCKING HATE THE WAY PETER ACTS SOMETIMES ESPECIALLY AROUND CHARACTERS LIKE VENOM 😭😭😭 SUCH A HYPOCRITICAL PIECE OF SHIT…. I remember reading the issues with a guy called Cardiac in them whose entire thing is hes a disabled black leftist who wants to hold companies cops etc accountable. His first issue had him destroying empty factories that made toys that killed Children and Peter the whole time was like NUH UH THATS ILEGAL YOU CANT DESTROY PRIVATE PROPERTY-

PETER YOU STUPID CUNT BASTARD YOUR ENTIRE EXISTENCE IS ILLEGAL!!!!! WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING THE LEGAL SYSTEM AND CEOS!!!!!!! SHUT THE FUCK UPPPP and hes like ALWAYS doing that sort of shit with Venom like always acting as though actually we need to RESPECT THE COPS like oh my god dude jump off a bridge already

Also YEAH there are different lanterns! The way it works is that there are different lantern colours that correspond to emotions or whatever. So green is like willpower. Originally there was only three colours iirc, green (willpower) yellow (fear) and like pink or “star sapphire” (love). Yellow + star sapphire was usually portrayed as villainous, with star sapphire being like villainous to morally ambiguous. In the 2000s they introduced other colours like red for rage and blue for hope but a lot of lantern heads I personally know do nottttttt enjoy the 2000s green lantern comics. A lot of bullshit retcons to essentially uphold and redeem a character whose canonically a military man and a pedophile- it led to a lot of like crazy copaganda and military propaganda appearing in lantern comics too that STILL plague the titles to this day

very rarely does peter annoy me in solo spiderman comics, in fact he is very endearing! but as soon as venom comes into play it just becomes insane fucking copaganda. venom, who in the original villain arc, made it a point to protect innocent civilians and only killed cops and soldiers, is treated on the same level as villains who straight up kill civilians indiscriminately. it drives me insane. even if you aren't on the acab train, you MUST admit that cops and soldiers SIGNED UP to put their lives at risk, so guarding/arresting a giant alien goo villain who has no qualms with killing, is a risk of your job, that you consented to. civilians have not agreed to anything of the sort. civilians are everyday people just trying to live their lives who have not consented to having their lives put at risk like that. you have to admit that a villain who doesn't distinguish civilians from cops and soldiers is worse than venom. BUT NO !!!!!!! spiderman acts like venom is THE MSOT EVIL PERSON EVER and dont even fucking get me started on maximum carnage. the most infuriating thing i have ever fucking read in my entire life. i wanted to strangle peter so bad in that entire storyline

i read only a handful of issues with cardiac in them and i believe it was actually his introduction, and that was even more mind boggling because yeah he's morally gray compared to the likes of the big name heroes, but he's by no means a VENOM??? bro was unequivocally good. who fucking cares about some factory bombings if he's getting the job done and actually helping people

the way peter gets defensive over cops so much is genuinely mind boggling because yeah acab but like, yes anon as you said, peter literally operates outside of the law!! the cops do not like spiderman!! so why in god's name is spiderman so defensive of the Epic Inherent Goodness Of The Police

god just. head in my hands. the superhero genre is an inherently silly one but the more you read comics and the deeper you think about it through actual irl politics it's also such an inherently regressive and conservative genre as well. just fucking absolutely steeped in copaganda and upholding capitalist systems, both blatantly (the harhar look at this comically commie villain doesnt he know communism is evil, or the gasp venom you're such an evil copkiller) but even in the more subtle ways, with spiderman so often dedicating himself to protecting private property, or how often the tragic deaths in his life are police officers killed in the line of duty who literally halts the entire plot because every single character needs to grieve this cop, etc. it's exhausting. and even when you have a copkiller like venom it still eventually leads back into copaganda what with the late 90s venom comics. no superhero comic is immune to copaganda despite the fact superheroes are inherently vigilantes operating outside of the law, often DUE to the failures of the justice system. literally just head in my hands

[itssideria]

also i NEED to talk about the writing for these last three streams because it has been fucking phenomenal. and i don't use that word lightly. everything about ctommys ending this weekend—the fallout from cwilbur leaving, the half-baked plan to kill cdream, the callbacks to the past, the bringing in of inconsistencies and plot holes and other's character arcs—it is remarkably executed. the pacing is incredible. none of the interactions feel wasted or unnecessary. stuff that has plagued the fandom for years—where's the missing nuke? why does the end matter so much? what's the point of death if you just end up in limbo? what are cpunz and cdream actually testing?—we're finally getting answers!

and the CHARACTER WORK. oh my God, the fucking character work is incredible. cctommy and tubbos acting is off the charts. their interactions w each other and with the villains are better than anything i could have hoped for. they're nostalgic and sad but still looking toward the present and future, they're terrified and alone but they still find time to smile, they're working together—no one's leading, no one's standing around. they both have agency! despite it being (as far as we know) mostly tommy's writing, it manages to pay due diligence to everyone involved. it's so so respectful and manages to keep a lot of focus on ctommy without just pushing everyone else to the side and that is SO beyond impressive.

AND THE PLOT. i am going to be like eighty something years old still going on about the way the plot for these streams was written ITS SO?? GOOD??? the story has surprised me maybe like TEN different times so far and yet every plot twist feels so so earned. the themes are there, the callbacks to the past are there, the love and passion and tension are there—i could cite examples, but I'd just be bringing up every moment of all three streams so far. just the fact that wilbur burning the 'discs' was something that came back and SAVED tommy and tubbo—that was beautiful, actually. i can't stop thinking about it. and even though we're all scared of what may happen to ctommy today—i still have faith. so so much of it, in fact. this story has pulled out the rug from underneath us so many times. cctommy is a skilled fucking writer. i genuinely have zero idea what could save ctommy and ctubbo now, and though I'm scared for the character, I'm not scared of it being a bad ending. if it's anything like what we've seen so far, it'll be one of the best finales on this smp.

(it also makes me fucking angry because well. cant help but think how this could have gone if the villain in question wasn't a shit person irl but i digress. it's a good story. i love ctommy, and i'm excited to say goodbye.)

[creatingnikki]

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out. 

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices. 

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make. 

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it! 

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up. 

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday. 

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same. 

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people. 

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful. 

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away. 

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you. 

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs. 

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight. 

[icedmetaltea]

i can't help myself. i see a friend reblog an ask game and i start RUNNING-

but uuuh how about #9, #13/14, and/or #10! Maybe #19 and #20 but i'm already asking you a lot so feel free to answer whatever one!

Never too many questions! I love to answer them and talk ya'lls ear off🥰 Thanks so much!

9. what do you think of the dca's canon appearance? Scary? Cute? Something else? -

I... I hate to say this, such a boring answer, but I feel pretty neutral about them?? Like, how do I explain this, like when I was a tiny kid I wasn't freaked out by clowns or creepyass robots like ppl my age were (I still remember going to a circus once and being completely serene while my siblings fuckin bawled their eyes out when they saw clowns gitrogjvorejgiro). In a way I suppose I also just find their designs appealing. They aren't pretty (well at least not traditionally so~), they have flaws, and that makes them so interesting.

But give canon sun like, normal black pupils and oh my god THEN I'm scared gjeurogujeiguierjiogjfsd

13/14. thoughts on pre-glitch sun/moon? -

I love seeing all the different takes on them! The funny thing is I find a lot of the time I write fics (stares at my trunk full of drafts) I tend to just straight-up ignore canon, like the virus never existed to begin with. That's partially cause I dislike heavy angst and partially cause it's fun to imagine they could act irrationally without any glitch (like a virus-free Sun who gradually becomes unhinged all on his own?? *chefs kiss*)

10. what keeps you in this fandom despite the very small amount of canon content the dca had? -

I will hyperfixate on shit for ages regardless of how much actual content there is. I find fan content is almost always much more thought-provoking than the source material since you get all these amazing artists/writers pouring their hearts into stuff. That's what keeps me around (plus the ideas that keep plaguing my head that need an OUTLET)

19. do you think you'd actually get along with the dca if you met them irl? -

To be honest I probably wouldn't meet them irl since I'm mega socially anxious and would never wanna be in a big pizzaplex, let alone around loudass kids. Buuuut hypothetically if it did happen... they'd most likely think I'm unfriendly since I naturally act uninterested/standoffish around ppl I have a crush on cause they make me so nervous, so they'd prolly just ignore me tbh ; - ; Then I always start feeling inferior and unlovable and hide in my lil shell till I go hide in a bathroom #Feelsbadman (that's the beauty of fictional husbands amirite)

20. free space! talk about whatever's on your mind! - I'm watching the Sandman rn and it's rlly good imo, the visuals are stunning

[fific7]

There May Be Trouble Ahead - Part 2

John Whittaker x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s all lemon zest 🍋 because the world deserves more of the over-eager puppy that is the handsome Johnny Whittaker. And puppies need discipline.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected sex between consenting adults*. Some drinking.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(Not my GIF, credit to owner)

The following weekend, John parked his car with a flourish, jumping out of it and bouncing up the front steps of her mansion flat in town, noticing that it had a nice view of a small park across the road. Ringing the doorbell, he fervently hoped that she hadn’t changed her mind since he’d telephoned her during the week to reconfirm the details for today. He was excited about this second date. He’d been pleased when she’d given him both her address and home number without hesitation on the night of their first date, and she hadn’t said anything adverse during the midweek call. That had to be promising.

Surely that would have been the perfect opportunity to belatedly decline his invitation?

When she opened her front door, he wished her an exuberant ’good afternoon’ while being much taken with the vision of loveliness which presented itself to him. She was resplendent in a pretty floral dress, matching high heels and a floppy sun hat in a contrasting colour, and he thought she looked absolutely adorable. And told her as much, which made her blush. He loved it when she blushed. He was, in the meantime, admiring her curves and he could see a little more of her shapely legs today, her dress being very slightly shorter than the skirt she wore previously.

He was still gazing at her when he felt a stirring in his loins. It really had been quite a while since a woman had elicited that response from his now usually dormant manhood. With all the recent emotional upheaval, his libido had been truly and utterly extinguished.

Oh! he thought, looking down quickly at the growing bulge in his trousers, I’m very pleased to be in this state but… umm. He quickly clasped his hands in front of his fly.

Looking back up at her, he could tell by her expression that she was feeling very anxious and indeed, instead of greeting him, she burst out, “Do you really think this is a good idea, John? We have only just made our acquaintance but you’re taking me to meet your family? They may hate me!”

He smiled at her, “Believe me, it’s entirely possible that it will be the other way round!” She smiled back at him, “I’m sure it won’t be.” Grinning, he said, “You haven’t met them yet!” “John! You’re not exactly reassuring me!” He reached out a hand, “Come along, it will be fine, honestly. Don’t worry about anything!” She turned slightly and picked up a clutch bag from the hall table. “I’ll try not to,” she replied.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your first thought on opening the door was, ‘how handsome he looks!” He was wearing cream trousers, a stone-coloured shirt and a cream waistcoat, very dashing. You noticed his dark eyes staring at you, and hoped that what you’d chosen to wear was suitable for a tea party with his family.

However he’d immediately complimented you so hopefully that meant you’d passed muster. Then you couldn’t help mentioning how anxious you were feeling and while he didn’t exactly make you feel less so, by the time you took his hand and let him lead you down to his car, your nerves were beginning to subside a tiny little bit.

His car was a really rather smart sports number and he opened the passenger door for you, not letting go of your hand until you’d seated yourself in it, gracefully you hoped. Then he leapt into the driver’s seat and started up the engine, a loud purring sound in the quiet street. You saw a curtain twitch at the next-door window and smirked. Good! This’ll give that awful Euphemia girl something to think about. She was always making snide passive-aggressive remarks about the lack of gentlemen in your life - as if she had any herself! It twitched again and you cheerily waved at her, the lace curtain instantly dropping back into place.

“Neighbour of yours? A friend?” John nodded towards the window. You gave a rather unladylike snort, “God no. She’s ghastly. I avoid her like the plague.” He laughed, and as the car pulled away from the kerb you glanced at him, “So. Who is going to be at tea today?” He was concentrating on navigating the car through the streets but replied, “Oh, let’s see… just Mother and my two sisters Hilda and Marion. Although I do think mater might’ve said something about Sarah possibly dropping in too.” “Sarah?” you questioned. He shifted in his seat, “My ex. We were almost engaged at one point, but…” he shrugged, “…Larita happened.”

You got a sinking feeling in your stomach. His ex? Why on earth was she joining you? And who was Larita? You asked him as much and he cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable, “Larita is my ex-wife. And Sarah - although we’re no longer involved - has a kind of big sis thing going on with me, I think. To be honest, our whole relationship was always very much like brother and sister. No hanky-panky, you know?” He gave a nervous laugh. “She’ll be over to have a gander at you, no doubt - make sure you’re not going to steal the family silver.” You couldn’t stop yourself laughing out loud, “Have no fear! I’ve concealed my burglar’s Swag Bag very well.” He joined in your laughter, “Hate to disappoint you, darling, but we’ve got no silver left to steal!”

Darling? you thought… he’s forward! “That’s not a problem,” you replied, “filthy lucre’s not really my scene.” His head turned towards you, “What’s your scene? Tell me,” he said. “Oh… you know. Someone with a brain so I can have a decent conversation. Someone who can make me laugh. And treat me like a princess.” He pulled up momentarily at a crossroads and his eyes met yours, “I can do all of those,” he said earnestly, “I promise you that I can.” You laughed, suddenly slightly shy due to how sincere he sounded. “Can you? That’s encouraging, John.”

“Yes, I can. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

You smiled at him. “Well, it’s very early days but we’ll see, shall we?”

He nodded, eyes gazing into yours, “We shall indeed.”

A car horn tooted behind you. He changed gears and turned the car towards the fields and meadows.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Flintham Hall, the Whittakers’ residence)

The car tyres crunched over the gravel of the wide driveway and he drew the car to a halt in front of “The Family Pile”, as he called it. When he’d turned the car off the road and driven between two huge gate posts and then past a gatehouse, you knew that his house was going to be rather large. And it was. It wasn’t quite Blenheim Palace, but it wasn’t too far off.

“John,” you said, slightly in awe, “…what a beautiful house.” He grinned, “The original part of the house was built in 1798, not by us though. It was extended first of all in… um, 1820 I think. The Whittakers eventually inherited it through marriage in the mid-1840’s, and they extended and remodelled again a few years later. Been in the family ever since. Bit shabby round the edges nowadays,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh, “…somewhat like myself.”

He jumped out of the car in typically energetic fashion, coming round and opening your car door, “I’ll give you the full guided tour after we’ve had tea.” He took your hand again and led you towards the main entrance. “They’ll all be on the terrace, no doubt. Or… maybe in the conservatory. Come and meet them.”

You smiled, “You’re not, you know.” He stopped in his tracks, looking back at you, a confused look on his face, “I’m not what?” “Shabby,” you answered, and began walking again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John’s heart gave a little leap. She sounds…. interested, he thought. Could she possibly like me? Oh, I do hope so.

He led her inside the house, spotting their butler gliding towards them and waving him off, “It’s fine, Furber, it’s just me and my guest,” and giving her a quick smile, guided her through the large hall and into the large, high-ceilinged conservatory. “Oh, no sign of them in here after all. The plants are probably too overgrown to take tea amongst. We’ve only got one doddery old gardener left now, and it takes him all his time to look after the grounds never mind in here. Poor old Bob.”

He tugged her hand and gently pulled her back out into the hall then cut through a grand sitting room, where French windows were already lying open. He propelled her swiftly towards them; he could tell by the tenseness of her hand in his that she was getting nervous again, and he really didn’t want her to take flight in the opposite direction. “Terrace it is then!” he sang.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your heart was in your mouth as John all but shoved you through the French windows and out onto the terrace.

A large round table was set out there, complete with crockery, cutlery, napkins, plates of sandwiches, two cake stands each filled with a selection of tea cakes, a large teapot, along with several tea cups and saucers. What a spread! you thought.

Four female heads turned towards you and John, but their eyes were drilling into you and you only.

Taking a deep breath, you dropped your hand out of John’s and stepped forward, a smile - but a reserved one - on your face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John took in the four staring women, and had a fleeting moment of deja vu. They didn’t look very welcoming, any of them. But he squared his shoulders and hurried to stand next to her, his hand on her arm.

He cleared his throat and firstly introduced her, before indicating each of the still-silent women and introducing them in turn to her. He gave her a tentative smile and a comforting squeeze of her arm. She turned back to the women, smiling and said, “Very pleased to meet you.”

There was a further moment of silence, and he saw their eyes travelling down to look at his hand resting on her arm. But he didn’t remove it.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You noticed them all staring at John’s hand, which had remained on your arm, then finally Veronica nodded at you and returned your greeting with the smallest of small smiles. This seemed to open the floodgates and the others echoed her, with accompanying smiles. Hilda jumped up (it seemed to be a family trait) and came over to you, claiming your arm from John and leading you over to an empty seat between her and Sarah, who looked up smiling as you approached. At the same time you didn’t miss the intensely scrutinising look she gave you. Well - this isn’t going to be uncomfortable at all is it?! you thought, smiling back through slightly gritted teeth.

A housemaid appeared from nowhere and began pouring tea for everyone. Marion, with her tightly permed hair and her mustard-coloured pleated skirt and mustard-coloured twinset and pearls, was busy passing the now-full cups round, spearing you with her sharp stare as she did so. Had these people never seen anyone from outside the estate or something? The way they were examining you! - as if you were a specimen on a laboratory slide or something. You decided to put on a brave front, smiling and thanking her as you took your cup from her. You would not be cowed by these women.

Sarah lifted her cup to her lips and sipped, before placing it carefully back in the saucer. You took a moment to study her. Well, you were just returning the favour, after all - she’d had the opportunity to scrutinise you for rather longer than that when you’d been paraded in front of them all. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes and wavy dark hair in a short bobbed style, however you felt that she was perhaps the kind of woman who just tended to fade into the background. Not that you were saying she was insipid, but… well, maybe you were.

But perhaps you’d better reserve judgement until you knew her better, you cautioned yourself. You yourself used to be a timid little mouse until you went out into the wide world. You either had to toughen up or else the world would eat you up, you’d learned that lesson pretty quickly. Perhaps Sarah had lived all her life in the rarified air of a country estate such as this. That would certainly explain why she had an air about her of one of those flower arrangements the Victorians liked to keep under glass domes in their parlours.

Hilda was a bubbly little thing, a few years younger than you. She was babbling happily away to you, asking where you got your dress, your hat, your shoes and who did your hair. Sensing that you had a new fan, you caught John’s eye over the tea cups and he smiled conspiratorially at you. Your lips lifted slightly in response. You could tell that he’d been trying to distract his mother’s attention from you, but that was only going to work for so long.

She turned towards you like a galleon in full sail and bared her teeth at you in a forceful smile. It reminded you of a visit you’d made to the Aquarium a few months ago. You were almost positive you’d seen the spitting image of Veronica there during your visit - flashing past you in one of the shark tanks with that same chilling grin in place, as you stood there gazing into that underwater world.

Under her regard, you very much felt like an item on that particular shark’s food chain. “My dear,” she intoned, “…my boy has told us literally nothing about you!” she glared at John, before switching her eyes back to you. “Pray do tell us something of your life to date, I’m sure it must be very interesting!”

You smiled at her, “Not really, Mrs Whittaker, but here goes! I got my degree - a First - in History of Art at Oxford, then I came down and now work at the Art Gallery in town. I’m a conservator. Well, I’m still a trainee but it’s not too bad. Eventually it will be fairly interesting once I’ve learned as much as I can about it from my mentor.” Veronica’s eyebrows rose, “Oh… an academic.” She smiled slightly more kindly at you then turned to John, “Well, that’s an improvement at least,” she said directly to him. His face pinked up and he cast an apologetic look at you.

However Veronica was not finished. She turned back to you and asked, “And your family, dear? What about them - what do they do?” You hid a smile. Pedigree was everything to the Veronicas of this world. “My father was in the army…” you noticed the frosty shutters coming down on her face again and wondered what that was all about, “…and then after the war, he started an antiques and artwork shipping company. It’s global now, doing rather well.” You saw interest spark in her eyes and her expression warmed again. “Oh, how interesting. And where do they live?” “In Sussex, on the Downs. We have a house there. And as Father’s offices are in London, a flat in Mayfair. And I have my flat here. Well… in town.”

Her expression was positively glowing by now. “How lovely!” she exclaimed, leaning forwards and motioning at one of the cake stands. “Do have a tea cake.”

You noticed John’s eyes rolling heavenwards.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After half an hour of continued small talk, you were wondering why Veronica looked so pleased, Marion and Hilda looked anxious, and Sarah didn’t look particularly pleased at all. John suddenly stood up, smiling round at his relatives and their family friend. “I’m going to give this lovely lady the Grand Tour!” he announced, holding out his hand to you.

Taking it, you nodded to the other ladies and thanked Veronica for the delicious afternoon tea. Once again, she bestowed a smile on you and then John was tugging impatiently at your hand.

He towed you along behind him, whizzing you in and out of rooms and along corridors all the while delivering a staccato list of what their functions were. Eventually he pulled you upstairs and began the same whistlestop tour you’d had on the ground floor. He arrived at one particular door and stopped. He grinned at you, “This is my bedroom. D’you want to see it?” You nodded, grinning back at him. So he opened the door and you stepped inside, taking in the ornate damask curtains, the large carved bed and heavy dark-coloured oak furniture.

“It’s very…” you ground to a halt, not sure what to say. “Last century?” he laughed, “Don’t worry, I know it is. Most of the furniture in this house is ancient.” He shrugged, “Can’t afford to replace it.” You saw a momentary flash of anxiety across his face and moved to stand closer to him.

“John? Why did your mother suddenly warm up to me?”

He sank down on the edge of the bed, a defeated look about him. “I did mention this place was sinking like the Titanic, didn’t I?” You nodded, watching him closely. “My mother desperately wanted me to marry Sarah because the Hursts have actual money. Real, folding money. Not pie-in-the-sky money, tied up in land and bricks and mortar which swallow up any available funds just by existing. Then I met Larita. She was an American racing driver at the time but had no money whatsoever, she scraped through from race to race. Like a damn fool I married her in France, and brought her back here. Can you imagine how that went down?”

You thought back to Veronica’s original icy demeanour when you first arrived. “Um.. taking a wild guess here… not very well?” He nodded, sighing. Lying back against the pillows all of a sudden, he linked his fingers behind his head. “Like a hundred-pound bomb went off. American? No money? And as far as Mother and my siblings were concerned, no class. So of course in their book, that meant no chance!” He gave a harsh laugh. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Well, I suppose you were in love?” He shook his head, dark eyes seeking out yours, “No. I was infatuated. But definitely not in love, although I thought I was to begin with. And the infatuation quickly wore off. She was bored here, but this is my home. I wasn’t going to leave it and go off gallivanting across the world with her! Spending all the money I don’t have.” He leant up on one elbow, propping his head up on one palm, “The weirdest thing was, I come swanning back here - supposed to be almost engaged to Sarah - with another woman on my arm as my wife, and Sarah was really calm and gracious about it all. She actually became quite friendly with Larita, that’s the weird bit I’m talking about!”

He gazed up at you, “She should’ve hated her, no?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

His logic regarding that was spot on, you thought.

Of course Sarah should’ve hated Larita, that was just a normal human reaction. By rights - and without doubt if it had been you in Sarah’s position - a huge tantrum would definitely have been thrown. So huge and enduring, it would’ve registered on the Reichter Scale.

You suspected that the supposedly shy and retiring Sarah had known exactly what she’d been doing. John’s next comments merely reinforced your viewpoint, but you kept silent.

“I mean, I was moaning to Sarah one evening about how Larita’s behaviour was beginning to grate on me, and she actually told me to be quiet and go and look after my wife!”

That was the icing on the cake as far as you were concerned. Sarah was playing some kind of long game, you decided. One of the most ancient games around in fact, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’.

John had admitted to you that he and Sarah’s relationship had always been sibling-like, and she was probably only too well aware of that fact. When he came back from the Riviera with a wife, there wasn’t very much she could do about it at that point but had decided to bide her time. She thought exactly the same as John’s family thought about the marriage (poorly) - but she never admitted it.

In fact she played it exactly the opposite way and ‘befriended’ the wife, who was probably only too happy to see a supposedly friendly face in amongst all the hostile Whittaker ones.

Well, well, you thought, clever little Sarah.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John had continued, “So you see, my darling mama - and I do apologise most profusely for this - is now of the opinion that you are a very good prospect indeed. She and my sisters will be worried that I’ll say or do something to frighten you away! But I assure you that in getting to know you, those are the absolute furthest thoughts in my mind.”

Her eyebrows were steadily climbing as he spoke. Seeing this reaction - John, as he was fond of doing - had moved swiftly along to another topic of conversation.

He was grinning up at her, as she stood there deep in thought. “But on another and more interesting note… the bed itself might be old, but I just had a new mattress delivered a few months ago. It’s very good.” He patted the quilt next to him, “Like to give it a try?”

He didn’t truly expect her to agree so he wasn’t too disappointed when she laughed and shook her head. “I think we’d better get back downstairs, John!” Turning and walking out of the room, she sent him a smile over her shoulder which made his heart leap again.

Sighing, he got up off the bed and followed her.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: In the film, I never found Sarah’s smiling acceptance of John getting married to the brash Larita believable. She either never really loved him or else she was a seething mass of jealousy under that calm exterior. And I think the latter! Also, for anyone who’s a stickler for accuracy, Easy Virtue was set in the Roaring Twenties and the Reichter Scale wasn’t introduced until 1935, so that’s fiction writer’s licence right there 😉 😁

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@paracosmenthusiast

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[originalcontent]

Aww heck, I never posted about Marble Nest! Let’s talk about Marble Nest. We played it, we got all four endings, there were a couple things I maybe wanted to try but we didn’t but that’s okay, it would be pretty easy to replay. A couple thoughts.

As a player character, Daniil makes for a very very different playstyle than Artemy. It’s wild how all the actual mechanics of the game can be the same and yet such slight tweaks can change the feeling of the game so much. Like how everyone talking to you but how almost no one trading with you makes the whole town seem completely different.

Daniil sees the town as a chessboard and Artemy sees it as a body. This Daniil seems to know a lot fewer people than Artemy knew.

The pacing is also very interesting. The whole “time to make your nightly rounds” thing, is that something Daniil does? Is that part of his gameplay loop?

Coming out of having just finished Pathologic 2, wherein everyone’s constantly bitching at and/or trying to kill Artemy every four seconds, playing as Daniil felt like a fucking power trip. People are like “hey can you do this please” and I’m like “...wait can I do this? I can just do this??” 

I think overall I prefer playing as Artemy, although maybe I was just more accustomed to it.

Daniil is a BITCH.

No seriously, when playing Pathologic, I felt kind of bad about continually dragging Daniil because deep down there was always this little part of me that was like “you know he’s just trying his best, same as you, he doesn’t deserve all this shit you’re throwing at him” but now that I’ve gotten to walk a mile in his shoes I can definitively say that he absolutely deserved all of the shit I was throwing at him, and also I think Artemy deserved to punch him once. (After that they can go back to being friends/lovers/colleagues, however you interpret them, but he should get to punch him once.)

Okay enough about Artemy, he’s didn’t even appear in this game.

Wait one last thing, in the list of townsfolk it showed Artemy as having a name rather than being called “Haruspex”, but in the main game Daniil was listed as “Bachelor”? 

God, that list. Seeing so many dead kids. :( Daniil you did not protect my children. Oh, Mark Immortell was there and was in danger, in the Bachelor route am I allowed to let him die from the plague, is that a thing I can do, please? My besties Lara, Bad Grief, and Victor were also dead, but Stakh was alive! I tried to visit him but I couldn’t, the game doesn’t let you cross the river even if you go alllllll the way around it. I tried to find Aglaya too but couldn’t.

Seeing the town map was so heartbreaking. Quarantining the stone yard and letting everyone else die is a pretty pragmatic decision bUT ALSO!!!!!! My KIDS.

The loop was neat, how everyone kept saying you were dead and how you didn’t know why until the end, and I loved how the town kind of was your body. (Do the fires mean you’re feverish? Does the cold mean you’re dying?) This game has always been excellent about how it nests themes within themes and symbols within symbols, and Marble Nest was no exception.

Kind of hilarious tho how the ultimate theme is “if you don’t want your favorite character to die, just stop reading the book, or maybe start over and reread the parts where they’re still alive forever.” Turns out you really can beat death Daniil, good job. :)

(“But wait! I may be a fictional character, but the disease which kills me is also fictional! AU in which it’s not real fuck you” Honestly what did I expect coming from the same people who had a plot-critical messenger murdered offscreen by the understudy of the protagonist.)

This character’s themes seem to be very lofty. Again, I think I vibed more with the more grounded side of things, but I love metafuckery so you know.

That time I was in that house and I was like “I might need to check out some rooms” and the other guy was like “here, I have the master key” and hands me a lockpick, I actually laughed. Incredible.

The PANTOMIME. God that was such a vibe. Compared to everything else in Pathologic, it was so animated! I do love the “you’re heartless, come back to me when you have a heart” and then in the next loop I hand them a human heart and they’re like “.....dude, have you ever heard of a fucking metaphor, holy shit why are you giving me this.”

The CLOAK. The MASK. The S A N D A L S. Hhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Wearing the ensemble and literally being immune to the plague zone, I was like “wow this is fucking op how is this even allowed” although I guess Marble Nest was also written so that you can last the whole game on literally one piece of toast.

It was so weird to go around places where I know twyre grows and not hear any bugs. I did take a nice incredibly long walk through the steppe just to see how far the game would let me go though, because it was nice and pretty and who the fuck has time for that while in Pathologic? 

I didn’t really talk much before with Georgiy Kain, but fuuuuuuck what is wrong with that guy? If Daniil’s been hanging out with him, I can fucking understand why he became obsessed with the polyhedron at the end.

And Aspity, oh god I have so many questions, what are you, I don’t think we ever cleared that up.

And Shrew! What’s her deal?? There were actually a lot of very memorable NPC’s who didn’t even have their own custom designs.

I don’t know much about Pathologic 1 but I think Eva killed herself in the Bachelor route? Does that mean she’s going to die in this Bachelor route if it ever comes out? I mean presumably Marble Nest already deviates from that game quite a bit since I don’t think Artemy dies in it (and I don’t think Daniil does either.)

Gee Daniil! How come your mom lets you have two funerals?

A little sad Changeling never came by to say hi, I would have liked to see her. Although I guess she’s busy trying to save my ass irl. I know I remembered seeing the steam page for Marble Nest earlier and being like “huh that’s sort of a strange poster for the game, isn’t Artemy supposed to be dead?” And then I played it and I just took a moment and turned to my sister and was like “hey look at this” and she was like “...yup that’s literally the game.”

Overall it was a fun time. Very short comparatively, very clever. 

[helahades]

Can’t Give You Love

(Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader)

A/N: ***Important*** This story has strong noncon concepts, and delusional thoughts from Steve, who is the aggressor. None of these things are okay irl, and because of the sensitive nature of these concepts, warnings are below the cut.

This is my entry to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s recent challenge. ♥️♥️♥️My prompt: (#21) Character A meets Character B at a nightclub. Character A wants a one night stand but Character B wants more.

Summary: You take Steve home after a night out, celebrating your graduation. You fall asleep. Steve decides he hasn’t had enough.

Warnings: Smut. NSFW. Somnophilia, Delusional Steve. Justification of terrible thoughts via Steve’s POV. Mentions of blood and violence. Steve pretending to be a good guy.

Word Count: about 3.1k

—

Steve’s favorite part of the night is the beginning. Club goers come in all shapes and sizes, in all levels of modesty. To be in a world of such varied and unburdened interactions reminds him of the true simplicity at civilian level. Makes him feel almost human. Despite all his moral dilemmas, he is still a man though, and he isn’t just here to be thoughtful. He likes to look, and he’s he’s delighted when his eyes find you.

Watching you from the bar, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the way you constantly pulled down the skirt of your curve hugging dress, the way you adjusted your “Congrats Grad!” pin like it would spear you to death right there on the dance floor, the way you would go to dance, swinging your hips each way like no one was watching. It excites him watching you, because you keep throwing tells that you’ve never done this before, that this isn’t your scene. For a while, he had been bored with that, but you’re not just a shy lamb, there’s something else.

Your laugh is uninhibited, and there’s a starter spark threatening to flame behind your eyes, dare any man get too touchy with you or your friends. Steve loves a protector.

When you approach the bar, it’s hardly for your first drink, but there are no indicators in your demeanor. He only knows because he’s been watching you all night.

You’re there for a moment, watching the workings behind the bar before turning to him.

“So,” you giggle, flame coming to life, “come here often?”

He’s hooked.

“Not at all actually. This isn’t really my scene.” A lie. He fidgets with his drink as a special touch.

Your eyes soften, empathetically and imperceptibly to anyone who wasn’t analyzing the fine details.

“To be honest… it’s not really mine either. Think I’d rather celebrate graduating by sleeping—But anyway, why’d you come out tonight if it’s… not your scene?”

You’re fully engaged. It seems that you love the game of conversation.

“The truth is… long winded.”

“Well,” you say softly as possible, still wanting to be heard over the pulsing of the bass, “I’m pretty tired of dancing, so you’d be doing me a favor giving me a reason to stay.”

You pull up a stool and prop your head on one arm.

With a soft chuckle, Steve continues.

“I guess…I had been looking for love. For… the one, yknow? And I didn’t realize until tonight that it’s not gonna happen.”

“What changed tonight?”

Your drink arrives.

“It’s nothing about tonight in particular, tonight’s just a night—but I’m sorry. You’re here to have a good time,” he finishes, scooting away just a bit as he does so. A test.

Your brow furrows and you think a bit before closing the gap. Smart girl. But he’s got you.

“I’d have a better time, literally anywhere else,” you giggle again, shifting and sitting up to sip your drink. Seeming to realize what you implied, you gather the boldness to finish it.

“So… do you wanna get out of here?”

—

You decide to drive, saying you only had that sip to drink. Steve says he believes you. He doesn't really mind anyway, and he can’t tell you he knows a different truth, lest he reveal himself.

Watching you as you talk as your minidress rides up your thighs, he realizes upon arrival that he can’t remember whether the drive was long. Sloppy of him.

You park the car and shift in your seat.

“I really want to kiss you—what was it?”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeat, sitting back in the driver's seat.

“God I want to kiss you. I can’t show you love,” you taunt gently, in a comfortable way like you’ve known him forever, “but I can make you feel really good,” your voice finishes sweetly.

He feels his cock swell, and in that moment, a large warm hand is cradling your jaw and pulling you close for a sugary, tequila spiked kiss. His lips are plump, warm, now wet as you run your tongue over his bottom one.

From between your legs, heat rises all the way to your chest, and you break away to fumble for your house key.

As Steve sits, collecting air while you fumble with your pineapple keyring, he tries to recall, but he knows he’s never tasted anyone so sweet. You’re warm like muffins fresh out of the oven. You have just enough fight to convince yourself you’re hard to get, and that makes him dizzy.

He tries not to think about the fact that you’re already wet. Because he’s a gentleman. Always a gentleman first. Always the golden boy. Since retiring, he knows his role isn't what it used to be. Sam holds the shield with ease, and honestly, Steve had never pictured life without that shield and moniker before going on the run. When he was on the run, he was living from one moment to the next. Between here and there, he was never really thinking about his own wants, what would make HIM feel alive.

He’s living a different life, though, because now he can. He’s got all the time in the world. After too long of fighting some new cosmic force, of each threat being crazier than the last, he wants the old school life. That sentiment is one he had thought had left, and he wants to taste with you in case it does again.

Seeing your dress ride up your thighs tonight, he thinks of how his flannel might do the same while you cook him breakfast. But he would be right beside you helping, and you wouldn’t look as out of place as you did in that club, because secretly, domesticity with him is what you’re made for.

He’s no fool. He knows you don’t see it yet. But tonight he will bring you to the edge again and again before pulling you into a world of pleasure you’ve never known. And then you’ll know.

—

As he curves his hips up to meet yours, the squelching sounds your pussy makes are obscene. The ones from your mouth are even sexier, and it makes this all seem like a lucid dream. You’re riding him, and he’s...encouraging you by taking control from where he lies. You love it. He’s a gentleman, so he won’t be any rougher.

You say you like it rough, but you’ve never had rough from him. That’s a test for a later time. He doesn’t want to scare you.

“Ooh yea—Steve, please! Right there—like that, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. He won’t. You don’t need to beg, but he loves it when you do.

Your thighs shake, your mouth falls open in that cute way it does, and you fall forward, catching your hands on his chest. You seem to be in love with the hair there, and everywhere on him. Something about that appeals to a monster in him he doesn’t address.

You wince when you finally dismount, pulling yourself off his incredible length, and looking down for the millionth time to check if the condom is still there, before he discards it. He tries not to roll his eyes as he comes back to lie with you. It’s ridiculous, really. You’re his now, there’s no need for this barrier. He holds the monster back that gives him thoughts of you round with his child.

You plop on the bed next to him and shuffle under the sheets.

“That was sooo good. Thank you. I’m so glad you’re not some creep,” and you giggle it like you do.

Scratching softly at his beard, your eyes close sleepily.

“You can let yourself out. I trust you.”

Hm. Of course you do. You’re his and he is yours. It’s already that easy.

He can’t understand why you want him to leave though, and as you drift off, he wonders if you noticed that he hasn’t shifted from his spot.

The crickets are chirping happily with the night, and after a few seconds, your sprinklers turn on. He thinks about kissing you goodnight, eating dinner together, cleaning the pool while you braid your hair.

Cool and light, fan turned air swirls over him as his back moulds into the mattress. It’s too soft, and somehow he's feeling a little too warm, but maybe that’s what new beginnings do.

Scratching his neck, he sighs at the ceiling before trailing his hand lower...lower… under the sheets, and down to squeeze his cock. It’s still damp with the wetness of you, and he gives it one more slow squeeze. There’s excitement there lingering, and he knows he hasn’t had enough yet.

He could jerk off right here next to you. You’re asleep and you would never know. Maybe he could even cum on your naked stomach, rub it in a bit. Maybe he could cum in your mouth. He tries to blink that thought away. But his cum would look so nice on your pretty skin, or even…

Inside you.

He can’t. You’re asleep. He’s already had you once. He should be sated. All of a sudden, he remembers asking about your New York license plate. He remembers you saying you’d lived there for years before coming out here. And it’s easy for him to conclude that he’s saved you. At least once.

For every threat that plagued New York while he was an Avenger, you’re alive and snoring softly next to him, and that has to be fate. He may not be a hero now, but he was once, and that counts for something right? And he saved your life, at least indirectly. And he can’t ignore your soft breaths pushing past your plump lips, and the way you face him in your sleep like he’s your lover. He’d only be taking what he’s owed. It’s the least he can accept in return for your life.

Tentatively, he shifts and lifts an arm and gently strokes your bottom lip with a thumb. Pushing it just past where your mouth is slightly open, and behind your teeth to push gently on your tongue. The wetness of it is arousing enough, but he pushes further back, and feels your throat constrict in a gag, wetness moving around him pushing his finger to the roof of your mouth.

Then, you’re pulling your head back, gentle discomfort clouding your sleeping features. A pause. And with a rolling slow stretch, you’re lying on your back, legs spread. It’s practically an invitation.

Moving over you, he winces at the way the rubbing sound of his skin on the sheets sounds like an earthquake in the quietness of your room. Propping himself up, covering you like shade, he's aware of the shape of your body’s heat pressed up against such a large surface area of him, and it stirs something deep and dormant. He can practically feel the blood rush to his cock again.

He pushes your thighs further apart with his own, and notes the smoothness of your skin against his, which is hairier. (He abandoned shaving entirely once he dropped the life of being an international symbol. It’s the small protests.)

A choked groan escapes him as he rubs the tip of his cock over your clothed clit, and his breath blows a couple hairs against your forehead.

He pauses.

He hears your fan slicing through the high air.

He hears your refrigerator make a shifting sound as the ice machine starts in the distance.

Most importantly, he hears your breath, still coming even. He chances another rub, pleasure shooting through him like lighting.

Something about both being so close to you again, but also the thought of getting caught in this compromising position has his body alive.

It’s the way he would feel in fights as his younger self, when being a hero was new, and he didn’t know where the next attack would come from. Before violence turned to muscle memory.

Steve decides you’re much prettier than violence, and he likes the wetness of your cunt, of your tongue swirling, much better than the feel of blood streaming over his hands. He lives for this, and the chance of having you while you’re sleeping is a new thrill.

He doesn’t want to take too long really, and he’s not proud of it, but he moves slowly, and pulls his knife from his pants on the floor, inches down your body, and slices your panties open with the blade.

The sound of the fabric ripping is new. Taboo. And he’s harder than before, excitement squeezing his chest. He pauses there for a moment, eye level with your cunt, noticing the slight glisten, noticing flower like curves, remembering how you feel inside.

Scooting a pillow out of the way, he straightens up and sits back on his calves, appreciating you fully. Then, he’s closer, quicker, less careful, as his hands land just over the bend of your knees to turn your thighs out, opening you up to him, then pushing your legs further apart.

It’s really not the time, but he thinks about his life before the serum. On the days when all he could do was sit in bed, draw—but most importantly—think, he would think about a wife. His brain would tease him with fantasies about things he thought he could never have. He would think about being stronger, able to make love to his girl the right way.

He won’t waste his chance now. Coming back up and positioning himself over you once more, he grips the base of his cock and bites his lip, tapping it a couple times on your sensitive pussy.

He freezes when you shift your hips.

A moment.

A breath.

Then the head of his cock breaches your walls and the rest of him follows. You’re not as wet as you were when he first had you, but that can be remedied. It makes the squeeze feel tighter, the moment feel longer. He’s kissing on your neck now, slowly pulling all the way out, before pushing deep back in, relishing in this unbearably and oddly pleasurable friction.

Your breathing quickens, somehow still even, and he needs to be closer. Rolling his hips into you, he’s right against you, damn near balls deep, and he doesn’t know if he’ll last, hearing all your sleeping whines.

He’s obsessed with how your breasts bounce. Your nipples are hardened by the cold, and this stimulation, and they draw small circles in the air with each thrust. His eyes flicker to your face one last time, and as a wave of pleasure rolls through him, his monster deciding he’s done being a gentleman.

With another thrust, and a softly choked groan into the silent night, a wave of your slick is rushing around him, and the sounds drive him crazy. Over and over, he thrusts into you. Gentleness gone, along with his cool reservation of the sounds of his pleasure, he’s damn near growling now, hooked on having you this way.

He adjusts himself, wanting to see the exact motions that are moving you up the bed, that have you whining, your sounds losing their softness. Each time he plunges into you he shudders. The wetness of you, the way he’s using you, the way he can take what he pleases, and the thought you’ll maybe only know because of the soreness.

He slows, cock pulsing, for gentler thrusts. Not for you, but for the artists details. He canvases the soft ridges inside you that have him like a vice grip. Takes the time to note the sharp, raw scent of you mixing with him.

Sitting up and back, he pulls you by the hips from where you lie, your ass lifting off the mattress, and your upper body still unresistant to his manipulations. He has a better view of you now, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit, around your entrance, tapping it on your mound to tease himself. He’s rewarded with another gush of wetness, and it runs down his cock, down his balls, into your sheets, and as he pulls you onto his length again, he growls when he catches the scent swirling through the air.

You’re so fucking pretty like this. He can’t believe he’s never had anyone this way. Then, he realizes, it’s special. For just the two of you, as lovers.

He feels a tug. A throb in the base of his cock then upwards as pleasure overtakes him. He chuckles wickedly, and that cuts off in a hedonistic moan as he knows you won’t be able to stop him. He hears you try to tease that he’s not ready for kids, hears the edge of fear in your voice from before. You don’t do this all the time, and it’d be terrible for a stranger to impregnate you.

But Steve is different. He’s not a stranger. He’s the one for you. You just don’t know it yet. He fucks into you angrier, ignoring how he's overstimulated, how your pussy is puffy and raw, remembers how you told him to let himself out. It would be another joke to laugh to had you not meant it. He just has to feel you. Has to see you take his cum like you were meant to. It’s not his fault. It would have been easier, more gentlemanly had you let him while you were awake.

He’s only a man, really, he has to take what he wants. The feeling swells in his balls again, the pressure of coming release running up his shaft, and his cock feels even harder somehow.

Rushing through him as his thrusts get weaker and he leans more weight on you, the bliss of your wetness squeezing and tugging him involuntarily is indescribable.

He gasps, filling the whole of his lungs, curving his hips into you with short, desperate stutters, stronger pressure pushing up the base of his cock, before finally releasing into you with a deep groan. The new loose feeling, this mess, has him seeing stars.

Steve can’t help but to pause, not because you’re waking up, but because he’s feeling his cum take form wherever it can fit around his cock thats pulsing inside your pussy that’s throbbing too. What can’t fit spills out of you, dripping and smearing, and in his post orgasm haze, he slowly fucks it back in. He pushes it in deep with a wicked moan, thighs shaking in pleasure.

It’s done.

And when the clouds leave your eyes, and you’re really awake as he pulls out of you, flinching at your own sensitivity, your eyes widen in horror as a hand flies between your legs, still processing what he’s done.

And because he’s a gentleman, he has to ask.

“What’s wrong, lover?”

—

(reblogs appreciated!)

tags: (only tagging people I know are comfortable with dark fics) @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @threeminutesoflife @honeychicanawrites @avintagekiss24 @xbuchananbarnes @sapphirescrolls @jtargaryen18

[jumbojamba47]

I Love You

Pt. 2 of Guest Room

A/N: Thank you for loving my little ball of garbage enough to warrant a second part. I’m feeling warm and fuzzy. Also... I kinda.. sorta.. really got carried away with this. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Shout out to my irl friends who had to deal with my gleefully rubbing my grubby little paws together all day. 

A/N PT. 2: TUMBLR QUIT BEING A BITCH AND JUST LET ME UPLOAD MY STORY IN PEACE PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU. The last try uploaded to my main and my stomach dropped out of my ass lmao. Fifth and hopefully final time. (I’m so sorry for the notifications spam for everyone I tagged)

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Stucky 

Warnings: 18+, Angst (like so much I’m sorry), Smut, Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption

Word Count: 5702

Hollow. It’s the only way she can describe the feeling of deep-seated emptiness that settles in her as she watches the quinjet disappear in the distance. What’s that noise? She casts her eyes around her surroundings when she suddenly feels a dampness on her collarbone. Reaching up a hand, she feels moisture on her face.

Oh.

The sounds were coming from her. At the realization of her sobs, pain wracked her frame with nowhere to go.

What was she thinking?

She wasn’t.

When she left Clint in a hurry, she hadn’t even paused to consider what she would say to you if she caught you. What did she feel for you? What could she have told you? Her life conditioned her to believe love was for children. She wasn’t one.

And yet…

She couldn’t deny that there was something about you that always drew her in to you. Every hidden interaction with you pulled onto all five of her senses demanding her full attention until there was only you in front of her; drawn straight into your orbit like a moon of Saturn. Each and every private encounter made it more difficult for the hardened assassin to pull herself away from you only to act unaffected by your presence in public.

Was that love?

It doesn’t matter.

You were sunlight. You were the warm embrace of home calling out to every damaged member of this family seeking acceptance for their past sins and a place to belong.

And she?

Well, she was damaged beyond repair.

She refused to be the one to tarnish your light. And she knew, if she gave in to her weaknesses, you could never really shine. You meant too much to the team. To her. A part of her could also admit to fear. Fear of what would happen if she hurt you.

If you hurt her.

She could live with never knowing what it felt like to call you hers. To hear you whisper her name in the early morning light your sweet features the first things she lays eyes on in your shared haven.

But she knew. She’d never recover if she could have you and lose you. If she were to tear her walls down, only for you to look inside and decide it wasn’t worth it.

That she wasn’t worth it.

With a steely resolve in her eyes, Natasha turned on her heels and began to make her way back towards the gym. She had a few weeks to get her head screwed on straight. She’ll lock away and bury anything she might have felt for you if given the chance. When you’re back, she’ll apologize for the hurt she’s caused you and maybe, just maybe, you’ll let her stay a part of your life.

If, along the way, she refuses to let her mind wander to thoughts of you with someone else, well, that’s her prerogative.

xxxx

You sit in heavy silence on the quinjet. Thoughts of last night’s interactions with the red-headed assassin plaguing your mind. You still feel a pang of pain when you remember her rejection. With a mental shake of your head, you resolve to table your emotions for now to focus on the mission at hand.

You’ve been tasked with leading a team to infiltrate an underground drug trafficking ring disguised as a bi-monthly art auction. Once you arrive at your destination, you’ll be allotted two months of integration and data retrieval before another team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents will be sent in to assist in the take down. You’re leading the team with Scarlet Witch and Falcon following your lead. Agent Hill was chosen to tag along strictly for backup and onsite supervision should the worst come to pass.

Sam and Maria sit up front; you can hear the sounds of quiet banter trickling back towards you while they try to respect your privacy, believing you to be mentally preparing yourself for the road up ahead. Wanda sits opposite you. Your emotions scream at her from across the jet, but she has the decency not to read your actual thoughts.

Still, she can’t help the concerned glances she sends your way.

Noticing her attention on you, you shift your body to turn towards her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I could ask you the same. Where did you disappear to last night? I tried to find you after you were pulled away by Natasha, but I couldn’t find you.”

You let out a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry. My heads been a mess lately. I didn’t mean to leave you on the dance floor like that. It was a rough night.”

A hand rises to nervously play with the hair on the back of your neck. You look to the floor.

“I also owe you a bit of an apology for how carried away I got last night. You’re amazing Wan, and I don’t want to lead you on in any way.”

She lets out a light laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, draga mea. We were just two friends who had a little too much to drink, having a little fun. No hard feelings whatsoever.”

You wince and she instantly knows that was the wrong thing to say.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. Pietro used to say it’s because I had big ears when we were children.”

She reaches out a hand across the aisle to let it rest on your knee. After an internal debate, you decide to divulge everything to her. From your first interactions with the assassin and your instant connection to the fallout from last night.

Listening patiently, Wanda’s eyes widen slightly when you mention what the events that occurred in the ex-soviet’s room.

By the end, Wanda is livid with righteous indignation on your behalf.

“Well, she’s a fool for letting you go.” She squeezes your leg.

“I can’t claim to understand what’s going through her head, but you have to know her feelings aren’t a reflection on your worth. You are the glue that holds this team together and we all love you. Natasha, she…” she pauses, “she’s been through much. More than any of us will ever know. Her experiences have closed her off. But you’re both strong. Maybe you’re not meant to be, but I know you can bounce back from this. We have a few weeks before we’re due back and, in that time, I guarantee you we can get your spirit back up and bouncing like usual.”

“Damn right, we can!” You hear Sam interrupt from the front of the plane.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and let out a light laugh.

Yeah, things weren’t okay.

But maybe they will be.

xxxx

The mission goes off without a hitch and it does wonders for your confidence. As soon as you landed at the safehouse, you and your team had set to work securing the perimeter and preparing for your upcoming roles in the undercover mission. Sam moved first, infiltrating the ranks of the dealers as he uncovered the hierarchy of the operation and fed maria intel to pass on to headquarters. You and Wanda were posed as a wealthy young couple from new money, tasked with getting close to the heads of the drug ring in order to gain access to the final auction where you ultimately took down the entire operation with the aid of several agents.

Despite the smooth execution, you all still found yourselves with extra downtime between stakeouts and it led to the four of you growing closer. One of your favorite pastimes became group binge-watches of The Fairly Odd Parents and Wanda had taken to calling you Cosmo, the husband of her cartoon namesake.

           “ETA: 5 minutes,” called out Hill.

From your seat, you could see the compound looming over the horizon. You take in a nervous breath and release.

Next to you, Wanda can feel your apprehensive tension and takes a moment to give your hand a firm squeeze.

“You’re okay, Cosmo. Remember our talks. You have strength. You know your worth. You’ll be fine.”

You send her a grateful smile and a nod. Your fingers squeeze her back briefly before you move to stand by the doors of the ramp as you hear the jet begin to touch down.

She’s right. During your time away, you came to terms with the fact that it’s not Natasha’s fault that she doesn’t feel the same way as you do. You know you have no control over other people’s feelings, and you owed it to the both of you to face this head on, maturely.

As soon as the jet’s ramp meets the floor of the hangar, you’re met with a wall of pure muscle that really should come with a warning label. Your feet are lifted off the ground and suddenly you’re swinging in circles. You laugh as Bucky’s long hair tickles your nose.

Wait a second.

Is that?

“James Buchanan Barnes. Put me down this instant.”

He stiffens. That’s his name. That’s who he is. He is James Buchanan Barnes. Former sergeant and integral member of the Howling Commandos. The Winter Soldier. Melted down and reforged by Hydra. He was a legend. He was a nightmare. He was feared. He was… terrified.

Christ. Hearing his full name falling out of your mouth in that tone never failed to instill the fear of God into him. Not even his ma, bless her soul, could quite measure up to the intimidating aura you exuded when he knew you were ready to tan his hide.

You stood before him, hands on your hips, feet shoulder width apart, stance strong, eyebrow peaked… and deadly.

“Did you break into my room and steal my hair mask… again?”

The others stand back, watching in amusement while he starts to sweat.

“D-doll, of course not! You explicitly told m-me your room was off limits while you were go-”

You cut him off as you step closer.

“Don’t you lie to me, Barnes,” your eyes narrow and he gulps when you push your face closer to his.

“I can smell the macadamia oil, you heathen.”

Just as you’re about to launch into a lecture about respecting other people’s belongings, you’re interrupted by the sound of Steve’s voice.

“You gotta admit, at least it’s better than smelling the greasy mop he always ends up with after training.”

Your entire demeanor lightens up as you whip around to take a running leap at your favorite Man with a Plan.

“STEVIE!”

He catches you in his arms. “Good to have you back, sugar. We missed you around here.”

You hear a soft exhale of relief come from behind you.

Tilting your head back from where you’re perched in Steve’s arms, you narrow your eyes at Bucky and make a silent gesture to indicate you’re watching him. This is far from over.

He gulps.

“Well, c’mon then, we’re all dying to hear how the mission went. The others are waiting for you in the lounge.”

You stay wrapped around your friend’s dorito shaped torso but make the effort to wriggle your way around him so you’re clinging to his back like an infant koala. He rolls his eyes but does nothing to deter you, choosing to move his arms in support of your legs instead.

“Onward, my trusty steed!” you giggle.

As one, you all make your way towards the main common area, taking the time to drop off your luggage in your respective rooms as you go. Eventually, you make your way to the lounge and as you’re carried in, F.R.I.D.A.Y. blasts the loud trumpets of a herald through her speakers.

Huh, Tony must’ve upgraded her sense of humor.

Greeting the others, you use your hands in Steve’s hair like an oversized rat with a penchant for cooking to guide him towards your favorite lounge chair. Sam and Wanda move towards the kitchen to look for the good snacks they couldn’t have undercover while everyone else gathers around the remaining lounges.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Natasha hovering off to the side near Clint but you can’t quite get yourself to make eye contact yet. You wait for everyone to settle in. Wanda approaches you with two mugs of tea in her hands offering you one with a “just the way you like it, Cosmo”. It’s punctuated with a wink and she perches herself on the arm of your seat, bringing her own around to rest across the back. Her hand finds its way to your hair playing with a few strands to keep you grounded while you purposefully train your eyes away from a certain side of the room.

Wanda really did become your rock in the weeks away. While you never repeated anything from the night of your party, you fell into an easy companionship with the young mutant that led to you each being comfortable around the other. She knew how hard your return would be for you and made it her next mission to make sure you knew you had a solid support system in place.

Seeing the close interaction between the two of you, Bucky and Steve both shoot you cheeky grins and eyebrow wiggles that have you holding up a throw pillow just under Wanda’s current line of sight. She glances down, smirks and hurls the pillow at the two men using her powers, ensuring she adds a boomerang effect to ricochet off the face of one in order to hit the other stunning both of them.

“Nice!” You give her an enthusiastic high five as she wiggles her fingers at the recovering men.

“I just learned that one on the job. I have to keep practicing for muscle memory.” She states in a faux haughty tone while you snicker at the indignation on your Brooklyn Boys’ faces.

Across the room, Natasha watches you. She knew she missed you while you were away, but nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of emotions that crashed into her when she finally laid eyes on you after weeks apart. You still had the same mischievous spark in your eyes. Your nose still crinkled just the slightest bit when you laughed. Your smile could still light up an entire room like the Fourth of July.

God, she missed you.

She watches your raucous banter with the resident super-soldiers with a fond smile teasing the corners of her lips. She takes note of the casual arm slung across your shoulders, the hand tangled in your hair, and something inside of her burns. Her jaw clenches.

She’s not yours to have.

Clint nudges her shoulder with a pointed look. She realizes she’s been emitting a soft growl. Focus Romanoff! Where is your training? She strains but ultimately fixes her posture until she’s the posterchild for casual aloofness. Her best friend snickers but chooses not to comment on the slight rigidity he can see in her shoulders.

Tony claps his hands to gain everyone’s attention.

“Alright alright, Hermione’s new parlor tricks aside, we all know why we’re really here.”

In his best imitation of Fury’s gruff voice, he growls out, “Hill. Debrief report. Judgement on (y/hero/n)’s execution?”

Rolling her eyes but playing along, “All objectives executed to perfection. Leadership skills exemplary, sir!” she tosses in a mock salute.

It’s quiet before everyone breaks into cheers and congratulate you and your team on a successful job well done. You’re beaming when you hear Sam chime in with, “You better watch out Cap. (Y/l/n) could give you a run for your money as team captain. We might be shipping you to a retirement home sooner than we thought.

Your best friend grins at you with pride and mirth shining in his eyes and you feel warm inside.

“I think we could come to a truce and work together. Co-captain sound good to you doll?”

“I don’t think so Steve. I’ll leave the captaincy to you. I don’t think I could handle dragging the metal chicken wing over there back in line every day,” you respond with a laugh, sticking your tongue out at Sam. You draw out a squawk of offense and everyone bursts into laughter.

You turn your head slightly and find yourself making direct eye contact with the very same pair of vivid green eyes that still visit you in your dreams. You swallow down the rising emotions and offer her a small smile. She looks startled at first but relaxes slightly and gives you one of her own in return.

Maybe you could do this.

You spend a few more minutes catching up with the rest of the team, learning about what everyone has been up to while you were away. Checking the time, you slowly pull away from Wanda, who still has her weight resting on you, and announce that you’re going to head to your room to wash off and settle in before you have to fill out your mission reports.

Everyone bids you goodnight and you exit the room, walking the familiar pathway towards your own residence. Your ears pick up quiet footsteps behind you causing you to turn your head slightly.

A small sharp inhale escapes your lips. Your eyes betray you with a quick scan of her nervous form standing in front of you. Her hair is a little longer and the circles under her eyes are just the slightest shade darker. She still looks just as breathtaking as the day you walked out of her room. Her presence instantly brings you peace and you curse yourself under your breath.

Mentally slapping yourself, you plaster on a casual smile.

“Hey Nat. Been a while.”

You cringe.

Really? Been a while? Really?

She steps towards you, “Hi (y/n/n),” she responds softly.

“Listen I-”

“Can we-”

You both let out a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry. Go ahead, you first,” she says.

“Listen, Nat. I owe you an apology.”

She stills. What could you possibly have to apologize for? You’re not the one who broke the heart of the love of your life just because you had commitment issues.

Stop that. She’s not your love of anything.

She opens her mouth to interrupt but you press on.

“It wasn’t fair of me to try to push you into something you clearly weren’t comfortable with. You made it clear that you didn’t love me the way I loved you. I never wanted to make you feel like I would demand anything of you. You’re more than entitled to your own feelings and it wasn’t okay for me to project what I felt onto you.”

Frozen in place, her mind could only focus on two words.

Loved? Felt?

And didn’t that sting?

She can feel her throat start to constrict but she goes along with it.

Maybe it’s for the best.

“It’s okay (y/n/n). I understand where you came from and I’m partially to blame for letting things go on for as long as they did without taking your feelings into consideration.

“Friends?”

A small, okay large, part of her brain screamed in agony that this was wrong.

Instead, she smiles and nods opening her arms.

You gingerly step into her embrace, one arm comes up holding her shoulder while the other gently cups the back of her head in a familiar hold.

Her arms come up to wrap themselves around your middle, squeezing slightly.

If either of you noticed the other inhale just a little deeper, neither of you chose to comment.

xxxx

Several weeks go by and you’ve settled back into a familiar routine. Wanda has officially been adopted into you and your boys’ infamous trio and the brunette witch could often be seen joining in on your foolish antics around the compound. At first, the three made a pact to ensure you would never be exposed to prolonged periods of alone time with the woman who damaged your tender heart. Often times, you’d catch yourself alone with the assassin only for one of the others to immediately swoop in to whisk you away and drag you into some activity before you could draw each other into a prolonged conversation

It took you a few days to catch on to what your friends were doing. While the sentiment was greatly appreciated, you couldn’t miss the slight look of hurt that crossed Natasha’s face whenever you were pulled away from her. Eventually, you had to put your foot down, taking them aside one day. You told them that you loved them and appreciated their concern. But you’re an adult and you can handle your affairs well enough on your own.

They backed off but still continued to keep a wary lookout. They couldn’t help it. You were their favorite.

Your interactions with the devastatingly gorgeous avenger were still a little stunted and you both miss the longing stares you direct towards each other on occasion. Still, you’re getting better.

It still hurts sometimes but you’re okay as long as you still have her in your life. In any capacity.

You think you’re getting better. It stills hurts but you’re okay as long as you still have her in your life.

xxxx

You’re in the gym talking to Sam one afternoon as he spots you in the weights section while Natasha and Clint are sparring on the mats.

“The team’s decided to make an appearance at a new nightclub Aluminum Alloy Man bought out on a dare tonight. You in, sugar?”

You laugh at the latest nickname he’s given Stark but shake your head no.

“Sorry Sam but I’ve got a date.”

You hear a particularly loud grunt come from Clint and turn your head slightly to see Natasha apologizing while he’s doubled over catching his breath.

“Oh? Anyone we know?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes.

“With myself, you dork. I’ve been dying to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail and I finally have the downtime to sit through it. There’s a bottle of wine and a couch calling my name and I intend to capitalize.”

He laughs but nods understandingly.

“That’s fair. You good here? I better head out to get ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, you go ahead. Have fun tonight!” You wave him off wiping the sweat off the back of your neck with a damp towel.

“(Y/L/N)!” You hear your name called out from across the gym.

“Care to spar? Clint’s tapping out. He’s a wuss.”

You start to hesitate but choose to nod instead, stepping into the ring, setting your towel on the rope to dry.

You begin to circle one another assessing each other’s weaknesses. She makes the first move lashing out with a swift kick to your ankle, aiming to leave you off balance. You dodge out of the way and retaliate with a series of jabs towards her torso. This goes on for several minutes each of you landing several hits when Natasha launches herself off your bent knee, intending to use her signature thigh grip of death to bring you down.

Not today, Satan.

You bring your arms up, wedging them between your neck and her legs before she can get a grip. You latch onto her legs tightly before you swing her around your body, tackling her to the floor. You move your hand to cradle the back of her head to ensure it doesn’t smack into the ground, bringing yourself much closer to her body in the process.

You’re both panting heavily, stuck, mesmerized by the intense look in each other’s eyes. You have one leg between her thighs, knee pressed to her core, puffs of air intermingling between you.

Is she? Leaning towards you?

Oh, you definitely felt that wiggle of her hips against your knee.

You wet towel drops to the floor with a wet smack and just like that, the spell is broken.

You both scramble apart and you move to pick up the offending object.

Behind you, Natasha clears her throat sheepishly.

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear your big plans for tonight while you were talking to Wilson. Is there room for one more? I was actually planning to do the same, but I hear Monty Python is much funnier with good company.”

Everything inside of you screams that this is a terrible idea. But here’s the thing, you thrived off of terrible ideas.

“Sure, why not? We can start when everyone else heads out?”

Sure you would have declined, she brightens considerably and throws you a grin.

She starts walking backwards towards the door.

“Great! It’s a date! I mean- not a date-”

She smacks herself right into the door.

You let out a small laugh.

“I know what you meant.”

“Right. Yes. I’ll see you tonight!” She scurries out the door.

You stay standing there in the ring watching the space she just occupied.

On the other side of the door, Natasha leans heavily against the metal.

What have I gotten myself into?

xxxx

You bid goodbye to your friends and make sure to tell them to call you should they need anything. Once everyone is out the door, you turn around, inhale deeply, and set to work.

Despite everything, and your unfailing determination to not fall down the same rabbit hole, you can’t help but want to take care of Natasha in any capacity you can.

So, you take extra care to grab her favorite snacks, her go-to brand of wine, a couple glasses, and an oversized hoodie you always kept in the back of the closet, on hand just for her. She had a tendency to relax in thinner loungewear, but you knew once she settled in, she stubbornly refused to get up for anything no matter how cold she got.

As you set everything down on the coffee table in front of the oversized, plush couch in the center of the movie room, the beauty in question makes her way towards you in, surprise surprise, a thin tank top and shorts.

You roll your eyes but toss her your sweatshirt and she grins at you before hastily throwing it on, snuggling into the warmth. You both settle onto opposite sides of the couch, the wine and snacks split between you. The movie plays and you find yourselves relaxing. Like magnets, you eventually gravitate towards each other, sharing jokes and snacks, yelling at the large screen in front of you as the Black Knight stubbornly refuses to die.

Without realizing each other’s movements, she winds up leaning against you while your arm is wrapped around alternating between playing with her hair and rubbing soothing patterns across her shoulder and biceps.

You feel a shudder come from the deadly ball of fluff in your arms and only then do you realize your positions. You can’t bring yourself to move.

“Cold?”

“Yeah,” she nods. Attempting to burrow herself further into your clothes.

You pull her closer to you until her legs are resting over yours, head tucked under your chin, puffs of air tickling your sensitive neck.

Bad move (y/l/n).

You forget how to breathe. Natasha turns to look at you when she feels you still beneath her.

Oh. Oh god.

She didn’t realize how close she was to you and from this distance, she can see every detail of your ethereal beauty in the dim light of the movie lighting.

You turn your head to take a quick peak at her but suddenly you’re drowning in a sea of green. Your breath hitches when green is replaced by red and suddenly plump lips are crushing your own.

You moan and your hands scramble for purchase as the angel in your lap twists to straddle you. Fists tighten in your hair while she nips at your lower lip, close to drawing blood. She tugs at your shirt and you get the message. You desperately rip away your top while she follows suit before she pushes you onto your back spreading out on top of you.

A loud groan escapes your lips as the vixen in your arms finds the sensitive space right below your ear. Unwilling to be out done, you wrap your legs around her hips and gracefully flip yourselves over, trailing kisses down the crevice of her breasts, mapping your way down her body. Like Copernicus charting the stars. Reaching your destination, you pull apart the draw strings of her shorts with nothing but your teeth, earning a moan of approval from the writhing redhead. You smoothly slide back up her body, meeting her desperate lips in a searing kiss while your hand finds her center, already feeling the slick wetness ready for you. Natasha’s limbs fly to wrap around you as you set a steady pace pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Knowing she needs the extra push, your other hand moves to pull aside her bra before you deliver a harsh nip and a firm curl of your fingers.

She sees stars.

No.

She sees galaxies.

You continue to move, determined to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible.

You’re rewarded with the crack of her voice as she hurdles into the abyss.

“God, I fucking love you.”

It slips out of your mouth completely unbidden.

But it’s too late.

The damage can’t be undone.

Just like that, she snaps back to reality.

She hastily sits up. Your hand falls back into your lap as she quickly stands picking up her shirt.

“We can’t do this.”

“Natasha, I-”

“No.”

“Natasha, would you jus-”

“I said no!”

You feel like you’ve been here before.

She turns to make a hasty retreat, but you catch her hand in a tight grip before she can get too far.

“Why do you keep running from me? Am I so repulsive that the thought of being with me has you running for the hills?”

“Not everything is about you, (y/l/n),” she bites out.

Neither of you hear the team returning but all of them can hear the yelling coming from your direction and they run towards you.

“No. You always do this! Every time I think we’ve gotten to a good place; you freeze me out.”

“That’s the thing! We were in a good place! We were having fun. We had each other when we needed it and nothing more! We were so good like that. We can still be like that!”

Tears fill your eyes.

“It’s not enough.”

“Why can’t this be enough?!” she cries.

“This has to be enough,” she whispers looking at anything but you.

A hand moves to grip hers gently. The other rises to cup her chin to guide her eyes to yours.

“This could be so much more. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Staring into your eyes, she can see you dying a little more inside the longer she stays silent.

She pulls away from you.

Okay.

You thought you could be fine with just floating in her orbit. Maybe you underestimated how long it would take for you to heal enough to allow it. Or maybe you couldn’t do this at all.

Your head tilts towards the floor. Your lips break into the softest, most heart-breaking smile she’s ever seen.

“I’m always going to love you Natasha Romanoff. But I owe it to the both of us to know this won’t be enough for me. This can’t be enough for me.”

A whimper is caught in her throat but she can’t bring herself to move when you step back away from her.

“I love you. I don’t want to,” you breathe out.

Natasha swears she hears something inside her shatter.

“I’m sorry I don’t give you the strength you need to pursue your own happiness. I really hope you find someone who does. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

You make me happy.

Just say it!

Her body screams in protest with every fiber of her being.

“Bye Tasha.”

You turn and only then do you realize that the two of you aren’t alone.

Wanda steps forward. She wraps her arms around your shoulders as she leads you away throwing a glare at the assassin.

Natasha takes a step in your direction.

“(Y/n) wait-”

She stopped by a metal arm blocking her way.

“Haven’t you done enough?” Bucky growls.

“And what do you know about what I’ve done?” She shoves him away.

“I know you hurt them! AGAIN!” he snarls, “You need to get your shit together before I’ll even THINK about letting you come anywhere NEAR (y/n) again, Romanoff.”

Her blood boils. She scoffs, “Big surprise, their guard dog immediately snaps to attention at the first sign of trouble. Tell me Barnes, does your master feed you well?”

She regrets her outburst immediately, but she’s too angry, too frustrated, too exhauseted to take it back.

“Don’t forget who trained you, Natalia,” comes out in a menacing hiss.

Frantically, Clint’s eyes snap from her to the ex-soldier advancing on her. He immediately steps between the two, placing a hand on her arm and turning towards the larger assassin.

“Whoa now, you know she didn’t mean that. Emotions are just running high right now. Let’s all take a step back. I could use a hand, Cap.”

Despite his own roiling emotions, he needs to maintain his professionalism as team captain, releasing a heavy puff of air, he moves to place a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, pulling him to his side.

“Clint’s right. We can’t do anything to fix this right now. Everyone, disperse. We’ll regroup in the morning.” He sends a piercing glare at the redhead.

Hearing another growl, Clint whips his head back around, “As entertaining as it would be to make a compound wide betting pool with Tony on a wwe rumble between you and two tag-teaming super soldiers, maybe we should take a second to cool off outside, yeah” he hisses at her.

Gritting her teeth, she nods, allowing Clint to pull her down the hall and out the door.

As she catches a glimpse of the hall leading to your room, all she can think is one thing.

She let you slip through her fingers… again.

Tagging some incredible people who expressed an interest in pt. 2:

guys im so fucking sorry this keeps showing up in your mentions.

@natasha-danvers , @thelastavenger-3000 , @ohfuckno , @imnotasuperhero

[romeshifting]

Reflection

TW: shifting doubts, self-depreciation, religious doubt, parents mention, pandemic mention, panic attack mention

This is just a reflection on how I’ve grown as a person and a kind of vent--it’s not meant to be a judge of anything else. You don’t even have to read it, I just needed to get it off my chest. Hope everyone is having a great day! :]

Oh, and also a response to an anon who asked if there was proof shifting was real--I’ll answer your ask soon with other kind of proof! 

I’ve been trying to shift for about four months now. Since...I want to say the end of August. 

Back then, I wasn’t very spiritual. Sure, I was beginning to explore the wiccan philosophy--but I would eventually drop that because I wanted to focus more on manifestation and meditation--but I really wasn’t sure of my own religion. My parents forced on me the idea that there was no god, but day in and day out I would pray. Pray to what? I didn’t know. Since I was a young child, I asked for signs if there was something out there, anything that could help me...but nothing came. Er, nothing obvious.

For good reason too, I believe. I’ve said this before, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. It’s a cliché, for sure, but if something happens, there’s a cause. So me not finding any higher deity and going on my own path? That’s caused me to learn a lot about myself and my family (/neu), as well as what path I want to take in life. 

Now, I’m much more spiritual, and can confidently say I am pagan and go with the Universe. Even a year ago, I would have called myself weird or insane. Hell, I went into the pandemic thinking I was cis, bisexual, a STEM gal, using she/her pronouns exclusively--now I get pissed when someone calls me a lady and want to move to New York with every ounce of my being.

The point is, I’ve grown. I have new interests, identities, friends (shiftblr!), communities (again, shiftblr), knowledge, and so many other positive things. 

But I also have negative things too. I have a new fear of my parents, a new desperate need for therapy, a fear of talking to my IRL friends because of how much I’ve changed, self-depreciating thoughts that plague me every day (thanks mom and dad /neg) and a new relation to characters who specifically are confident with debilitating poor self-esteem. On that note, I hadn’t had a panic attack before the pandemic--now I can have three and then hide it so well.

And I’ve become so painfully positive! Sure, it brings me people who think my vibes are nice and people who are generally nice to me, but I know someone’s going to eventually turn on me or use me. And I can’t keep up the positive persona; I don’t have the spoons for that! 

I now know myself and what I’m living in, but at the cost of what mental stability I had left. 

That was actually my cause for wanting to shift a few months ago. My first script was horrifyingly real with my friends in it (I would never shift there but there are salvageable pieces), I wrote it all in the span of a few hurried hours locked in my room. And then I tried to shift. I tried every method in the book, then my own method mix, then no method. I joined shifting server after shifting server. 

As I was doing this, I experienced the same symptoms--even now. I always feel numb, I always feel so tired but not able to sleep, I always feel like I’m being pushed down, I always feel so weirdly comfortable, I always felt unable to move when relaxing during the day. But every single time, I always move for many reasons--because I can’t feel my heartrate so I’m worried I’m not going to wake up, because there was an itch on the back of my head, because the numbness was too much for my sensory issues, because my sister had fallen asleep already and began talking, etc. 

Part of me wants to say “I failed” and give up on this, like I’ve given up on so many other things. Could shifting be a passing hyperfixiation? I tried learning how to draw during the summer--I still haven’t finished the course because I gave up on it! I couldn’t delete this blog without getting rid of my sideblogs--but I suppose it wouldn’t be a big deal if I disappeared. Not from life, I’ve learned my lesson there, but online. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I just stopped trying to shift. It’s not like I’m in that deep well of mental woe anymore...it’s more of a river, constantly dragging me away now. I don’t need to shift anymore. 

But despite all of it, I know that shifting is real. How could I explain away the symptoms I feel? How could I explain the scream I heard, the tingling I felt, the tap on my forehead? How could I explain why so many people are interested in it? How could I explain why the government has documents on how to shift? How could I explain why two people have the exact same symptom/experience? How could I explain why more than one person on this site has shifted successfully? 

But most of all, how could I explain this community? Everyone helping each other out, teaching each other new things. How could I explain the forty-or-so shifting accounts I follow? 

I can’t. I can’t explain any of it. That’s proof that at least something about shifting is real. 

I used to be so strict, so “I have to see it to believe it” because of my parent’s teachings. But now I’m actually me. Actually Rome, the guy who realized that his love of analyzing films actually has a use. Actually Rome, the person who managed to cry alone--a great feat for someone who’s never done that before. Actually Rome, who’s created so many good projects and writings. 

And I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s not great, it’s certainly not the happiest I’ll ever be, and I can’t call myself actually happy, but...I’m good. I can confidently say that I am alive and living life the best I can--which is more than I can say for 13-year-old me. And I’m turning 16 in a few months!

Things may not be good in my life right now--I’m not free to do much I want to do--but I have a reason to keep going with shifting and with how I’m living life--quite a few, actually! All I need to know is that I am myself, and I’m strong enough to hold out until I can move out, probably when I turn 20 or something (>:/). 

Anyone who’s actually read to this point, I guess thank you?