#the amount of confusion left my brain doesn’t understand

[palebirdqueen]

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[hatethysinner]

ooh maybe a drabble/headcanons about remmick with technology in a modern au? i feel like he texts like a grandpa lol. he also probably would blow up your phone with the amount of messages he sends.

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴀ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: MY FIRST MODERN AU! i've been waiting for an excuse to make these headcanons and you've finally given me one anon!! these have been swirling in my mind for at least 2-3 weeks so it was very fun to finally get them out of my brain and onto a post. i had a lot of fun with this one, so enjoy y'all!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: just comedic unserious cutiepie remmick headcanons + tumblr formatting fuckery

y’all know that one clip from abbott elementary where barbara takes a picture of herself and says “now who took that picture of meeeee?”

yeah that just about sums up how remmick is with technology.

he’s terrible with anything that involves a screen, and understands how they work even less.

so there’s two very specific ways remmick texts (no inbetween), either like a hostage negotiator:

hello. this is remmick. are you safe. i miss you. i saw a rabbit today. thought of you. please advise. you left your socks here. i have kept them in a safe place. let me know if you require them back. can you call me. i don’t like the typing.

or like 50 messages with no punctuation whatsoever:

hi sweetheart i meant to tell you something hang on i saw a bird with red on its wings youd have liked it wait picture didnt work it’s gone now nevermind hi again i miss you do you want eggs in the morning

oh and he types with his pointer finger only so both ways take forever.

his ass can’t use emojis in the right context to save his life. i’m making soup 🐍 love you always 🔪🌹☁️🕊️🩸

please don’t try to videocall this man because you will get jumpscared. nose all up in the camera, blurry as hell, shouting “HELLO?!” like you just pulled him out of odinsleep.

also, screen brightness baffles him so bad. you once caught him squinting at his dimmed phone for half an hour before he asked you: “has the light inside it gone out?”

you showed him how to use spotify one day and he takes making playlists so seriously. each one has a full sentence title, three paragraph description, and some kind of memory attached to it. your favorites are: “for when the world is too loud and you are my quiet.” “i would have danced to this with you in 1945.” “this one made me think about your ankle.”

even a centuries old vampire loves video games just as much as you do. his favorites are the sims (painstakingly rebuilt your entire life together), animal crossing (5 star island and he does not play about his landscaping), and stardew valley (probably holds the world record for largest farm ever and you stopped asking what year he was on after 55)

he said he hated reality tv... so why do you find him curled up next to you every summer to watch love island? he’s a diehard amaya/olandria stan, of course, and he WILL find a way to work his phone so he can cast them votes.

he doesn’t trust the cloud, naturally. “why do we put our memories in it?” “what if it rains? what happens then?” “no, i won’t put your birthday photos there. the sky doesn’t need them.”

he saves every single voicemail you leave him, even if it’s just a simple “call me back.” sometimes you’ll randomly leave him one just for him to add to the collection.

he only uses social media for the animal pictures and videos so when anything else plays he just stares at the screen like 😐.

well that’s a lie he’d definitely follow a bunch of irish nature accounts and will shove his phone in your face while talking about what he remembers from each photo.

yes he does have 97 tabs open and no he won't close any of them. his excuse is always the same. “what if i need them later?”

someone texted him lmao once and he showed it to you with the most confused look on his face. “are they alright?” “it means laughing my ass off.” “…can that happen?”

in conclusion, leave the millennium old grandpappy alone.

[flemingsfreckles]

Midnight Kiss

Synopsis: you learn Jessie has never had a midnight kiss, you decide to change that.

Warnings: none!

WC: 1.1k

A/N: hi, happy new year! I couldn’t sleep last night and started this little blurb and I’ve finished it on the train to the airport so it’s very short, I apologize. Hope everyone gets a new years kiss if they want one, or maybe a new years high five, whatever you’re in to :)

“Ever had a midnight kiss?” You leaned over practically shouting in Jessie’s ear as the two of you stood side by side on the wall of a bar.

It had been Sophia’s idea, renting out a bar to celebrate the new year, she invited her various friends as well as national and club teammates. You weren’t one for partying anymore, outgrowing that phase when you left college, but when Sophia had texted, practically begging you to come you agreed.

The night hadn’t been half bad, surrounded by a lot of familiar faces, loud music and dancing, and some good food you couldn’t complain too much. But the longer the night went on the more you longed to be back home snuggled in bed.

“Nope, at least not on New Years, you?” Jessie turns her head to glance at you. You nod your head as you bring the beer bottle in your hand to your lips. Taking a sip you debate if you should give her further details or not.

“Yeah, funny enough a fair amount with men.” You notice how Jessie’s eyes raise as she brings her own drink to her lips. “Most of them were just for fun, drunken kisses that didn’t mean anything.” Suddenly shy about your history of drunk kissing, you change the subject. “So never? Not even as a joke?”

Jessie just shakes her head before adding a shoulder shrug.

“Would you want to be?” It’s kind of a joke, offering to kiss your teammate. But it also wasn’t, you’d always had an admiration for Jessie, her composure, the way her brain worked, not to mention the freckles, the curls, the maple brown eyes.

“Huh?” Those same eyes squinting at you in confusion.

“I just mean, I could, we could, if you wanted to.” You tried to be nonchalant about it, but in reality your heart was racing. You figured the offer was light, she didn’t have to know the feelings behind it, that you were maybe interested in a little bit more than just a new years peck.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her words cause your stomach to sink slightly but you weren’t quite ready to give up, you wouldn’t push her into it, but you were curious.

“Why not? it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“That’s actually the problem.” Jessie mumbles as she brings her drink to her lips, taking a longer sip than normal, tipping the bottle back until it empties into her mouth.

“What do you mean?”

She looks at you, a firm stare, one that almost makes you feel stupid for not understanding what she meant. Your fingers begin to pick at the label on your bottle, a nervous habit. She raises her eyebrows at you. “Seriously?”

You throw your arms out slightly in a shrug.

“If we kiss, I’m worried it won’t be nothing. I’ll go home and not be able to sleep because of it. I’ll be up thinking there’s something there, something between us, while you go and forget we even kissed before you leave the building because it means nothing.”

“I said it could mean nothing.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused. Instead of making her wait you explain yourself.

“It doesn’t have to mean nothing. It can mean something, if that’s something you’d be interested in exploring.” You pull off a chunk of the label, picking causing it to fall off the bottle. You take a sip in an attempt to distract yourself from the nerves that had bottled up.

“Really?” She says it as if she doesn’t believe you, as if this was a practical joke being played on her and she was waiting for the laughing to start.

“Yeah.” You not and smile at her, placing your hand on her shoulder. “You really think I’d spend my whole evening glued to your side if I wasn’t into you? I mean I get it, you’re cool and all but I’ve been trying to flirt with you for months.” It’s now your turn to look at her like she had missed the big clue.

“Oh.”

“I just said it could mean nothing because I didn’t know how you felt. I didn’t want there to be weird feelings if you just thought I was trying to kiss you for my own enjoyment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You’re pulled your your own bubble of tension when the crowd surrounding the bar begins counting down from 10. You look over to see a big count down on the screen as the clock approaches midnight.

“Five!”

You turn back to look at Jessie, she’s looking back at you. You don’t have the chance to ask with words instead raising your eyebrows in question at her.

“Four!”

Her tongue quickly runs along her bottom lip, and then she nods.

“Three!”

It takes a moment for your brain to register her head movement. She nodded.

“Two!”

You put your bottle down on the small ledge next to you, freeing your hands. One comes to her waist, pulling her closer, the other to the side of her face.

“One!”

You lean down, putting your lips to hers as an array of noisemakers, fireworks, and shouts happen in the background as the new year starts. All the sounds fade out as your attention is brought back to Jessie, the way her soft lips were on yours, her arms thrown around your neck, pulling you down and into her just as much as you were holding her tight to your own body.

You both pull back, earlier than you truly would’ve liked. Her eyes open just after yours and you can’t help but hide the smile that ran across your lips. She mirrors you, a big smile, that she tries to bite back and a faint blush on her face.

“So? Midnight kiss worth it?” You tease her, trying to break the slight buildup of romantic and sexual tension that had occurred from a simple kiss.

“Oh definitely, especially if there’s going to be more of those in the new year.” Leaning over, her head rests on your shoulder and she tilts her head up to look at you.

“I think I can make that happen.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⬆️ 1k max please

Okay I'll be honest with you I don't have 1k at a time of this one in me right now. I'm struggling a bit with the shape of this chapter. So here is 600! Sorry!

---

“I’m here for both of you,” Buck says. “Always. Sorry if I implied otherwise.”

Shannon nods. “I know you are. Sorry if I came in hot, I…”

She trails off. But Buck gets it. She’s used to having to do that. Because of the exact period of time she’s scared of reliving. 

“We’ll be okay,” Buck says. 

Shannon takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. We will.”

🔼

Later that evening, when Eddie crawls into bed beside Buck, Buck turns over to wrap him in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I know how you react,” Eddie whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Buck replies. “Look how close we are right now? I know you’re not going anywhere.”

Eddie kisses the bare skin of Buck’s shoulder. “I’m not.”

“Is there something more I can be doing for you?” Buck asks. 

Eddie shakes his head.  “No. You… I know how much you love me. That helps more than you know.”

“I love you so damned much,” Buck says. He kisses Eddie. “I love you so much it’s like little worms in my brain controlling all my thoughts and feelings.”

“That’s disgusting,” Eddie complains.

“I love you a disgusting amount.”

Eddie snorts. “See? That’s it. That’s all I need.”

iii.

The fall moves quickly. At least, for Shannon it does. 

Eddie is home a lot more, which helps. He’s working eight to four, at Dispatch of all places. Like he stepped in where Maddie left. Except, he’s not a dispatcher. Regardless, the change in schedule helps Shannon significantly with her final term of school. She’s grateful for that, and she’s grateful for Eddie working through things she never thought she’d see him address. Mostly that, actually. 

Some days are harder than others. Eddie comes home from some of his therapy appointments looking ragged. Like he’s just experienced some of the things he must be talking about. Somedays, he’s hardly present. Buck and Shannon tip toe around it, advising the children to give him space when needed. That’s not often. But it does happen. 

Sometimes, she visits Maddie. Either with Buck or without. Maddie has received an official diagnosis, beyond the expected postpartum depression. Postpartum thyroiditis. She really did need time and medical help to recover, not just the meds her doctor before had left her with. It makes Shannon wonder, should she have sought more help? Was that an option? She doesn’t think she was ever quite as bad as Maddie got, but… Still. She’d struggled a lot after Chris. Maybe there was more she could have done about that.

Anyway, she and Maddie rebuild their friendship during those visits. She, Eddie, and Buck babysit Jee a fair amount for Chim now, and Shannon always has stories to share. Maddie seems like herself again, albeit sad and in recovery. Missing her child and her life. Shannon understands that. She never asks Maddie when she’s going to go home. She goes, she visits, she talks. That’s all she can do. 

iv.

Eddie is feeling sort of like a drowned cat when it happens. 

He’s sitting at home, in the living room, playing video games with his son. Which is the only reason he feels sort of like a drowned cat and not completely. He’d had a tough session. They’d really dug deep into Eddie’s time in Afghanistan. Into the chopper crash; Eddie’s guilt for being fine, when others had died. How that connects to his confusion over surviving the shooting. His fear about dying again. Frank wants him to call some of the other survivors of the chopper, to talk it through with them. He’s nervous. He’s hesitant. So instead, he’s playing video games with his son. Simulating war is easier than talking about it, apparently. 

[drainslo]

Brains & Brawn- Chapter 8: Karts

You were walking somewhere, anywhere that your feet would carry you. You fought the small amount of tears that started to roll down your face which threatened to become more.

You couldn't believe that Chishiya was willing to kiss you, but not mean anything by it. Your face was flushed with the humiliation of rejection.

Your vision was slightly blurry, which resulted in you almost stumbling into Tatta.

“Ah! I was looking for you,” he said awkwardly, looking relieved. “Hatter’s called an executive meeting right now.”

You thanked Tatta and made your way through the hotel to the upper floor where Hatter held his meetings. You felt a sense of deja-vu from the last time you had been there. The last time where this had all started, and you became entangled with Chishiya.

Hatter and the rest of the executives were already there. There were a couple of newcomers who were standing next to Hatter. It didn't escape your notice that they both had their hands tied behind their backs. Likely because they weren't immediately compliant with the Beach.

You took your place near the militants next to Niragi, who flashed a smile at you when you came in.

“You think Hatter got rid of that bastard?” Niragi whispered when you were close enough. You furrowed your brow in confusion, but it immediately became clear who he was talking about.

“Guess not,” he said when he saw Chishiya walk in casually. “Shit, hope he doesn’t take away your position.”

You smiled nervously back at Niragi but didn’t say anything as Hatter began the meeting.

“Executives! Glad you’re here! Now, I’ve called you all here because I’ve realized a solution to our pressing problem, and I also have a couple of new people here.” Hatter looked towards you and Chishiya expressively as you realized that one of the main points of this meeting was about both of you.

“So, from what I understand, you’ve been getting along swimmingly,” Hatter started with initially. You wanted to laugh at the irony of what had just transpired. If only Hatter knew that Chishiya didn't care.

You looked towards Chishiya to see his reaction, but he just blankly stared ahead of him.

“But, I think I’ve come up with a reasonable proposition. (Name) is one of the best executive group leaders at the Beach with the lowest casualty rate out of all of you, but Chishiya has never done so. Tonight, both of them will play and lead groups during the games. I’d also like to see Chishiya lead more groups.”

You flushed at the mention of your success rate in leading groups. Of course Hatter would consider this as a tiebreaker. But you had 5 days left on your visa, and you really didn’t feel like playing tonight.

“Hatter, I just played a game recently,” you said cautiously, not caring to mention that Chishiya was also in your group.

“Are you questioning my methods?” Hatter’s voice lowered dangerously, and you immediately regretted speaking out. Across the circle, An looked at you with pity in her eyes.

“Of course not Hatter. I look forward to playing,” you lowered your head submissively so he wouldn’t have reason to label you a traitor.

“Great! Now,” Hatter paused to turn his gaze meaningfully to the couple that were besides him. “I’d like to introduce you to some newcomers we have here. You said your names were Arisu and Usagi?”

The boy, Arisu, nodded fervently as he looked around the circle, his eyes settling on Chishiya. “You’re the one from the spades game!” he beamed in recognizing Chishiya like he could save them from their situation.

Chishiya didn’t respond but coolly watched Arisu. You thought that he looked as if he were making conclusions about something; he studied Arisu in the same way that he had watched people on the Beach from your balcony.

You knew that Chishiya was as likely to help Arisu as he was to be open with his emotions.

“Arisu also shows promise to be an executive, and he has brought the seven of hearts with him. I’ll have him go in a group with one of the executives today,” Hatter continued, ignoring the short exchange that just transpired.

A seven? You questioned how Arisu had even made it out alive of such a high ranked hearts game. But then again, Mira had cleared the nine of hearts somehow which earned her a highly ranked executive position.

Mira’s eyes gleamed, and she looked as if she were going to say something until a voice spoke up.

“He can come with me. I’m playing tonight,” An stepped forward without even glancing towards Arisu.

“Then that’s all settled? Executives are dismissed. I’ve already welcomed Arisu and Usagi to the Beach, but we have to go over some rules,” Hatter relayed to the rest of you, and you rolled your eyes at the mention of the Beach’s extensive rules.

You walked out silently, and didn’t feel like talking to Niragi. You hoped that Chishiya wouldn’t try to talk to you either. Or did you?

“(Name),” you heard someone behind you say. You swiveled around to find that it was Aguni addressing you.

“Yes?” you asked nervously. You couldn’t think of a reason Aguni had to look for you.

“Follow me,” Aguni said, and led you to an area where nobody could overhear you. You cocked your head to the side questioningly as you waited for him to speak.

“I think you should be careful around Niragi,” he said slowly.

“What?” You blurted before you could stop yourself. This was the second warning about Niragi you had received in a relatively short timeframe.

“Only regarding Chishiya. Try to keep the two separate at all costs, and don’t bring Chishiya up to him without warning.”

“Why? Did something happen?” you questioned, trying to figure out what had made Aguni get involved.

“I believe Niragi has taken a special interest in Hatter’s project with you two, and the relationship you’ve developed,” Aguni replied carefully. You felt that he wasn’t telling you everything based on his precarious tone.

“Alright,” you said finally. All these exchanges made you wonder how Niragi behaved when he wasn’t around you. It sounded like he became an entirely different person from whom you had once known him to be.

This was what the Borderlands was: it takes from you and warps the person you once were.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The evening came before you knew it, and you waited in a hallway nearby for Hatter to start and finish his evening rousing speech. You had been avoiding everyone by hiding out in the shooting range. You felt Chishiya wouldn’t dare come, and he didn’t.

You didn’t know if you were more disappointed or frustrated by him.

You paced in the hallway anxiously, until you saw Kuina approaching you. “(Name)! Are you alright? I saw Chishiya earlier today and-”

The feeling of evil jealousy reared its head in your ugly chest, and before you could stop yourself you spoke almost automatically.

“Chishiya this, Chishiya that. I guess it’s good he talks to you,” you laughed sardonically and immediately regretted doing so. Kuina didn't deserve your frustrations about Chishiya.

“I’m so sorry about him. You didn’t even come spar with me. Listen, (Name), I don’t know exactly what happened between you two,” Kuina pulled out a cigarette that you didn’t see she was carrying and lit it.

You waited for her to begin speaking again as she inhaled the smoke. She leaned against the wall and sighed before continuing speaking.

“I also don’t know exactly how Chishiya feels, but from what I’ve seen I definitely think there’s something. Whenever you’re playing games, he watches you until you leave. He lurks around or sends me to find out if you’ve made it safely back."

You stopped pacing in shock, and took a shuddery breath in disbelief. You wanted to start crying again from the ill feeling that arose when you thought of your dysfunctional relationship with Chishiya.

He does care.

There was an unusual silence, which made you register that Hatter's speech had ended. “I have to go,” you told Kuina and she wished you luck in your game.

You found a place to stand and waved for people who were in group 9 to come towards you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Chishiya was leading group 10. He was talking with Arisu for some reason, even though you thought Arisu was supposed to be playing with An.

You didn’t realize you were staring at Chishiya until Niragi came up to you and tapped your head with the sniper gun he carried playfully, awakening you from your reverie. 

“Hey bitch! Daydreaming about someone?” Niragi greeted you.

“Niragi? Aren’t you supposed to be in another group?” You asked in confusion upon seeing Niragi. Occasionally the militants played together, but more frequently didn’t due to the power imbalance.

Hatter wasn’t very fond of a spades dominated player group, especially when you all had guns.

“Since Chishiya’s got to be in charge of one group, I don’t have to do so tonight. So I’ll stick with you, I’m sure to live,” Niragi smiled in amusement but you felt more panicked than anything. You would now see with your own eyes what the others said about Niragi.

Counting Niragi and yourself, there would be 7 people in your group playing that night. It was more than you usually had, and you felt the weight of the responsibility for keeping everyone alive drop on your shoulders.

Motioning for everyone to leave, you began to walk out towards the parking lot with Niragi chattering loudly about how many people there were to watch over. Before you left the Beach’s lobby, you turned back to see if what Kuina said was true. 

And you felt a chill run down you after you locked eyes with Chishiya, who was indeed watching you leave. 

You wanted to run over to him, and ask him why he kissed you. You wanted to ask him what you were to him. But most of all, you just wanted to talk to him again.

You tore your eyes away from him and focused back on the group you were with. You could now practically feel the burning gaze of Chishiya on your back as you walked out.

“Hey- don’t you agree that Hatter’s asking for a lot?” Niragi poked you in the side when he realized that you weren’t responding.

You sighed and clambered into the driver’s seat of one of the larger cars the Beach had to offer. 

“Hatter always asks for a lot,” you duly responded, watching Niragi take the seat next to yours. You turned on the music of the car as the other players crawled into the back, so that Niragi would get the message that you would rather be alone in your thoughts.

The poor quality of the music faintly played as you arrived at the game venue. It appeared to be either an arcade, or a go-karting site. It was hard to tell when the moss and rampant plants grew over the sign of the building.

You entered the building with the others, and as everyone grabbed a phone for registration you saw the go-karts lined up, ready for a race. You drew your gaze to the go-karting course that lay before you, and felt a sense of dread build up. There were around 20 of them lined up, which already was a difficult enough number to race.

The course also was redesigned to be abnormally more difficult than anytime you’ve ever raced. There were tighter turns, and the course appeared to be much longer. You hadn’t been go-karting frequently, and you hoped that the game’s rules weren’t impossible to clear.

“Racing! Sounds fun,” Niragi grinned at you while all you could think was how awful and not fun this game was going to be. “I bet I can beat you,” he continued and pulled out a pair of driving gloves from his pocket.

“How the fuck do you have those?” There wasn’t any way Niragi could’ve known that this game was centered around driving.

“Ah, don’t you think they make me look sexier? I was actually planning on driving us here, but you took the seat so I didn’t say anything,” Niragi flashed the gloves at you, and you shook your head in disbelief at his stupidity. Before you could say more, the chime of the game began.

GAME START

DIFFICULTY: FOUR OF HEARTS 

[KARTS]

NO WEAPON USE

TIME: 20 MINUTES

RULES:

PLAYERS MUST PICK A KART TO RACE IN. THERE WILL BE A 5 MINUTE PERIOD FOR PLAYERS TO GET INTO A KART.

AFTER THE PERIOD ENDS, THERE WILL BE A COUNTDOWN FOR PLAYERS TO BEGIN RACING. GAME CLEAR WILL BE FOR ALL PLAYERS WHO MAKE 3 LAPS IN THE GIVEN TIME PERIOD. 

WE STRONGLY ADVISE YOU TO PICK ONE OF THE FIRST KARTS TO GET A HEAD START. HELMETS ARE PROVIDED ON A TABLE ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE ROOM.

You watched as everyone in the venue either ran towards the first karts that were lined up on the course or went to grab a helmet. You gestured at everyone from the Beach to grab a helmet, but a couple went for the go-karts instead.

“Isn’t the helmet more important than the position? I’ve never been racing without one,” you said to Niragi as you both pulled one over your head. The helmets were running out quickly, and it soon became clear that there wasn’t enough for everyone.

“Doesn’t matter to protect your head, when you’re dead,” Niragi quipped and you both jogged back to the go-karts. You brought back a couple of helmets and handed them to the pair of Beach players who defied your instructions.

There were 3 minutes left until the race began. You strapped yourself into the go-kart and prepared yourself for the race. Why was the game hearts? You thought to yourself, bewildered by the suit of the game, but before you knew it, the game’s announcer spoke.

GAME START

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, I was so busy this week!! Hope you guys like it :) (also peep Chishiya will be more present in the next chap haha)

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Young Adult, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy

Rating: 0 out of 5

Content Warning: Ableism, Child death, Death, Death of parent, Alcoholism, Cursing, Bullying, Suicidal thoughts, Torture

Summary:

The first book in Alyson Noël's extraordinary new Immortals series. Enter an enchanting new world, where true love never dies...

After a horrible accident claims the lives of her family, sixteen-year-old Ever Bloom can see people's auras, hear their thoughts, and know someone's entire life story by touching them. Going out of her way to avoid human contact to suppress her abilities, she has been branded a freak at her new high school—but everything changes when she meets Damen Auguste.

Damen is gorgeous, exotic and wealthy. He's the only one who can silence the noise and random energy in her head—wielding a magic so intense, it's as though he can peer straight into her soul. As Ever is drawn deeper into his enticing world of secrets and mystery, she's left with more questions than answers. And she has no idea just who he really is—or what he is. The only thing she knows to be true is that she's falling deeply and helplessly in love with him.

*Opinions*

TL;DR - The villain should have killed both main characters and put us all out of our misery

Hello friends and enemies, we are gathered here today to talk about a book that I did not enjoy and probably has the most annoying characters I have read to date. The plot was nonsense, the characters were annoying, and somehow a book that was just over 300 pages was about 300 pages too long. The fact that there are six books in this series is truly baffling to me as I don’t understand how anyone cared about these characters enough to get through this novel let alone five more. My completeist brain is truly thrilled that I cannot easily find the rest to read for free anywhere so I can drop this book in a free little library and never have to think about it again.

I do want to provide one positive before I get into everything else I didn’t like about this novel. I appreciated the portrayal of Sabine and how kind she is to Ever, who is consistently a horrible person to her and everyone else. Sabine lost her twin brother, dropped everything, and moved so that she could take care of her niece who is now her ward. Sabine is nothing but patient and kind to Ever, a teenager who is constantly not talking to her, being mean, or getting expelled from school. Sabine is the true hero of this book for not smacking Ever into next week on a couple of occasions. I too would be working all the time if I had to live with Ever constantly being cagy, lying, and straight up ignoring her. Ava is also kind to Ever when she has no reason to be, so the adult women in this novel, for the small amount are present, have the patience of saints.

Ever is one of the most annoying main characters that I have ever had the displeasure of being in the head of. She is so self-centered and not in an “I am a teenager who is going through some horrible and confusing things” but in an “I care about no one and nothing but myself and I never let anyone complete a thought because I don’t want to hear it, even though I am psychic and read minds.” She is a horrible friend, an extremely clingy and toxic girlfriend, and almost too dumb to live. Ever doesn’t figure out anything that is happening on her own, she doesn’t do a single thing herself throughout this novel except breaking into her boyfriend’s house because…she’s mad he left after spending almost two whole days with her. She says that she doesn’t want her ghost little sister to cross over, yet is absolutely horrible to her every time she is present, is a shitty friend, and is just an overall bad person. When people do try to explain things to Ever, she gets pissed off and tells them to go away or says horrible things, but then is confused why people aren’t talking or lying to her.

The sad thing is that this could have been a powerful story about grief and dealing with the loss of family, but Ever never thinks about her parents except how she can’t see them, and only thinks about what her sister lost when it is convenient for her. She states constantly that her psychic powers are because she is being punished for the accident, but once Daimen is on the scene, she barely thinks about the family she lost or the life she no longer has. Instead of making Ever a complex character who is managing huge life changes and loss, she seems like a self-absorbed narcissist who is only upset that her parents are dead because the accident changed her from the most popular cheerleader into a “freak”. It is all so shallow that I have no sympathy for her. Then her two-day descent into alcoholism? I can’t even get into that.

Daimen is the king of gaslighting and every time he did something that was supposed to be romantic I rolled my eyes so hard I almost strained something. Daimen, a six hundred-year-old man, is obsessed with a seventeen-year-old. Usually, these types of age gaps don’t bother me in high fantasy novels, but in an urban fantasy in which Daimen is constantly dropping hints that he is so much more knowledgeable and sophisticated than Ever, it just felt weird. Sometimes I heard the start of the SVU theme song. He is also constantly using his type of magic in front of her and then denying that he is, making her feel as if she is losing her mind. A mind that he can read at times and knows how distressed he is making her, yet instead of trying to find a way to explain he continues to play mind games. He apparently loves her so much that he has searched for her in multiple lifetimes, but he also somehow never figures out that it is Darina who continually kills her. Even though Darina shows up every time she dies they get back together. This is a man who supposedly discovered the truth about immortality and he can’t see the two plus two make four? However, I completely lost it when Ever was upset and crying and his response, get on top of her and start trying to sleep with her. I hate him.

Let’s also take a little detour and talk about the fact that Darina made a point of telling Ever that she died a virgin in every lifetime she has had since meeting Daimen. Now, I have no intention of reading on in this series unless someone pays me money, but I can predict that when Ever and Daimen actually do sleep together there is going to be a whole thing of being her one and only partner, her first and only love, she is happy she saved her soul for him, etc. and I would have to throw up before continuing.

Darina is the most cardboard-cut-out villain I might have ever read. She is the stunningly beautiful woman that Daimen is with that gives off creepy vibes. That is the only reason why Ever hates her to begin with. Then she gets close to Haven for the sole purpose of killing her to upset Ever and make her feel like she is alone so she’ll just die when Darina finally decides to attack her all because she is in love with Daimen for some reason. Darina, who proves at the end of the book that she could have killed Ever at any moment, but just decides to play games because…plot? Then, after 600 years, she is easily confused and killed without much of a fight. While I wanted her to succeed because I hated Daimen and Ever and wanted them to stop existing, she didn’t have enough of a personality to really care about her one way or another.

Ever’s “friends”, and I use the word loosely, are stereotypes and also kind of the worst people. Miles is the less offensive of the two, he is just obsessed with his boyfriends to the point that he ignores his friends, but he at least says something when both Ever and Haven are being the worst. Haven, however, fucking sucks. Everything had to be about her and she called ‘dibs’ on a man and gets pissed when he isn’t interested in her but her friend. Remember, these people are Juniors in high school, and they are calling dibs on a real-life person. The whole bit where she joins anonymous groups and lies about having addictions or other problems because she is ignored at home is just wrong on so many levels. Then, Haven goes missing for days after another woman is murdered, and Ever is so self-obsessed she doesn’t even care, but is so extremely happy when she reappears alive. This whole town should have just been crushed by a meteor.

A major part of the plot, in which there almost isn’t any mind you, is that Ever feels as if she needs to punish herself because she believes that it is her fault that her family got into a car accident that killed them. There is this whole thread about how she has to forgive herself for the accident and thinking that she caused it, with multiple other characters explicitly saying this to her. In the final scene of the novel Daimen states that love heals and she finally forgave herself so the scar on her forehead is gone. Except, Ever never forgave herself because she found out that Darina caused the accident for the sole purpose of killing Ever. It was all just so frustrating. Ever doesn’t figure out anything on her own, Darina tells her in her evil monologue. Yet we are supposed to get this whole takeaway about love and forgiveness after Ever turns Darina to dust by accident. When Daimen started explaining that Ever hit Darina in her weakest chakra and that’s why she died I would have put down the book if I wasn’t so close to the end. Please, give me a fucking break. There had not been a single mention of chakras before this scene, not one. Also, the only other plot point besides Ever hating herself was figuring out why Daimen was acting so weird, that’s it.

I could go on for another five pages of everything I hated about this, but it would just make me angry. I would give this zero stars if that was a possibility. Save yourself the time and money and read literally anything else.

[bonesandthebees]

Also, I really love the Tattoo! I knew the Shrike convo was going to come back, but the two heads!!! It’s foreshadowed in the damn chapter title. It’s so cool! It’s the way Wilbur decides himself based on headspace. It’s 1 person in the same badly so confused he has to compartalise himself, so we get two heads and one body.

Also, it’s really well described. I can picture the entire thing in my head. Though it’s mirror in my head because I read left and my brain just went right! And I’m not going to bother mentally turning it around since it doesn’t really make a difference. Same with the blueprint btw! Everything is relatively the same as in my heads but mirrored. (It’s a dyslexia thing, the amount of times I’ve said left with full confidence and pointed right is ridiculous.) other small details, in my head Kristin’ statue was in the middle of the main cave; the cafeteria somehow connected to the star room directly even though it’s been mentioned there’s a hallway a lot and I didn’t realise there was so much space between al the different rooms. It was very nice to see an official blue print though, but it shows your descriptions are really good.

Anyway, back to the tattoo. So obviously one half is Wilbur and the other the Pythia. And Niki clearly sees it as Wilbur killing the Pythia and trying to free himself of it and fly off. Though I feel like unless one bird is somehow ripping itself out of the other I don’t think they can actually be separated. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s more about the fact that being the Pythia is hurting him, but he’s overcoming it. There’s a lot of possible interpretations and the symbolism is very nice.

Either way, I have a feeling Wilbur isn’t fully at Niki’s intended meaning yet. Which is fine, it’s his tattoo, he can give it whatever meaning he wants. But from what I understand, Wilbur feels like he (Wilbur) is the one getting impaled rather than the Pythia. The bird in his chest has been impaling him which is why he asks to change it to a rib. There’s also the imprecation that being the Pythia has killed him (Wilbur) and he should be dead, but he’s not (the bird’s eye is still open).

There’s a lot of options and I’m having a fun time okay. There’s also many theories and some I was going to throw out or have already thrown out (I can’ remeber), but I’ve definite seen other anons throw them out and it’s not really full confirmation (because we’ll never get that when it comes to Clara), but it feels like a lot of arrows being pointed.

Anyway, have fun at Lovejoy Bee! Thanks for the fun chapter and a chance to catch up and get all my thoughts out.

- 🌲

YEAHHH I'm so happy with how the tattoo design description came out. again shoutout to eli for helping me come up with it. I think the two-headed bird describes glass!wilbur's struggle sooooo well

lmao if your mental image is a bit flipped that's fine it's not like it matters as long as you have the general layout so you know what's going on when I describe stuff

eh honestly the cafeteria could be directly connected to the starry room and it wouldn't change anything. like no that's not exactly how i pictured it but again if your mental image is a bit different than mine it's fine

I love hearing everyones different interpretations of the tattoo. maybe they can't separate without killing each other. maybe they can. who knows? maybe it's a piece of wilbur he's never going to be able to fully leave behind despite how much he wants to.

not gonna say anything more than that though like I said I want you all to have your own interpretations. very interesting theories for sure!!

[manyegos]

Disillusioned with modern life and growing up . . . However, chaos generated from both needs love, not escaping.

originally posted on March 1st, 2020 (before my life went to shit thanks to Covid!)

I did gain some perspective over the years that my younger self did not have: Acceptance can also the confrontation that comes with it, can also welcome love. Back when I was young, I "caved into myself" renouncing my own voice, my own presence, existence as a way of reacting to the pain I was going through but also as a cause of the things that normally happen in life.

As an adult now I am making an effort to stop complaining even when the pain is unjustified, absurd and unjust. . . why? because it does not serve. It is life and no amount of complaining, sadness or regret would ever change anything or create anything positive from me. With that I am also aiming to change negativity, drama and distrust issues by simply letting those things go. It is hard as fuck as I have lived this way over 20 years.

Now let's go back to "Into the Wild" and Where the Wild Things are.

While some things that happen in life are abnormal and extremely unjust, somethings are also natural and they must be accepted.

Chris McCandles was not freedom lover and a solitude embracer, he was a tragic figure (a victim of others, yes but also a victim of his own demise). True He rejected all the negatives of life by embracing nature. While rejecting wealth, society, and his toxic family and escaping into nature and going off the grid even back in the day . . . this was not a good healthy sign or anything that should be admired or celebrated. He longed for control, was deeply hurt and make radical decisions that cost him his life. Sure, one his mistakes were burning bridges, being naive and underprepared which eventually costed him his life. However a psychological feature no one seems concern for was the development of his antisocial mechanism, he left people who cared about him ignored and in pain, he also gave up on an entire possible life he could have had him escaped his family and his society by other means. Maybe not even escaping but giving himself time to analyze, prepare, *Heal and make safety healthy decisions. He was still a kid, a boy even in his 20s. I feel bad that we don't speak with honesty that 20 year olds are stills kids, psychologically speaking. Heck this whole generation of 30 year olds, mentally are yet to become adults (part is the world, economy for sure, but also plain brain development.) We failed this man and this man fail himself. He is not a failure, but He let all that pain inflicted in him to cost him his beautiful life and now we celebrate that as an emblem of freedom and of being antisocial? No.

This is where Where Wild Things are come into play, because it talks about broken families and the pains of growing up without going into specific making the film and story universally applicable. Maturity often begins with understanding our own vulnerability, our childhood rage and confusions. Maybe accepting that there is nothing we can do about pain or how f up things can be or were.

Both stories show that running away doesn’t solve pain, it only magnifies it. Chris was deeply wounded and Max was dealing with things that he couldn't even comprehend just feel like the neglect of his family and his own isolation. Chris idealize isolation and avoid introspection making him abandoned everything literally (unlike Max who abandons everything through his vivid imagination, a sign of trauma that kids experience). So both escape from society, but only one sits and experience his emotions, the little boy. Only max has the opportunity to return home and gain understanding.

I see myself so much in those two, escaping abuse, escaping pain and abandoning society, family and expectations . . . but in retrospect; it was not the wises, most helpful and safest decision I took. Just like Chris I was looking for meaning and truth at times, and just like Max I was exploring identity and my own emotions. However it took me so long to accept them, accept that it was what it was, did not have to make any sense or be a good thing what happened to me and there was no way of fixing it. I could have fixed my life by waiting, surviving, etc but even now it was what it was. I accept it and I accept to have love for myself and love for my life as it turns out and even the world that I happen to live in.

By the way the picture that I added, means something to me and it is clearly coded with my identity.

[sighs-deeply-and-dreadfully]

Lol, I can’t help but imagine how Wally would react to a gothic, kind of grungy, reader. Just someone who wears black and white all the time, maybe with hits of darker blues or reds. I just find the idea amusing since the neighborhood and characters are all bright, fun colors while there’s just this one gothic person wearing spikes or something.

 

Also, something I can picture is Wally painting them because they’re so different from everything else and the uniqueness of their style and makeup is so fun to draw and paint, and the reader feels the same way. I can just picture the two of them drawing each other or something.

(romantic or mutual crushes, please ^^ I've always been a sucker for opposite aesthetic couples)

HAHA!!! I’m also a sucker for opposite aesthetic couples HEHEHE… I’ll strike you a deal; I’ll write both (mutual crushes and romantic)! HAHA

The Raven and The Kingfisher

Wally Darling x GN!Goth/Grunge!Reader

Headcanons Format, Mutual Crushes -> Romantic Relationship

When you first moved in, to say Wally was interested would be an understatement.

He adored your style, he found it very!! Refreshing? He loves all his neighbours and he loves their town, but sometimes something new can be appreciated!! And you were something new, alright!! /pos

After just a few days of talking, he ended up asking if he could paint you— and he loves to paint all his neighbours! But he certainly wanted to give a shot at conveying your style.

All those darker coloured paints (ones that maybe only been slightly used to create new tones) could finally be used >:]

If you were to say no, he’d accept ! That’s alright ! But he’d probably still likely doodle something of your style in private— although not necessarily of you.

If you say yes? He’s over the moon.

He takes great care to make his paintings as accurate as he can!! He’d likely be on yours for a while, just because you introduce a lot of new colours he hasn’t worked with before— the closest reference he has had is Frank and the other things he’s doodled— so it might take a while longer than usual!! But it’s so delightfully fun to experiment and learn.

But the outcome is lovely, and he proudly hands the painting off to you.

He doesn’t make that the last time he’s drawn you, though, goodness no. It almost becomes a habit, to doodle you.

Which his friends begin to notice, when the litte sketchbook he drags around is practically filled with scribbles of you.

At some point, he is with Julie! She ends up glancing over, and giggles at seeing him doodle you yet again, with a soft “Oh, Wally..”

The two had just been sitting around lightly chatting and doing their own things— and Wally was drawing.

Confusedly, Wally would lift his head— what was funny? Had he done something funny with meaning to—?

“You’re drawing the new neighbour!”

He tilts his head. Why yes, he was? How is that funny—? Julie picks up and continues, though.

“You’ve been drawing them sooo mucchhh.. Do you like them, or something? I think you might like them— we all kinda do!“

He tilts his head again. “Of course.. I like them, they’re my friend..?”

But that interaction gets his brain spinning, and eventually— during a hangout with Frank— he just kind of. Pauses.

He mutters under his breathe, and soon whisks himself away with a rushed farewell to Frank— who is just left staring in confusion.

Ah, so maybe like is a loose term. Haha ooooops..

When he steps into Home, who creaks him a hello, the amount he’s been doodling you somewhat- hits him like a truck?

You’re in his sketchbooks, mainly, which— all of his friends were! But his sketchbooks were almost like a direct thread to his “subconscious”. He just doodles whatever comes to mind, or whatever he feels (and his true feelings have a tendency to alter how it presents itself— though really only in ways he can understand). He uses it very much as an outlet.

And you were, basically, on every single damn page of the thing.

.. whoopsie.

With the newfound knowledge that he, haha, maybe has developed a “teensy weensy itsy bitsy” crush—

Heee is now terrified to be around you.

If it was so obvious to everyone else, was it obvious to you?

Wuh-oh.

He doesn’t let this anxiety stop him from talking to you, though. The thoughts of it made him sad— and the thought of him withdrawing making you sad made him ever sadder.

But from beyond this point, he’s a lot.. less collected.

When you two hang out, there’s a small shift in the air— that he is hyper-aware of, and you might be, too.

Wally always did stare— he liked eye contact, and he didn’t really care to learn where else he should be looking during conversations—

So him avoiding your gaze was almost off-putting due to how foreign it was.

He’d glance to his hands, or to his supplies, or To the sky.

Anywhere but you when you looked at him— he couldn’t!! Really bare your reaction!!

He knew it’d be the same way you look at him all of the time, but the thought it might be negative made him.. antsy.

Because, again, if his little crush was obvious to everyone else before it was even obvious to him— was it obvious to you, too?

This keeps up for a few days, and eventually— you just.. ask him what’s been up. You note his change in behaviour, and you express you’re confused— maybe even a bit concerned.

And the dam just comes flooding.

He gives some garbled twist of a confession, nervously wringing his fingers the entire time (something he almost never did).

He expresses it’s okay if it isn’t mutual, and that he just had to get it off his chest before he “exploded” (Barnaby used that word a lot in his jokes— so maybe it’d be funny if he used it, too?)

He’s overjoyed to hear you return the affections though, and immediately just sort of de-tenses and instead starts.. kicking his legs. Very quickly. Stimming. Hehe.

From there, you two fall into a relationship. You had already sort of been recognized as a “thing” by everyone else in the neighbourhood— as you were often seen together.

Now, you were practically always seen together— making the opposites in your aesthetic very noticeable. Two halves of a pair!

When you aren’t together, Wally has a tendency to.. maaaybe.. gush about you, a lil..

Specifically to Barnaby! He knows Barnaby doesn’t mind to listen (especially while consuming his.. “lovely” hot dogs (/sar)).

While the two stand around, Wally cupping his normal hotdog in two hands and Barnaby chewing on his abomination lovely creation, he’ll just go onnn and ooonn about you, or what the two of you have been up to, or what you plan to do later. His words are kinda hummed as he does, and he seems to idly be wiggling his head side to side.

Barnaby is happy to lend an ear! He’s got two very big ones, after all.

.. plus, it’s easier to lull Wally into kind of just.. handing his hotdog to him.. hehe..

Not that he wasn’t going to already give it! He just gets to receive it faster, and Wally pays no mind.

Overall, that little man is head over heels for you— absolutely smitten. He finds your aesthetic very, very pretty— and you in turn just as much.

Expect sappy love letters and even more paintings of you, dear. :]

I FORGOT TO DO AN AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END IM SORROY I GOT DISTRACTED HWAHWA

THis was super cute to write and I hope it was satisfactory!!! :D

Have a lovely day!!!!!

[imaddicted2hs]

ONE SHOT- Broken Mirror

Its going to be sad sad so brace yourself guys.

And yes hey, posting after like decades lmao. Its just a little something i have been feeling lately so if you wanna feel a lil sad, this is the one shot maybe.

Word Count- 1.4k

Warnings- Angst

Happy Reading!!

---------------------------

I slowly breathe in as I mindlessly open my case. I grab the neck of my black guitar, pulling it out carefully. “You will play great y/n I know, don’t stress it too much yeah?” I give my friend a small tight lipped smile and look around to see if he’s there.

We don’t have the same class anymore but he has friends in my section so he often visits during the common break. I have spent nights memorising this very song by heart. I learned to play it on guitar so that I could sing it all out, all my feelings for him. But it will be like a knife was stabbed in my heart if he doesn’t show up. I notice a few heads turn towards me as I sit on the desk, positioning my guitar. I feel the coarse strings on my fingertips as I hold some random chords and give it a light strum. Before beginning with it I quickly glance at the door and to my surprise I make eye contact with him. It’s so quick that I barely see anything other than his green orbs looking at me and his body leaning at the door frame basically effortlessly. Without giving it a second thought I start strumming the intro attracting a few more half interested peeps around me. I get lost in singing right away because I have always felt those lyrics deep in my bones. I was in no way a singer but I was fine enough to not make other people’s ear bleed and sound tolerable if there was light music in the background.

“I wanna taste his lips, yeah cause they taste like you, I wanna drown myself in a bottle of his perfume.”

I made sure to change the pronouns as I sang the song and I tried my best, I really did, to not turn my head to the left as I said the you part but it was almost like my actions were out of my control. Ofcourse I regretted doing that because as soon as I turned my head, he stared right at me and I saw his eyebrows shoot up, which was almost unnoticeable, but I caught the slight surprise in his eyes. Regardless I continued and it felt like the song ended too fast or I swallowed a whole verse or something but maybe I was just being paranoid. My idiotic brain made sure to not skip looking at him at any of the ‘yous’. It was almost embarrassing because I felt like a few people noticed it. I strum the last chord and let it echo as I pull my hand away and smile at the small crowd in front of me. I didn’t even notice that I’d attracted a good amount, probably around 50 people, as I played. Not even a second later I heard a small applause and my friend's rushing words like “dude how” or “damn girl” as she gave me a side hug. I didn’t have the guts anymore to look at him again and my only friend who knew about him gave me a sympathetic look which I just shrugged to in response. So what really was the deal? Harry Styles. The boy I have liked since 7th grade, which means it’s been almost 5 years now. We were not strangers no but we weren’t close friends either. The dynamic we had was too confusing for me to understand properly. We actually did pretty great when it came to texting but it all came down to puddles of awkwardness and almost forced conversation whenever we tried to talk face to face. It wasn’t like that for the first year I’d met him but after two years of not seeing each other and only texting at times, it all ended in this weird ball of confusion. Almost like an intangible mess of lose threads. And what made it worse was my old ex best friend, now like a frenemy, was closer to him than I could ever be. It was almost excruciating to watch them talk so freely and even laugh together. It’s a thought that can make me bust into tears at anytime of the day so I won’t go down that road. I hear a few “that was really nice” and “great job, keep it up” as I start to put my guitar back in because boys around here can’t be trusted. All the compliments made sure to put a permanent smile on my face but my bubble is popped as soon as I see him approach me. “You looked adorable while playing the guitar.” It takes me a second to get a grasp of what he said but I mutter a quick thanks as I try to find something, anything, to do with my hands as we talked. “Could we talk for a moment?” I close my eyes and mentally curse myself because I had a feeling that this would happen but I also had a small hope that he won’t find the guts to do this. “Sure ofcourse” I reply as coolly as I could. I follow him as he tries to make small talks. I know I can break the ice and make it less hard but something inside me doesn’t want me to. Almost as if my soul is enjoying watching him struggle. “So how’s life treating you?” “Nothing much, what about you?” Him and his dry replies again. I just shrug in response to challenge that response. “So who’s the guy crush?” He askes me all of a sudden and I just scoff as a reflex. “Are you really asking me that right now?” My question is laced with annoyance and I can see that he’s taken back by my sudden change in mood but I’m done pretending now. Before he can say anything I attack him with my words. “Not a single glance I gave you was the answer to the question you just asked? I can’t take it anymore Harry, I can’t. Either you are just naive or you just don’t want to see what’s right in front of you.” My voice is shaking but I continue because his face portrays not a single emotion right now.

“You give me all of these mixed signals and I almost believe that you like me but then you sometimes say stuff that screams ‘we are friends’ right in my face. I like you Harry and this all is killing me.” I just stare at him because I know he deserves atleast a little time to comprehend it all. He sighs before he makes a go for it. “Y/n you’re cool and a nice friend but I’m just not looking for a relationship right now. But I promise that we can be really good friends. You can trust me.”

“That’s it? Good friends after this? What? Okay not looking for a relationship. With me or in general? And why didn’t I hear you say that you don’t reciprocate these feelings? What if that girl you like liked you back? You would date her I’m sure.” I can’t think straight as I bombard him with all these questions with tears daring to fall from my eyes. He just gives me a look from which I can’t make out anything and I just stand there watch him leave after he mutters an apology. I want to scream at him. I want to yell and let him know that now also he did nothing but communicate badly and I hate him for not liking me back but I don’t say any of that. Instead I break into tears and let all the frustration out because it really isn’t his fault. He never asked me to fall for him and he never asked me to get attached to him. He didn’t promise me a strong bond or a friendship. He didn’t because he didn’t need to. I fell into the ugliest trap of one sided love and I resent the fact that anything like that exists. I get a hold of myself and I sprint into the nearest restroom. I wash my face, tell myself everything is fine and somehow make it out alive of the next three hours of school. I reach home and in no time I lay on my bed and I cry and cry until I have no tears left. He didn’t feel the same. It felt like I had looked in a mirror, but it was broken. I’d shouted but the voice hadn’t echoed. I had thrown a pebble in the lake and the droplets hadn't repeled. I didn’t like this feeling and I just wanted to wallow in my sadness for the whole night. And that’s exactly what I did.

-------------------------------

Thoughts??? Constructive criticism is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated and I hope I have improved. I'll writing something longer and better soon maybe. See ya till then;)

[vesperpharsalius]

As for the pregnancy twist, the willful ignorance of some people in this fandom, especially on the subreddit, continues to astound me. I’ve seen multiple posts advocating for this theory; naturally, they are immediately slain, blasted into smithereens, but... somehow, that doesn’t discourage them? They keep posting! Although, thankfully, less so—they’ve relented.

Definitely don’t ever worry that your RR knowledge is sub–par; there are people out here reading with their brains off, I swear. One of my friends was very confused reading IG, years back, because he’d forgotten about Darrow’s destruction of the Ganymede Docks and that Mustang became Sovereign. He’d just re–read MS!

As for Cassius x Lyria, I agree that there was potential for romance. Back when I was blissfully ignorant of LB’s ending, it seemed likely that their relationship would eventually become romantic, if they both lived. I doubted that Pierce would leave Cassius and Lyria unpaired—although, as far as I’m concerned, they were both perfectly fine that way. I’m all for combating amatonormativity; brotherly/sisterly love is love; again for the people in the back. But I agree that both time and healing was needed before a romantic twist would make sense.

Tbh, I was worried Pierce might jump the gun in LB, given how flirtatious their banter seemed; that he might get overexcited and pair them too early, which, I agree (for the reasons you listed above), would’ve been inappropriate. But… obviously, my fears were unjustified.

Personally, I would’ve preferred their relationship stay platonic. I’m biased, of course, because I’m a Dassius Whore™️; it’s the crack–ship I live for, the hill I’ll die on, even now.

But, from my admittedly flawed perspective, Cassius and Lyria’s relationship felt very much mentee/mentor, with Lyria filling the void Lysander left in a wholesome way, because Cassius chose her, whereas Lysander was more of an obligation, and Lyria genuinely loved/respected him, in a wholehearted way Lysander couldn’t, because of his unforgiving nature and their terrible history.

Despite seeming so radically different, they actually have lots in common. They were both the crux of families that were slaughtered in a way they couldn’t have foreseen or prevented but they blame themselves, still, and resent their own survival, suffering from gnawing emptiness and loneliness and guilt. They also both got ‘vengeance’ that tasted bittersweet because it meant fuck–all.

They’ve both been victims of manipulation, too, and repeatedly exploited by people that didn’t reciprocate their love; that robbed them of their agency and used them to achieve their own ends. They also both struggle with their identities because they’ve been contorted into so many different shapes by necessity, by domineering abuse and conflicting expectations and hardship, that left them with an uncertain understanding of themselves, who they are and what they actually want from life.

So, their mentee/mentor connection, Lyria filling Cassius’ Lysander–void and Cassius filling Lyria’s Eph–void, was very healing, for both of them. Because they chose each other, to an extent. They were forced into proximity, of course, but they weren’t forced to bond; their friendship is actually one of the only choices either of them—characters that have basically been rawdogged by the narrative since the start—ever made. Compare this to Lysander and Eph, where Lysander was Cassius’ penitential obligation and Lyria was literally Eph’s mark, even though he did care about her; both of those relationships were too forced to ever be healthy.

And they also empowered each other. Cassius never infantilized, dismissed, or mocked Lyria’s ambitions. He taught her how to fly and celebrated her progress; he supported her commitment to helping Volga. And Lyria is the only one that believed Cassius’ altruism was legitimately selfless and worthy of admiration; she defended him when Sevro came for his scalp, literally and figuratively.

They treated each other as equals when everyone else pitied or doubted them; and they found understanding and acceptance in each other on equal footing, too, because their relationship was balanced. Neither of them ‘owed’ the other or needed to earn forgiveness, to redeem themselves; they could just… be.

They were both outsiders—Cassius as the ‘Bellona’ in the Augustus crowd, the Betrayer; Lyria, as a Gamma, partially responsible for the kidnapping of Pax and Electra—who found an advocate in each other, someone to defend them from criticism and exclusion, to make them feel welcome and comfortable, a reliable friend that always had their six, someone who genuinely enjoyed their company to the extent that there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

Neither of them had ever had that type of relationship before, not even Cassius with Darrow. As much as I love them, there’s no denying that Darrow, especially LB!Darrow, wasted most of his time with Cassius wishing he was somewhere else with someone else.

Fool.

I’ve never been the greatest fan of Lyria, but her relationship with Cassius was so endearing that I started liking her (rather than just appreciating her importance to the story) and thinking critically enough about her character that it snowballed into love. And that’s saying something, because I despised her in IG.

Growth—for us both, I’d say.

One of the things I love most about Cassius and Lyria's relationship in Light Bringer is how, yes, Cassius is protective of Lyria because she is younger and smaller and Cassius just can't help being a big brother, but Lyria is just as protective of him. Because she's a protector too. They are the same in that way.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

wakanda

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Steve gives you Bucky's dog tags for a reason.

word count: 2.4k (lol, sorry)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being a cutie.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Welcome to Wakanda, agent (Y/N)”.

A second after you crossed their airspace, you were courteously greeted. The views from your ship were indescribable. Peace invaded you just at the sight of the open fields and the warm colors of autumn. You could get used to that place too. To live in calm, work hand-to-hand with Shuri, and have time to spend it with Bucky. The reason why you were flying there. Removing your right hand from the control and grabbing in a fist the dog tags hanging on your chest, you took a deep breath while closing your eyes before getting ready to land. T’Challa was waiting for you at the entry of his kingdom, accompanied by his excited little sister and some of his guards.

Pressing a sequence of buttons above your head, to pull the control back, the ship went down slowly folding its wings. As you landed and turned off the engineers, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and the huge headphones to step out. Shuri received you with a friendly hug, breaking protocol and being just Shuri. You built a strong relationship since you met a year ago, when you brought Bucky to that beautiful and magical place, to let him recover. To let him rest.

“Your highness”. You uttered to T’Challa crossing your forearms in the traditional salutation of Wakanda.

“Agent (Y/N)”. He corresponded walking closer. “The white wolf asked me to let you know he wouldn’t want to be… bothered with visits today”.

You couldn’t help but frown. The last time you saw him was around three months ago. You usually interchanged letters from week to week, being one of the fewer persons he trusted in. And it wasn’t just a question of trust. Steve told you about his feelings, his shyness, and insecurities, his fears. What Bucky didn’t know, again, it wasn’t a question of trust from you either. That’s why the Captain gave you the dog tags, after more than thirteen years under custody. You wanted to see him, to know if he was happy there as he wrote you in his letters one million times.

“He doesn’t wear his arm here”. Shuri clarified, taking a position close to his brother.

By the look on their faces, you were aware of two things. One, they noticed too that something was growing between Bucky and you, and that it wasn’t a simple friendship. Two, they weren’t going to stop you. Oh, quite the opposite. They’d bring you to him on a golden platter and a big red bow on your head. The king beckoned a hand to urge you to follow him to the inside of the building and use one of their ships to fly above the place to the white wolf’s location.

You were nervous. You didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours last night thinking about him and how he’d react to having back his tags since the forties. Your eyes were focused throughout the window on your left, watching different citizens taking care of animals and plantations, children running from one side to another, playing and having fun. Oblivious to the horror of New York, where you resided. One of the cities in the world with the highest rates of street violence. Serial killers or simply killers, rapists, kidnappers, drug dealers (...). It was a minefield and Wakanda seemed and felt like Heaven.

“Did you think about the offer?” Shuri nudged you to push you back to reality, turning your head towards her.

“Since you dropped it to me”.

“So?”

“I…” You needed to put away your gaze again, focusing on the blue opened sky in front of them. “I want… to consult him first if you don’t mind”.

“Of course, (Y/N)”.

“I don’t want to put his world upside down, now that he’s not the…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t pronounce that detestable nickname and the pain beneath it.

Shuri nodded in silence, not needing your explanations. She knew how you felt. She understood you. The talk didn’t continue, stretching your right hand on your lap to calm your nerves and make you comfortable with the situation. The flight didn’t last longer than five or ten minutes, losing the track of time deep in your thoughts. The pilot indicated to you through the headphones that you were about to land, glancing at a complex of small houses in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and wilderness.

You were the last one jumping outside with your hand grabbing the tags on your chest, trying to find the encouragement there to follow T’Challa’s hand pointing at a man working with goats and collecting hay for them. Licking your lips and assenting with your chin, you guided your steps towards him. Slowly. As if you wanted to turn around at some point. But you knew it was too late when he was the one turning at the sound of your heavy boots cracking the grass under them.

Bucky didn’t look annoyed for your visit, nor the lack of attention to his petition. Although there was something in his pale blue orbs you weren’t able to decipher, until he bowed down his head unconsciously to his left shoulder covered by a dark fabric matching his eyes. You had to do your best to not roll yours, shortening the distance setting you apart. You had been dreaming about that encounter since the last time you were there before Shuri accessed the darkest place of his mind and cleaned it from any trail of HYDRA. Now, he was free. And he looked in good condition as the bags under his eyes had disappeared and his hair was almost tied with a bun. His cheeks seemed a little more chubby and you just wanted to pinch them. But it’d be weird and out of place. For the time being.

Bit by bit, a sweet smile widened in your lips, curving them as Bucky stared at you again when he was conscious that you didn’t care. With or without a metal arm, your feelings were exactly the same. You couldn’t admire him more than you were admiring him at this point. You couldn’t love him more than you loved him already. And God was a witness of how many times you practiced to confess to him and tell him that the only thing you wanted in life was to be by his side. Bring happiness to his days, bring him peace and harmony.

“I'm sorry…” “I brought you…”

You two spoke at the same time, breaking in a soft giggle that jumped your hearts in complete sync.

“You first”. He let you, waving his hand.

“I… brought you something”. You susurrated, loosening the grip around the metal hanging on your chest to take off the necklace.

You noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. Why did you have them? Who gave them to you? Why now? Bucky gulped watching you stretching the dog tags between your fingers towards him. He didn’t know what to do, taking a second before he was able to react. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he saw them, and the amount of memories they gave him overwhelmed his whole brain.

In slow motion narrowing his eyes, Bucky held the chain with two fingers to hang the necklace from it. You thought he was about to wear them, but he destabilized you as he directed his hands to above your head, to place them where they were an instant before. You didn’t understand. Didn’t he want them back?

“I want you to keep it”.

“But…”

“I want you to have something mine”. Bucky recognized with a shy smile decorating his lips. “Those tags and my arm are the only things I have from my past. And… I won’t give you my arm…”

“Well, I bet it’d look good hanging from my neck”. You jocked tilting your head.

In his gift, you found the encouragement you needed to talk about T’Challa’s job offer. It wasn’t as if you were proposing to him, in the end, you were just friends even if it felt quite the opposite. You licked your upper lip, kissing your teeth after it, earning more than his attention.

“Shuri said, uh… I could come here, work with her. We’d do great things together, not only for Wakanda but for the world”.

Bucky’s gesture didn’t change a single inch, focused on the nervousness you were trying to hide from him and reading the reasons beneath.

“So T’Challa offered me to stay here”.

“Permanently?”

“Yeah… Permanently”. You assented pressing your lips, breathing through your nostrils.

“Did you accept?”

“Not yet. Not until talking to you about”.

He nodded then a couple of times, turning to the goats behind him coming closer. “Got to finish some stuff… Maybe we can talk later about it unless you have to leave”.

“No, no. I, uh… asked for the day off. Banner didn’t need me at the lab today”.

“Okay, good”.

While the king was showing you the new level for research and investigations, Bucky took the advantage to go and find Shuri without your knowledge. He found her in the surroundings of the main building, working on your ship as you said it made some kind of random noise that put you out of your nerve during the flight.

“I need my arm”.

The princess squatted close to the left wing, turned at him without standing up. Pulling her sunglasses to the top of his head, she raised an eyebrow.

“For what”.

“You know for what”. He clicked his tongue, placing his hand on his left shoulder.

“No, I don’t”. She lied while cleaning the grass and oil in her expert fingers.

“I need to have two arms”.

“You’ve been working the last months with one arm only. Why do you need it now?”

“C’mon… Argh…” Bucky rubbed his face with boredom. “I want to hug her, okay? Can you just… give me back my damn arm?”

“Not enough reasons, you can hug her using your right”.

“I want to have two hands when I kiss her”. He finally confessed in a hiss, provoking a triumphant smile growing on Shuri’s lips.

“If you lie to me, if you don’t kiss her, Sergeant Barnes… I’ll code it to punch your face”.

“Wait…” Bucky wrinkled his nose drawing a horrified gesture on his face, as he turned his blue eyes towards his left shoulder. “Can you… do that?”

“Try me”.

No, of course she couldn’t, but he didn’t know. Which were a good push for him to not go against her and her petition.

“C’mon. I’ll set it up and help you to put it on”.

Your eyes were traveling from one picture to another. He put some of them around his small house and it looked better now. More like a home. A place to stay. And for a second you felt a twinge straight in your heart when you noticed one photograph of the two of you, close to his bed. It was after your first mission together. Steve insisted on taking it, after noticing the sparkles between you. But you didn’t know he brought it to Wakanda with him, as your copy is on your nightstand too. And you used to fall asleep every night looking at it.

The curtain being moved and some steps in pulled you out from your thoughts, turning to find Bucky staring in silence at you. Your orbs landed on the metal arm. It was different too since the last time you saw it, with golden strips forming between the silver ones. You couldn’t help but sigh.

“You didn’t need to…”

“Yes, I did. I did need it”. He interrupted you, breathing through his parted lips and his heart about to fly off from his chest.

“Why?”

“Because, otherwise, I couldn’t do this”.

You were about to ask what he was referring to, watching him breaking the distance between the two of you in three fast strides. You closed your eyes at the moment his hands held your neck and Bucky slammed his lips on yours. The kiss, the contrast of cold and warmth on your skin, the everlasting longing for it to happen… All of this caused you to gasp, tangling the tunic at the height of his chest in your fists, not wanting him to take a step back. Your mouths fit perfectly without looking for it, made for each other, as he secured his fingers on the back of your neck. And you felt your knees weak when he pecked your lips one more time, before caressing your nose with his, not being able to open your eyes. Neither of you.

“I don’t have the right… to ask for anything”. He babbled. His insecurities coming afloat even if you hadn’t pushed him away. “But… I want you to stay here. With me. I… I don’t have much to offer you, but I promise to make you happy”.

At this point, your eyes were filled with tears, strongly closing your eyelids to not let them fall. You swallowed a sob, moving your hands from his chest to his middle back, embracing him tighter as you could.

“You’ve been making me happy since we met, Bucky”.

He chuckled breathless, intuiting he was too at the edge of his crying because of that affirmation.

“Every Tuesday, I wait at the stairs of my apartment for the mail, for your letters. I’ve… read them so many times I can recite them… by heart. Every word you've written to me”.

“I will continue writing them for you, even if you stay with me”.

Your voices were low, barely audible out of his place. Like secrets. Bucky kissed you again, bending enough to raise you by the back of your thighs and urge you to surround his waist with your legs. The dog tags on your chest clicked against the other, as you moved your arms to his shoulders and neck, and you were unable to stop kissing him. You two could die right now and not be bothered because you were finally together, and that was all you deserved in life.

“Tell me you will stay… please”. His beg brushed your lips, still pecking them between syllable and syllable.

“I will…” You replied without hesitating as you could, eager to correspond to every gesture from him. “I will stay with you”.

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[miraculouscontent]

After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head

Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.

Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).

Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.

Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.

Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.

Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.

Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.

Clarity...

The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.

Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.

A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.

After a moment of consideration, she typed out:

Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?

That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.

Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...

Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.

She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.

She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.

Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.

Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.

Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.

This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.

But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.

Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.

She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.

Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.

If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.

The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.

Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?

She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.

Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.

Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.

How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?

Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.

Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.

Nothing much.

She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.

She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.

Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.

I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.

Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.

It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.

Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.

My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.

What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?

Would it go away?

Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.

I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.

-

You do?

-

Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?

He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.

Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.

Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.

She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.

I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.

He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.

But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.

Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.

As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.

I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.

-

Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.

-

Thanks.

She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.

She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.

Sorry.

Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.

But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."

She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.

She was ready.

...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.

Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.

—————

Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.

She also set it on vibrate just in case.

There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.

Marinette!

Is everything okay?

Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?

Marinette?

The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:

Sorry. I had to run from my parents.

I'm okay. What about you?

-

You're alright. I'm so glad.

I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.

-

That's good. Be careful.

-

You too.

She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.

Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:

I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.

Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.

She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."

And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.

Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.

Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.

Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 

[bonkie-barnes]

Spoons

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: chronic illness, mention of medicine, self deprecating thoughts

A/N: this is me 1000% projecting about my guilt that comes with my chronic illnesses. they're kicking my ass rn. this is a vent fic, but if you resonate with this at all, i hope you enjoy :)

- - -

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table has been going off for a full minute already. You merely roll over and cover your head with Natasha’s pillow. It smells like her.

You have absolutely no energy to get up, let alone reach across the bed to turn the alarm off. Your head feels heavy and your body aches something terrible.

The list of chores you have to do around the house today sits uncomfortably in the back of your mind. The list of friends who have texted you about making plans to hang out sits there too. The idea of staying in bed all day sounds more and more appealing by the second. You know this because the alarm is still blaring into the otherwise peaceful morning air.

Just as you’re gathering the strength to sit up and turn the alarm off, Natasha walks in. She looks at her watch and her brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing, sleepyhead?” she asks you with a little smirk. There is concern in her eyes, though she masks it well.

You’re both fully aware the alarm has been going off for seven minutes straight now.

“Just tired, love. You know how much work it takes to reach over,” you say in a joking manner, hopeful that you can get past this without worrying her too much.

Natasha eyes you suspiciously for a second before giving in.

“How was your workout?” you ask her sincerely.

As she starts rambling about her morning activities, you feel a sense of shame. You’ve barely managed to wake up in the time it’s taken her to complete a full workout routine. Hell, you couldn’t even find it in you to turn the alarm off.

You finally focus on her rant as it comes to an end. Natasha is looking at you expectantly. Shit. She’s asked you a question.

“Huh?” you grunt.

She chuckles before answering, “I asked if you were ever going to get up and get in the shower, stinky.”

You put on a fake smile but fail to meet her eyes, the shame eating you up. It has been a few days since your last shower, but it’s just so hard to find the strength and energy to get up and stand in one place for more than a minute or two.

If Natasha notices the far away look in your eyes and the grimace on your mouth, she doesn’t say anything.

After one of the quickest and most unproductive showers you’ve ever taken, you find Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. She’s taken it upon herself to make breakfast for you both.

You kiss her cheek and thank her as you sit down at the table. The warm cup of coffee she sets down in front of you is a godsend. The warmth emitting from the cup helps to diminish the pain in your knuckles, if only slightly. You send up a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that the caffeine will help with the fatigue today instead of making you sick.

Natasha sits down in the chair next to you with her own plate. She runs her eyes over you in a scrutinizing manner. She wants to think you don’t notice, but you do.

Clearing your throat in hopes to take her focus off you, you ask about her plans for the day.

“Oh, you know, mostly just busy work. I have a ton of paperwork to get through,” she tells you through an exaggerated sigh. “What about you?”

The list of chores screams at you again. “Mostly just some things around the house. Grocery shopping, laundry, boring shit like that.”

Natasha hums around a sip of her coffee. It surprised you just how much cream and sugar she takes in hers. It’s just one of the many unpredictable things about her that made you fall in love.

“Super exciting. I hate to miss out,” she teases you.

You crack a smile to appease her. Inside, though, you realize just how little she understands. These errands seem so simple to her, when to you, they are the most daunting of tasks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Natasha standing up to take her plate to the sink. She comes back to kiss your cheek and let you know she’s going to go get ready, before walking out of the room.

You suspect the amount of housework you’ll get done today will be minimal, so you decide to at least make Natasha some lunch. Maybe it will lessen the disappointment she feels when she comes home to see everything exactly as it was when she left, you think.

Your plan is halted as you’re making her sandwich. The stupid cover on the peanut butter jar is stuck. You can’t open it for the life of you. The guilt comes in like a tidal wave. You can’t even do something as simple as make lunch for her, your brain supplies for you.

Natasha returns from getting ready to see you standing in the kitchen with a glare on your tired face.

“What’d the peanut butter do to you this time,” she jokes.

“I can’t.” Tears well up in your eyes.

She comes up to wrap you in a hug from behind. She softly asks, “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t open the jar,” you mutter softly, feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“It’s okay, love. Let me help,” she tells you delicately before kissing the spot under your ear. She can tell this is affecting you more than usual and wishes for nothing more than to be able to take away your distress.

You mutter a thank you before continuing to make her sandwich. You pack everything into a bag and write a small note to finish it off. You know Natasha loves the little messages you leave her periodically, and nothing will stop you from trying to make her as happy as you can.

Goodbyes are said as you both wander closer to the door. Natasha makes sure to hold you longer and tighter than usual. You don’t comment on that.

The silence that encompasses the room as soon as the love of your life leaves is suffocating. You can feel the exhaustion from purely getting up and getting ready creeping up on you. Logically, you know that you shouldn’t overexert yourself, but the shame is eating you up. Already on a roll, might as well keep on going, you think to yourself.

You go back to your mental to-do list and debate what to start with. The grocery store doesn’t sound terrible. Some sun would do you some good. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen the world that exists outside of your house.

Wandering back to the bedroom to get your phone and shoes, you try to push the fatigue from your mind. In your attempt to block out the tiredness, you fail to recognize the ever-present pain in your joints increasing. It’s only when you sit down and bend over to put your shoes on that you register the feeling. Your hips ache severely; so much so, that you can’t hold your position long enough to get your shoe on your foot.

This seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, seeing as you immediately burst into tears. The pain mixed with your inability to do basic, everyday activities completely overwhelms you as you break down.

There’s absolutely no chance that you’re going to complete this task, let alone all the other ones on your list. You let out a sigh as you stand up and shuffle to your room, phone and shoes forgotten in the living room.

You let the weight of your emotions crush you as you climb into bed and under the covers, your wife’s pillow clutched closely to your chest.

Your tears cease to stop, even as you succumb to the sleep you so desperately wished to hold onto this morning.

- - -

Natasha comes home to an eerily silent house. On any typical day, she would come home to the noise of your favorite show or music softly playing, whether it be from a speaker or from your guitar. Your shared house consistently was filled with life and sound. It was one of her favorite parts of her day; coming home to you in your own element, laughing or singing. You are her home.

This newfound silence has her exceptionally worried. Even on your bad days, there was at least a laugh track coming from the TV or the smell of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen. Now, there’s absolutely nothing. For a split second, Natasha thinks that you may never have come back from the grocery. Her heart rate spikes. The sight of your phone on the coffee table and your shoes strewn haphazardly on the floor puts those worries to rest.

“Darling?” she calls from the entryway. There is no response. She carefully removes her boots and coat before moving through every room in the house, calling out for you softly in each.

She makes her way to the bedroom, lightly knocking on the door as she lets herself in. She sees the rise and fall of your chest and is filled with a sense of relief she didn't know she needed.

"Love? Are you awake?"

You grumble out an answer that could be understood as a 'yes'.

Natasha carefully sits down on the side of the bed that you are facing.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she requests softly, in fear of upsetting the quiet environment of the bedroom and making things worse.

The tears that started up again when you wife called out the first time get even heavier somehow.

"Oh love, come here."

She carefully gathers you in her arms and rests your head on her chest.

"Does this have anything to do with the peanut butter jar this morning?"

You nod. One of your favorite things about your wife is her ability to observe and understand what you're going through.

"I just can't do anything today. Everything hurts and I'm so, so tired," you whisper, followed by a heartbreaking sob.

"It's okay love. Please don't cry," Natasha whispers back.

"But it's not! It's not okay!" You sit up from her chest to let out your rant. "You've done so much today and I could barely wake up. You work so hard and I should be able to do stuff around the house so you can come home and not have to worry about anything," you finish with a sigh.

Your wife puts her hand under your chin, forcing you to look in her direction. "Love, look at me. Believe me when I say that I don't care about the state of the laundry or if the pantry has been stocked. All I care about is you. All I want is for you to be okay. It's killing me that you feel like this and I can't do anything to take it away from you. What I can do, though, is tell you just how proud I am of you. You are the strongest person I know, and I work with the Avengers."

You giggled at that. Natasha smiles at your small second of happiness.

"Are you sure? Because I was going to get so much done today and I was trying to-"

Natasha cuts you off with a soft kiss.

"My love. Listen to me. All I care about is your health and happiness. If staying in bed and catching up on sleep is what you needed today, then that's all I expect from you. I never want you to hurt yourself trying to do more than you can. We all have limits. It’s okay to need a break some days. I love you and I am so very, very proud of you."

With a long look into her eyes, all you find is love and adoration directed towards you. There's no disgust or disappointment as you had anticipated.

"I love you too," you utter quietly.

Natasha smiles and leaves a long kiss on your forehead. "What if we got some pain killers and some food in you? We can even put on your favorite movie. Does that sound good?"

You nod. Natasha gets up to get you some medicine and to order some food, while you get your favorite movie loaded on the TV.

Later that night, when both your stomachs are full and your wife is obnoxiously singing along to the songs in the movie just to make you laugh, you realize just how loved you are.

You don't know how tomorrow will treat you, or the day after that. What you do know, however, is that Natasha will always be there to support and love you. Your pain level and ability to function is always an uncertainty, but your wife's love will never be.

- - -

A/N: as always, i try to keep it gender neutral. if you find a mistake, please let me know! feedback is appreciated! to all my chronic illness buddies out there: i love you, you've got this :)

taglist: @007giu