#symbolism oh symbolism how my heart does beat for you

[nicohischier]

vegas is winning people over with that overhead group picture that looks like a heart because as that qoutes posts demonstrate there's nothing hockey fans love more than symbolism

i haven't seen the photo and honestly do not show it to me because i'm certifiably sick today (things Got Bad last night) and i might just [redacted] again if i have to see that

[ahqkas]

♯ARTSY HANDS AND MINDS ( how would the batboys react to you making your own merch of their alter ego ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason — separated, fluff, established relationship, not edited, cursing, bases on this req.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

WHEN BRUCE UNLOCKED AND PUSHED the front door of your apartment open, the familiar scent of one of your candles immediately greeted him with warmth and the familiarity of home. he was finally home, with you. it had been a long night, after all, a long night of patrols and late emergency meetings at wayne enterprises. all he wanted was a quiet evening with you, a thing that finally came to him.

the sound of soft humming came from somewhere in the apartment, probably from your living room, much to bruce’s detective skills. he couldn’t help but let a gentle smile grace his face upon the sound as he hung his coat. you always seemed to brighten even the darkest of his days.

but as he rounded the corner to the living space, his smile froze.

there you were, the love of his life, sitting cross-legged on the old, beaten couch ( which bruce insisted on replacing but you didn’t let that happen, something about an emotional bond ) with a black hoodie spread across your lap. a large symbol graced its chest area. the bat-symbol, he realized. smalls jars of fabric paint surrounded your sitting form, and you were holding a delicate brush, adding details to your own craftwork.

bruce was caught of guard.

“bruce!” you gasped his name out when he came into the clear sight, startled. you even nearly dipped the brush in the wrong direction which would mess up with the project you were currently working on. a flush of warmth creeped up your neck. “you’re home early. i thought you’d be at the office for a while.” not that you minded.

“i finished up early,” he hummed and gestured towards the hoodie in your lap. the sight of the symbol, his symbol, stirred something deep within him. “what’s that?”

“oh, this?” your hands awkwardly hovered over the clothing. “it’s nothing, really. just a little project i’m working on.”

your man raised one eyebrow at your dismissal. “that’s quite detailed for ‘nothing’, sweetheart.”

you gave in after a second of thinking, saying to yourself it definitely wasn’t for the petname or the gentle command in his tone. “fine. you caught me. i’m making my own batman hoodie. but before you say anything, let me explain.”

“i’m listening.”

“well, i’ve been a fan of batman for a while now,” you began, eyes watching his face for every kind of a reaction. “not like one of those die-hard fans who camp outside at night trying to take pics of him or anything. just . . . i admire what he does for gotham. he’s a symbol of hope, you know. it’s nice to have someone who actually fights for the city.”

bruce felt a lump form in the back of his throat. you admired both bruce wayne, the gotham’s billionaire darling, and batman, a side of him that came out when the sun went down.

“and,” you continued, “i wanted a hoodie with the bat-symbol because it looks cool, but the official ones are ugly. they’re all this stiff fabric that itches with weirdly placed logos. i wanted something more casual. so, i thought, why not just make one myself?”

his heart skipped a beat once you finished your mini rant, the muscle tightening against the bones of his ribs. you had no idea you were speaking to batman himself, yet your admiration was pure and genuine. it reminded him why he wore the cowl in the first place — to protect people like you, who believed in a better gotham.

“well,” he said after a moment of just looking at you with that special look in the depths of his gaze. “if batman knew how much effort you put into this, he’d flattered.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE LINGERING ACHE IN HIS MUSCLES FROM THE ROOFTOP CHASE he had barely managed to win stained his sore body as he returned from a long night of patrol back home to you. his footsteps were silent, practiced from the countless times he’s done this, when he unlocked the front door to the apartment he shared with you. the lights were still on, spilling the warm light from the living room into the hall.

dick smiled to himself. you always waited up for him, no matter how late he came home from “work”, and it never failed to warm his heart.

to find someone who would do such thing as cut their sleep schedule for him was basically rare, but he managed to.

you were sitting cross-legged on the beloved couch dick himself chose, completely absorbed in your task. the couch has lived its fair share already, but it was well loved and had so many good memories, so you kept it. your boyfriend watched from the doorway as your brows created that adorable little v between them, furrowing in concentration. meanwhile, your hands worked carefully with blue and black yarn. your fingers clutched the unmistakable nightwing plush; complete with the signature blue symbol across its little chest.

you don’t actually know about nightwing. well, you know about his existence, about how the vigilante keeps blüdhaven’s streets safe from criminal activities, and you knew about the package beneath the tight spandex of his suit. what you didn’t know was nightwing’s true identity. you didn’t know how he always made sure to come back home to you, and you totally didn’t know that ass belonged to you.

“uhh . . .” he was caught of guard for a second here. “what are you doing?”

jumping slightly at the sound of his voice, you clutched the half-finished plush close to your chest as if protecting it from his praying eyes. “dick!” your face flushed with embarrassment. “you’re home early.”

he arched an eyebrow at your behavior, his gaze averting towards the digital clock of the tv before it shifted back to you. “it’s almost two in the morning. sooo . . . are you going to explain why you’re making a mini nightwing doll this late at night?”

“first of all, it’s not a doll. it’s a plushie.”

“of course, my bad. plushie.”

“and second,” you started to defend your actions more confidently when you noticed the slightest of smirk gracing his face. he looked tired, the strands of his bangs slightly damp with sweat and his eyes nearly dropping down with how the exhaustion pressed on him. yet he still managed to be all cheeky. “it’s not like i’m obsessed or something. i just — the fan-made ones were too expensive, and honestly none of them were cute enough, so i decided to make my own.”

dick stepped closer to your sitting form, fidgeting with his hands to hide his racing heart. “you’re a nightwing fan?”

you shrugged and started picking at a stray thread on the plushie. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s cool, and he’s probably the least terrifying out of all the vigilantes in both gotham and blüdhaven. plus,” you paused in the little rant he’d coaxed out of you. “i think he’s kinda hot.”

a loud cough interrupted you the moment those last words slipped past your lips. dick’s ears took on a pink hint, along with a more pronounced smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. the tired look in his eyes was suddenly long gone, too. “you’re a think he’s hot, baby?”

“yeah. it’s not like he’ll know i said that, though.”

oh, you had no idea.

“it’s not perfect,” you shaked the plush in your hands to make a point, “but i wanted it to look right. and i know it’s probably silly, but it makes me feel safe, in a weird way. like, if i ever needed help, he’d show up, you know?”

dick wanted to tell you the truth then and there — that nightwing would show up for you, every single time, because you were his main priority. nothing else mattered but your safety. but he couldn’t. not yet.

his fingers brushed yours instead, tracing the fabric of the yarn with a gentle touch. “i think it’s perfect. and if nightwing ever saw it, i’m sure he would be flattered.”

“yeah, right,” you laughed, actually laughed, and rolled your eyes in that way he adored. “like he’d care about some random plushie.”

he didn’t argue, though a part of him was already planning on leaving a little thank you! note the next time he patrolled near your apartment. for now, he could settle for leaning against your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON HAD BEEN IN A RUSH TO GET HOME. the heels of his boots crunched on the gravel beneath him before he shrugged his leather jacket and unlocked the front door to your apartment. tonight’s patrol had been rough — more bullets than he’d planned for and a few bruises he would have to hide later. all he wanted now was to crash on the couch with you, maybe with a shitty movie and some pizza if you hadn’t eaten yet.

he took a step inside, already feeling the tension and ache erasing from his muscles as the familiar warmth of the living space wrapped around him like a blanket. he was finally home.

but when he crossed the threshold into the living room, jason froze right on the spot.

there you were, curled up on the couch, wearing a black hoodie that looked far too big on your frame with a hand-painted crimson symbol on the chest. not just any symbol though — it was his symbol. the red hood insignia stood out vividly against the dark fabric of the hoodie. he couldn’t miss it even if he was blind.

and that wasn’t all. on the coffee table in front of you was a small knitted plushie. its tiny body was simple, but the details were on spot: a small red helmet and a matching chest symbol that mirrored the one on your own chest.

you weren’t supposed to know about red hood. to certain amount of course. jason couldn’t shield you from the outside no matter how much he would like to, but he could shield you from one of his many personalities — the red hood. you weren’t supposed to know about him being red hood. so, he hoped it was still the truth.

“hey, you’re home!” you must’ve heard him come in because you looked up at him with that sheepish smile he grew to cherish, all while holding up the plush up for inspection.

“yeah . . .” he trained off, scratching the nape of his neck. jason didn’t like lying to you any more than he had to, so making up some shitty excuse about where he was and what was he doing was pretty much pointless. instead, he turned the attention to the creations of your work. the hoodie and plushie. “what’s–uh–what’s this?”

you glanced down at yourself like you’d forgotten what you were wearing. “oh, it’s a red hood merch. well, kind of,” brushing a stray hair off the hoodie, you smiled up at him more confidently. “i made these.”

jason’s brows shot up. “you made them?”

“yeah! the official looked ugly—like who designed that stuff? and the fan-made ones were either way too expensive or just not what i was looking for. so, i figured, why not do it myself? and he’s kind of my favorite vigilante.”

he felt his heart skip a beat. your favorite?

what the fuck. “red hood is your favorite.”

it definitely didn’t sound like a question, it was spoken in way it sounded like a statement, but you answered him with a reason anyway. “mhm. he’s a badass. a little scary, sure, but in a good way. like, you know he’s got a soft spot somewhere under all the armor. i caught him feeding the stray cat on our fire escape the other day. it was cute.”

well, he wasn’t exactly careful with the cat, but he didn’t expect the meowing and hissing would catch your attention. stubborn stray.

jason blinked, more caught of guard than feeling the edge of panic. he should panic, you were practically close to discovering your careless boyfriend was red hood. he was at a loss of words. “cute” wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself — or his alter ego — but he wasn’t about to argue with you. instead, his fingers moved to trace the oversized sleeves of your hoodie, calloused fingertips brushing under the fabric to intertwine your fingers in one.

you didn’t know the truth, and maybe you never would, but as long as you felt safe and protected in his arms, he was okay with it. you were holding a piece of him he’d never given to you, and yet you loved him the same.

[girl-lostconnection]

I just wanna say I love your fruit bat!reader and I just had to think about the boys further misunderstanding when reader maybe has a darker aesthetic, but reader doesn't get at all the connection cause like yeah black's just a neat colour, oh I guess vampires are cool. Wait me? *Mouthful of orange or something* me no fruits all the way? I don't know what you mean.

On one side it would be incredibly funny as misunderstanding but the devil is whispering in my ear so let’s walk the other way.

Imagine Reader freshly selected to join the team, nervous about meeting new people who they read EVERYTHING on, just to be ready.

And no one is hostile, right? They are friendly, almost too friendly, which grates on your nerves a little but you know, maybe you are thinking too much about it?

Works up until the first joke about the vampires, huge wolf operator (you find out later that his call sign is Ghost).

“Know why people don’t like workin’ with vampire bats?”, the question catches you off guard, your eyes snapping to the man’s eyes and you tilt your head to the side. You don’t know him yet, you aren’t sure how much of a reaction is allowed in this circumstance.

“‘Cause they are pain in the neck”, he announces, his brown eyes boring a hole into you, his tail wagging like he is waiting for you to start laughing.

You don’t. You stare right back at him, fingers flexing so the sharp points of your claws dig into your palm and you manage a smile that feels a little too forced.

Big wolf in front of you apparently sees it as well, because you can see the way his jaw flexes under the mask.

So for some reason he decides to give it another go. (Only months later you will find out that Simon was desperately scrambling for all the bat x vampire puns he remembered, thinking that the first one sounded a little too abrasive)

“What drink does bat order at the bar?”, he asks, his left ear giving in a small twitch that catches your eye. He sure is big for the wolf, most of their family you met in the past were tall and lean but this guy is built like a bloody tank.

“What?”, you ask, heart beating a little harder than you’d like it, anxiety coiling in your gut.

“A Bloody Mary”, wolf hums out, his ear giving in another twitch and corners of your mouth curl upwards. Cute.

Wolf’s tail starts to wag again, eyes satisfied as he walks off and you follow him to see your new space and unpack.

Isn’t so bad for the first meeting, right?

But in hindsight every interaction from then on felt…somehow forced. Recurring about blood and meat and fucking Halloween. Remarks about wearing too much black or the way Soap once chuckled at the silver chain with a beautiful red cross. Not a religious symbol but simply an accessory you liked.

It all was piling up so quickly you decided to just…stay on the outside. Maybe that would be better. Maybe they were trying to tell you that they didn’t want a bat and didn’t like bats.

That they didn’t like you.

It takes time to undo and the process is slow — you are a tough nut to crack, but they don’t try to crack you. Just…make amends, yeah?

Your relationship with Simon makes a cycle when he peels you oranges, eyes soft as you devour pieces of peaches.

“Do you know what’s a vegetarian vampire bat’s favourite fruit, luv?”, he hums out, placing a peeled orange in your bowl, something in his tone making you feel fuzzy.

“What is it?”, his tail is wagging and god the way he looks at you makes something tender in your chest ache, you mouth voluntarily falling open when he pushes a piece of peach in it, eyes crinkling.

“A neck-tarine”, Simon murmurs, his tail wagging harder when you laugh after a beat, juices from fruit dripping down your chin.

You shake your head at him in faux disbelief and he grins, popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

“Can do it all night”

You roll your eyes and instinctively smack his hand away when he tries to steal your bowl.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

[meleeyz]

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗦 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ Thank you so much for the support on the first oneshot, this is mostly fluff because I have to heal the wounds in my heart that arc two left behind.

୨୧ I'm still learning how to use masterlists and stuff (😿) but you can send me requests if you want! For now I'm only going to write about Ekko (or until I learn how to use tumblr) then I'll post the list of characters I could write for.

୨୧ Inspired by some headcanons of @blllllllllllllllllllue

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The Firelights’ hideout always felt alive, even in its quietest moments, but your little corner was a chaos. It was where you crafted, creating not just the masks that symbolized your rebellion but tiny pieces of identity for your comrades.

"Something like this?" you asked, holding up a rough sketch for the recruit seated across from you. He was new to the team and still shy around most people, but with you, he seemed to relax, likely due to your welcoming demeanor.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he said, leaning in to inspect it. "But, uh, could you make the eyes a little bigger? I want it to look more… intense."

“Intense. Got it.” You jotted down the adjustment in the margins, smiling as you worked. “Anything else?”

The recruit hesitated for a moment before glancing at you sheepishly. “So, uh, are you Ekko’s girl? Like… his girlfriend?”

The question caught you so off guard that the pencil slipped from your fingers. Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you scrambled to compose yourself.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. I mean—yes. I am.”

The recruit grinned.

“Thought so. He talks about you all the time.”

Your heart did a funny little flip, equal parts warmth and embarrassment.

“He does?”

“Yeah. Like, a lot. You’d think you hung the moon or something”

The boy’s teasing tone made you flush deeper. Before you could decide whether to be mortified or flattered, another voice broke through.

“Hey! Ekko’s looking for you!” A little boy poked his head in the door, oblivious to the conversation he was interrupting. “Said it’s important.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You turned back to the recruit, already rising to your feet. “I’ve got everything I need for your mask. I’ll start on it soon.”

“Take your time,” he replied, giving you a knowing look as you walked out.

He nodded, and with a small wave, you left the workshop and made your way to Ekko’s space.

The closer you got to Ekko’s workshop, the quieter the base became, the energy from the rest of the Firelights retreating into the distance. You pushed the door open cautiously, only to find the room eerily calm. The usual clatter of tools and the whir of machinery were absent.

When you stepped inside the workshop, the quiet was almost eerie. Tools and half-built gadgets lay scattered across Ekko’s workbench, but there was no sign of him.

“Ekko?” you called, glancing around.

No answer.

A small knot of worry tightened in your chest.

“If this is a joke, it’s not funny—”

Before you could finish, arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you off the ground. You let out a startled yelp as you were spun around, your voice mixing with laughter that bubbled up despite yourself.

“Ekko!” you cried, trying to sound indignant, but failing miserably as he set you down, his grin impossibly wide. “You scared the life out of me, you jerk!”

“Couldn’t resist,” he admitted, still chuckling. His voice carried that familiar mix of playfulness and warmth that always made your heart skip a beat. He leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You swatted at his arm, trying to suppress a smile.

“What did you need me for, anyway? And don’t say it was just to scare me.”

“Relax, Firefly,” he teased, stepping back. “I’ve got something for you. Close your eyes.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“If this is another prank—”

“It’s not,” he said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Promise. Just trust me.”

After a brief hesitation, you sighed and shut your eyes.

“Okay, but if you throw something at me—”

“Shh. No peeking.”

You heard him moving around, the soft clang of metal and the scrape of something being picked up. Your curiosity burned, but you kept your eyes closed, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides.

“Alright,” Ekko said finally. “Open.”

When you did, your breath caught. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, but not just any flowers—each one was intricately crafted from scrap metal, their petals shaped and welded together with incredible precision. They shimmered faintly in the light, their edges polished to a soft gleam.

“I made these for you,” Ekko said, his voice quieter now, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react. His smile, though, was radiant, the little gap in his front teeth only adding to its charm. “You like them?”

“Like them?” you echoed, reaching out to take the bouquet. “Ekko, they’re beautiful. You made these?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking both proud and bashful.

“Yeah. Thought you’d appreciate something… different. Real flowers don’t last long down here”

You turned the bouquet in your hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. Each flower was unique, and the care he’d put into them was evident in every detail. Your chest felt tight with emotion as you looked back at him.

“Why, though? What’s the occasion?”

Ekko’s grin returned, mischievous but endearing.

“The right way to ask my girlfriend out on a date. Tonight.”

Your lips parted in surprise.

“A date?”

“Yeah. Thought it was time we did something just for us. No missions. Just you and me.” He stepped closer, his gaze locked on yours. “So, what do you say?”

A warm, fuzzy silence hung between you, the weight of his words and the sincerity in his eyes tying your tongue. Your gaze flicked to his lips, the same thought clearly mirrored in his mind as he leaned closer.

The moment stretched as the world outside seemed to blur and fade. Just as your lips were about to meet—

“Oh, uh, sorry!”

Both you and Ekko jumped apart as the recruit from earlier barged in, a sheepish look on his face.

“I just—uh—I had another idea for the mask and thought—”

Ekko sighed loudly, his previous grumpiness overtaking his usual charm.

“Seriously?”

“I’ll just—uh—leave” the recruit stammered, already retreating back through the door.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s fine,” you told him. “We can talk about it later.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension melting away as you stepped back.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later, huh?”

Ekko’s pout was almost comical.

“You owe me, Firefly.”

As you turned to leave, you blew him a playful kiss. Ekko grinned, pretending to catch it in midair and press it to his chest.

“See you later.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[withlove-angel]

How would they confess to you ?

(Luffy, sanji, zoro, Buggy, law)

Luffy

I think Luffy would be very straightforward with his confession, he wouldn't want to beat around the bush or cause any confusion. He would be very clear about his feelings for you and how much you mean to him. He might not be the most romantic person in the world but he would try his best to show you how much he cares about you and how important you are to him.

He might start by saying something like, "You know, I've been really enjoying our time together, and I have to say...I'm starting to fall for you!" Then, he might add, "Oh, who am I kidding, I've completely fallen for you! You're the only person who can make me smile like this and I never want that to go away." He might even end his confession with, "So, wanna be my treasure?"

Sanji

Well, Sanji might not confess right away, but he might start with subtle hints. He might drop little compliments or flirt a lot more. He would also make an extra-special meal to impress you. Eventually, he might get up the courage to tell you how he feels, and he would say something like "You're so beautiful and kind, it's hard not to have a crush on you"

That's true! Sanji does like to flirt, but he's also very respectful of women and their boundaries. He wouldn't push if you said no, but he might be a bit... persistent... if you said maybe, or said you wanted to get to know him better before making a decision. He might ask you more questions about yourself and your interests, or try to impress you with his cooking or fighting skills. But he wouldn't force you into anything, even if he does really like you

"I love your smile, and your laugh. Your eyes sparkle like jewels and your hair is like the sun on a sunny day. You're strong and brave, and you don't let anything stop you. I want to be the person who makes you smile the most in the whole world. My heart is yours; will you please accept it?"

Zoro

The way I envision it, he'd confess during a time of quiet, peace, and contemplation. He'd be hesitant, nervous, probably even a little awkward in his own way, but he'd do it without hesitation because it's what he's feeling. He'd want it to be genuine and sincere, and maybe it'd even be a spur-of-the-moment decision. If it's a more emotional moment, his swords might even be discarded to the side, as a symbolic gesture

*deep breath*" Oi. You know it's me, right? There's something I wanna get off my chest. It's not easy for me to put it into words. I don't know if I'm making sense... But here goes. I kinda like you- like like you. A lot. I think I've felt this way for a while now, but I haven't been able to say it. I know it's a lot to just say out loud, and it feels a bit... reckless. But I gotta just get it out. I like you."

Buggy

Buggy likes to present himself as powerful and intimidating. But deep down he's just an insecure guy who worries about what others think of him. In a private setting with someone he trusts, I think Buggy would be a lot more honest and open about his feelings. But he would still do it his own way, maybe in a roundabout way without actually saying the words "I love you".

I think Buggy would be very loyal and protective in a relationship, and he'd make sure that his partner knows that he values their connection deeply.

He would be careful not to say anything overly cheesy or melodramatic. He might try to lighten the mood with a joke, or compliment you in a way that makes you feel special and important to him. He would probably try to impress you with his strength and courage, and show off his abilities as a fighter and leader.

He would probably also be quite thoughtful and sweet, and show that he really cares about your well-being and happiness. But he wouldn't want to be too vulnerable or emotional, so he would likely try to keep things light and playful.

"So.. I.. err.. *cough* you're the most beautiful and amazing person I've ever met. (Turns all red) *cough* I mean... err... you're not too bad I guess. (Tries to smile) Wanna.. err.. be my partner.. I mean... umm... *cough* wanna be my romantic partner? Yeah, that's it. *cough* That was a joke, right? Right?"

Law

Law is the type to give subtle hints that he likes someone while keeping his feelings under wraps. If you like him too, you'd probably have to make a move first. He's the type to deny his feelings until the moment they're expressed. He has a hard time displaying his emotions, although he's quite a warm person internally.

If you confess he would probably be stunned at first. He wouldn't expect this to happen. However, once he processes what's occurred, he would probably say something along the lines of "Oh... hmm. Is that so?" His expression would definitely display his surprised and potentially pleased state. Though, he'll probably keep his answer brief and ambiguous. But the slightly blush and smirk on his face dont lie...

[skzstannie]

“They hate me”

SKZ Drabble

Ot8 x insecure! 9th member! Reader

TW: none?? If you see something, lmk

Hi everyone! This is my first work on here, and I’m excited for more to come! I’d like to start off by saying this in no way represents SKZ/Yunho in real life; they are simply face claims for the characters.

Please comment or interact in some way so I know how you guys liked it!

“Yunho,” you sobbed, curling into his side from your spot on the couch, “they hate me.”

“Sweetheart, they don’t hate you. I can assure whatever you could’ve done could not make them hate you.” He tries to sooth your shaking form by running his hand through your hair, but you abruptly sit up.

“How do you know that? I was messing up all the choreo last night, and Chan had to re-record my lines for the new song 7 times.” You hold up seven fingers to add a bit of emphasis. “And 7 times is a lot. And then to top it off, I threw up in the practice room because of how anxious I was feeling about it all,” you finish.

“Why does any of that warrant them hating you? So what, you made a few mistakes. I’m sure they’ve all messed up the choreography before, too.” He brings you back into his side by wrapping his long arm around your shoulder. “As for you getting sick, how are you supposed to control that?”

“You should’ve seen them, though. They all had steam coming out of their ears. I don’t even think the 7th recording was any good, but Chan just couldn’t stand to deal with me anymore so he sent me out of the booth. Lee Know looked like he was gonna rip his hair out if he had to correct me one more time, and I could feel the looks from everyone during the whole dance practice.”

“Did you ask them about these things before you left? Or did you just leave yourself to deal with these awful assumptions about the people who love you endlessly?”

“I left right after I got sick, never even told them where I was going,” you huff.

Once you’ve said it out loud, you realize how royally stupid you’ve been, and you immediately jump out of Yunho’s arms to find your phone. “Shit, have you gotten any calls or messages from the guys? I’ve probably worried them sick.” You wrestle around with the contents of your bumbag til you found your, evidently dead, phone. You fumble with your charger before hurrying to the kitchen to plug it in.

“No, I haven’t. Nobody really knows about… us, or this thing going on between us, so I wouldn’t have expected them to.” He gets up from the couch and walks to stand behind you, peering over your shoulder at your phone.

“Come on, come on, turn on you stupid thing.” You repeatedly press the power button, only getting the low battery symbol in return. Your heart’s beating out of your chest with anxiety as your phone finally starts to boot up. “I’m literally an awful person. They’ve probably just about raided the whole city trying to find me.”

“Maybe not, they might still be calm and figured you just needed a night to collect yourself.”

With that, your phone comes alive, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the buzzing of missed calls and unanswered text messages.

17 missed calls from Channie 🤞🏻❤️

11 missed calls from Leebit 🐰

20 messages from BinBin 😘

15 missed FaceTime calls from Hyune 🫶🏻🫶🏻

11 messages from Jisung 🐿️

37 messages from Sunshine ☀️

24 messages from Menace 🙃🙂

13 messages from Innie 🦊

“Oh my gosh,” you gasp. The longer you stare, the more messages flood your lock screen.

“It’s alright, don’t panic. Just give Chan a call, I’m sure they’ll understand.” He rests his chin on your shoulder and hugs you from behind, trying to provide you comfort. “Or they’ll come around eventually, anyway,” he mumbles under his breath.

You’re quick to find Chan’s contact, and you immediately press the ‘call’ button. You put it on speaker phone, not wanting to be alone in this conversation. “You don’t have to say anything; I just feel more comfortable this way,” you explain, not wanting to unnecessarily drag Yunho into this conversation.

“Y/n! We’ve been calling you all night and looking for you everywhere! Where the heck are you? We’re coming to get you right now,” you hear Chan fidgeting with keys before he yells to Hyunjin, telling him to come to the car.

You sigh before relenting and apologizing for being so irresponsible. “I’m so sorry I worried you guys like that, just another thing I’ve messed up.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about, but we’ll talk about it more when you’re home safe. Now, where are you?” You hear the desperation in his tone. He just wants to know you’re safe.

You realize the slight predicament you’ve come to, and glance up at Yunho, but he just shrugs his shoulders at you.

“I’m, uh, at Yunho’s?” It comes out as more of a question, and you hear a squeal from the other side of the phone.

“What the heck are you doing with Yunho?” Hyunjin screeches, seemingly grabbing the phone from Chan’s grasp.

“That’s enough, Hyunjin. We’ll be right there.” He promptly hangs up, leaving you to anxiously await their arrival.

“Why Hyunjin now? Why not literally anyone else?” Yunho slightly panics, pacing around the kitchen in circles.

“What’s wrong between you and Hyunjin?” You raise an eyebrow, suddenly interested in this new information.

“We don’t really have any bad blood, per sé, or at least I don’t think we do. He’s always giving me dirty looks and I don’t really know why.”

While you wait for Chan and Hyunjin to arrive, you explain to him not to worry about Hyunjin.

You and Hyunjin have always been the closest out of all the members since the very beginning, and he quickly became extremely protective of you. You told him about some of your past traumas, and he made it his personal mission in life to never let anything bad happen to you again. This apparently entails him giving every male you’ve ever interacted with dirty looks.

Speaking about this makes you feel even guiltier knowing Hyunjin has probably been out of his mind since last night, hence why Chan wanted him to go with.

You hear a pounding on the door that breaks up your story time, and you rush over to open it, leaving Yunho hiding in the kitchen.

Chan bursts through the door, with a fiery looking Hyunjin right behind him.

Chan gathers you in his arms, holding you so tight you think all your ribs might crack. You wrap your arms around him, too, holding him with all your might.

When Hyunjin storms in, all he sees is red. “Where is he, huh?” He goes straight for the kitchen, and you tense in Chan’s arms.

“Hyunjin, he did nothing wrong. I came to him last night. Please just, take a deep breath.” You know it’s wrong to try to console him, after all, you’re the reason he’s like this in the first place.

“Why weren’t you answering our calls or messages? Did he take your phone? Did he have you trapped somewhere?” He rants, his hands clenching in tight fists.

You unintentionally gasp, thinking about how horrible this must sound to Yunho knowing he could hear every word. “Hyunjin!” You yelp, “nothing bad happened to me here! My phone was dead, and I was a crying mess all night and didn’t even look to charge it.” You exasperate, pulling away from Chan to go comfort him.

He meets you halfway, meeting you just in front of the coffee table in the living room. He puts his hands on your shoulders, closely inspecting every inch of your skin. You grab his hands and wrap them around yourself in a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m sorry for disappearing like that. It was really dumb of me. I just needed somewhere to clear my head, and Yunho was the first person I thought of.” You rest your head on his shoulder, loving the feeling of the way he was soothingly rubbing your back.

“Why’d you come all the way here? The guys and I were right with you in the practice room; you know we’ll listen to you any day.” He pulls away slightly, enough to bring one of his hands to your cheek, wiping a stray tear away.

“Because I was scared you guys were upset with me.” You mumble, shying away from his gaze.

“What on earth made you think that? We were so worried about you all day yesterday, wondering why you weren’t acting yourself. And then when you ran off, we had no idea where to look. Had no idea what was wrong.” Chan joined the hug, pressing his face warmly into the back of your hoodie.

“I thought because I was messing up so much yesterday, you all hated me. I saw the looks everyone was giving me. You’re trying to tell me they weren’t looks of annoyance?” You question. Pulling away from them both so you could better have the conversation.

“They weren’t looks of annoyance, well, maybe Seungmin’s was, but you know how he is. They were looks of concern, we couldn’t figure out what was going through that pretty head of yours. We were not upset with you. We’re all aware everyone has bad days, you were bound to have one eventually.” Chan explains, feeling sorry that you’ve had these awful thoughts since last night.

“I’m really sorry I worried you guys. Next time I’ll talk to you before I rush to conclusions.” You give them a shy smile before, once again, you’re pulled into a hug and squished between the 2 of them.

“It’s ok, we forgive you. Now, let’s get you home before the rest of the guys drive over here themselves.” Chan grabs your hand and starts to lead you to the door, but Hyunjin stops you guys.

“I still wanna know why, of all places, you came and spent the night at Yunho’s,” he raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms. You hear a cough from the kitchen, and you call Yunho out to the living room to officially introduce him as your boyfriend.

“I’ll tell you two, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” You wait for them to give you a nod, squinting your eyes at Hyunjin until he gives in with a huff. “Yunho and I are dating.”

Yunho finally reveals himself from the kitchen and you wrap your arms around his arm. He gives them a tight-lipped smile, not entirely sure how they’re going to take it.

Their eyes get really big, surely not expecting that kind of news. “Why’d you never tell us?” Chan pouts, looking between the two of you. Hyunjin stays silent.

“Because I wasn’t sure how you guys would take it. It’s only been a couple of weeks.” Chan nods his head in understanding before stating that it’s time for you guys to head home.

You give Yunho a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek before you follow Chan out the front door.

You don’t miss, however, the way Hyunjin stays behind for a moment.

“Don’t hurt my best friend.” He says with a stoic expression on his face. He gives Yunho another once over before leaving the house, closing the door behind him.

[schoenht]

↳ the four times he sees the moon and stars in your eyes

character: ace trappola

synopsis: dancing is a language that is felt instead of heard, and he can feel it with every time he sees you move like silk

a/n: HAPPY LATE BDAY NATSUME @kunikame HERE'S MY BDAY PRESENT TO YOU </3 got inspired over there and. we all know how it went so it is EXTREMELY late i am so so so sorry

when he knows that you're not having a good day

He's memorized your favorite song, by beat, by melody, by note. A single note from any other song reminds him of you and all he can see is the corner of your lips flitting upwards, knowing this was the one song you adored more than anything.

One he makes you do because you're having a sad day and he just blasts your favorite song that he knows won't stop you from at least moving your head to the beat. Or swaying it from side to side. Those little moments are the ones that he holds close to his heart, even if he refuses to ever say it out loud. Unlike his symbolic counterpart, he does not wear his heart on his sleeve. He refuses to, for he will never chase someone that could not possibly fall for him back.

Ace can usually tell when you're in a bad mood and it doesn't take him long to figure out the reason why, even if you haven't told him. He says he's just smart like that, no. He knows that he cares about you so deeply that it is impossible for him not to know why you are in a bad mood.

He'll show up, play your favorite song, and ask, "Maybe a nap?"

"Ace, I can't nap with music playing."

"Pathetic."

But he knows this too. He looks at you like you've hung all the stars and the moon. There are times he believes you have. He hides it, believing that you are the sun to his moon: only bits of each other seen, never fully embracing the other.

2. when you are surrounded by your friends

"Epel, I am losing to you, I don't care that you're from the country!"

"You say that now, but I'm goin' to make you eat your words!"

"How about you--oh, it's starting!"

Ace sat next to Deuce as he watched you dance to a new game that Crowley had given you for Christmas. However, you didn't have a console. So the first years all scrounged around and got enough money to buy you one, co-owned by the others. And tonight was the night for Ramshackle to host a sleepover.

As he watched you nudge Epel aside casually to try and make him concede, his eyes softened. Forgive him for wanting to get too close to the sun, but he wanted to be around you more than he wanted oxygen. You were his oxygen. Even the darkest and gloomiest day could instantly be lit up by you.

No, what was he saying. He couldn't chase after someone who didn't like him. He was not Icarus, he wouldn't fall.

But oh, as he watched your expression, beaming at the small numbers on the screen, he knew he would plunge into the depths of the ocean if only for the promise that you would be on the sea floor, waiting for him.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. He got up quickly and grabbed Epel's controller. You pointed at Ace with your controller. "Be warned, Ace, I have not lost a single game to this dance and I don't plan on starting now."

"Big talk, you only wave your hands around to win! You don't fully dance!"

Your banter made his chest warm with affection for you. He loved it when this happened. With each word you tossed at each other, he knew that he would leave every single thing behind for you, if only for a glance from you.

3. when you are too close to him, willingly

The end of the final year was always bittersweet. Ace had grown through the years, becoming much more mature but still upholding his title as a complete lovable dumbass. Somehow, he became the housewarden, Deuce at his side. They would bicker a lot and it showed that even after all this time, they never changed. Occasionally, some of the new first years would ask if Deuce was actually the housewarden, to which Ace would be outraged.

"Can you believe that?! They thought Juice was the housewarden! Is this crown just an accessory to them!?"

You picked up another rock, checking for its smoothness. "Uh huh."

"You're not even listening!"

"No, I meant 'uh huh' as in I agree, they think it's an accessory."

Ace poked you, his lips downturned. "You think I'm stupid, don't you?"

You raised an eyebrow as you extended your hand out for him. In your hold was a smooth rock. "Your brain is as wrinkly as this rock."

"Love you too."

Ace goes back to his dorm, where Deuce is waiting for him. Deuce glances at him quizzically and then squints. As much bravado as Ace has, he knows that Ace is deep down a coward around you. "You didn't ask them to the dance, did you?"

"They insulted me--"

"No, they didn't. Answer the question."

The ginger shook his head, letting out a long and weary sigh. He had had a crush on you for the past three years and yet somehow, he had never once been able to hang out with you alone. No, either Deuce or Grim had to join you. And now he only had one shot to ask you to a dance. Perhaps he could go big. No, that wouldn't help. He would look stupid. This was so hard and for no reason. But he knew what Riddle would say if he was there. "Stop being foolish. You must do what you are meant to do." Granted, he was talking about following the rules, but he knew it applied in this case.

~

Sure enough, it had worked out in his favor. He claimed that he had never been nervous, but of course Deuce had to debunk that. He had been shaking like a chihuahua at the prospect of even asking you to the final dance of the school year.

The night was young and lively, with bubbling excitement from the third years. It would be their turn to leave next and once they did, the possibilities would be endless.

Endless, Ace thought. It was a synonym for forever, eternity even. If he didn't act soon, he could lose you for that time.

So he shoved aside his so called "pride" and went to you. "Dance with me."

"Wow, no asking anymore?"

He couldn't hold back a snort. "Okay, fine. Will you dance with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Oh, how lovely was it to have you in his arms, just the two of you in your own little world. The party had slowed during this part of the night and its stillness, its calm was what made Ace realize he would rather burn than lose you. Maybe he would burn from staring at you for too long. Every star had its final dazzling moment before collapsing, after all. It seemed impossible for that to happen to you. The universe's vastness could not compare to the overwhelming emotions that belonged to him. He couldn't take it anymore.

The moon needed its sun desperately.

4. when the world stops to hold only the two of you in its hands

Domesticity was a word that he never believed in. He had a lot of energy to spare, ready for any spontaneous adventures, shenanigans and schemes.

All of that stopped when your union to him came along. He had asked the biggest question of his life a year ago and now, here you were, right in front of him as you made yourself a warm drink at 2 in the morning. You weren't tired, or more so, Ace knew that you struggled to sleep these days. So he would stay up with you.

He walked over as you stared at the bubbling pot, seemingly lost in your own little headspace. With a soft spoken voice, he gently called for your name. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just thinking." You fiddled with your ring, the one that matched his.

Ace knew this mood of yours very well. He looked out the window, the sky dark and sprinkled with hundreds of stars. The earth seemed to be asleep, making them the only people in the universe in his mind.

With a small tug of your hands in his, he took you into his arms as he slowly began to sway with you. Side to side, a small two step. Ace was not much of a singer besides that one VDC competition back at NRC. Yet his favorite song was the one he danced with you on the day you were wed. Even now he hummed it softly as he hugged you close, afraid that if he let go, you would be far from his grasp.

But you would merely look up at him, eyes to his red ones, and it would calm him down. No, he wasn't afraid of losing you anymore. How could he? He planted a soft kiss to your head. "I love you."

"I love you too. Go to bed."

"No, you."

"Fine. Both of us."

Ace agreed, it only seemed like a fair trade. He turned off the stove and followed you to bed, curled up on you like he had grown accustomed to.

Your beginning was that of a galaxy, far out of reach and, while never getting into eternity's territory, it became that of a binary star system: gravitationally bound to each other.

[novaursa]

I need this kind of drug please Dareon targaryen x reader velarion Dareon kidnaps his loving niece of dragonstone after he finds out that he will marry jacaerys in 1 moon Dareon and her get married on while she argues with him, she pulls him by the hair so he lets her go, she takes his virtue after the moonlight act If you want you can go wife but you are mine not your brother's oh can you stay uh figure out with me a way to avoid this ridiculous war

Wedded in War

- Summary: Your uncle steals you from Dragonstone and takes you as his wife; true to his name: Daeron the Daring.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Daeron Targaryen

- Note: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The cool winds of Oldtown bite at your skin, tugging at your gown as Daeron pulls you through the crowded streets, his grip firm on your wrist. The Starry Sept looms ahead, its dark silhouette bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. The scent of salt from the nearby harbor mingles with the distant smell of incense, and despite the beauty of the ancient city, all you can feel is anger seething in your chest.

“How dare you take me from Dragonstone!” you snap, your voice low but filled with fury. You tug against his grasp, but his hand tightens, his pace unrelenting. “You had no right, Daeron! You must take me back. You will take me back.”

His face, pale and sharp in the dwindling light, remains tense. His violet eyes flick to you, but he does not stop, does not yield to your demands. “I couldn't leave you there to marry Jacaerys. You were meant to be mine,” he says, his tone desperate yet determined. “I love you, Y/N. I won’t let you go so easily.”

His words ignite a fire within you, burning with the weight of your stolen future. “This is madness!” you shout. “Do you not see what you’ve done? You’ve stolen me from my home, from my family!”

“You’re Targaryen blood,” he responds, stopping at the steps of the Starry Sept and turning to face you. The people passing by give the two of you strange looks, but you don’t care. All that matters is the rising anger within you and the thrum of your heartbeat. “And Targaryen blood must stay pure.”

Your chest tightens at his words, his intention sinking into you. He had taken you not out of love, but out of duty, out of a belief in keeping the family line strong, unbroken by outsiders. “So, that’s all I am to you?” you spit, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and pain. “A means to an end? A symbol of blood and fire?”

His hands come up to your shoulders, his gaze pleading as he draws closer. “No, you’re more than that, far more. I’ve always loved you. Since we were children.” His voice softens, and you see something in his eyes beyond duty, beyond the pressures of his station. “This isn’t just for the bloodline, Y/N. I will love you, cherish you, protect you. I swear it on my life.”

You hesitate, your heart warring with your mind. There’s truth in his voice, an undeniable sincerity in the way he looks at you. But the weight of what he has done presses on your chest, suffocating and confusing. You had been promised to Jacaerys, and now everything has been turned upside down.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “Marry me. Stand by my side, as you were always meant to.”

Your heart skips a beat, caught between his words and the bitter reality of your situation. Can love truly grow from such treachery? You don’t know, but even as your thoughts swirl in chaos, you can feel the pull between you and Daeron, the undeniable bond forged in dragon’s blood and shared history.

With a deep breath, you nod once, barely perceptible, and his shoulders sag with relief. Before you can think further, he pulls you into the Starry Sept, where the High Septon waits.

The vows are spoken in hushed tones, and your fingers tremble as Daeron slides a silver ring onto your finger, the weight of it foreign and heavy. The Starry Sept is grand and cold, its vaulted ceilings seeming to reach toward the heavens, but it feels like a prison. Your heart aches as you repeat your vows, your mind still reeling from the events of the past few hours. 

When it's done, the ceremony leaves an emptiness within you. You’re no longer the daughter of Rhaenyra, destined for Dragonstone and a future with your brother, Jacaerys. You are now the wife of Daeron Targaryen, bound by the oaths you swore beneath the Seven’s watchful eyes.

Later, in the solitude of the chambers prepared for your wedding night, you sit by the window, looking out over the darkened city of Oldtown. Daeron stands nearby, silent as he watches you with an unreadable expression. The bed looms in the background, its presence thick with expectation, with the weight of the night ahead.

“Do you hate me?” he asks quietly, his voice almost swallowed by the sounds of the city below.

You don’t answer immediately, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. You look back at him, at the young man who had taken everything from you and offered only himself in return. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I feel.”

He approaches slowly, cautiously, as though fearing you’ll turn away. His hand brushes against your cheek, and despite everything, there is tenderness there. A part of you wants to flinch away, to push him from you and demand he return you to Dragonstone. But another part, deep inside, wants to believe him, to believe that perhaps, in this dark, twisted way, he loves you as deeply as he claims.

“I swear to you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “I will never hurt you. I will love you every day, with every breath. You are mine, Y/N, and I am yours.”

The words, soft and full of promise, melt the last of your resistance. You reach up, touching his face, your heart a chaotic mix of anger, confusion, and something that feels dangerously close to love.

The night is a blur of emotion—of whispered vows and lingering touches. You both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment, shedding the weight of your shared innocence in the embrace of one another. The world outside ceases to exist, replaced only by the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand. For a moment, you forget the war, the bloodshed, and the sacrifices.

Afterward, as Daeron sleeps beside you, his silver hair fanned out against the pillows, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling. The sheets feel too heavy, and the silence too loud.

Will this sacrifice, this union born out of desperation and desire, truly end the war? Can love, even one as complicated and fraught as yours, be enough to save the realm from the fires that rage on the horizon?

You don’t know, but as you drift toward sleep, you find yourself clinging to the fragile hope that perhaps, just perhaps, it might.

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter thirty

Summary: How does it end?

Warning: Duel POV. The tiniest mention of sex.

Word Count: 1471

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Epilogue

A/N: I can't believe this is almost the end. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

Bucky’s POV

The memory of you standing by the sketch of him lingered in Bucky’s mind, a haunting melody that he couldn’t shake. Your words echoed in his eyes: “For my entire life in this city– all I see is you.” It felt like a revelation as if he could see something shift in you at that moment. Yet, he was unsure how to process the emotions that stirred within him. 

Bucky decided to spend the day with Leah, taking her to a place that once brought him solace to help clear his mind. The lake was nestled away from the neon lights and the city’s hustle, a place the two of you had often retreated to. He thought bringing Leah there would help him find some clarity. 

The ride to the lake was quiet, nothing but the hum of the bike, and Bucky’s clouded thoughts. Leah noticed his distraction from the moment he picked her up, but she chose not to press him about it. He did wonder if she sensed the undercurrents of his unease, even though she seemed content. 

Just as he remembered it, the lake water shimmered under the late afternoon sun, and the trees whispered in the gentle breeze. Leading Leah to a secluded spot, the familiar surroundings tugged at his heart. 

Leah wandered around, taking in the scenery. Her eyes fell upon something carved into the bark of an old oak tree as she approached it. A curious smile played on his lips as she turned to Bucky. “Hey, Bucky… come here!” she called out.

His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the tree she stood by. Your initials and his, intertwined and etched into the tree– a memory, a relic of your shared history.

“That’s adorable,” Leah said, her tone light but knowing as she gestured toward the markings. 

Sighing, Bucky ran a hand over his hair. “There’s something I need to tell you, Leah.” 

Her smile faded slightly as she looked at him expectantly, sensing the seriousness in his tone. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage. “I love her, Leah. I’ve tried to bury it, to move on, but I can’t.” 

Leah remained calm, almost resigned. “No way, I’d never would have guessed.”

Bewildered, Bucky looked at her meeting her gaze. “You knew?”

“Of course, I knew, dumbass,” she replied, amusement sparkling in her eyes. 

“Wait,” Bucky’s confusion deepened. “Why… why did you stay all this time?”

Her expression softened, and affection flickered in her gaze. “Honestly, I was never looking for anything serious, and it was clear you weren’t either, not with anyone else anyway. Oh, and the sex was great.” 

He realized just how perceptive she had been all along and her honesty struck him. He thought he must have been a dumbass, thinking he could keep his feelings for you buried while being around Leah.

“I do care about you, Leah,” he began, his voice filling with regret. 

She smiled, understanding etched on her face. “I know.” 

The weight of unspoken truths settled between them as they stood in silence for a moment. The lake, the tree, your initials– all symbols of a past he couldn’t escape.

Leah’s gentle voice broke the silence. “You need to figure out what you want, Bucky. And I think you already know.” 

He nodded, his heart filled with mingling gratitude and sorrow. “Thank you, Leah. For everything.” 

“Hey, this isn’t a farewell speech, yet,” she chuckled softly. “We’ve still got plans with everyone at the bar later, remember?” 

“Shit,” Bucky laughed, the tension between them easing slightly. “You’re right, do you want to leave now, then?” 

As they rode back to the city, Bucky reflected on his gratitude for Leah’s understanding. A strange mixture of relief and anticipation coursed through him as he thought about a chance to confront his feelings. 

~

Cry Baby’s POV

The evening approached and you began to get ready to meet with everyone at the bar. You tried to push away the complicated feelings that surfaced whenever you thought about Bucky together with Leah as your phone buzzed with a text to confirm they’d be there.

When you arrived at the bar, your friends were gathered in the usual booth. A comforting, familiar atmosphere was created with laughter and music filling the air. Greeting everyone, you exchanged quick hugs and caught up on their latest news. 

While in mid-conversation with Sam, the door swung open, and Bucky walked in with Leah by his side. Your heart flipped at the sight of him, yet you tried to keep your composure steady and stay focused on your conversation.

Bucky’s gaze found yours almost in an instant, and for a moment, it was as if no one else in the world existed. A small, tentative smile tugged at his lips before Leah pulled him toward the group.

~

The night wore on as you tried to focus on your friends, yet your attention kept drifting over to Bucky. The easy way he interacted with Leah, the smiles they were sharing, every second felt like a dagger to your heart. Lost in your thoughts, you almost missed a particular moment that shattered your fragile composure. 

“Sweetheart,” the nickname used amid a casual conversation, snapped your thoughts back to reality. The word hit you like a punch to the guy as the realization that he wasn’t directing it to you, but instead to Leah. It felt like every memory you had of all the times he’s called you that flooded your mind, the term of endearment that had always been yours– The smallest piece of the connection you cherished. 

Your emotions began to boil over, and you couldn’t stay there any longer. You bolted from the booth without a word, rushing out of the bar. As if in sync with your turmoil, the night air was cold and damp, pouring raid as the sky opened up. 

The rain soaked through your clothes as reached the bikes lined up outside the bar. Each breath you took hitched with sobs, the chill of the rain mixed with the heat of your tears. The plan was crystal clear as the rest of the world blurred. You turned to see Bucky as his heavy footsteps approached you from behind. His face filled with concern, his eyes held an urgency that mirrored the storm within you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle as he reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand. His touch was a warm contrast to the wet, cold rain. 

You struggled to find the right words, the rain began to mingle with your tears as they spilled down your cheeks. “I can’t sit in there and listen to you call her that,” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you finally looked up at him. “I know it sounds pathetic, but that’s been ours since we were kids, Bucky.” 

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes widened in shock but his hand stayed gently holding your cheek, smoothly rubbing his thumb against it. The only sound between you was the relentless patter of rain hitting the pavement, as he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. 

“I’m in love with you,” your words spilled out in a rush, the adrenaline that coursed through you drove it to admit the truth to him. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I can’t watch you be with someone else anymore–”

Before you could continue, Bucky’s lips met yours. The intensity takes your breath away. Everything around you seemed to disappear, there was only the two of you standing in the rain, together. The kiss was filled with years of unspoken emotions, everything you had been hiding.

His forehead rested against yours when he pulled back. His breath was warm as it mingled with your ragged breaths as he spoke. “I’m in love with you too,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you, I just… I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

Wrapping your arm around his neck, your tears mixed with the rain as you held him tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” you said, your voice choking on your emotions. “I, I, I,” you stuttered unable to find your voice again. 

He shook his head, placing another kiss against your lips. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. “We know now, and that’s all that matters.” 

The rain continued to pour down, chilling you to the bone, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was you were finally together, your hearts laid bare. 

The pain, the confusion, the fear– in that moment, you knew that everything you had been through had led to this. Standing together, Bucky by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever came next in the open road of the future.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Epilogue

[alicent-vi-britannia]

Lelouch's relentless search for purpose in life

I've previously talked to you about Lelouch's trauma through the enneagram to explain why Lelouch refuses to open up and trust others and insists on doing everything alone to feel self-sufficient and strong. I've also used the enneagram to explain that Lelouch has locked himself into a protective shell and is uncomfortable feeling vulnerable because of his trauma and his upbringing in Darwinian values ​​in Britannia. However, I haven't talked to you directly about one thing that is very important and perhaps because it is so obvious I have overlooked it until I stumbled upon a small thread on Twitter.

In the last conversation Lelouch has with his father, Charles nullifies the meaning and value of his existence by telling him: "But you're dead. You've always been dead, from the moment you were born. Who gave you the fine clothes you wear, a comfortable home, the food you eat, and your own life? I gave you all of that. You are nothing to me because you have never existed." At that moment, Charles kills Lelouch in symbolic terms, causing him enormous psychological and emotional damage from which he never recovers.

We have this flashback in episode 7 of the first season and later Lelouch threatens CC with suicide if she does not let him go to face his sister, Cornelia: "Until I met you, I was dead. A corpse that existed behind a false appearance of life, a life in which I did nothing real. I experienced the emotions of living day to day as if I were a zombie, with the feeling that I was dying little by little. And if I have to go back to that, then I prefer… [And he places his finger on the trigger of the gun]." The series connects those two scenes through a Dutch shot focused on Lelouch's gaze. The Dutch shot is a steep horizontal tilt shot that is used to indicate instability or danger or that something is not right. In this case, it warns us, on a superficial level, that Lelouch has felt dead since his last meeting with his father and that he has been fighting against that (unfounded) belief and these negative feelings and, on a deeper level, that this is a wrong and harmful belief of Lelouch's that has been poisoning his mental health ever since.

(It's sad to compare the two shots. Little Lelouch's eyes show deep pain. As the Bart and Lisa Simpson meme says: it's the exact frame in which his heart broke. Teenage Lelouch's eyes, on the other hand, are empty. A dead look.)

There are several moments in the story that give us an idea of ​​the young prince's struggle. For example, in the first Audio Drama, "The Uninvited Prince," a young Suzaku rescues Lelouch from some children who are beating him and reproaches him for not standing up for himself and disregarding the hospitality his home provides him and his sister, to which the child Lelouch replies, "I am here and I will live. If I live by my own strength, then I will never be dead again." Little Suzaku, of course, finds Lelouch's statement absurd and just thinks he is a strange child. But this response reflects the boy's insane desire to be self-sufficient (to the point of rejecting the help of others) in order to feel that he is alive (remember that Charles told him that he is alive because he has given him everything he has).

We also have a Picture Drama (I'm sorry I don't remember or have the exact number of the PD, but if it's part of the alternate universe, we can ignore it because they are different universes that shouldn't be mixed) with a monologue by a teenage Lelouch: "I've made a vow to use the strength I have to save Nunnally. That will be the proof that I exist in this world."

These words evoke in me a part of Lelouch's song "Back to Zero" (for the fantastic Code Black album in Ashford) in which our hero sings: "Oh! Can you hear me? This fight is how I know I'm alive."

That is, Lelouch tries to prove his father wrong by looking for a purpose to live that reaffirms his existence and, in principle, Lelouch finds it in Zero and the rebellion since they are the means he has to destroy Britannia and create a kind world for Nunnally. And that's why later on he abandons Ashford Academy, the Zero mask and his friends and gives in to depression (in the future, I'll talk about this moment in more depth in another analysis). Then his goals change and his motivations are reconsidered for a series of reasons and events that I won't stop to explain here, but I will point out that I find it interesting and moving how Lelouch goes from clinging to a purpose in life to giving up on it and dying, in order to fulfill his new goals, obtain results and atone for his sins (the magic of a powerful script and a narrative arc, Larry).

Also, all of this explains why Lelouch lost his temper in the season 1 finale when Suzaku yelled at him that his existence was a mistake and that he needed to be wiped off the face of the Earth. Not only did it bring back memories of Vietnam for Lelouch, it was another important person to him who was denying his existence. Suzaku's words hurt him because, as President Snow said in the Hunger Games trilogy, "the people we love the most are the ones who destroy us." I'm not sure if Suzaku knew what Charles told his friend since Lelouch never reveals his secrets to anyone (people around him, including his loved ones, find out on their own), but Suzaku certainly hit a sensitive button that mentally unsettled Lelouch.

Poor Lelouch. He just wanted his existence validated.

[latenightreadingpdf]

A Secret Unveiled - Peter Parker

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Peter Parker, secretly Spider-Man, harbors feelings for his best friend Y/N, a passionate Spider-Man fan. As their friendship grows, Peter must decide whether to reveal his secret identity and hidden emotions.

The faint glow of the city lights illuminated the room, casting soft shadows over the study table where Peter Parker and Y/N sat. They had been friends since high school, and their bond had only grown stronger over the years. Y/N had always been a huge fan of Spider-Man, and she often wore her Spider-Man t-shirt with pride.

Peter had a secret, one that he had been keeping from Y/N for years. He was Spider-Man. He had developed feelings for Y/N during their high school years but had never found the courage to tell her the truth about his alter ego.

As they sat studying, Peter couldn't help but glance at Y/N's Spider-Man t-shirt. It was a simple design, the iconic red and blue spider symbol on a black background, but it meant the world to her.

"Hey, Y/N," Peter began hesitantly, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I couldn't help but notice your shirt. You're a Spider-Man fan?"

Y/N looked down at her shirt and smiled, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh, absolutely! I've always been a huge fan. Spider-Man is so cool, swinging through the city, saving people... I've even got a Spider-Man poster in my room!"

Peter's heart raced as he listened to Y/N's passionate words. He felt a mix of excitement and guilt, knowing that he was the very person she idolized.

"That's really cool," Peter managed to say, trying to hide his emotions. "I've heard he's a pretty amazing guy."

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, definitely! I wish I could meet him someday, thank him for all he does."

Peter swallowed hard, his mind racing. "You never know, Y/N. Maybe one day you'll get the chance."

The rest of the study session went by in a blur for Peter. He couldn't stop thinking about Y/N's love for Spider-Man and how she had no idea that he was the one behind the mask. As they said their goodbyes, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell her the truth, but fear held him back.

Days turned into weeks, and Peter found himself growing more and more infatuated with Y/N. Every time he saw her wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt or talking about her favorite superhero, his feelings for her intensified.

One evening, Peter swung by Y/N's apartment to return a book he had borrowed. As he entered the living room, he spotted Y/N wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt once again, this time paired with pajama bottoms.

"Hey, Peter!" Y/N greeted, her face lighting up with a smile. "Come on in. I was just about to watch a movie. Wanna join me?"

Peter felt his heart skip a beat at the invitation. "Sure, that sounds fun."

They settled on the couch, and Y/N hit play on the remote. As the movie began, Peter found himself watching Y/N more than the screen. Her laughter, her smiles, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement - he was completely captivated by her.

During a particularly intense action scene, Y/N turned to Peter with wide eyes. "Isn't this movie great, Peter?"

Peter chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. "Yeah, it's pretty good."

Y/N's gaze lingered on Peter for a moment longer than usual, her eyes searching his. "You okay, Peter? You seem a little...distracted."

Peter swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush. "I'm fine, just enjoying the movie."

As the night wore on, Peter knew that he couldn't keep his secret from Y/N any longer. He needed to tell her the truth, no matter how scared he was of her reaction.

A few days later, Peter mustered up the courage to invite Y/N over to his apartment under the guise of another study session. As they sat at the kitchen table, books and notes spread out before them, Peter's heart raced.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," Peter began, his voice shaking slightly.

Y/N looked up from her notes, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it, Peter? You're acting really strange."

Taking a deep breath, Peter decided to take a leap of faith. "I'm Spider-Man, Y/N."

Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. "You're joking, right?"

Peter shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, I'm serious. I've been Spider-Man since high school."

A long silence filled the room as Y/N processed what Peter had just revealed. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't believe you."

In response, Peter quickly stood up from the table and moved to the center of the room. With a swift motion, he revealed his web shooters from his backpack, shooting a web across the room.

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched. She felt a whirlwind of emotions - shock, confusion, and a strange sense of betrayal.

"You're really him," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Peter nodded, slowly approaching Y/N. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Y/N. I wanted to protect you, but I realize now that keeping this secret from you was a mistake."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe I've been friends with Spider-Man this whole time and didn't even know it."

Peter reached out, gently wiping away Y/N's tears. "I'm still the same person, Y/N. I'm still your friend, Peter."

Y/N nodded, her gaze softening. "I know, Peter. It's just going to take some time for me to process all of this."

In the days that followed, Y/N grew more comfortable with the truth about Peter's secret identity. She began to see Spider-Man as an extension of Peter, understanding that the hero she had admired for so long was, in fact, the same person she had grown to care for deeply.

As their friendship blossomed, Peter found himself falling even more in love with Y/N. He cherished their moments together, whether they were studying, watching movies, or simply enjoying each other's company.

One evening, as they sat on Y/N's balcony, watching the sunset, Peter decided that it was time to take a chance and confess his true feelings to Y/N.

"Y/N," Peter began, his voice trembling with nervousness. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, Peter?"

Taking a deep breath, Peter mustered up the courage to say the words he had been holding back for so long. "I've had feelings for you since high school, Y/N. I've tried to hide them, tried to push them aside, but I can't deny them any longer. I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. She had never expected Peter to confess his feelings so openly, and she felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and joy.

"Peter," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know what to say."

Peter looked down, his heart sinking. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, Y/N. I just needed to be honest with you, just like you were honest with me."

Y/N reached out, gently lifting Peter's chin so that their eyes met. "Peter, I... I have feelings for you too."

Peter looked into Y/N's eyes, his heart racing. "Really?"

"Yes," Y/N nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

A warm smile spread across Peter's face, relief washing over him. Without another word, he leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Y/N responded, wrapping her arms around him as they shared a meaningful and passionate moment.

From that moment on, Peter and Y/N's relationship blossomed into a beautiful romance. Despite the challenges they faced, both as individuals and as a couple, Peter and Y/N's love for each other only grew stronger. They learned to trust each other completely, knowing that they could face anything as long as they had each other by their side.

And so, as the sun set on another day in the city, Peter and Y/N sat together on the balcony, holding hands and looking forward to a future filled with love, understanding, and endless possibilities.

[bluesylveon2]

A Peculiar Shroud

Summary: While on his trip to NRC, Rollo runs into Idia's little brother

Note: this is a drabble I wrote after I read Rollo's card vignette! It would be cool to see the two meet in canon

Word Count: 959

Warnings: not beta read, possible OOC characters, and possible ok plot

Night Raven College. It is one of the top arcane schools within Twisted Wonderland. Students from there are known for their intellect, athleticism, and magical capabilities. 

It made Rollo sick. 

The Noble Bell student dreaded stepping past the Mirror Chamber. Despite its quiet and calm nature, Rollo wished the chamber was in his academy instead. Why was he chosen to represent the school? He already had enough of the students, particularly Azul, Idia, and Malleus. 

Even thinking of that blasted fae made Rollo want to hurl. 

Rollo's eyes scanned the different mirrors leading to the dorms. One in particular, between the ones labeled 'Heartslabyul' and 'Octavinelle,' was a dorm with an anonymous glow and a symbol with a set of familiar horns. 

"How repulsive," Rollo said in disgust as he eyed the monstrous-looking entrance. At least his school held themselves to a certain standard, unlike that monster. 

A bright light came out of the Ignihyde mirror. Rollo shielded his eyes as a small boy came out of it. 

"Oh, hello! You must be Rollo Flamme. From Noble Bell, correct?" Rollo could only stare at the boy's (?) big yellow eyes and flaming blue hair. In fact, it looked very familiar to someone he (reluctantly) knew.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Ortho Shroud!" Ortho held his hand, and his eyes crinkled from his gleeful smile.

Rollo just stared at the robot(? He still questioned what exactly was Ortho.) "Yes, I recognize your last name."

"Oh! You must mean Big Brother! He told me about his trip to Fleur City and even got me a cool gift."

Rollo's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "You're related to Idia? But you're a robot."

Ortho chuckled like he had heard that many times before. "Technically, I am a technomantic humanoid. Long story short, my brother made me long ago with a mix of technology and magic. I also can make my own choices without him interfering."

"We're p. similar, actually.

It's not remotely hard for me to imagine all the hatred and anguish you feel.

You bang your head against the wall, and when that doesn't bring him back, you start thinking that maybe you'll tear everything down…"

Why was Rollo remembering those words now? Those words from that villain who worked with Malleus Draconia to defeat HIM?! 

I think there's only one guy here you ACTUALLY hate—yourself.

Your brother suffered right in front of you, and you couldn't save him. You hate yourself for being weak and worthless.

Rollo's brows furrowed, and he felt a headache coming. "I see it now. You're a replacement for Idia's late brother." 

Ortho frowned. If looks could kill, Rollo would be dust right now. Small bursts of magic appeared in Ortho's hands. "I may be made with the image of my late brother in mind, but I am Ortho Shroud." 

Rollo raised a brow. "Hmm. It's pitiful that Idia resorted to doing that. Tell me, does your presence not cause him eternal suffering?"

Ortho felt his hardware beat erratically. He could not explain the phenomena at the moment. Maybe it was something Idia might know of? "I have two brothers, and my parents have three sons. Idia loves me as his brother, not as a replacement. I have a heart, and I am my own person."

Rollo watched as Ortho's eyes sparkled from how he talked about his brother. A small smile cracked Rollo's blank face. Watching the younger Shroud reminded him of his own brother, the one he lost from the curse of magic. He wished he still had his brother by his side, even after the incident at Noble Bell. 

If only…

"Rollo?" 

It was almost like Rollo heard his brother's voice. He wanted to feel that tiny spark of happiness again. 

"I apologize," Rollo said, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. He let out a small cough. "My words were out of turn."

Ortho stared at Rollo. "You do?" He asked, and then his eyes started glowing. 

"What are you-"

"I accept your apology! Your body scan shows no changes in your body temperature or heartbeat. Therefore, I believe your words are genuine." Ortho suddenly grabbed Rollo's hands and dragged him towards a mirror with a three-headed dog. "Big Brother is in his room playing games. We can visit him before I start your tour."

"Video games? You need a proper education"…." Rollo continued muttering to himself during the whole trek to Ignihyde.

Bonus:

Knock knock

"Idia, can I come in?"

"Yeah," Idia lazily said as he kept his eyes glued on his monitor, unaware of another person entering the room. 

"What a mess. This is not a suitable environment for Ortho's education to nurture."

Idia paused his game. An irritated look crossed his face. "Listen bub. Don't judge my room for-" his eyes landed on a familiar mop of white hair under the goofy-looking purple hat. "EEP! A NORMIE! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!!"

[raayllum]

Do you think Callum will do dark magic again?

Oh yeah, not a doubt in my mind. This is for 3 main reasons:

1) You don't have a character say "But beware, if you ever do dark magic again, the darkness will overwhelm and corrupt you" and escalate the stakes of usage unless you're going to go there. It's kind of like how I know Callum is going to be possessed Again at one point (s7 dark my beloved) precisely because he's worried about it and more than that, that he's brought another character (Rayla) into the fold with a decision to make. No reason to have setup and then no payoff

2) Unless Callum does dark magic again, Aaravos can't possess him again. And as previously mentioned, Callum has to get possessed unless they want to throw away multiple episodes (4x04, 4x05, 4x07, 5x04, 5x08, all S6 + orb shots, 6x03) out the window. Ergo, he has to do dark magic again. Setup like this (i.e. Rayla as Callum's light being hinted at in framing in s2 and then much more overtly in s4 before being brought mostly home in s6) always comes back around in some manner, just gotta look for it

3) Viren parallels. Viren and Callum have always had oppositional (arc 1) and then mirrored (switching) foil arcs throughout the show (think Callum with wings vs Viren falling to his death in 3x09, or Viren swearing dark magic off in 5x09 and Callum having opened that door back up again an episode prior, etc). Viren, as stated, had sworn off dark magic saying he would never ever do it again, nor did he want to do it in 6x08 for a multitude of reasons.

However, someone he loved (Soren) as well as the extenuating circumstances caused him to use dark magic as a full on sacrifice that likewise only sacrificed himself. A couple episodes we had Callum 'fix' the hole dark magic had made inside him, but if he's following Viren's path, there's two likely angles: the first is that he, like Viren, will use dark magic even after trying so hard to rid himself of it (the mirrored arc). The second, overlapping angle is that Callum will refuse to sacrifice his heart (switching) because his heart is Rayla.

'I will think of you under every full moon. Please don’t let this hurt too much. But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always.' —Dear Callum

Kinda like how Aaravos demanded that Viren should make the sacrifice in 5x09, and Viren refused vs Rayla demanding that Callum should make the sacrifice in 6x03 (and Finnegrin a bit honestly) and Callum inevitably refusing cause Rayla can't permanently die lmao.

Other:

There's also the unsavoury implication that "restores bodies to spirits" spell Callum did in 5x09 has unique associations with the dark ritual spell Claudia did in killing Sir Sparklepuff that was undeniably dark magic usage.

The coin has been seemingly wiped clean now that Runaan is out (though maybe there's the symbol still on the other side?) but it does make me wonder of a potential plotline where Callum knew ahead of time, or belatedly, that this spell would require something adjacent to dark magic and he's done it, but the corruption Kosmo spoke of is gradual, making him more irritated, paranoid, etc. like the King of a 1000 Eyes that Amaya talked about. I think that'd be really interesting

The indirectness / the fact we'd only know it'd Happened retroactively makes me lean that we'll outright see another blatant usage in S7 since that's more Dramatic (which I've always been in favour of Callum viewing "I get possessed again bc I make a 'bad' choice and hand myself over to Aaravos" as a sacrifice of himself into "i'm already dead so kill me" territory). And if he breaks his promise to Rayla that he won't pick her over the greater good, then she can break her promise to him that she'll kill him (this is exactly beat for beat what I've wanted since s4 dropped and even before tbh)

TLDR; Absolutely Yes. S7 being Book Seven: Dark only adds to this and the stakes / set up are all there. I'm pumped

[nekropsii]

hello oh great provider of art and analysis, do you have any tips on how to correctly analyse a character?

Funnily, I don't think there's a correct way to analyze media, but there are incorrect ways to do it. But my advice for sound analysis is as follows...

Look at Canon. Reference it as heavily as physically possible. Take into consideration who the author is, and what their intentions would be. Extradiegetic Analysis is extremely important. Commit to it. Do not pussyfoot around Extradiegetic Analysis. Take into consideration the story, its tone, who it's made for, who it is marketed towards, what messages it's trying to convey, how, and why. Use Occam's Razor heavily. Ground yourself, turn off "Fandom Brain", and your own personal headcanons. Remember that Characters are Plot Devices, not People- they are put in the story for a reason, and they serve a particular function within the narrative. Ask yourself what that reason is, and what that function is. It's important to get a firm grasp of the story and the characters in it before extrapolating. Ponder their relationships with themself, others, the world around them, their task at hand. Try to take into account framing, themes, motifs, and symbolism.

Grab anything that really stands out to you, see what you can do with it. Analyze why it stands out to you. Does it match your own personal experience in some way? Does it remind you of something else? Does it seem to be setting something up within the context of a story? Are the curtains blue for a reason? If not, should they be? What if they did? What function would that serve?

Analysis is largely asking questions and trying to answer them. Sometimes those questions are posed by the thing you're analyzing itself. Sometimes the question comes from your heart. Sometimes it emerges from something you've latched onto that isn't quite there - a blind spot in the narrative, missed potential, et cetera.

Again, Occam's Razor is your friend. Get very familiar with it. And... Do not consult Freud on anything. If you feel the impulse to consult Freudian analytical concepts without prompting from the narrative itself, that's the devil talking to you. Beat it to death immediately. We do not need Freudian analysis of children's cartoons. We literally do not need that. It will be wrong.

This is one I'm seeing more and more disregard for lately, especially with regards to minority headcanons... Consider the real-world implications of your analysis. I do not think it is very "woke" to headcanon unrepentant sexually abusive assholes as trans women, or characters who are known for their loudness, aggression, and abusive natures as Black. Consider optics for maybe, like, five seconds. Analysis is just as much an act of introspection as it is an act of dissecting a piece of fiction. You need to be able to ask yourself why you're seeing characters the way that you're seeing them. Sometimes that answer is latent bigotry. Unpack that. Work on it. Sometimes the answer is that the author is a bigot and trying to tell you something about the group of people a character is supposedly representative of. Acknowledge it. Unpack that. Work with it. And I mean that seriously- you cannot just skirt around bigotry without perpetuating the bigotry yourself. Analysis will, by way of the vulnerability of the practice, get uncomfortable at times. Be ready for that.

Think critically and think for yourself. A lot of people shoot themselves in the foot by being reactionary, and/or letting other people do the thinking for them. Again, analysis will get uncomfortable at times. It is vulnerable, introspective, and an act of challenging yourself and your worst habits. Commit to that.

Oh, and have fun. Yes, I just spent several paragraphs talking about how analysis is challenging and uncomfortable, but don't make yourself have a genuinely bad time on purpose. You truly do not need to give yourself an attack or episode for the sake of an internet post or something. Horror movie rules - know your limits and respect them.

That's all for now, I think. There's infinite nuance to this subject, but I believe this is a decent 101 post.

[owl-falls-au]

Ooooo, wait I just realized that this would mean Stan meets father Titan aka King’s dad.

And just imagine with me, because of the curse, not only does he gain the Titian’s power and form, but gets to keep both cause it gets mixed in with the curse, and so when he reappears like a phoenix, he’s in this fusion form of himself, his curse form and the titan form.

Everyone is of course in shock. But before they can even really register it, Belos attacks again, but Stan summons a shield protecting them, and begins to fight Belos, while telling Collector to take Dipper, Mabel, and Ford as far away from here.

Luz, Eda, and King quickly join him.

Meanwhile Collector takes Dipper, Mabel, and Ford back to his palace, to help out the others in freeing everyone, while he holds the palace up. (Let’s agree that Stan and Luz had taught them all about how to make the right glyphs/ combinations, whilst they were still in Gravity Falls) and so everyone gets free a lot faster. So by the time they free everyone and get back, the fight with Belos is over.

The fight with Belos gets intense, they free Raine, they get back to fighting Belos, with it ending with both Stan and Luz pulling Belos off of the heart.

The just like originally, Eda, King, and Raine stomp off what’s left of Belos, though of course, with there being 3 extra people helping, the Hex squad were able to free everyone, and took Ford, Mabel, and Dipper back to where the fight had been happening. And so they also get the chance to stomp off Belos, especially Mabel, Dipper, and Ford, for killing their grunkle/brother.

Once that’s over with, they do get to reunite with Stan properly, with Ford crying hysterically, and apologizing so much while hugging him.

IN ENGLISH

You are absolutely right!

My idea for Stan to vanish into fire and ashes came from this post.

In this publication, an attempt is made to define what Stan's symbol means.

And since Stan has always been associated with fire, as well as phoenixes, he would rise from the ashes as a new person, someone complete...

I'd like to dig deeper into Stan's interaction with King's father.

After dying, Stan appears in the Intermediate Realm, descending once again, there, Stan would think that he should have told the children that he loves them.

Then someone pulls it out and it's none other than King's dad.

English:Stan: What...? King?

Titan: no, but I got the charm

Stan: … oh… Titan…

Titan: oh, I…

Stan: … you… are… are you King’s father?

Titan: King said it best, “I’m king and queen, the best of both worlds,” although “dad” works for me… I’m your fan, by the way - he points to a hat, once he’s on, with a crescent-shaped symbol and a small circle next to it -

Stan: oh, ah… thanks… I think… wait… if you’re here… does that mean I’m… dead?

Titan: not quite, your body was destroyed thanks to Belos, but it’s still possible for you to come back…

Stan: - relieved to know that - that’s great! … But… what is this place?

Titan: Welcome to the space in between! It's actually among many other things... this is a bridge that connects to all worlds...

Stan: you... you were the voice I heard when I tried to create the portal...

Titan: that's right... I must say that I'm very impressed... no human had achieved as many things as you... your family will be proud of you...

Stan: I'm not so sure...

Titan: don't underestimate yourself... taking care of those children, learning the glyphs, helping Eda and my son, coexisting with your curse, beating Bill at his own game, facing Belos, even when you doubted yourself...

Stan: w-well, when you put it like that, it does sound incredible... but... it's not much use if I can't protect them all... now I'm here...

Titan: it's true...

Stan: and... even so, I made many mistakes... I don't think I can help my family if I keep making mistakes...

Titan: ... all your life you've thought that you're someone replaceable, that you're not important and that no one I would miss you… life has treated you like garbage… but you never let that stop you… you accomplished amazing things… and you are capable of more than you imagine…

The squares around them showed memories of Stan and some of his exploits, how he discovered how to do glyph magic, how he managed to calm the beast from its own curse, how he tricked Bill into a truce between the two of them and how he saved the children countless times, even when he created the portals with little information and the moment he saved the collector

Titan: Your path may have started in a painful way… but for 40 years, you changed, you grew, you matured and you became stronger… you sacrificed yourself, not for the common good, but for the love of your loved ones… now they need you back…

Stan: … I don't stand a chance against Belos… it was easy before, but now… I can't…

Titan: mmh… well…

As everything around him shakes violently, Stan looks at his chest The Titan fills with something green

Titan: I don't have much time left... but you can still stop him...

Stan: How?! I'm not a witch or a wizard, I'm not like the "chosen ones" from the books of Light. I don't even know who I am!

Titan: Then you'll have to find out for yourself... I'll give you the power to stop Belos... but only if you accept it

The Titan extends his hand, a glow comes out of it and the four basic glyphs that Stan learned are drawn

Stan: I-I... I don't know... What if I fail?

Titan: ... listen carefully... you are Stanley Pines, from the human realm, one of the most powerful wizards of the boiling islands and warrior of peace... you have the power of your curse, you are the reincarnation of one of the most dangerous entities in the multiverse and you are undoubtedly someone with a good heart... the question is... Do you choose yourself, "chosen one"?

Stan hesitates, but knowing that his family needs him, and knowing that there are no other options, he decides to accept

As he shakes hands with the Titan's hand, he feels the magic entering his body

Titan: Belos is about to be able to control everything, so you must be quick…

Stan: I…

Titan: Unlike magic in humans, you have more power on your own, so my magic should last more than enough, just don't use it lightly and remember not to let Bill control you

Stan: Wait, what about King?! Don't you want to tell him something?

Titan: …

The Titan whispers something to Stan

Stan: Yeah, he'll definitely love it… but… What do you mean I'm a reincarnation?

Titan: What I mentioned about you being a reincarnation should be able to help you, once you come back, you won't be just Stan anymore, you'll be a new person and that person will be you, you, Bill and Lupin will be one…

Stan: What? But-

Stan is stunned to see that the titan has returned to its original form

Titan: Goodbye, “chosen one”… just kidding… goodbye, Stanley Pines…

And so, the titan sank into those strange black waters of the intermediate space

And Stan would return, no longer as a human with two demons co-existing in his mind, but as a different person…

And as the titan sinks, Stan hears a voice that slowly becomes familiar to him... AXOLOTL...

Well done, Stanley...

EN ESPAÑOL

¡Tienes toda la razón!

Mi idea de que Stan se desvanezca entre fuego y cenizas salió de esta publicación

en ella se intenta definir que significa el simbolo de Stan

Y ya que Stan siempre estuvo asociado al fuego, así como los fénix, renaceria de las cenizas como una nueva persona, alguien completo...

Me gustaría indagar más sobre la interacción de Stan con el padre de King

Después de haber muerto, Stan aparece en el Reino intermedio, descendiendo una vez más, ahí, Stan pensaría en que debió decirle a los niños que los ama

Entonces, alguien lo saca y es nada menos que el papá de King

Stan: ¿Que...? ¿King?

Titan: no, pero se mi heredó el encanto

Stan: … oh… Titan…

Titan: oh, yo…

Stan: … ¿tu… eres… eres el padre de King?

Titan: King lo dijo mejor, “Soy rey y reina, lo mejor de ambas cosas”, aunque “papá” funciona para mi… soy tu fan, por cierto - señala un sombrero, un vez que tiene puesto, con el símbolo de una especie de medialuna y un pequeño círculo al lado -

Stan: oh, ah… gracias… creo… espera … si tú estás aquí… eso significa que yo estoy… muerto?

Titan: no del todo, tu cuerpo se destruyó gracias a Belos, pero aún es posible que regreses…

Stan: - aliviado de saber eso - ¡que bien! … Pero… ¿Qué es este lugar?

Titan: ¡Bienvenido al espacio intermedio! En realidad está entre muchas otras cosas… este es un puente que se conecta con todos los mundos…

Stan: tu… tu eras la voz que escuchaba cuando intentaba crear el portal…

Titan: así es… debo decir que estoy muy impresionado… ningún humano había logrado tantas cosas como tú… tu familia estará orgullosa de ti…

Stan: no estoy tan seguro…

Titán: no te subestimes… cuidar de esos niños, aprender los glifos, ayudar a Eda y a mi hijo, coexistir con tu maldición, ganarle en su propio juego a Bill, enfrentar a Belos, incluso cuando dudabas de ti mismo…

Stan: b-bueno, cuando lo pones así, si suena algo increíble… pero… no sirve de mucho si no puedo protegerlos a todos… ahora estoy aqui…

Titan: es cierto…

Stan: y… aun así, cometí muchos errores… no creo que pueda ayudar a mi familia si sigo cometiendo errores…

Titan: … toda tu vida has pensado que eres alguien reemplazable, que no eres importante y que nadie te extrañaria… la vida te ha tratado como basura… pero nunca dejaste que eso te detenga… lograste cosas impresionantes… y eres capaz de mas de lo que imaginas…

Los cuadrados alrededor de ellos mostraron recuerdos de Stan y algunas de sus hazañas, como descubrió a hacer magia de glifos, como logro calmar a la bestia de su propia maldición, como engaño a Bill para que ellos dos llegaran a una tregua y como salvó a los niños incontables veces, incluso cuando creo los portales con poca información y el momento en que Salvo al coleccionista

Titan: puede que tu camino iniciará de una forma dolorosa… pero durante 40 años, fuiste cambiando, creciste, maduraste y te volviste mas fuerte… te sacrificaste, no por el bien común, sino por amor a tus seres queridos… ahora ellos te necesitan de vuelta…

Stan: … no tengo ninguna oportunidad contra Belos… antes era fácil, pero ahora… no puedo…

Titan: mmh… bueno…

Mientras todo alrededor se sacude violentamente, Stan mira que el pecho del Titán se llena de algo verde

Titan: no me queda mucho tiempo… pero aun puedes detenerlo…

Stan: ¡¿Cómo?! No soy una bruja o un hechicero, no soy como los “elegidos” de los libros de Luz ¡Ni siquiera se quien soy!

Titan: entonces tendrás que averiguarlo tu… te daré el poder para detener a Belos… pero solo si lo aceptas

El titán extiende su mano, de ella sale un brillo y se dibujan los cuatro glifos básicos que Stan aprendió

Stan: y-yo… No lo sé… ¿Y si fracaso?

Titan: … escucha bien… tu eres Stanley Pines, proveniente del reino humano, uno de los hechiceros más poderosos de las islas hirvientes y guerrero de la paz…tienes el poder de tu maldición, eres la reencarnación de uno de los entes más peligrosos del multiverso y sin duda eres alguien de buen corazón… la pregunta es… ¿Te eliges a ti mismo, “elegido”?

Stan duda, pero sabiendo que su familia lo necesita, y sabiendo quenp hay más opciones, decide aceptar

Cuando estrecha su mano con la mano del Titan, siente la magia entrando en su cuerpo

Titan: Belos esta por poder controlar todo, así que debes ser rápido…

Stan: yo…

Titan: a diferencia de la magia en humanos, tú tienes más poder por tu cuenta, así que mi magia deberá durar más que suficiente, solo no lo uses a la ligera y recuerda no dejar que Bill te controlé

Stan: espera, pero ¡¿que pasa con King?! ¿No quieres decirle algo?

Titan: …

El titán le susurra algo a Stan

Stan: si, en definitiva le encantará… pero… ¿A que te refieres con que soy una reencarnación?

Titán: lo que mencioné sobre que eres una reencarnación debería poder ayudarte, una vez que vuelvas, ya no serás solo Stan, serás una nueva persona y esa persona serás tú, tu, Bill y Lupin serán uno solo…

Stan: ¿Que? Pero-

Stan se queda anonadado al ver que el titán volvió a tener su forma original

Titan: adiós, “elegido”… es broma… adiós, Stanley Pines…

Y así, el titan se hundió en esas extrañas aguas negras del espacio intermedio

Y Stan volvería, ya no como un humano con dos demonios co-existiendo en su mente, sino como una persona diferente…

Y mientras el titán se hunde, Stan escucha una voz que poco a poco se vuelve familiar para el... AXOLOTL...

Bien hecho, Stanley...

[yaut-jaknowit]

Before A Throne

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3225

Summary: We'ar-ow takes you to a new spot on the ship. New for you. Her throne room. As the Monarch of this clan, she must delegate tasks and ensure her clan thrives. It's a perfect time to show you off. As her pet, you are sat upon the steps of her throne and forced to stay. Like a good pet.

Author Note: Uh-oh… that anger is rising!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

A black, leather-style collar was hanging from We’ar-ow’s pointer finger. An offer, but more of a demand. It was for you. A collar. For you. To wear. Your body shook with rage that somehow didn’t pelt her in the face with swinging fists or venom-filled words. This was beyond anything you could handle.

“Why?” you grounded out through clenched teeth. The last two days have been calm. She lets you stay in your room the entire time as you wasted away from boredness. But it was better than facing the damn dragon that has you as her pet. Oh, that really grinded your gears truly right now. How dare she?! You’re a person! With thoughts, with feelings, with emotions. She thinks it normal to chain you up with a collar. You’re not a dog or some Houdini child. You’ve been good around her, for the most part.

Her piercing gaze was kept on you as she peered over her mandibles to look down at you. God, she was massive. At least two feet taller. Probably closer to three feet taller. You don’t even reach her midriff while standing in front of her.

The two bottom mandibles flutter mindlessly. “Pets wear collars.” She was completely pushing your buttons. Your nails bit harshly into the pads of flesh that made up your hands. “Pets wear their collars proudly,” she continued.

Your teeth grinded against each other as you gazed up at her. Anger had to be rolling off of you in waves. Deadly, fatal waves that if it was any other Yautja, you would be dead in a heart beat.

A deep breath cycled through your lungs. “I’m not a pet,” you argued, finally putting your foot down. You were done playing this game.

Wow, it took four days to break you.

We’ar-ow leaned down, invading your personal space, and wrapped a hand around your neck. Instantly, you freaked and kicked out your legs to fight for life. Her hold wasn’t vicious or hurting. Just something to keep you there, before her. “But, you are. Your skin is marred with my symbol as Monarch. And your previous failed to protect you, his pet. Why resist? I can give you life worry-free and relaxing on furs I’ve hunted myself,” she explained and slowly blinked at you.

At her words, your eyes narrowed. Dwainet had hunted furs for you, as a mate. From experience, that was a mate thing to gather survival items for the other. But, you did only had one life experience. So maybe she was just doing what an owner does with a pet.

“You forcefully put that mark on my skin! And as a pet. I won’t lower myself to that standard just because it’s an easy life. I’d rather live a hard life than be humiliated as a pet,” you spat out the last words as if it was vile. Truly it was. “I wasn’t a pet to Dwainet. He was my mate.” You finally let the cat out of the bag.

And she didn’t react in a negative way. Just ‘hmpf’ed and slightly grinned. Her face was still close, breath baring down on you. “You think I didn’t know that. You reeked of his mating scent. What I don’t understand is why? You would let a low ranking, barely blooded male to mate with you?” she questioned as if it was the more absurd thing to ever do.

Now she was questioning your love life! God, save your soul. “Because humans don’t care about that! I fell in love with him.” Her hand tightened for a second, your body freezing when you remembered how easily it would be snap your neck.

Then, she took a step forward, forcing you backwards. All the way until your back met the cool wall of your new room. It felt like she grew an extra foot or two as she completely towered over your trembling form. You had made a fatal error, you felt it in your bones as she studied you. “Young and dumb. The two of you are. How was this lesson learned? Well? I hope.”

You wanted to shy away from her intense stare down, but the Yautja refused to let up for a moment. As if she wanted to get it through your thick skull. “What do you think would’ve happened if I had not found you? Unclaimed physically by another Yautja. You were just a plaything to anyone who came along your path. You are ooman. You would not survive out there,” she stated. Her hot, thick body pressed against yours, trapped between her and the wall. Not an inch of relief to escape.

That boiling rage just came back in full force. Fire flickering mightily in your eyes. “You think I’m just some weak human that needed saving? You think you are doing me favor?!” you scoffed and wiggled a little. It just further increased your worries. She wasn’t letting you go or move.

Plainly, frankly, she stated: “yes.” Her thumb stroked along the ridge of your cheek bone. If it wasn’t for the sharp talon at the end so close to your eye, you would’ve been possibly distracted. It was soothing, almost. “So, either make a choice now. Make this easier on yourself and I or I will show you why I was made Monarch.”

The translator even carried over the dreadful threat in her voice and words. You didn’t have much of choice besides pain and suffering. You let your head loll back and thunk against the wall. “It’s a lose-lose situation, anyhow.” You paused and stared blankly up at the grey ceiling. “Just get it over with.” You were not winning this argument. You would never win one with her. You were done.

Her hand slipped away, leaving behind goosebumps. You heard the clinking of metal before the warm leather embraced from the back of your neck and locked together on your throat. You swallowed and felt the way it effected the bobbing of your throat.

“Ruach finished your clothing as well. Pick what you want. I’m taking you out.” Your body froze at her words. You knew she wasn’t about to kill you. She was hauling you back into the public of her kind. Somewhere you didn’t want to be. The last place you wanted to be. It’s only been two days… can’t you get like two years to recuperate after that traumatic episode.

Like you learned earlier… there was no winning an argument with her. It’s best to just shut up and sit along for the ride. Until an exit becomes clear. That was your new goal. Going home.

We’ar-ow turned around then and walked out of the room. At least she’ll give you some privacy to change. The least she could give after humiliating you lately. You knew nakedness was fine when it came to their species. It was the norm. To you, however, was the complete opposite.

How will you ever survive in this new world.

Up against the wall was a newly placed box. You stomped over to it and ripped open the lid. Just like how We’ar-ow had stated, Ruach had finished your clothing. Your jaw dropped at the first one on top. It wasn’t anything revealing or anything but it was strictly formal. Well, shit. Formal meant parties or gatherings of the sort. Such things you will most likely be forced to join.

A grumbled groan passed through your nose. You dug through the box to find something that could be considered for your kind. Please have a T-shirt and short or pants. Something close to it, please!

Maybe god had mercy on your poor soul. A semi-normal looking T-shirt with off-setting pants sat in the box. You pulled those out with a smile and pumped your fists above your head in victory. “Yes!” you cheered, ready to strip when chittering laughter met your ears. You froze then whipped your head over in the noise’s direction.

Of course, it couldn’t be anyone else. You shied away from her amused gaze and stood normally. There goes your privacy.

“I did not know it takes clothes to please my pet,” she purred. There she goes, ruining the moment. Your shoulders slumped, teeth grinding against one another.

It was worth a shot. “Gonna give me privacy to change?” you questioned and did your best to hold back the anger in your voice. An emotion she chittered her amusement once more.

“No.”

If only you could throttle her. You sighed in defeat before swiftly stripping down to your underwear and pulling on the new clothing. They fit… perfectly, as much as you hated to admit it. They weren’t snug in any place. The fabric didn’t rub. In all honesty, the fabric felt like heaven against your skin. Not too soft that it felt like nothing was there, but was smooth to your skin. If the situation was different, you would be thanking Ruach for the clothing. Instead, you just cursed at him less in your mind.

The Yautja strutted over to you and lightly grasped your chin to bring it up. There was a softness you’ve only seen in the privacy of her space. “They are to liking?” she asked, voice softened close to a whisper.

Your throat bobbed, head unable to nod. “Y-yeah,” you stuttered, feeling how your heart pounded in your chest. So hard, it felt like it was about to jump out into her hands.

She hummed, other hand coming up and stroking the like-leather collar around your throat. “You may not like it now. Once your emotions clear, you will see how being a Monarch’s pet will be a great life.” The moment was crushed. You turned your head out of her hold and took two massive steps away from her. She continued to stand before you, hand falling back to her side.

“We head out now,” she demanded then spun on her heel and marched out of the door. In the whirlwind of emotions flying in your head, you timidly follow after her, like a shadow. Your new clothing swaying with each step as the two of you left her room and into the elevator.

Yautja filled the halls, conversing or going their own ways. Just like before, all of them spilt, leaving a wide, respectful berth to their Monarch. You just went along with everything, feeling the way the new collar burned against your skin. A reminder in the back of your mind, a sight that everyone could see. You seethed quietly.

After a couple of minutes, you realized you didn’t know where she was taking you. These halls weren’t familiar, even after half a year being on the ship. Dwainet never took you out of his room often. Something you didn’t mind too much. Away from danger, away from prying eyes.

A simple door slid back to reveal a massive room with a towering ceiling. Your jaw dropped. You’ve never been here before, let alone heard about it. Your steps slowed to a stop as you took in the room. We’ar-ow took notice and looked over her shoulder. “Come,” she stated and gestured with her head to keep up. Which, you did to the best of your ability as you admired the place.

This was no simple room compared to the door, something you realized. It was highly decorated, like a throne room for a king or queen.

That’s when it hit you. It was a throne room for We’ar-ow. She’s the Monarch. The highest standing power within her clan. Why has she brought you here?

Mentioned Yautja gracefully took the steps up a throne designed for her size. She sat down then crossed a leg over the other and leaned on an elbow. With her other hand, she motioned with a finger to come towards. Like a lost dog, you did so, eyes flickering around the place. You still couldn’t believe the size of this place and the way it was filled. It was definitely different compared to anywhere else on the ship.

The steps were taller than back on earth but you still climbed and stood before the Monarch on her throne. With no one in here, she let a small smirk grace her lips. We’ar-ow pointed to a spot next to her throne, still on the steps. “Sit, I have a few issues to resolve,” she said and let her arm rest in her lap.

Whatever magic gripped you was broken at her words. Sitting at her feet like a peasant! You wanted to scream at her. Instead, you hesitantly plopped harshly on the steps next to her throne and crossed your arms. To be honest, that hurt you more than you expected. You glared at the floor.

A hand petted the top of your head. “Calm, pet. This will be over shortly.” Yeah, when I find a way to escape from this hell hole and go back home.

It wasn’t until now that you realized how homesick you were. Away from your friends, you family. God, you left them without much of a notice. Gone, just like that. They probably think you’re dead or something like that. You shake your head to get her hand off. She pulled away without complaint.

Then, the real fun began.

Just sitting there while she talked with other Yautjas. For hours. For literal hours. Your butt on the metal covered in what felt like carpet wasn’t nice. It ruined your back, made your buttock muscles beyond sore. Worse of all, you felt yourself going crazy! What did she expect you to do for hours and blankly staring at the ground?! You needed something to toy with, something to fidget with. This couldn’t be a daily thing.

Thankfully, you had the translator, so you had one thing to entertain yourself with. Listening to the talk of everyday life of a Yautja and the clan. An idea came to mind as you observed. Maybe you could find out a way to escape by listening. Learn their patterns, learn the place from the inside out. A sly smile graced your face but was quickly wiped off. You couldn’t have anyone getting any hints of your thoughts.

This is how the day went on. You, a pet, sitting at their master’s feet as she discussed with her people about issues among the clan. During the entire time, you kept a passive look on your face as you rested your chin on your hand. How long will this go on?

Yet, this time gave you a chance to think so more. That’s all you could do whole you waited, impatiently, mind you.

To We’ar-ow’s room has a keypad that she inputted a code to entire. A code you didn’t know was strictly for her room or her own code to have access to the entire ship. You’ll have to pay closer attention to when she puts it in to learn what it is. Hopefully, it was the latter to help you get out of here. If she had a keycode to access the place, you’ll have unlimited access everywhere.

Perfect. At least, you have an idea on where to start.

“Pet.” As much as you hated to admit it, you turned your head in We’ar-ow’s call. Immediately, you scowled and rolled your eyes. How stupid of you.

We’ar-ow had stood up sometime during your inner monologue. You also stood up as well, considerably short than her hulking form. Her eyes met yours for a short second before she began to walk down the steps. You stayed for an extra moment and admired the throne room one more time. It was different to any other place you’ve seen on the ship. It was nice to see something fresh here.

Not another words was spoke to you. It was back to her room once more. You didn’t mind it one bit. Away from prying eyes and able to find something to fidget with, at least.

After passing the threshold of her quarters, a hand landed on your chest and pushed you flush with wall next to the door. You couldn’t help the gasp that pierced the quiet air. Your hand coming up to wrap around her thick wrist, as if you could pull it off. “We’ar-ow?” you questioned, the first time you’ve uttered her name.

You saw the sharp rise of her chest the second after the name left your lips. The hand added a hair of weight, enough to be noticed. We’ar-ow leaned in, further crowding you to the wall. Her limb slid up to wrap around your neck, thumb forcefully tilting your head up more. She bent at the waist, knees bending to help her get to your shorter height.

With trembling rapture, you watched as she brought her massive head to your neck. You felt her hot breath fan over the fragile skin there. You whimpered in terror and clenched your eyes closed.

Then, she rubbed her head against your throat. The entirety of your body tensed painfully, ready for a killing blow to happen. But nothing besides the confusion on what she was doing. She changed sides of your neck, continuously rubbing against you like a cat. Your voice was lodged in your esophagus, stuck behind a lump of fright.

The terror that controlled your body had you froze like a deer in headlights. You didn’t know what to do or act in this situation. Dwainet has never done something like before.

Finally, you were able to swallow. “W-what are, are you doing?” you asked, voice trembling. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling as she kept rubbing herself on your neck.

“Scent marking you,” she explained, free hand pinning your hip to the wall as well. You were completely stuck, no room to escape from her clutches. You gritted your teeth painfully, chest taking shaky breaths.

So, she was doing what cats do, or dogs as well. Rubbing her scent on you, further claiming you as her pet. You slowly untensed your muscles to relax against the wall and let her do her thing. The day had been long and drawn out. The quicker she gets this done, the quicker you get to be in the safety of your room.

It was just the neck she went for. The hand on your hip slid up, underneath your shirt and palmed at your stomach. “Hey!” you snapped, without meaning to. That was too far though, more than something you were willing to let go.

We’ar-ow’s scent marking stilled, releasing a short trill in question; a sound you haven’t heard before from her. You reached for the limb on your stomach and tugged on it. “That’s too far.” But, the hand didn’t budge. “Don’t, don’t touch me.”

“I must scent mark you. You still have that male’s scent lingering on you.” Her hand, thankfully, slid back down to rest on your hip.

“Just stay to my neck, okay?” Your voice continued to tremble the entire time. And, We’ar-ow took you seriously. She pulled away from your neck and stared down at you. Not a word was said as she walked off like nothing happened. On the other hand, you stayed glued to the wall, life partially flashing before my eyes.

The Yautja left you there, to your own devices.

Part 1 |Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18