#the way i am pre-defensive of this post what is that about. i already put it in drafts for an hour

[talesgolden]

Drew's homemade version of rehab also means he is a homemade version of "sober". He does still drink and smoke weed, but has iron clad limits on both (including not mixing them/being crossfaded), and won't touch anything else. He is not working "the program" and does not attend NA (or AA) meetings.

Alcohol has never been a problem for him. He keeps his limit firm anyway so that it doesn't become one. As well, he's cut back on smoking -both varieties of it- in no small part for the sake of his daughter. Viv does a bit of baking™ though, I think.

[terraco-07]

I'm gonna start this off by being self aware. Vriscourse in 2024 is so funny and kind of silly in a way so take as little or as much of this as you want. I think I should lead in with Vriska is divisive on purpose. Her entire story is rife with places where you can either hate her, love her, or find shades of grey. I love Vriska as a character, but I want to be perfectly clear. Vriska Serket is NOT a good person, but imo very few people are. Narratively speaking Vriska grows up on a hostile planet where she's forced to kill for her Lusus. She also has the influence of Mindfang's journal to contend with. Vriska never knows who she is, she's always living in someone else's shadow and constantly hating it. Yet at the same time she's trying to live her life by some grand formula. Let's take Tavros for example. By virtue of Karkat and the descriptions we get of Alternia we see the word pity used several times when describing Flushed feelings. Can we take it with a grain of salt and assume that Karkat a known romance over enjoyer is being an unreliable narrator? Sure, we can. That said I think that wording is relevant here. In Vriska's head she feels bad for this guy and thinks that she's the only one who can fix him. On top of that you add in that her hero was flush with a powerful bronzeblood and you've put massive blinders on yourself. She becomes so self absorbed with this idea that she ends up going way too far in her efforts to bring him around and pushes heavily past his consent and boundaries. (Looking at that kiss scene). Even after his death she says maybe 2-3 things about ahh man maybe I shouldn't say bad things about that guy anymore or am I bad for killing (another) friend. She's young but I think the lack of remorse is something that matters here when looking at her in adulthood which is what we're really trying to get to here. As for the previous murder it's barely even touched. There's an air of well Aradia killed me back so we're all good. Even though she ascended to God tier and initially Aradia was just a ghost who had to deal with it while Sollux had to cope with the fact that physically it was his body that killed his matesprit. General other beats are the arrogance, easy to anger, and lack of empathy. Which we actually get to see some development on those from pre retcon Vriska! More on that here in a second.

Holy shit Gil, you're rambling so God Damn much why do we care? I don't know, don't ask me, but here's why all that foundation matters. If we're thinking about the theoretical for any Homestuck character as a whole I feel like we have to consider who they are in adulthood. Tons of discussion and debate all circles around "well they were kids!" Okay, well lets talk about what they could be as adults. So with everything we've already brought up about Vriska, how does she act in her 20s? Personally I think she struggles post game. She has no mental purpose for a while and she's in a place where she doesn't have to fight just to live so that means tons of time to sit around and think. We've seen from pre retcon Vriska that when the stress is off she does actually consider what she's done to a degree. Do I think she thinks about Tavros or Alternian sins all that much? No. I think she doesn't like her younger self (like most people) and does what she can to avoid being like that anymore. That comes with painfully slow growth and still a lot of bridges in need of mending. Those same traits of being self centered and needing attention are there but they're a little more tempered. She can at least listen now and has the emotional intelligence to realize when she's hurt someone and actually care about that. In summary: Vriska is a complicated and flawed character and saying that she did nothing wrong but also saying she did everything wrong are both incorrect. There is nothing defensible about her acts (She fucked up bad) but we can understand why she may have done them without condoning them. As an adult she is still kind of an asshole but she's not to that same level and she gets to grow into a somewhat reasonable adult that is still a dick at times. Also if you got this far then enjoy my shameless Vrisrose propaganda. They get in fights all the time and want to beat the shit out of each other nonstop. Both of them suck and it's so funny.

[byghostface]

Hey. I’m on anon right now but I’m not here to hate or anything so I’ll probably take it off. Edit: I will now, knowing I’ll make my account vulnerable, but if you don’t agree then please just don’t awnser the ask, I don’t want to get hateful things in my inbox for this. Please?

You’ve mentioned things that I’ve said in the past and things that I was actually wrong about and yeah, I’m sorry about that but can I be honest? I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting all the time. I’m sick of disourse and this constant war between Damijon shippers and Daminika shippers.

I am so over it. Daminika shippers are mean and Damijon shippers are mean. We are both mean, why? Cause we’re extremely defensive. I’ve seen what you guys have to put up with on twitter by Damijon shippers and I hate it. I hate it so much and because of that, Daminika shippers will migrate from twitter to tumblr with the same idea that Damijon shippers are the same way, we aren’t but with that idea, came attacking, and having to stay on defensive constantly. It’s exhausting, I got bitter and hateful, I know I got bitter and hateful and a lot of you will get bitter and hateful too.

We should both be allowed to nurture safe places on the internet where we share content of the ships we like without feeling the need to diss each other or be at each other’s throats or feel like we’re doing something wrong.

I’d rather that. I have attacked people in the past. I have been rude, mean, on the defensive and I am spent. I don’t want to do this forever, it’ll do some serious damage to both of our well beings and online drama should never be worth that.

So I’m asking for a truce? At the very least, we stop being on the offensive and stay on defensive, we stop generalizing each other and start leaving one another be? Or we could stop posting about the other ship entirely or make both our spaces welcome to the other ship.

I like your art. I reblogged some of it and wanted some of it on my page and some of my mutauls who ship damijon reblog it as well but you stated you don’t want Damijon shippers interacting with your page, and honestly I respect that so I stopped and told my mutuals to stop as well… but… still we both tend to be hostile to each other, I think it’s just really sad to try and seek community where other people like the same things you do and find this instead. This type of culture is toxic. A good friend of mine is a Daminika shipper and they hate Damijon but I still love them so I know it’s possible, no ship is good enough to have to put up with this constantly, not even Damijon after years of shipping them. I just want some sort of common ground. So truce?

I still stand by what I said, I don't want damijon shippers to interact with me, and I don't want to surround myself with people I do not feel safe or unclear and trouble me for days.

We are both defensive, you are in a pre-existing fandom. And I'm in a new fandom. I want Flatline's fandom to be good and progress naturally with more supportive fans without overlapping big fandom to keep coming in dunked-on/talking over the content we have and enjoy, with the far-fetched fanon that doesn't even make sense with her character in the comic.

Most of the Flatline fans/ daminika fans are from Twitter because they found out about Nika through there and how we keep talking about her positively and defending her daily since 2021. They are already discouraged/intimidated by Tumblr people and how forgivable this place is by the large amount of ppl with proshipping, with "complex relationships" fanon that overshadows/damaged characters. I just happened to post art here from the beginning to stick it through and stay in my tags.

You said I generalized things, and you do the same by putting yourself into the said generalized things to defend them and create tolerate ground and bring more people from your space to talk over daminika shipper and being annoyed that we want to talk solely about the canon content or any problems we have.

People with different ideas exist. And not everything is about you, if you don't do the bad/hateful things then maybe let daminika shippers speak about our frustration without the need to come in to beat us down and gloss over the issue like it doesn't exist (when we do have ppI here seen the hate towards Flatline is real and constant from damijon shippers). It's your side of the fandom that constantly caused problems for us, and you still vouch for all like it was nothing.

Now, Nika is in the process of a relationship with Damian, as a daminika shipper I enjoyed their interaction while I could and created fan content for them. But it's not so enjoyable when some of you talk like they are going to break up in the future(so Damian can date Jon Kent). Like why do you want Nika to fail so soon in your own fanon? And villainize her when she is just a 15-year-old girl currently trying to figure out things? Like what was the reason?? (want Damijon to eventually happen that's why). When you could just write your damn fic and live in your own fanon without including her, since you will still prioritize damijon and tools her(for canon validation) in the end.

I hate it when ppl mix around the characters just for shipping out of spite and do not consider their age and current circumstances. Like the respawn x flatline things damijon shippers created months ago, and now I see ppl want to ship jondaminika…like give me a break for fuck sake. Why is a college student squeezed between two high school freshmen? Like get his grow ass out of there, I don't need ppl pushing their damijon thoughts onto Nika just so they can cope with that damijon ship is not canon and with canon age gaps!!

All I ask for is to leave Nika alone and let her have time to grow and wait for the comic to explain itself (I trust Williamson because he is her creator and clearly still have plans for her).

I'm tired too. These ship fights are too early for Nika. She's not even breaking up with Damian. Damian is not yet getting a second canon love interest any time soon, Nika is not developed enough to get her own second love interest, and I'm here fighting with none-canon shippers with pre-existing fandom. Trying to save a space for ppl who just want to root for Nika or enjoy daminika contents.

Like I can not stop what you want to ship but how hard could it be to ship different ships separately and look at them in different worlds without interfering with one another? And how hard could it be to leave me alone when you disagree with me personally when I speak my frustrations?

I really don't know how you managed your fandom cuz I never went into or tagged damijon tags, and you had me blocked for months before this(for your safety or my safety I genuinely don't know). You said you respect my boundaries and I'm grateful for that but I have heard something you have done to other fandom and see some of your post screen shots from my friends about how you talk about them. You've done a whole lot before I can even finish a drawing.

I do hope you have changed cuz you said you don't want to do this hateful things forever(so am I) and you like my art, but I need you to hear this: I do not feel any comfort with you or any of your friends around me. I think it's best for us not to interact with each other, and this is just me speaking.

Let's keep our social distance, stay six feet apart and stay in our own ship tags, the best truce I can think of.

[august-anon]

Let Your Hair Down

I finished this in December of 2021 and somehow never posted it lol

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Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Ship(s): PRE - Alistair/Warden (F)

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Warden/Ler!Alistair

Word Count: 2105 words

Summary: The group never took breaks, never lingered, never rested, never took a breath, always moving toward the next target. The only moment they slowed was in camp, and that was only with their bodies, not so much with their minds. Maybe they could all use some fun.

[ao3 link]

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The Warden shook some of the water from her hair with her hands, combing through it roughly with her fingers to get the worst tangles out before starting to pull it up into the style she usually wore it in. She flinched as a voice spoke behind her, despite the fact that she was normally far more aware of her surroundings than that.

“Don’t you ever leave your hair down?” Alistair asked.

Alistair did have a way of worming his way past her defenses.

“It’s more practical to wear up,” she replied, dropping her hands and letting her damp hair tumble down her back again. “Can’t exactly go around killing darkspawn with a curtain of hair in the way.”

He settled on the ground next to her where she had kneeled down by the fire, hoping for the heat to dry her hair faster. “Well, we aren’t killing darkspawn right now.” He tilted his head to the side. “Leliana wears her hair down to fight darkspawn.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Leliana’s hair is shorter, and she’s an archer. Why do you want me to wear my hair down so badly?”

He cleared his throat, looking away from her. It was hard to tell by only the firelight, but she swore he looked a little red. She smothered a grin.

“I just– think it would look nice, is all,” he stammered out. “A nice change. Everyone needs a change every once in a while. Not that I’m telling you to change–”

She couldn’t help it anymore. She tossed her head back with a laugh. “Don’t strain yourself.”

He pouted at her. She grinned and leaned toward him, watching his eyes go wide, before ducking her head and shaking it. Her hair was still decently wet, and Alistair flinched back with a yelp, raising his hand to shield his face.

“Why are you wet?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Because, Alistair. Some of us actually bathe.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Are you saying I smell? You know, I actually take offense to that.”

“Good,” she said. “Maybe it’ll actually get you to take a bath.”

“I do bathe!” Alistair said, reaching out to slide his hand up into the underside of her hair and shake it out. “You just… aren’t around when I go off to do that.”

She squeaked and jolted away from his hand, rolling her shoulders. She tried to save face and move right on, hoping Alistair wouldn’t mention it. “Really? When am I not around, Alistair.”

Unfortunately, Alistair was not fooled. “What was that?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, where the ghostly touch of his fingertips still lingered. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Alistair grinned, leaning in a little. “Oh, come on, now. Aren’t we friends?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Something tells me you’ve already figured out what it was, and I will not subject myself to the embarrassment of telling you.”

He chuckled a little. “Come on, everyone’s at least a little ticklish. I bet even Sten is. There’s no reason to get so defensive about it.”

The Warden continued to glare at him, sliding slowly to the other side of the log.

“See, you look at me like that, but now I have the perfect tidbit of information to get you to smile.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you sure you don’t want to just give up now?”

She smirked at him. “Oh, Alistair. You should know by now. I never give up.”

She launched herself off the log, sprinting around the fire and toward the treeline. Her sudden movement unfortunately made their little tussle quite obvious to everyone else in camp, and she could feel their eyes on her. Glancing over her shoulder, the Warden saw Alistair close on her heels, fingers wiggling threateningly. 

Yeah, there was no way their friends hadn’t figured out exactly what was going on already. Except maybe Sten. Were Qunari even capable of being ticklish? She shook the thought out of her head. She needed to focus.

Apparently, she caught herself too late. She tripped over something – an outstretched leg, likely, they weren’t close enough to the trees for her to have tripped over any roots (based on Leliana’s bright laughter nearby, the Warden had an idea of who it might have been) – and crashed to the ground. She didn’t bother trying to scramble up, instead she rolled over and started crab-walking backwards, one hand raised protectively in front of her.

“Alistair,” she said, a warning note in her voice.

He grinned down at her, his hands still raised in threatening claws, though his eyes softened. “If you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to have mercy.”

The Warden’s mouth twisted. He was giving her an easy out. She was going to get tickled either way, that was for certain now after they put on this whole show in front of everyone, but he was offering up mercy. The question was, did she want it.

They were in the middle of the end of the world. The Warden hadn’t gotten a decent night of sleep since she’d left home with Duncan, and she doubted many of her companions were having a good time of it, either. They never took breaks, never lingered, never rested, never took a breath, always moving toward the next target. The only moment they slowed was in camp, and that was only with their bodies, not so much with their minds.

Maybe they could all use some fun. 

But only a little bit.

“You think I’m scared of you?” The Warden taunted. “You’re like a giant teddy bear. You think this is a threat?”

Alistair gave a low chuckle. “I’ll admit, I never had much time for practicing fun and games, what growing up in the Chantry and all, but you, my dear, should be very afraid.”

The Warden’s eyes widened as he lunged at her, and she tried to roll away. Alistair managed to catch her around the waist and pull her back, pinning her down to the grass underneath him. She tried to catch his hands and spared a moment to glance at his position, straddling her. She smirked.

“Maker, Alistair, buy a lady dinner first,” she said, and grinned when his face suddenly went bright red. He always made it too easy.

He started stammering excuses and apologies, and she managed to slip out from under him while he was busy being flustered. Despite all the teasing Morrigan dished out, Alistair wasn’t stupid, and he caught on to her plan the second she slipped out of his grip.

“Oh, you little minx,” Alistair called after her, and was chasing her again in an instant.

She wasn’t so quick, this time, too busy watching her feet and steering clear of their other companions to avoid falling again. Really, it was just to give her an excuse to be slower, to allow Alistair to catch up without being obvious about it. She was built to be quick and sneaky, he was built to stand strong and defend. If she didn’t give him the victory here, he may not have gotten it otherwise.

Alistair caught the Warden around the waist once more, tugging her back into his chest. She put up a struggle against his grip, and while she knew she could easily slip from it had she wanted to, she allowed him to wrap her tight in his arms, his fingertips resting just against the fleshy parts of her sides.

“Any last words?” He asked her.

The Warden made a show of giving a last few struggles against him. Then, she turned her head to glare up at him over her shoulder. “My revenge will be swift and unforgiving.”

Alistair just laughed at her, and then his fingers dug in and she was the one who was laughing. She started to fight his grip for real, then, but was just as unsuccessful as before, now that she was weakened from her laughter. She pushed back against his chest instead, as if that would in any way bring her further away from his fingers.

She could hear Zevran laugh nearby, closer to the fire. “My friend! How is it that none of us knew you were so ticklish?”

The Warden couldn’t move around much in Alistair’s grip, and she wasn’t going to waste the air she needed for her laughter on telling Zevran off. What she could do, however, was wrench one of her arms away from where she’d been trying to tug Alistair’s hands off of her and flip Zevran the bird. She heard him laugh once more.

Raising her arm turned out to be very much an incorrect choice, however, as Alistair immediately took the opening. His fingers dove into the newly exposed spot, wiggling and scratching away. The Warden shrieked and slammed her arm back down against her side, but it did nothing to protect her against the hand that was already there.

“Sorry,” Alistair said into her ear, “does that tickle?”

She squealed again and tried to twist her body out of his grip. She managed to get loose, and started to make another break for it, but Alistair was a lot more coordinated than her at the moment, considering he hadn’t just been the subject of a tickle attack. He grabbed her arm before she’d even taken two steps and pulled her back in, this time holding her so they were chest to chest. 

At first, she thought it was a blessing. After all, it at least protected her stomach and a few other spots, right? But then, his hands started randomly skittering up and down the Warden’s back and a gasp tore from her throat. She burst into childish giggles, squirming every which way with no idea on how to escape. She didn’t even know she was ticklish on her back, let alone to this degree.

Alistair hummed, and she could feel the vibration through his chest. “You seemed the type,” he said, quietly enough to be only for her ears. “I had a friend in templar training who was ticklish here.”

She shook her head and buried her face into his chest, trying to muffle the embarrassing giggles into his shirt. The Warden laughed. The Warden laughed and chuckled and scoffed and huffed, but the Warden did not giggle. She could feel her face growing warm with her embarrassment, desperately trying to reach behind her to stop his hands, but she couldn’t reach. She pushed forward against his chest to try and lean away from his devious fingers, but he had no give in front of her, and his fingers easily followed every arch and jerk of her back.

She wondered if the option of mercy was still on the table.

“Please,” she ground out between her hysterical giggles, digging her fingers desperately into his shirt. “Alistair!”

He chuckled, and she flinched away from his breath on her ear. Even that was too ticklish for her, now. “First,” he said, “you have admit to me that you wanted this.”

She jerked in his grip. “What?!”

“Just to me,” he hummed. “But you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re actually fighting back, after all this time together?”

Well now her blush wasn’t just from the embarrassing giggling. She gave it another bout of fighting first, trying to tear herself out of his arms, but her legs could barely hold her up anymore, they were so shaky from her laughter. There was no possible way she was going to break free from this, not without Alistair letting her go.

“Fine!” She hissed, trying to keep her words quiet and lost in her giggling so that the rest of their companions wouldn’t hear. “Fine, I let you catch me!”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be fun! Alistair, come on!”

He chuckled and stopped his tickling, holding her tight when she sagged against him. She gripped at one of his arms, glaring up at him in warning.

“And was it?” He asked.

She twisted her lips, trying to force the involuntary smile off of them. “Maybe.”

She pulled herself out of his grip, reached up to tug the tangles out of her hair once more. Alistair dropped his arm around her shoulders and led them back toward the fire.

“Leave it down tonight?” He asked.

The Warden pursed her lips. “Fine. But just for tonight!” She danced out of his grip to flick Zevran on the ear for his teasing. “And Alistair?”

“Yes?” He asked, drawing out the word.

“Sleep with one eye open.”

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 40

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You finally open Billy's letter [Also this is now starting a storyline separate from the show]

"Y/N It's been almost a month..you aren't curious just what's in that envelope?" Alice asked while the two of you walked out the hospital from dropping a patient off. "I am! Believe me, I am but as bad as I hate to admit it.. I don't want to be alone when I see whatever it was Billy thought was so important for me to have" 

You were proud of yourself any time you managed to say his name without your voice breaking. It was hard seeing him in the shape he was. There were guards on his door twenty four even though so far there hadn't been much change in his condition. The only reason you were allowed in the door was because Dinah had called Mahoney who had given you a pass. You were allowed into his room once a week for thirty minutes. It wasn't a lot and he probably didn't even know you were there but what was important was that you knew you were there. 

Once the two of you were in the ambulance and headed back to the station house she said "Why haven't you said something? I would've already came over for a night to hold your hand while you open it" you shot her a smile "I may call Karen and get her to come too, Pete's supposed to be back in town this weekend" you'd let her in on Frank's new persona so the two of you could freely talk about him in public or at the station house.

You chanced a glance at her since the two of you were stopped at a red light  "Is he still acting off towards you?" You sighed with a nod "I don't know what it is. You don't think he really does blame me on some level? I mean if Billy hadn't picked the way he had"

"Hell no. He loves you. He would never hold you still being alive against you. Why don't you just ask him? I mean you've never had a problem with being blunt" you laughed because from anyone else that would sound like an insult but coming from Alice you knew it was a compliment. "I may do just that" 

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The rest of the shift was nothing unusual. Of course Hunter slipping in the bays and almost knocking himself out on the corner of the firetruck caused a round of laughter once everyone made sure he was ok.

While you were gathering your stuff to leave the next morning you were on the phone with Curtis to see if he needed any help with the soup kitchen. "Y/N are you sure? I mean you're coming off a twenty four hour shift" you zipped up your bag and shrugged which caused Alice to roll her eyes.

"You're on the phone babe. Curt can't see that shrug" you stuck your tongue out at her and she laughed so you said "Curt I'm getting off now. Soup kitchen isn't till four. I can go home, shower and take a nap. Please? I can't stand the quiet of my apartment quite yet" he let out a breath then finally said "Ok. I'll see you then"

Alice was leaned against the wall watching you so you waved a hand "Go ahead Hendricks" she put her hands up in a defensive manner "Don't shoot the messenger but are you still seeing Kenzie in office? I mean are you working through the trauma of finding two of the people you have known and loved for years half dead?"

"I'm facing it a little at a time. If I go all or nothing I may just break down" you admitted and she held her arms out so you walked into them. She hugged you tightly then said "No shame in breaking down honey" you nodded then finally said "I promise, I'm as ok as I can be given the circumstance" she let you go but held your gaze for a second "If you ever need me I'm here ok?" You smiled "I know"

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You walked to your apartment in silence. The air had the crispness of winter starting to it. Lisa and Frank Jr would be wanting to go ice skating, Maria would be talking about Christmas dinner. You hugged your jacket tighter around you trying to ward off the coldness of your mind. It was your fault they were dead.

Billy had put your life ahead of Frank's and it had ended up costing all of you everything. Maybe that was why Frank had barely spoken to you since the fight. Maybe he was trying not to hate you but maybe the thought kept popping in his head as well that maybe if Billy had just told him, even if it had cost your life Maria and the kids could've been spared.

You were jarred out your thoughts by a text alert going off on your phone. You pulled it out and smiled when you saw Leo's name. "Mom wants to know if you're still planning to come to Christmas dinner" damn you'd actually forgotten about Sarah's invite.

You texted back "Unless I end up assigned a shift at the last minute I'll be there kiddo" she sent back a few smiley emojis. You formed a friendship with all the Liebermans, even managing to win Zach off with a few gnarly tales of injuries you'd seen on the job.

David still side eyed you at times so you'd call him micro with an attitude to your voice to make a smile sneak onto his face. It was weird seeing a halfway functional family. Kenzie had set them up with a family therapist she knew and trusted so they were working through their issues.

Even Sam was making strides in his physical therapy but again hearing from Sam how Billy had stopped him from being killed, from Sarah how Billy had stopped her and Zach from being hurt. It fucked with your head. You'd went through hell since Maria and the kids had been killed and he'd known the entire time. He'd left Frank out in the cold when he could've just told him the truth. 

You shook your head and realized you'd made it to your apartment so you headed inside. At least you had helping Curtis to look forward to.

When you left the soup kitchen you still felt a sense of unease. You pulled out your phone and started a new group chat with just Karen and Alice. "I need to know what's in that envelope. My place thirty minutes?" Alice texted back "I'll grab Chinese food" and Karen texted back "I'll bring the wine" you smiled at just how fast the two of them had been willing to give you their night and wondered if maybe Alice had already called Karen. 

Thirty minutes later you were sitting on your couch next to Karen while Alice sat on the floor between your legs "Open it!" She said handing the envelope out to you from where it had sat on your counter for the last few weeks. You leaned forward and downed the rest of your glass before tearing the envelope open. There was a letter, and two more smaller envelopes. "Letter first?" You asked and they both nodded.

You unfolded the piece of paper and your stomach flipped when you recognized Billy's handwriting. You felt your hands start shaking slightly and shook your head "I can't do this.here Karen you read it!" You handed her the letter so she took it gently from your hand then cleared her throat before she started reading aloud.

Y/N,

I've written this letter more than a dozen times just to turn around and burn it. I'm sorry, from the very pit of my soul please believe that. When Rawlins first came to me I didn't want to help him but he made a point, I was in love with you and didn't have anything worth while to offer. Christ if I had known then what I know now I would've shot the bastard in the face. I've hurt you in ways I can never take back or make up for. When I was given the choice of you being in his crosshairs or Frank...shit I didn't know what to do. On one hand my first instinct was to tell you everything then and there but Rawlins knew where you worked, where you lived and I'd see the shit that man was capable of. I split with you an hour before calling him and telling him to kill Frank. Yes I handed my best friend over on a silver platter. I'm not proud of it and I regret not making a different decision every day but I would never regret knowing you're still alive even if you hate me. When I got the call about Maria and the kids I knew how hard it would hit you. Please know that night we spent together I meant it. I just wanted to make your pain go away but before you woke up the next morning Rawlins somehow found out Frank was still alive so I was again handed the choice "Help me hunt down Castle or I'll carve his location out of your little medic" I've made a thousand shitty decisions but loving you isn't one of them. You may not believe a single word in this letter but I had to tell you. There's two more envelopes along with this. One holds the deed to the cabin, it's yours. Maybe just maybe you can remember me in a better light there. The other envelope holds information for a bank account in your name. There's fifty thousand in there, use it however you see fit. I already made sure you had a new vehicle at work maybe now you won't be walking so much. There is also a paper trail to prove not a penny of that money came from Rawlins. It was all honestly earned. I love you.

Billy

You sat there staring at the letter in her hands by the time she was done reading. "Oh my god" Alice breathed opening the two other envelopes and reading over all the paperwork.  "Y/N are you ok?" Karen asked and you numbly shook your head "What am I supposed to do with the money? I don't want it. I make enough at my job. I own this apartment" her and Alice shared a look and you realized it was because you weren't reacting at all. 

"Y/N, babe..it's us. Blow up. Cry. Just react please" Alice said and that seemed to finally break through "Why did he do any of the shit? Did he not fucking love me enough to see how much I loved him? We could've been fucking happy just being together. He fucked it all up for his warped idea of accomplishment and ruined everyone's lives because of it! He says he loves me but I honestly don't know if he ever did. I've lost Maria and both kids and now I think I've lost Frank too" you were crying by that point and finally broke down sobbing. They both moved to have their arms around "Kenz said it was coming" Alice said quietly as you allowed them to hold you.

After a few minutes your crying had slowed to a few hiccups so Karen pushed your hair back from your face "Sweetie, I understand how you must feel but please know you haven't lost Frank"

"Why won't he talk to me Kare?" You asked and she gave a small smile "He feels guilty. I can't say any more than that but I promise as soon as he hits New York he'll come see you ok?"

You nodded and a wave of embarrassment suddenly hit you "Oh god I must look like an idiot" "No you don't" Alice said and Karen nodded in agreement "You look like someone who's been through a lot and who has held it together for far too long" you managed a smile and said "Can we drink now?" Alice scoffed "Bitch please. Drinking is always an option"

The rest of the week you had to admit you'd felt a little better after breaking down. Thursday afternoon you went to the hospital for your thirty minutes.

The process took about an hour to get into the room. You stood by the door for a few seconds before slowly walking over to the bed. The body laying there still didn't resemble anything near Billy. The height was all that was the same. The bandages had yet to come off.

You sat down next to the bed and listened to the machines.  "Billy I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if you'll ever wake up" you stopped when you felt your throat getting tighter with unshed tears.

After a moment you continued "I don't know why you thought I needed money. I just wanted you. I don't know if you ever felt as deeply for me as I felt for you. When I met Maria I finally learned what familial love was. I was content with just that then she met Frank and Frank was always telling me stories about the smooth talking Billy the beaut. When I met you I never thought I would've fell in love with you. I guess a large piece of my heart will always belong to you. I don't regret it, I just wish things would've been different. I wish you would've just let me go. I know he's moving forward now. He loves Karen even if they're both too scared to admit it but every morning I wake up. I'm reminded I'm the reason they don't and it kills me"

You sat with him for a while long before knocking on the door. The cops gave you everything back and told you to have a good day. They didn't really understand why you came but Mahoney must have told them to not be rude or maybe it was a mutual respect thing despite the rivalry between NYPD and FDNY.

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

When you walked out your phone started ringing. It was Karen's ringtone so you answered on the second ring. "Are you going to be home around nine?" You were a little thrown by her of all people not saying hello. "Why hello Karen. Nice to talk to you and why yes I'll be home at that time"  the hospital visits always put you a little on edge so maybe that was the reason for the extra sass.

She laughed and said "Sorry he's just wanting to know" you knew who she meant. "Oh. Ok. Yeah I'll be there" after the two of you said your goodbyes and she hung up you checked the time. There was still two hours to kill.

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

You were leaning against your kitchen counter nursing your third cup of coffee when a knock at your door nearly made you throw it. You weren't sure why you were so nervous. Hell it was Frank.

You sat your cup down and hollered "I'm coming!" You took a deep breath before finally opening the door. When you opened it he was standing there with his hood pulled up. You managed a smile at seeing him. "Hey" "Hey" you realized he was left standing in the hall so you stepped back quickly "Shit. Sorry please come in"

He walked in and as soon as you shut the door and turned to face him he pulled you into a hug. "I missed you too but I can't really breathe" you managed and he pulled away "Sorry" you smiled "No problem. Um I've got coffee made?" "Sounds good" he nodded so you lead the way into the kitchen. You poured him a cup and handed it to him then waited for him to talk.  "I've been doing some thinking and we've never really talked about that night. What happened between me and Bill" 

You felt your stomach lurch at the memories  "You don't owe me anything Frank. Whatever happened you both survived. That's what counts" he nodded then said "We damn near killed each other" you almost laughed at his words "Yeah I know. I was the one that kept you both alive until Dinah got ambulances there"

He looked up to meet your eyes then "I never did thank you for that did I? I guess I just got used to getting hurt and you patching me up" you shrugged one shoulder "that's what family is for"

You took a sip of your coffee and a part of you hoped he'd stop there but he sat his cup down. "Y/N I've got to tell you the truth" "Ok" you sat your cup down next to his and leaned against the counter staring up at him. "I baited him into that fight. I said horrible shit about you and I've been too damn guilty to face you" "Frank it doesn't matter" you hated knowing he'd felt any guilt. He shook his head "No it does. Y/N.. I called you pathetic and broken and told him killing you would've done the world a favor"

"That would probably hurt if I didn't agree with it. I should've been killed. I wish I would've been" you didn't realize you were crying until Frank wiped a tear from your cheek "C'mon now sweetheart, don't say that. I've lost too much, don't make me think about losing you too. I'm glad he kept you alive. At least he did one thing right" 

"We're family Frank. Me and you are stuck together. Whatever you said to Billy doesn't matter. Don't you dare hold any guilt for that. What you said doesn't change anything and I know you didn't mean it" 

He nodded then said "I'm gonna start checking in with you more. I'm sorry I haven't here lately"  "It's ok Frank. I know you've went through hell" "So have you sweetheart. So have you" 

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

[fizzyginfizz]

Hiii! How are you? So, the other day OUT OF THE BLUE I was i don´t know, having breakfast maybe? and i remebered this part of Quidditch is for Losers which, i know, it's about a child in hospital and it's a horrible situation, but i laughed soo loud:

Her Dad thought about it. “That incident when she was two?”

“With the wheelbarrow, the self-tuning accordion and the chicken?”

“Definitely her.”

“Could have been Percy.”

“Honestly Molly, the chicken was wearing her shoes. She hated those shoes. Dead giveaway.”

“But- “

Ginny had heard enough. “I’m not a squib! Of course I’ve done accidental magic!”

As if to agree, the clock in her Mum’s clutches started whirring. With a pling, plop and two cuckoos, Ginny’s hand spun around and around until it lurched to stop on a brand-new wedge labeled “Not A Squib.”

I love this. I LOOOOVE THIS. I believe that it requires a lot of talent to write funny stuff, and i noticed how you give us these funny moments, and then, when we have our defenses low you punch us with sadness and dispair, and i'm dead. I love it, i said it already i know.

Soooooo... is there anything you can tell us about the nex part? how is it going? How are you feeling about it? :D NO pressure and no obligation to respond, of course. I hope you have a great week!

(oh and i tried translating a part of that chapter to spanish so i could show it to my non-english speaking hp-fans friends and it's sooo hard, it's a good story still, i mean, but it's so much better in english, ugh 🥴🫠)

"Dying is easy - comedy is hard."

-attributed to Edmund Kean, maybe Edmund Gwenn, but probably uttered by the first caveman who bombed a joke.

I can't express just how tickled I am to hear you're still laughing about this stuff over breakfast. Thank you so much! Nothing is ever funny to me the fourth time I read it, so by the time I publish these chapters I have no idea whether the humor works or not. The best comments in the world start with "I laughed at the part…."

I feel like I owe followers of Quidditch is for Losers a big apology because I'm taking so long to update. I don't want to start posting again until I've finished writing the next full arc which takes us to the end of the PoA timeline - about 10-12 chapters. I can tell you Ginny's brothers are still driving her nuts, Harry still triggers a (WTF) blushing response and when Professor McGonagall said Ginny's teachers failed her, she meant it. They will not make that mistake twice. And that's just what's happening on the outside. Ginny is navigating all this with leftover social-emotional-psychological baggage and she can't process her emotions the way she would in canon because she still can't get on a broom without losing her lunch.

I can't promise when I'll get posting, but I do know what it's like to wait for updates and I can promise I'm working on it. I haven't lost passion for this project and I'm excited to share what I have planned (even though I'm looking at it for the 37th time and wondering 'hmmm, funny?'). I'm working through how Ginny's highs and lows weave together - I'm writing and rewriting (and re-rewriting), tossing stuff out, putting stuff back in, worrying about the depressing-uplifting balance. But it's coming along. Soon. Soon-ish. Soon adjacent?

In case you missed it, I did write a young Bill & Charlie piece for Weasleyfest that is a pre-QifL dive into their early brother-ing: Best Brother

And again, thank you, absolutely truly. Your note brightened my day - it means so much to me to know you've enjoyed QifL so far and are waiting for more. I'll try to write faster.

[kyogre-blue]

SS continues. It's kind of bad!

Done with the bridge, Gronder is skipped, and done with Merceus also, so all that's left is two maps of Edelgard, Shambhala and I guess evil Rhea or whatever.

I have to say that I did not initially appreciate just HOW MUCH of the post-skip is copy-pasted. I also checked the chapter list for AM, and it's pretty much entirely the same. We take the same freaking bridge in Alliance territory for some god-forsaken reason, apparently? Even though an Arianrhod map exists? That's going to be interesting in like six months when I get to it.

But while Claude making us do VW by proxy was kind of funny in a stupid way, Gronder is a disaster. I am in genuine awe of how poorly handled that was.

So Gronder takes place off screen. We don't go there AND, get this, the entire month when it would take place is just erased from the calendar. There's no April! They did not even pretend to be putting in some effort here. They just excised the entire month along with the map.

And just thinking about Gronder gives me a headache. What was Claude even doing there? Leicester is specifically a hot mess, and I can't see us killing Lorenz at the bridge improving the situation much. And yet Claude goes off to Gronder and uuuh "disappears." At this point, I'm going to assume that he sent Judith's troops and dumped all that on us because he had already decided to peace out and he went to Gronder purely for the purposes of faking his death. That makes about as much sense as anything else.

Dimitri ghost is also funny. My dude, I still don't know anything about you... please go haunt someone who cares.

Anyway, liveblogging notes:

Catherine says that Alliance nobles are weird but in a good way. You won't find "such big-hearted nobles" elsewhere. This is in reference to Judith (and Claude by extension) helping us.

Shamir considers Judith's spy network to be impressive, given that she had people able to spot Rhea being taken away by the Imperial Army in the chaos of the invasion five years ago.

It's mentioned that aside from Count Gloucester being supposedly devout (doubt), the commoners also support the Knights of Seiros. (Update: this is very funny given that he sends his son to die on our swords for uuuh no particular reason.)

Lord Gwendal's daughter fell in love with Sylvain once lol (Update: Ingrid's version of this is that, at fifteen, Sylvain sought "relentlessly" to involve himself with her.)

The two territories on either side of the Great Bridge of Myrddin are Acheron to the north (the one in Lorenz's paralogue) and Bergliez to the south. That's Caspar's dad, and he's been getting on swimmingly in Edelgard's new regime.

The dark merchant looks like one of the Agarthan mages lol, but the quest to get them to appear gives you a Morfis battalion, so I suppose that's where they're actually from?

Seteth says alcohol has little effect on him.

It's specified that Rhea had disabled the Phantoms and Altered Golems in the Holy Tomb in order to allow the ceremony (of throne-sitting) to take place. It seems that she also didn't create those defenses but rather they came pre-built with the Tomb...? Or maybe Seteth means Seiros (not "Rhea") created them back in the day, who can even tell.

Alois is pretty nice to use. Shamir is consistently useful. Seteth is fine. Hanneman is annoying as hell and had gotten killed way too many times. And Manuela not having physic is a bad joke.

The great bridge is a bit of hilarious mess. We get ambushed by warp reinforcements from Acheron, then Lorenz and his goons show up too. Bye, Lorenz. It's your own fault for dying.

Seteth comments on how some imperial troops were willing to lay down their lives to hold the bridge (Edelgard's crazy fangirl Ladislava), but eh.

Suddenly, Gilbert. He's still alive? He says he's serving Dimitri, who was hiding in Fraldarius territory. We didn't find this out until Gronder in VW. This time, the Kingdom rebels reach out in order to ally with the Church. I wanted to ally, but Seteth wouldn't let me. :(((( Seteth, let me live!!! Enough already! Anyway, instead, we just let them use our new bridge. Which all has some funny implications, since apparently Claude is too shady to ally with but also how did Dimitri's super mysterious force get to Gronder in VW?

Anyway, I guess that's why we don't go to Gronder. But I'm uuuuh confused about why Claude was even there, per the off-screen recap? He didn't ask to use our bridge, so how did he even get to Gronder? And WHY? The Alliance was still massively divided last we checked with them. Sure, we killed Lorenz, but I can't see that making things any less chaotic. Judith gave her forces to us, and even between the church and the alliance, it was always emphasized in VW how outnumbered we were. Why would Claude even go to Gronder? How did he get there......... And now he's uh missing (sus man).

Seriously, did he send us those troops because he decided he wanted to dump the war on us and secretly peace out? Or??

Anyway, Dimitri fucked up Edelgard but also got killed. Bye, we hardly knew ya. We still have a vision of his... ghost?? OK, sure.

Take your pick which is funnier, this or Hilda just kinda seeing him die off screen somewhere, after we beat his ass.

Location card for the ghost scene is "outer city" iirc.

April is just GONE. It doesn't exist! Like, we just don't even get a calendar for it?? What the actual fuck?!

Felix switches between thinking Dimitri was dead all along and thinking he was "alive all this time." Whatever.

Alois says we disguised ourselves as enemy soldiers to sneak in..... Where?? When did this happen? We didn't sneak onto the bridge, and if this is about the strategy for Merceus, we haven't discussed it yet.

Yeah, this is apparently a plan that we just haven't been shown yet, because Shamir says we gave the order to dress all our troops in Imperial armor. News to me!

Update: We can even ask "Disguises?" when we're already on the Merceus approach. Is Seteth claiming his strategy was an order from Byleth while handling everything behind the scenes? And then gaslights by saying it was your idea (that you forgot about)?

For a knight, we pick up Lavandula grass, an herb with tiny purple flowers. Its calming scent relieves stress. You make tea out of it.

Ashe mentions that Dedue is missing, and his death is not actually confirmed. But from what I've been told, his appearance in Enbarr was also cut from SS.

I just realized there's a huge globe in the library. I wonder if anyone's been able to get a good look at what's drawn on it. Seteth sure plays up how he totally does not recognize those ballistic missiles.

Come to think of it, how did Jeritza know that the missiles were coming?

Seteth spells out a plan we sure did not have before. I can't believe they have him both railroading you earlier and also playing up how you're totally such a cool and smart strategist...

[green-crow]

. So being the incredibly smart person that I am I forgot to post day 3 here. I swear I'm usually not this forgetful, but uni is kicking my ass repeatedly and finals haven't even started

Anyway, gonna leave this one here! I had fun writing this one and figuring out some creative ways to introduce woolly howl's abilities and nice synergies with a rider that needs different means of defense rather than regular fighting

Day 3: Full of Colors

“You want me to do what?” Hilda asked while glaring at the dragon rider’s leader.

“It’d be a pretty simple mission, just-” Hiccup tried to reason.

“You want me to retrieve changewing acid. With the twins.” The healer crossed her arms, her glaring not getting any better.

“Well, when you put it like that…” the young berkian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes moving away. “Look, we need more acid soon or our supplies won’t last. And, you and the twins are the only ones available for the job right now.”

Hilda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Boreas, right behind her, merely glanced at the two riders lazily as he rested on the ground, one eye open.

“Can’t Snotlout do it?”

“I need him and Hookfang at the forge, Fishlegs has decoded another part of the dragon eye and-” Hilda raised a hand and stopped him before he started info dumping on her about the dragon eye and all there was to it.

“What about Astrid then? Stormfly and her are far more capable than me when it comes to tracking down dragons” she protested, begging to any god that would listen to save her from that not-so-appealing task.

“She is out with Heather, scouting the nearby islands.” When Hiccup saw Hilda’s mood wasn’t improving, he sighed “Look, I wouldn’t send you out on a mission like this if I didn’t have to. I’m aware Boreas isn’t the best dragon to send out against acid-spilling dragons,” the woolly howl huffed annoyed by the comment, icy wind coming out of its snout “and given what Fishlegs has in mind for the dragon eye… Let’s just say that not having a healer around is probably not the best case scenario. But, we do need the acid, and fast.”

Rationally, Hilda knew that Hiccup was right. That didn’t mean she liked the idea, though. Going out to chase changewings and collect their acid was a tough job on its own, but going with the twins on top of that? She didn’t have anything against them—if anything, they were on rather good terms as long as they didn’t pull any pranks on her. Not to mention, their zippleback gas made the task of finding camouflaged changewings much easier. Yet she knew that mixing those Loki worshippers with acid-spewing dragons and a lack of supervision from someone who could actually infuse some sense into them, would lead to an absolute disaster.

Hilda wasn’t one to complain about her tasks, even if she disliked them. She usually just sighed internally, stayed quiet, and did whatever she had to. But this time she just didn’t have the energy to play along and keep her head down. Of course, it wasn’t like Hiccup knew. What was she going to say? “Sorry I can’t go, I stayed up late working on some antidotes and unguents for the guy we are at war with and his men”? It was hard enough as is to hide her morally-questionable activities from the others, and she already suspected that Heather wasn’t quite sold on her act; refusing to go on expeditions without apparent reason wouldn’t help her cause.

Begrudgingly, the healer mumbled an affirmative that brough some piece to Hiccup, and with a hand gesture she called for her dragon to go with her. They’d need to bring some supplies to the expedition, and if she was going to visit changewing island she figured she’d at least take advantage of the trip as much as she could. Back in her hut, she hid any suspicious documents in her personal chest before preparing her bag and belt. Bottles, a water skin, some gloves, scissors… She yawned as she closed the bag, now with everything she needed (and could find) inside.

“Let’s get this over with, big guy” Hilda set her saddle on Borea’s back, the dragon staying still and letting her rider prepare him for the flight.

“Aw, haven’t started and already want it to end? Hildi, you wound us” a very familiar voice said from the roof of her hut.

“Aren’t you excited? We gong to a changewing hunt!” another one added with enough excitment for the three of them.

“It’s not that chasing around changewings and collecting their acid isn’t my favourite activity of all time…” Hilda replied without looking up, fastening the belt of the saddle “but some of us do have more important things to deal with”

“Like sleep?” the twins flew down to the ground on their zippleback, Barf and Belch greeting Boreas with a playful chirping that her dragon returned with a soft growl. “You look like shit” Ruffnut pointed out.

“Yeah well, that is pretty high up in my priority list, but no” she stifled a yawn and got up on the woolly howl’s saddle. “I’m working on something a bit stronger for Hiccup’s pain, and I need to perfect the dosage”

“Has anyone told you you work too much?” there was a hint of worry in Tuffnut’s voice, which made Hilda smile a bit and forget about her grumpy attitude. It was sweet of them to care, even if she knew there was little to nothing they could do to help her.

“Some times. Now, lead the way. The sooner we get there the sooner I came come back to my desk” The twins did a mocking salute and took off, Boreas following closely.

Thankfully the island wasn’t too far from Dragon’s Edge. And thankfully, there wasn’t any trace of hunter activity. The riders landed on a more secluded section of the island, following Hiccup’s advice to avoid entering changewing territory right away and instead sneaking up on them. The male twin had been whining about the procedure, saying it wasn’t as fun as immediately landing in between a flock, but his sister kept him in check.

Once on land, the real work began.

“Booooooriiiiiing” Tuffnut complained, making Hilda’s irritation grow.

The search for a changewing proved to be harder than usual for some reason. They had followed all the usual steps: look for signs of acid markings, clawing, or discarded scales. If none or few of the usual signs were visible, like in their case, go to the nearest water supply and wait for the dragon to approach the area. Which was what they were forced to do, much to the twins demise. It was a boring, long, and absolutely dreadful process that wore Hilda’s patience thinner and thinner with every passing minute and every comment one of the twins made. The healer tried to pass the time by looking at the few pieces of evidence they had left, wondering why this was happening. It was far too early for that. The twins, back when they were still acting a little bit sane and the lookout had barely begun, had suggested that maybe it had been the hunters’ doing, but Hilda knew that couldn’t be it. Viggo and his men were exploring other locations from what she recalled—their last meeting had been to the west, and from the quick glance she took of the base when she was flying with her dragon, she knew it wasn’t likely they had changed settlements so quickly. Besides, if the hunters had been there, they would have left more than enough traces for the riders to notice later. The twins discarded the theory as she shared her second point, and that’s where the ideas stopped.

“Where in the Hels are they?” Hilda mumbled as she sat back against Boreas, the woolly howl seemingly just as bored out of his mind as the everyone else.

“Beats me” Ruffnut shrugged “Do you have any nerd notes?”

The healer reached into her bag and searched for her the papers she had brought along. She knew they had to be there… Ah, there. A bit wrinkled, but no matter. Fishlegs had prepared plenty of papers with information about different kind of dragons, and as they explored more nearby islands, he added more information regarding specific flocks and what information they had gathered about them. The card format wasn’t big enough to fit all the boy wanted to write down, so instead they switched to using bigger pieces of lose paper, usually available for everyone at the clubhouse. Hilda had made a point to pick up the ones that had anything on the flock that lived in that island, the “tamest” changewings they had encountered yet. She yawned as she scanned the papers, searching for anything that could help locate the dragons.

“21 dragons total, blah blah blah, diet consists of I don’t care… Here!” Hilda pointed at a line from the paper, both twins leaning in to look at the section. “Fishlegs mentions that this specific flock has been seen around a cave in the west side of the area, some members using it as a den to sleep. I mean, changewings aren’t really known for living in dark places, but it’s either cave time or…” she looked around, the river flowing calmly without barely making a sound, no creature but the three of them and their dragons to be seen.

“Cave time it is!” Tuffnut announced as he jumped up, leaving behind his sluggish attitude and bringing back his more energetic side.

Locating the cave wasn’t too hard, given the size of the island. The twins seemed more determined than ever to find the changewings, probably just as desperate to get the mission done as she was. They hadn’t explored the inside of the cave in their first scouting, given they had never had the dying wish of being in a strange closed space surrounded by acidic dragons… But desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, Hilda had come prepared. Once they had checked there were no changewings around the mouth of the cave—zippleback gas proved incredibly useful to spot these dragons even when they were fully hidden, the woolly howl landed softly on the ground, as quietly as possible. The twins landed behind him, looking confused as Hilda rummaged through her bottles.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Belch’s head leaned on her left side, letting its rider look over Hilda’s bottle.

“Gonna heal them to death?” Barf’s leaned on her right, the other twin joining in “Oh oh, are we throwing bottles at them?”

“I was thinking more like…” Hilda found the bottle full of the powder she was searching “induced nap time”

Carefully, Hilda opened the bottle with a pop before sprinkling them on a piece of cloth, slightly damp to make sure the spores would stick but not so much so they would get stuck. She had been toying with the idea for a while, but hadn’t properly tested it quite yet. At least, not in this scale. Following Fishleg’s maps, the cave’s airflow system’s main entrance was that same entrance, which meant this could work. Or at least Hilda hoped it would.

“Alright big boy, let’s do this. Just like we practiced”

Hilda set the cloth over Boreas’ snout, right after the dragon inhaled deeply. Then, the dragon breathed out. Woolly howls had the curious ability to create mist at will if they had a good enough control over their icy breath. Her rider wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but it was similar to how other dragons could hold their breath to light up the dragon eye. Boreas let out a strong, icy wind, that soon turned into a heavy mist, spreading deep into the cave. With the cloth on front of his mouth, the mist had a pale purple tone, with what Hilda hoped was enough dosage to affect whatever dragons resided in the cave. The twins observed the process as the dragon did it a few more times, a hint of curiosity and mischievousness in their eyes. Their friend was sure their heads were already coming up with multiple ways to use this new trick in their pranks.

“…So how do we know if it worked?” Tuffnut asked after a few minutes of nothing much happening.

Hilda was about to answer, but then she hesitated. She hadn’t though about that.

“Want to do the honors?” She asked the Thorstons twins, putting a smile on their faces.

Before she had the chance to regret it, Barf and Belch was already flying past them. Hilda sighed and looked at her dragon, who just huffed in what probably was mild disappointment. “I spent all day watching a river flow, then breathed some air, and now they get the exciting part?” his rider felt like she could read her dragon’s thoughts “I’m never coming to other mission”, he probably grumbled in his mind. Thankfully they didn’t need to wait more, and instead the twins voices resonated through the cave walls.

“YOU GOTTA COME HERE!” the twins shouted.

The healer didn’t know if that was a good news shout or a bad news one. Either way, she got on Boreas’ saddle and the dragon immediately took off, dashing through the increasingly darker cave with great agility. Hilda worried that the darkness would be too much at some point and they’d get lost. But then, she saw something. Hard to notice at first, mere shadows that moved as they flew past, she guessed, yet those turned to be the complete opposite. Bright, colorful splashes of color, hitting the rocks and ceiling of the cave. It made no sense. There was no other entryway, and even if somehow sunlight managed to get in, why were the lights so colorful?

Hilda didn’t need to wait too long to find out. Boreas stopped as they reached the room where the twins were waiting for them. It was beautiful. The changewings were indeed living inside the cave, much calmer about intruders than they had ever been. Some walked around and gently sniffed the newcomers, others simply returned to their naps or crawled around without giving them a second thought. That, Hilda had expected. What she wasn’t ready to see, however, was the nest. There was a section of the cave that turned into a small lake of sorts, probably a deviation from the river above ground that found its way into the subsuelo. But right in the middle, there was a piece of land. A small circle, covered in acid and with eggs resting on top, as if the acidic bed somehow made it a safe place to set them.

“Are those… changewing eggs?” Hilda asked in awe.

The twins were looking at the nest just as amazed as she was—changewing eggs had the fun characterictic of having some sort of recubrimiento that made them glow, as if surrounded by an actual ever-changing changewing’s coat. That, along with the acid and the water, made it so the small light that came from the eggs reflected on both superficies, illuminating the room with a mesmerizing show of lights and colors.

“Forget the nest, why aren’t we dead already?” asked Tuffnut after a few seconds of just staring at their surroundings.

“Oh, right. I made an extract from those fruits Mala used on our dragons once, the ones that calms them down. I thought if Boreas could spread it with his mist to reach these guys, we’d be good to go. …I actually hoped I had added enough to make them sleepy since in larger quantities it can be used as a dragon somnifero, but, this works too” she shrugged non-chalantly, even if inside she felt so incredibly proud that her idea had worked “But, we should still try to collect the acid as soon as possible. I don’t know how long these effects will last”

With that said, the three of them got to work, collecting multiple vials and bottles of acid that the changewings so kindly donated in their drugged state. Once they were done, even if they all knew the sooner they left the better, Hilda couldn’t help but stare at their colorful surroundings once more. Beautiful was far too little to describe the scene. She smiled, knowing Hiccup and Fishlegs would get consumed by jealousy when they heard, and got on her dragon.

[platonicpinotnoir]

I made this blog because I truly had no idea what else I should do exactly other than to continue keeping all my thoughts to myself. And I don't even post here anyway

Well .. I knew it going in that things come and go and that my understanding of various certain things is continuing to evolve.

I was hoping to post more book quotes but in truth i have not been fucking reading LOL.

I haven't made the original posts that I thought I might. I haven't known where to begin.

I could just default onto posting House of Vegeta Fraternal Incest Bait (concept and all of its branches where Vegeta's younger brother Tarble gets wayyyyyyy too fucking close) and then not explain my thoughts or feelings at all. Let it stand as some fandom hogwash and not get into the story at all. Not get into the meanings and messages.

In truth It's been a year and some months with that concept on-and-off and I still don't have a clear story to share. My most recent theory about that is that it's because it was never a story meant for paper, but is rather a form of art in motion that reflects my evolving state.

I say this because I don't understand stories but I've had a few days in a creative writing class and that's enough for me to know that something isn't quite right here. I've never been sure on the theme. I could describe the subject and events in increasingly abstract ways but I never understood the theme. Probably just because I've always struggled with identifying the theme .. I get pretty close, but the definition of the word in my head is wrong, and I've yet to remedy that. I THOUGHT I knew the theme. I thought it was a damning devotion, a failure to establish an individual self, a failure to heal, a failure to follow one's instincts; I thought it was about inappropriate intimacy and the blurry lines when one is already uncertain on what affection is; I thought it was about a beseechment of two and the duet nature of the sexual instinct; I thought it was about the realities of manipulation and how it's by definition based in virtue; I thought it was about madness in the family and the curse of blood. BUT THOSE AREN'T THEMES. And I'm a silly goose

What I DO know:

These characters represent something specific to me

These characters are pre-established characters from a popular media and their specific dynamic has drawn this story out of me

I am seeing something specific and personalized in these characters' dynamic

Sometimes indulging in grotesque stories is thrilling, or otherwise satisfying. The visceral honesty and exposure to the taboo feels essential. Sometimes such stories feel harmful to the self's light, or regressive, or otherwise a waste of time. Sometimes, when the support and proximity of others is felt, it feels downright shameful and ought to be rejected.

There must be a way to reconcile the dark and the light. I can't believe in a world where that isn't a thing. If somebody writes upsetting things because they are upset, that is a vital expression and recognition of the self, but it is only step one, as awareness always is. They must be able to still engage in those matters when they are of a better health, with sensitivity; they can't just eschew it like poison. There must be a way for these two selves to hold hands. Why would someone write about such matters? For comprehension, for answers, for honest sharing? The brighter, more expansive self should be able to continue to engage in those stories; be it because of strength, true reconciliation, a new peace, an interest in recognizing madness in order to prevent it, I don't care - but there must be a negotiation, there must be a way for those two selves to hold hands. A way to gently love the cave-prisoner who needs it. I'm still trying to find that way. As it stands now, "art is art" is a weak defense masking a true weakness when you yourself cannot ascertain and become aware of your purpose.

Um nobody would see any of my posts becasue I am not going to put incest or incest-coded things in the main tags, so only the ones that are Not utilizing that as an explicit catalyst for the madness would get tagged, and well I guess that that's fine. But to be honest the one thing I was always funny on was that, in the off chance that all the wrong people see all the right things... I really don't know how it would end up if weird vegeta-x-tarble-coded drawings started to surface that were in an artstyle strikingly similar to that of ask-tarble. I like that project and I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. One is capable of doing more than one thing with the same characters. In fact, at times, the true serenity and tenderness of the fraternal love possible between them has been important to me. It's a sort of mundane divinity that surpasses healing into nourishing.

Unfortunately, despite what I insisted to myself at the very beginning, I DO think that there is room for overlap between any weird story fit for this blog and ask-tarble. Mostly the dark and irreverent humor. A theoretical ask-tarble future where Tarble manually and deliberately learns how to use the DARVO method, for instance. Or all the jokes possible that poke uncomfortable fun at the way that Tarble looks up to Vegeta, and maybe do really cross a line but that's why it's crucially funny and also you're simply not meant to read much into it (ex: Tarble running a kissing booth that costs money but he tells Vegeta that he'll give him a "family discount.")

Ah whatever. Feels good to post. Welcome to my twisted ankle. DMs / ask box always open

[ante--meridiem]

Coming back to this post (thank you for writing it out for me btw!) because I'm currently in the "research martial arts around me" phase actively looking to start one soon.

Anyway, regarding what I'm looking for:

Without doxxing myself I'm currently living in a fairly large city (largest city I've ever lived in by far excluding visits to relatives) so while the main things available that are actually close to me appear to be Taekwondo (already tried, leaning towards trying something new), Aikido (most tempting atm) and Karate (no strong appeal) I could probably find pretty much anything somewhere in the city.

I'm under no illusion that the amount of training I'm willing to put in here has any chance of making me actually good at self defense and am aware of the general warning that overconfidence in that direction from having had training is more dangerous than any edge it might give you will compensate for.

Fitness and discipline are closest to what I'm looking for! I did Taekwondo for a while as a teenager and the combination of intensity with having actual skills to learn so you didn't just feel like you were doing the same thing over and over appealed a lot to me.

More specifically beyond general fitness I would like to. Well. To put it the most cringy way possible I would like to not have a negative dexterity stat in real life basically. Both in terms of increasing control over my body in personal exercises and improving reflexes in real time sparring type scenarios (in general, any kind of training that could improve my ability to process A Lot Of Stuff Coming At Me Fast would be good for me I think).

I'm not going to be doing this competitively and socially would really, really rather not deal with a bunch of aggressive macho competitiveness.

I'm basically neutral on tradition. I don't get the same annoyance from being asked to use honourifics as you do but it doesn't hold any special appeal to me either.

"Empirically the best martial art to win a fight" is certainly not a minus but not a very strong plus either, since I don't really expect to get to a point where I could win real fights anyways.

No striking is certainly a plus! I do indeed enjoy not getting brain damage. In fact one of the appeals of Aikido from among the close to me options is semi/no contact-ness, which seems ideal to me since as mentioned I don't expect to learn practical fighting skills, care more about reflexes/control/dexterity, and prefer not getting injured.

When it comes to sports my ego comes pre-dissolved lol, I already know I'm likely to be naturally below average. (Which is why I don't want macho competitiveness; I am a naturally competitive person but I don't want that side of me activated in a context I expect to be bad at. 'Everyone expects you to fail a lot and won't judge too hard' is much more my preference here.)

Being short and as previously mentioned not exactly naturally talented at sport, "small and skilled can win" definitely has appeal for me (even though I talked a lot about not expecting to be good at it. I won't deny that I do always enjoy when I can in fact be good at things.)

That said "if their brain can't get oxygen, they go to sleep" is somewhat concerning to me here because I've heard a lot about the dangers of choking people and if that's involved to the point of making people pass out it seems like it would counteract any decrease in risk from "no strikes = you don't get brain damage"

Trying to sell @ante--meridiem on BJJ

So, there are a few caveats here, and a few questions you might want to ask yourself before deciding to take advice from anybody (myself included) on which martial arts you might want to do.

Firstly, what are you hoping to get out of it? Secondly, what do you realistically have access to?

There are a bunch of different answers to the first question and they suggest different martial arts to try. You might be interested in self defence, you might be interested in discipline, you might be interested in community, you might be interested in fitness, the list goes on and on, and the truth is probably some combination thereof.

The second question also matters for obvious reasons. Bjj is great but, realistically speaking, it also attracts a certain type of personality that can make environments pretty toxic. A lot of bjj gyms are really good. The ones near you might not be so good, and that's not a reflection on the practice itself per se, but it is a realistic factor in your decision making process.

I'll start off with some things that bjj will not offer you and if you are interested in them you might want to choose a different practice.

Tradition - If you're after a long lineage of master/ sensei/ shifu/ guru whatever, you're not going to find it here. The sort of "you must call me by this title of honour" is indicitive of the sort of toxicity I mentioned earlier. I'm not a fan, my instinctive response is to say "and would my lord like me to gargle his balls while I'm at it?" and this is why I hope I'm never summoned to court. But moving on. Other people do like these sorts of relationships and find a lot of meaning in them. They are not common in bjj circles. You probably will see teachers list who they got their black belt under going back to either Helio Gracie or Mitsuyo Maeda, and this is a sign that they know what they're talking about on paper - the real sign you want to look for though is if they can actually do the things they say they can.

Quick Progression - This is a relative term. The long and the short of it is: bjj only has 5 belts (this isn't true - but for practical purposes, it's true) and you get one of them just by showing up. Belt progression is White -> Blue -> Purple -> Brown -> Black. Compare this to Taekwondo which, if I recall correctly goes White -> Yellow Stripe -> Yellow -> Green Stripe -> Green -> Blue Stripe -> Blue -> Red Stipe -> Red -> Black Stripe -> Black. So there are at least twice as many belts, and moreover you pass through them a lot quicker. The average time it takes to get a black belt in Taekwondo, or at least the time you can roughly expect to get one with consistent practice is about 3 years. The time it takes in bjj is 10 years. This lack of material reward can be disincentivising. It's not uncommon to feel like you're hitting a plateau (often, safe, and extremely well).

The whole picture of martial arts - bjj is a grappling art. And it's (in my biased opinion) the best grappling art, but it's not more than that. Realistically, if you want to Be Good At Fighting, you need to know how to strike, and how to handle strikes. Bjj will not teach you this, because it is not in its wheelhouse.

But now onto the what it will offer you and if you are interested in these things, I don't think there's another practice that does them as proficeintly.

No striking!! - A drawback if you want the full picture, yes. A massive win if you don't want brain damage.

Best by test - So, I'm well aware that this is the empiricism circle of tumblr.edu, and that was sort of the goal of the original UFC. Or the idea behind its inception was: hey, what if we just put all the fighting styles against each other in a real combat scenario with as few rules as possible? Who would actually win? And it turns out, bjj would actually win. Now, it's more complicated than that, and as the years go by there are layers of nuance that need to be added. But basically, grappling is almost certainly a majority of the picture of complete martial arts, and bjj is still the best grappling practice on offer.

Competence - I expect you'd get this from any martial art and it is not unique to bjj. But oh my god. It's so cool when people can just do the things they say they can. It feels like magic. One of the real selling points of having such a slow progression is that you don't find legitimate higher belts who are not legitimately insanely good at what they do. This is, unfortunately, something I found with Taekwondo... There are black belts who you could probably beat in a fight just by being much stronger or quicker than them. A taekwondo black belt just means a lot less than it might.

You don't have to hold back - no striking means that when you spar, it's pretty much a full on real match. You get to know, intimately, whether you would have won or lost if you were really trying - because you are really trying. This does a great job of disolving a lot of ego because, more often than not, you will lose. You're new, you're going against people who know much more than you, you're just not going to win for the first few months, and that's okay. But the feeling of, "hey, this guy just beat me, and if that was for real, I know deep down that there is nothing I could do to stop him" is a feeling that takes a while to get to grips with. If you can experience that in a safe and controlled setting, it's an experience I recommend.

This is as close to a david and goliath sport as can exist in martial arts - take this with a grain of salt. The best bjj player in the world is Gordon Ryan who is a 6'2" 110kg steroided up brick wall of a man. It turns out that being bigger and stronger is just pretty much always helpful in a combat scenario. But bjj is as close to a real reversal of that as there is in combat sports. The smaller opponent really can win in these situations! Now, I'm 6'0", strong, fairly capable, but I went to an open mat once where a 5'2" girl tapped me out what must have been 10 times in a row with barely any effort. This is where the art comes in. It doesn't matter how big or how strong someone is, if their brain can't get oxygen, they go to sleep.

Anyway, I feel like I've ranted enough here. Do bjj! Talk to me about it. If you have any other questions I'd be really happy to get into them with you.

[generallybrontidefeelings]

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

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

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

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

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

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

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

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

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

[pftones3482]

One of the commissions I'm doing for @randomfandomfan ft Hurt/Comfort Adrinino. Find it on my AO3 here.

Set post Rocketear and pre any kind of romantic relationship (tho it's hinted at). This was already a fic I wanted to write, and one of the prompts they sent me fit the concept almost perfectly, so I ran with it.

Under a cut for length.

~~

“It’s your fault.”

Nino jumped about a foot in the air, whirling from where he’d been shutting his door with his phone pointed menacingly at the source of the voice. His backpack smacked him in the hip, knocking him off kilter, and he stumbled, bracing himself on the doorknob. His eyes scanned the room slowly, shoulders easing when he didn’t spot anyone. “Hello?”

“What are you, dense, kid?” scoffed the voice again, from right in front of him, and Nino squeaked at an embarrassing pitch when he registered the Kwami floating there.

The Kwami.

The Kwami.

A black cat Kwami.

Nino dropped his defensive (if somewhat undignified) stance, staring at what was definitely Chat Noir’s Kwami. “Um. You’re not supposed to be here.”

The cat’s eerily green eyes rolled. “Wow. Intelligent.”

Nino spluttered, feeling awkward. “W-Well I’m sorry, dude, how do you expect me to react!” he demanded, throwing his hands up in the air. Something like ice settled in his gut as the Kwami’s existence finally clicked. “W-Wait, why are you here? What happened?”

“You happened,” the Kwami snapped, and uh. Okay. Not what Nino wanted to hear right now.

“What?”

“YOU. Do you have any idea how much you upset him? How much you hurt him the other day? He won’t say it, Nino, but he’s hurting. He’s been hurting, and you unloaded on him and beat him and told him how awful he was and if you weren’t his best friend and I didn’t think you were the only one who could help right now, you’d be in a pile of rubble.”

Um.

Holy shit.

Nino had never heard a Kwami so pissed. Wayzz could get a little condescending sometimes, and Ladybug had admitted that her Kwami could be a little snarky (as could Trixx, as Alya had confirmed time and time again). But never had he seen a Kwami literally shaking in rage.

He’d be more terrified if the cat’s words weren’t sinking in.

“Hang on, hang on, dude,” Nino said, crossing his arms in an “x” through the air. “Is this about Rocketear? I apologized, I-I thought me and Chat were okay. Also like, I respect the guy, but he has no idea who I am, dude, we’re not best friends.”

“Had,” the cat spit out. “He had no idea who you were.”

Nino’s stomach swooped out from under him and he gripped his desk chair tightly to keep from tripping. “What?”

The Kwami gave him a smug, if not irritated, smile. “You told him yourself.”

“D-During…when I was fighting him?” Nino squeaked. “N-No, I saw the footage, I didn’t tell him I’m Carapace!”

The cat softened. “Before, Nino. Before you were akumatized.”

“I didn’t-”

“Of course, when Ladybug appears, he throws himself to her feet with roses and love confessions!”

Fuck.

“But he is always rejected, because Ladybug thinks that he’s annoying. And she is COMPLETELY right!”

Oh, fuck.

“I know because I’m also a superhero. I’m Carapace.”

“Shit.”

Nino fumbled for his desk chair, sinking into it hard and banging his elbow on the back. The pain was almost numbing. He put his head in his hand, pushing his hat back off his head and staring blankly at the wall.

“Oh my god, dude, I-?”

“Yeah.”

The Kwami sounded almost sad this time, and that, somehow, was worse than him threatening to kill Nino.

He didn’t really remember being akumatized, until the end, when Alya broke him from Shadowmoth’s hold. And despite warnings from his friends, he’d watched the footage from his akumatization. Even without Alya recording, someone usually was, and the footage was always online by the end of the day.

He knew what he’d done to Chat Noir.

He’d seen the way he dropped his baton, a sign of surrender. The way Rocketear hadn’t hesitated to push him back with everything he had, pounding him again and again and again into that van, how he’d grabbed him by the head and slammed him backwards like-

“Nino!”

The Kwami’s paw was gentle on his wrist and Nino shuddered, scrubbing at his eyes furiously and dislodging his glasses. “Oh my god, oh my god, where is he?” he choked out. “I-I need to find him right now, Kwami dude, I-I can’t believe I-”

“Plagg,” the Kwami offered, his scratchy voice easing Nino from his panic. “And it wasn’t you, kid.”

“B-But it was, that’s the worst part,” Nino whispered, standing and pacing now. “I hated him, I hated him so much I – oh my god, he tried to tell me.” He laughed, bitter, holding his hands together behind his head. “He tried to tell me Alya and Chat didn’t have a thing and I-”

“Nino,” Plagg interrupted. “He’s on the roof.”

Nino stopped, blinked at him. “He’s what.”

Plagg nodded upwards, his antenna bobbing. “On the roof. Been there every night for the last week.” His voice lowered. “He wanted to talk to you, but he’s too scared.”

“He’s on the…he’s on my roof?”

Nino scrambled around his room, grabbing a jacket and an extra hoodie before reaching out, snatching Plagg, and shoving him into his hat. He froze a millisecond later. “Um. Please don’t cataclysm me for that, dude.”

Plagg’s chuckle was more like a purr. “Please. As if I’d need to use all that on just you.”

Nino supposed he should be insulted, but with everything he now knew, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was nearly one am – he’d been out late studying with Alya – so now he crept from his room and to the front door, hopeful not to wake his family. Grabbed his key off the hook by the entrance, and then eased the apartment door shut behind him.

It was only one flight up to the roof access, usually locked, but Nino had come up here with Alya more times than he could count, so he knew that if you wiggled the lock just right, it would come undone on it’s own. They’d oiled the hinges ages ago so that it didn’t scream every time it was opened, and now it was silent as Nino pushed it up and stared over the flat top.

Adrien was silhouetted in the moonlight, precariously close to the edge, and it made Nino’s breath hitch. He pushed the door all the way open and clambered up onto the roof as quietly as possible, easing the hatch shut again before turning back to his best friend and slumping.

Best friend.

God, how could he have-?

“You didn’t know,” Plagg whispered, gentler than Nino had expected him to be. The Kwami zipped from his hat, hovering in the air next to him, and he offered Nino a grim smile. “I might hate you a little right now for what you did to him, but you didn’t know, kid.”

Nino let out a shaky breath and started the trek over to his friend, fiddling with his extra sweatshirt. The night air was chill, and he was glad he’d brought it – Adrien was in nothing but short sleeves.

“All week, huh?” he murmured, watching as Adrien jumped a little, fingers tightening on the edge of the roof. “Could’ve just called, dude.”

Adrien twisted, lips parting. “How did you know I was-?”

His eyes landed on Plagg and a squeak slipped from his mouth as his hand shot to his shirt pocket. It wouldn’t have been funny if he hadn’t gone so pale.

So Plagg hadn’t told him he was telling Nino. Interesting.

“Y-You can’t-! You told-?”

“You’ve been here all week, Adrien,” Plagg snapped. “You weren’t gonna tell him, I was. You need a cheese in your corner.”

Nino had no idea what that meant, but he couldn’t stop staring long enough to care.

Adrien’s eyes were tired. There was no glint in them. The circles under his eyes were deep – he must’ve been wearing makeup to school, because Nino hadn’t seen them until now. His hands were trembling, his lips were bitten raw, and Nino felt his entire heart shatter.

“I am…so sorry,” he choked out, tears spilling over. Adrien jolted, turning his gaze from Plagg to him.

“Nino-”

“No, dude, no, I-I-I…I don’t care that I didn’t know. I should never have said those things, I should never have hurt you like that, oh my god dude, I hurt you so bad, I like could have killed you, a-a-and…”

He froze, reeling, and stumbled back. Adrien got to his feet warily, holding his hands up. “Nino?”

“You were gonna let me.”

He wanted it disproved, but Adrien’s flinch told him everything. His chest seized and Nino choked on his breath. “You were gonna let me, you would’ve fucking let me, you fucking asshole how could you? Do you have any fucking idea how much I care about you dude?”

He shoved Adrien without thinking, hands firm against his shoulders, pushing him back and away from the edge. Adrien’s eyes were wide, lip trembling, and Nino pushed him again, closer to the center of the roof, this time forcing the sweatshirt into his grasp. Adrien clung to it, lips parted, and Nino dragged his hands through his hair, pacing as Adrien shrugged the sweatshirt on. He’d left his hat downstairs, he registered somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Oh my god,” he choked out. “I-I…I’m so sorry dude. I’m so sorry, your dad, and then school, and modelling and your stupid model diet and then you’re a literal superhero and I’m supposed to be your best friend and I didn’t even…”

“You weren’t saying them about me,” Adrien whispered. “I know that.”

Nino spun to face him, vision blurry. “If you knew that you wouldn’t have been on my roof every night for the last week working up the nerve to talk to me. If you knew that you wouldn’t have thrown down your weapon and let me beat you to-”

He cut himself off with choked cry and he rushed at Adrien, clinging to him with a force he didn’t know he possessed. He cradled his friend’s head gently, heart sinking for a moment until he felt Adrien’s hands lift to settle tentatively on his back.

“I don’t hate you,” he whispered into Adrien’s ear. Nino swallowed, throat aching. “I don’t hate you, and I don’t hate Chat Noir. I was mad. A-And that’s not an excuse for what I said, and I’m so sorry. I’ve never hated Chat Noir, dude. He was always my favorite. I just…”

“You were upset,” Adrien finished, soft.

“Jumped to conclusions,” Nino corrected. “I was jealous of Alya keeping stuff from me, and I jumped to conclusions, and I hurt you, shit I-I hurt you, I-”

“I’m okay, Nino. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Nino croaked, tightening his grip. Something in him breathed easier when Adrien tightened his own back, harder, his shoulders starting to shake. “It’s not okay, I love you, dude. Don’t do that for me. Don’t ever stop fighting back when it’s your life at stake, I-I can’t…”

Adrien’s grip clenched in his hoodie and suddenly Nino’s neck was wet with tears. Nino carded his fingers through Adrien’s hair, turning his head just slightly to press his lips against his temple. “Talk to me, dude,” he whispered. “I’m here now, you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

“You can’t tell, Nino,” Adrien croaked. “I mean it, not even Alya. Y-You can’t. Promise me.”

“Hey.”

He pushed Adrien back, gentle, and cupped his cheeks, swiping away the tears on his skin. “I promise,” he said firmly, staring Adrien in the eyes to show he meant it. “This is too big to tell, dude.”

“You told me-”

“I trusted you,” Nino said, squeezing Adrien’s shoulders. “I was pissed, and I knew I trusted you more than anyone, and I knew you wouldn’t say anything. A-And I was wrong, dude. I shouldn’t have told Alya’s identity. Mine is one thing, but that wasn’t okay. But man, dude, you have it rough as it is, without anyone knowing you’re a superhero. I’m not telling, dude.”

Adrien swallowed, throat bobbing, and glanced behind Nino, where he presumed Plagg was floating. Plagg must have indicated something, because he slumped and gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Nino.”

Nino shook his head. “Don’t thank me. D-Don’t…not after that.”

Adrien’s hands were on his cheeks now, fingers freezing. “Hey. It wasn’t you. You might’ve been mad, but it wasn’t you. It was Shadowmoth amplifying those emotions, and you beat him. You beat him, Nino. I’m…so proud of you for that,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Nino pulled him in again, arms clinging to his back and his nose pressed into the hood of Adrien’s borrowed sweatshirt. “I’m proud of you too, dude,” he said. He felt Adrien’s grip tighten on his back. “No one ever says it. I’m proud of you. And I’m-”

“If you say sorry one more time,” Adrien croaked, laughter behind his tears, “I will personally dangle you off the Eiffel Tower by your shield.”

Nino chuckled and stepped back, tugging Adrien’s wrists gently. “Come inside,” he pleaded. “It’s cold out.”

Adrien glanced behind his shoulder, teeth worrying at his lip. “I should get home,” he said. “It’s late.”

“Then they won’t notice,” Nino said, pulling him a step further. “C’mon, dude. You’ve been by yourself for so long. I wanna hear about being Chat Noir.”

Adrien looked back to him, lips parted. The glint in his eyes was illuminated by the surrounding buildings, and something in Nino’s stomach twisted in a way he wasn’t going to question at the moment. “Really?”

“You kidding? Of course, dude.”

Adrien’s mouth slid into a tiny smile now, head tilting in that puppy-dog way only he could pull off. “Yeah. Y-Yeah, I’d like that. If you’re sure it’s-”

Nino knelt down and lifted the roof access cover, climbing onto the ladder and looking back up at Adrien with what he hoped was an inviting grin. “Dude. Just get inside already.”

Sneaking back in was harder than sneaking out, only because now he had another person in tow, but they managed to get back into his room without waking anyone (even after their quick excursion to the kitchen for a block of sharp cheddar, because Plagg was whiny). Nino shut off all the lights in his room except his desk lamp, leaving the soft glow to illuminate the corner and moving to his bed.

Adrien hesitated at the foot of it, fiddling with the sweatshirt strings on Nino’s hoodie (and Nino was ignoring how much he liked that image, that was something he could confront in the morning). “Um.”

Nino rolled his eyes and held out an arm. “Come cuddle, bro. And tell me about being the hottest bachelor in Paris.”

That got a snort from his friend, and Adrien crawled into the bed next to him, flopping against Nino’s side and leaning his head against his shoulder as Nino tucked an arm around him. “I thought I was the hottest bachelor in Paris.”

“Oh my god, you and your alter ego literally are competing for the same spot, that’s so fucking funny,” Nino cackled, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake Chris next door.

Adrien chuckled and then fell quiet, and Nino traced a circle on his arm, feeling the mood shift. “Wanna talk about what’s been going on with you and Ladybug?”

“How did you-?”

“It’s pretty obvious when you’re working directly next to the two of you. And especially now that I know it’s my best bro behind the mask? What’s up?”

Adrien went still again, and then rolled over, pressing his face into Nino’s shoulder. “Can we talk about that tomorrow?” he mumbled. “I’d rather just…hang out, for now.”

Nino tightened his grip, focused on the ceiling, and tried to quell the racing thoughts in his mind. “Of course, dude. Of course.”

Adrien’s breathing evened out, and Nino had a feeling he probably wasn’t heading home anytime soon. He didn’t care, just shifted to put his phone and glasses on his nightstand and then rolled over to hold his friend closer, smiling thinly when he instantly clung back.

Plagg was curled up on the pillow above Adrien’s head, and his cat eyes blinked sleepily as he studied Nino. “Thanks, kid.”

Nino loosened a hand and reached up, scratching the cat on the head, fully prepared to lose a finger. To his surprise, Plagg just purred and nudged up into the touch. “Thanks for breaking the rules for him,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry I put both of you through that.”

“You’re a good kid, Nino,” Plagg said, yawning and curling his tail around himself. “Stupid, but good. Wayzz likes you for a reason.”

The Kwami went quiet and started snoring, leaving Nino to flush at the compliment, run his fingers through Adrien’s hair, and fall asleep with a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

[the-crimson]

Foolish, DreamXD, and the Egg

Ok I had a realization in my last post that I have to expand upon.

It was revealed during the Egg arc that Foolish was once a god (demigod?) of death and undying but he’s changed his ways and turned his destructive hands towards creation, vowing to never take a life again. I can’t remember what stream but I specifically remember Foolish touting that he has no player kills on this server, even going into the settings to prove it. This was after the Red Banquet I believe when the Egg tried to get him back into the killing game. He was a pacifist who put a very violent past behind him in exchange for creation.

DreamXD on the other hand, I theorize was a god of creation and neutrality before he interacted with Dream, check out this post for more ramblings about my theory. The malice and apathy of a mortal soured DreamXD’s peaceful neutrality into a being of malevolence and destruction. He actively tortures mortals in there dreams, mainly Badboyhalo for unknown reasons, and encourages violence in his followers.

Foolish and DreamXD have had reverse character arcs to reach the points they are at right now.

Like, holy frickity frack that’s dope.

What I find fascinating about this is the projection of there relationship since Foolish started building the statue. Everything Foolish does while building the statue is to grasp the carrot DreamXD is holding on a stick.

Foolish is very vulnerable right now. He is in denial about his death during the Red Banquet and was essentially coerced into joining Las Nevedas who is being run by someone who is dealing with their own trauma tail spin. Foolish is not in a position where he feels safe. Then comes along a god who promises to grant him more godly power than he already has - which has proved to be insufficient at protecting him or others, see the red banquet. It makes sense Foolish would latch onto this opportunity to grasp more power, to the point of essentially renouncing his pacifist ways. One of the first things Foolish does when he learns DreamXD likes seeing people die and snorting their souls is straight up murdering Walibear, several times.

The Egg couldn’t get Foolish to break his pacifist ways but DreamXD could for essentially the same promise: power.

The circumstances aren’t even that different either. The Egg wanted to use Foolish as a pawn in a grander game of chess to spread its influence all over the server. DreamXD saw Foolish potentially building a statue for him (Foolish was debating turning the statue into someone else when DreamXD first logged on and made the deal) and offered Foolish power in exchange for spreading his influence across the server... and... you know... building him a dope ass statue.

Now, what are the differences between the two? The Egg literally took one of Foolish’s, a totem of UNDYING, canon lives. They were clearly up to no good with all the mind control and murder. But DreamXD isn’t much better. The first time they really spoke, DreamXD smote Foolish with lightning for like ten minutes straight for calling DreamXD a dick and it was hilarious. DreamXD is clearly a sadist and enjoys watching mortals suffer.

The reason Foolish accepted the deal with DreamXD is because he was already thoroughly broken by the Egg.

If DreamXD made this offer to pre Red Banquet Foolish, I am not so sure he would have accepted so readily. In the defensive state Foolish is in, it makes sense he would accept a deal from DreamXD for more power. All XD was asking for was a statue and to spread word. That isn’t too bad and he was already several days into building the statue.

Then, DreamXD starts talking to him in his mind and Foolish can’t help remembering the egg... but this feels different, less oppressive. They are just talking, getting to know each other. XD isn’t asking or demanding anything and they start developing a friendship of sorts. XD is adamant that Foolish is his pet and I can’t help wonder if Foolish considered whether or not being a god’s pet was better than the Egg’s favorite puppet soldier.

Then Foolish kills for DreamXD without a second thought.

Did he really escape the egg’s influence only to be caught on another god like being’s leash?

Did he realize what he’d done?

Then DreamXD restores Foolish as a True demigod of Undying and when XD tells Foolish to kill Eryn, there is no hesitation. Foolish battles him with unrestrained glee.

In the end... the egg got what it wanted. To revive Foolish, the Totem of Death and Undying.

[Part 2] [Part 3]

[honey-boyyoongi]

Pairing ➪ Y/n x Yoongi | Y/n x Jungkook

Word count ➪ 3.1k

Warning ➪ not beta read; angst; I am sorry in advance

Previous Fic Masterlist

-

Jungkook has been laying on your lap for what seems, hours. You haven’t spoken to him in a year, maybe a little more. A ‘hi’ here and there when Mrs. Jeon invites you, and Yoongi to events. You can never say no to her. Slowly, you start noticing Sooyoung showed up less, and less. Jungkook always gave the excuses, ‘She’s not feeling well’, ‘Sooyoung has a work project she has to get done’, ‘Her friend is having a baby, and she’s the birthing partner’, ‘She’s housesitting for her brother’. They never seemed to stop. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were understanding, but visibly disappointed. As far as everyone knew, everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Your mother told you it was about children. Jungkook wanted children, but Sooyoung was not sure if she ever wanted to be a mother. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting children, and not wanting the commitment of it. But they wanted different things.

What Jungkook never told his parents was how messy it was. The harsh words, the long nights, large amounts of tears shed on both ends, and the feelings of failure. Jungkook wanted to make it work. He wants to believe Sooyoung wanted to make it work. Within the week Sooyoung had moved into her co-worker’s place, at the end of the month the papers were signed, by four months the divorce was final, and Sooyoung had accepted a transfer to a sister location across the country. It was fine for a while, at least Jungkook tried to convince himself it was fine. The days felt long, dreary.

He tried to get back into painting, boxing, and other hobbies he had pre-Sooyoung. He started hanging out with friends more, Namjoon was more than happy to catch up over some beers from his favorite brewery. He even started talking to Yoongi more. They were work partners, regardless of that, their chatter never went past the needed communication to complete the necessary work. Jungkook started slowly, asking Yoongi if he wanted a coffee while he got his own. Inviting him to lunch with Namjoon. Even making jokes here, and there. It’s not what it was before, but they’re getting there.

He moved out of the apartment that him, and Sooyoung shared. It was difficult, but he’ll make this new space home. It’s definitely smaller than his previous apartment. Cozier, he wants to say. Jungkook fills it up with art that had been put in storage, his salvaged knick knacks, pictures with his friends and family. His parents gift him new kitchenware. His older brother helps paint. Namjoon gives him some new plants to care for, and Yoongi comes over to assemble some furniture because ‘you need the help kid’. A few weeks post-divorce, he feels good, normal. He’s out with his mom at the mall when he finally sees her.

He wants to say she’s more beautiful than he remembers, but all he can focus on is the bump she has. His mom catches his line of sight, “Oh, look at my Yn-ie. She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” He nods in response. “She’s eight months now, Mrs. Min says it’s a girl. They’re so excited, Hyeri says Yoonie has been talking non-stop about the baby,” his mother chatters. She talks his ear off about the Min baby. The name, the nursery, heck even the baby shower the moms threw as a surprise. He’s happy for her, for them. He ignores the ache in his chest the rest of the outing.

His mother, bless her heart, goes up to Y/n. Asks how she’s doing, how baby min is doing. “Surprisingly energetic,” she jokes, “Yoongi says she gets it from him, but this is the same man that knocks out if he gets comfortable enough on anything.”

While his mom is chatting Y/n up, he takes her in. She cut her hair to a lob, waves a little more defined. Her smile lines are a little more prevalent. Eyes sparkling, a bit tired looking, the baby must be giving her a hard time if it’s kicking up a storm in there. She rubs her belly in comforting motions, as she talks with his mom. He can’t help admiring her features.

“What do you think, kookie?”

Jungkook stared at his mother, and Y/n, “I’m sorry what?”

His mother sighed, “He’s been like this for a bit, sweetie. Nothing sweetheart.”

They keep chatting about the baby. He tells his mom he has to finish his errands. She waves him away with a ‘be careful’ and ‘love you’. Y/n waves goodbye with a shy look. They walk slowly to the nearest bench, his mother’s hands waving around as she speaks.

He doesn’t know how he gets to Y/n’s house. One drink turned into three then six and a half. All doubles, of course. The bartender could tell he was drowning his sorrows, and promptly cut him off as he was ordering his seventh drink, but instead of a double a triple. His angel of a bartender helped him order an Uber to the nearest place he could remember. Once he arrived at the apartment complex, he made the very unsteady way to Yoongi’s and Y/n’s apartment. He knocked on the door heavily. It felt like a long time until Y/n answered.

She looked so pretty. In her cute little pj’s, belly accentuated by the soft material. Her cheeks a little rosy from the effort of walking at this point in her pregnancy.

Surprise filled her face, “Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

He pouts, swaying a bit as he tries to find his footing, “I.. I miss you. It’s been hard these last few months without you.”

“Are you drunk,” Y/n asks worried.

Jungkook hiccups in response, “In my defense, the nice bartender lady cut me off.” Y/n sighs, she could call Mrs. Jeon to come get Jungkook. But she doesn’t want her to see him this inebriated. The feelings of the divorce probably caught up with him and were too overwhelming. Y/n doesn’t know what to do, but decides to take care of Jungkook like she used to.

Y/n takes his hand, and gently guides him to the large side of the L-shape couch. She avoids putting any of Jungkook’s weight on herself while gently, as gently as she can place a drunk man, sitting him. She coaxes Jungkook to slowly drink a full glass of water to sober up, with little difficulty thank goodness. After a moment or two of adjustment on the couch that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, Y/n settles next to Jungkook. It would be better to be closer to him, as to avoid the unavoidable struggle that movement seems to have these days.

Jungkook must be finding it difficult to sit upright, as he ends up laying down. Feet dangling on the edge, head on the available part of your lap, his face looking away from your belly. He starts to hum quietly, nothing specific really, it’s calming.

“Can you pet my hair, please,” Jungkook mumbles. Y/n nods, “Sure. Your hair has gotten long, I like it. It suits you.”

Jungkook slurs, “Thanks, Sooyoung hated it long. Said it made me look messy.” She hummed in distaste, “She also hated anything that wasn’t to her liking. I’ve missed you too Kook. It’s been weird not having you around.”

He snuggles deeper into her lap finding comfort in her warmth, “I know. You don't know how much I’ve been wanting to call you, and just tell you all the things that happened.”

Y/n nudges Jungkook up, she settles more comfortably into her spot and nudges Jungkook back down. He decides he’s no longer satisfied with looking at the wall in front of him, and with the most grace he can muster he turns to face Y/n’s belly. If he was sober enough he could’ve seen the pink rising in her ears. He grabs her hand and places it back on his head to keep receiving his favorite head scratches. Maybe it’s the whiskey, but he feels like he’s having a staring contest with Y/n’s belly. He’s strangely okay with that, until he feels the (surprisingly) hard kick of baby min on his cheek.

Jungkook lets out a groan, and follows it up with an antagonistic soft poke at the spot the kick came from. “Your kid isn’t even here yet and it’s already bullying me,” he sighs. “You’re supposed to be nice to your elders,” he tells her. Y/n giggles, “She’s a kicker. Sometimes she’ll wake me up in the middle of the night. I don’t know where she got this energy from. My mother in law says her boys weren’t too rowdy, and mom says I wasn't a kicker, but more of a crier. So that’s something to look forward to.”

Jungkook laughs, he wants to say she still is. He looks up at her, “Is it okay if I touch your belly?” Y/n is a little shocked. The few times he’s seen her, he’s never mentioned anything about her pregnancy. She wants to question him, but decides against it. She gives him a soft nod, and guides his hand to her belly. “Be gentle,” Y/n tells him.

Jungkook moves his hand in small, soft circles. Making quiet noises of contentment. A few minutes of silence pass by with no words exchanged. It feels comfortable, even a little nostalgic to how things were pre-marriages. “Kids,” Jungkook says.

“What?” Y/n asks.

“We divorced over kids,” he says more firmly, “Sooyoung wasn’t sure if she wanted kids. You already know I wanted them. We couldn’t come to an agreement of when we would start trying. She wanted to wait because she was up for a promotion at work, and she didn’t want to pass it up by staying home with the kids. I told her I was okay being at home with them, the good thing about my job is that I can work from home, if needed. I could be the stay at home dad, be part time until we were comfortable enough to put them in daycare and go back to full time. She said she’d think about it.”

He sniffles, and buries his face into Y/n’s belly. She starts to caress his hair to comfort him, “It’s okay, take your time.”

Jungkook sniffled a bit more, rubbing little circles on her belly with his thumb, “She said we would talk more about it. A little before you got married we talked about it again, but she kept saying she can’t do her job and be pregnant. I told her she wouldn’t do it herself, I would help her. We were a unit. She refused to talk about it after that. Any time I wanted to have a talk about it, it turned into something bigger and ugly. A few months ago I mentioned that mom had told me you were pregnant.” He paused for a moment, wondering if it was appropriate to go on. Y/n kept playing with his hair, encouraging him to speak when he’s comfortable.

“I made a comment..,” Jungkook mumbles, “I made a comment about how I couldn’t wait for our kids to be running around together. Sooyoung got angry. She said that would never happen. I asked her why, you were still my friend, so is Yoongi. Why wouldn’t I want our kids to be friends too?”

Y/n hummed, not sure how to react to Sooyoung’s statement. “Is that what started the argument?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I got upset, I told her that she can’t keep avoiding my friends, I missed you guys and wanted to be how we were. I wanted you to, at least, be amicable. I didn’t expect her to be best friends with you guys.” Jungkook got quiet once again. He could feel baby Min moving. He wanted to feel what he’s missing these past several months.

“So, clearly she didn’t like us,” Y/n jokes.

Jungkook chuckled dryly, “Clearly. She said how do I expect her to be friends with the person she’ll always be second best to. As well as the people that blamed her for us not being together.”

“I told her Joon and Yoongi don’t blame her for anything,” he said, “She wasn’t second best to anyone, and you’ve been my friend for years. Sooyoung didn’t believe it. I asked her if we all somehow got along, why wouldn’t our kids be friends. She said there wasn’t going to be any kids for yours to be friends with. I asked her what she meant.” Jungkook choked up at the memory, “Sooyoung said after some thinking, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted kids. She doesn’t know if she can commit herself to that role. She says she has her career ahead of her and I can’t make her be a mom.”

Jungkook started to tear up, “I told her I’m not expecting her to be a stay at home mom. I repeated that I would be a stay at home parent… She… She said she’s not sure if she wants to have kids at all. Sooyoung said it’s too much responsibility.”

He started to sob, his body shaking from the increased intensity. “I couldn’t believe it. When we were dating she said she wanted kids. I’m not upset that she doesn’t want any, it’s her choice. I’m upset that she lied to me about it.”

Y/n’s heart aches for her friend, she knows how much Jungkook wanted kids. Namjoon might be the one buying baby shoes because he finds them cute, but Jungkook has always talked about being a dad. Always talked about how he wanted to be the type of parent his were, that encouraged him to thrive in his likes and talents. He was passionate about it.

“We talked all night. We couldn’t come to any type of resolution. So we decided to separate. This was something that was non-negotiable.”

“Is that what led to the divorce,” Y/n asked.

Jungkook nodded, “She stayed at a coworker’s place that she’s friends with. We didn’t talk for a couple weeks. Sooyoung reached out first. She said this is something she won’t change her mind on. She’s sorry for not being truthful about her stance on kids. We decided to divorce. We settled pretty quickly. It’s signed and official as of last month.”

“I’m sorry kook,” Y/n whispered.

You were sorry, he knew you were. He keeps rubbing your belly, feeling baby Min follow around. Wanting to feel the comfort of having you around.

Jungkook ends up falling in and out of sleep. He doesn’t know how long he lays there for.

“No, I’m fine.”

“He’s asleep right now.”

Who were you talking to?

“No, Yoonie, it's fine. He’s sleeping and he didn’t do anything. I think the divorce finally got to him.”

He heard you pause, but didn’t hear anyone else in the apartment. You must be speaking with Yoongi on the phone.

“No, we just talked about it. He was pretty upset, obviously.”

You continued to play with his hair, brushing out the knots with your fingers. He hummed lowly, snuggling closer to your belly. Baby Min must’ve had the same idea because she was still squirming around. Yoongi assured you he would be home soon with Namjoon to get Jungkook home.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Kook,” You answered.

He sits up, eyes puffy, and cheeks stained with tears. “Do you ever think about us?”

“Like? Our friendship? Of course, all the time,” you answer.

He scoots closer facing you, and reaches out to hold your hand. “No, I’m talking about us. What we could’ve been.”

“I did, but not anymore,” you answered honestly, “You chose Sooyoung, kook. I wasn’t going to wait forever. I deserved, and still deserve to be happy. And I am happy. You shouldn’t think about the what if’s.”

Jungkook sniffled. “I do,” he whispered, “All the time. I think about what if, I had worked up the courage to confess to you on one of our last movie nights? Things would’ve been different. We would’ve been happy. We would’ve gotten married, and had the wedding you always talked about.” He paused, he’s trying so hard not to cry about it. “We would’ve had those cats you wanted, and we would’ve finally adopted the dog that hangs around the convenience store. We would’ve had a baby. We would’ve been a family. I should’ve said something, shown you how much I loved you. How much I still love you.”

You pulled your hand away from him, “But you didn’t, you chose Sooyoung kook. I loved you, I still love you, but not how you want me to. Maybe things would’ve been different, but it’s too late.”

Jungkook starts to sob, he knows it’s too late. It felt bittersweet to hear that she still loves him.

-

Namjoon takes Jungkook home. He feels everything, yet nothing. Maybe he can start fresh with no what if’s to cling on to.

Joon helps him get cleaned up, and lays him down in his cold bed. He lets himself dream of what could’ve been.

“How are my girls doing?” Jungkook asked, while caressing your growing tummy. “SHE,” you pointed, “is giving mommy a hard time. S’been kicking all morning. She’s definitely YOUR daughter.” Jungkook lets out a sympathetic giggle. Your baby has been a pain in your butt, more like your bladder, since she could move. Mrs. Jeon says her youngest was the exact same, and to expect an energetic baby once she’s out. She’ll be all smiles, and sweet giggles, as well as a pain to put to sleep. Maybe she’ll take after her father and sleep like a log your mother in law jokes. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of doctors appointments, birthing classes, nesting, nesting, and more nesting. The nursery has changed colors three times, Jungkook was insistent on doing art on the walls to give it a personal touch. Took a whole weekend, but now your baby girl will be slumbering under the stars.

Both of you have gone through the recommended parenting books, gotten advice from the grandmothers and aunties, Jungkook might’ve panicked a little at the repeated visual of you giving birth. But, it’s all part of the process. He’s been enjoying giving little facts he’s been learning from the shared pregnancy tracker.

“Babe, did you know our baby is the size of a cherry today?”

“Hey, by now they grew all their toes.”

“Did you know our baby can pee? In the womb?”

“Jungkook, what the fuck dude?”

Other than the obvious pregnancy issues, things have been smooth sailing. His favorite thing to do these days has been laying his head on your lap caressing your belly. If it was up to him he’d stay there for hours drawing patterns with his fingers, singing to his baby, feeling her movements.

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy~~~ originally I wasn’t gonna do an epilogue, but I got the idea after talking about a headcanon I had with my sister. Happy (super) late birthday to Jungkookie ❤️ hopefully in my next fic involving you, you get to be happy lol. Feedback is appreciated ❤️

Masterlist

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Another One (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Pre-Civil War (but getting much closer). Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Another One”. Let me know your thoughts! Also, I do have the next part done as it was the first one I wrote a while ago, would you all be interested in me posting it earlier or should I save it for usual post time on its own day?

Summary: A look at the aftermath of heartbreak and the first interaction with Wanda following the incident.  Good old fashioned angst.

“Congratulations, you found the one, another one. I think I can finally face it, I’m not the one, never was the one.”

The sunlight that slowly began seeping into your room came as no surprise. You sat up with a sigh. Sleepless nights were more common than not these days, not that sleeping was easy before, it’s just been much more difficult to put your mind at ease lately. It had been a few weeks and the adjustment hadn’t been easy. 

Dealing with a heartbreak never got easier. 

Figuring there was no point in staying in bed, you got dressed in your usual training attire and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe you would finally take Steve up on his offer of an early morning run.

A quiet curse escaped your lips when you saw a lone figure sitting at the counter already. The one person you’ve been avoiding. As quietly as you could, you slowly began to back out, hoping you hadn’t been seen yet. “Hi, Y/n.” the figure said quietly, not turning to face you. You’d been caught.

The sound of her voice still hurt, but you knew you had to face it eventually. Might as well be now. “Wanda.” You replied flatly as you once again began to walk into the kitchen to make coffee. All the while trying to ignore the way your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage. 

You didn’t look at her long, but long enough to see the look of surprise cross her features when you responded. 

She cleared her throat which caused you to turn to glance at her again, taking note of how she spun a ring on her finger nervously. You wondered if she did that before meeting you. “Do you think we could talk?” she stuttered timidly. 

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the counter behind you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The way that her eyes filled with sadness made you want to take her in your arms and hold her until they shone with happiness again. You fought the urge. “I miss you-“ She began anyway.

You quickly interrupted her. “Don’t.”

A hint of desperation slipped into her words as you tried to block them out. “I do though. We were best friends before everything. I don’t want to lose you completely.”

It took everything in your being to not cover your ears and scream like a child so you wouldn’t have to listen to her words. All each word accomplished  was cutting deeper into your still bleeding wounds. “You moved on immediately, Wanda. You can’t just expect me to be okay and accept second best after that.”

Her head dropped. “I know, but I just… You were never…” her words were jittery, as if she thought better of each sentence. Conflict was clear in her eyes. “I never thought of you as-”  

“You’re with Vision now, yes?” You asked seemingly randomly. She bit her lip apprehensively but nodded nonetheless. “How do you feel about him?”

A small shake of her head was your only response from her. “You wanted to talk, I’m talking. I think I deserve a little honesty.” 

“We have a connection, I feel like he understands me.” You bit back a bitter laugh because once upon a time you would’ve described your relationship the same way. “I think we are meant to be intertwined because of how we developed.”

“Well, congratulations, Wanda. You found the one.” You couldn’t help the sarcasm that laced your words. “Another one.” You mumbled as an afterthought. 

She just stared at you for a moment, her lips trembling. You pretended you didn’t see the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Y/n-“

Already over the conversation, you interrupted her. “Honestly, I’m happy for you. I’d never, ever, wish you harm. Just make sure you treat him like someone. I wouldn’t want someone else to feel how I’ve felt the last few weeks.” You told her honestly. 

It looked as though she was about to say something else when Vision phased through the wall, starling you both as he looked between you. “Am I interrupting something?” he questioned.

You wanted to laugh at the sheer irony of his words because it wasn’t long ago that you were the one asking that same exact question. “Not at all.” You huffed as you started to walk out the kitchen, your coffee long forgotten. 

You chanced one last glance at Wanda who simply looked down and leaned into Vision. “Wow, I dodged a bullet.” You muttered with a bitter laugh as you exited, not sparing either of them another moment.

Deciding you didn’t need to go with Steve anymore, you quickened your pace as you left the compound, taking off in what was almost a sprint as soon as the fresh air hit your face. 

Flashbacks of moments with Wanda kept racing through your mind, making you want to scream. Each time this happened you just quickened your pace. You hoped that maybe running from your thoughts would work just this once (it didn’t). 

You must have been running for over an hour when the sounds of heavy footsteps approached, “On your left!” With a groan you came to a halt as Steve sprinted passed you, looking back in confusion. “Giving up so easily, Y/ln?”

Without a word you walked over to a grassy area of the park and rolled onto your back, flinging your arm over your eyes. “Not in the mood today, Rogers.”

You felt him take a seat next to you, staying silent for a moment as he just observed you. “Wanda again?” he questioned gently. 

The arm over your face shifted so you could meet his worried eyes. “I spoke to her today.”

It was clear he was surprised, but tried to mask it. “It’s been weeks. How’d that go?”

“Not well. She basically told me she wants to be my friend again and how her and Vision are meant to be.” Your defenses fell around Steve and you couldn’t contain it anymore. A tear fell down your cheek and you shook your head angrily at yourself. “Why am I crying? I shouldn’t be crying.” 

“Hey,” Steve said, his voice gentle. “You have every right to feel like this okay. You didn’t deserve what she did. Just take it one day at a time, okay?”

At his words, the tears began flowing more steadily. “That’s what I used to tell her.” You said with a laugh, your heart clenching. 

He slapped a hand to his forehead at his poor choice of words. “Alright. No more moping. We’re going to take your mind off this.” Without warning, he picked you up and began jogging back in the direction of the tower.

“Rogers!” you shouted, pounding on his back. “What the hell? Put me down, right now!”

Despite your words, Steve kept jogging, laughter in his voice. “No, I don’t think I will.”

After a few hours of Steve’s idea of a distraction (which was just hours of extra intense training) F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice came on over the speakers. “Ms. Y/ln, you have a phone call.” 

“Patch them through.” You answered as you wiped the sweat off your brow with a towel that Steve offered you. He gestured that he was going to be back, and you merely nodded back at him. 

There was static for a moment until an all too familiar voice sounded. “Y/n, I was hoping you had a moment.” Nick Fury began formally.

You took a deep breath, Fury rarely ever called. This must be serious. “Go ahead.” You replied.

                                             _______________

“Okay, repeat that back to me because I feel like I’m imagining this.” Steve told you, the look of disbelief from when you first told him the news still present as ever.

You shrugged. “Fury wants me to help run an undercover mission to get victims out of several Hydra facilities and aid in their adjustment with training once they’re out if they need it. Similarly to how I got here. Then possibly help establish a branch overseas like what we have here.”

“How long would you be there?” Steve questioned seriously.

Again, you shrugged. “Fury said it could take a year or two. Possibly indefinitely.”

Heavy silence hung in the air between you as Steve took in your words. “Are you going to take it?” he finally asked.

For a moment, you didn’t want to answer, but you knew you couldn’t avoid telling him. “I think I am.” You finally replied quietly. “I think I’ve fulfilled my purpose here, Cap. Maybe it’s time to start a new chapter.”

Steve understood he couldn’t argue. If leaving meant you could finally heal then he wouldn't stop you. No matter how much he’d rather you stay. “Just consider all your options is all I ask.” You simply nodded and tried to offer a reassuring smile. 

As you were both exiting the training area you crossed paths with Wanda and Sam who were entering for a different training session. She met your eyes and offered you a small wave. You nodded in response, searching her eyes. Searching for something that you knew you might never find again. Her brow furrowed questioningly as she sensed you analyzing her. You finally tore your gaze away, silent understanding between you two was a thing of the past now. 

“You okay?” Steve asked with a frown of concern once you were both far enough away.

Hesitantly, you nodded. “I think I’m ready to face it… I’m not the one.” Your words were steady. The tone of acceptance.

“Y/n-“ 

You shook your head. “I never was the one.” You said in a neutral voice, trying to ignore the tears welling in your eyes.

“You just made your mind up, didn’t you?” Steve questioned quietly, knowing the answer but needing to ask either way.

A weak smile covered your lips. “I think that I’ve been offered different chances for what I need in life. You offered me a hand to save me from drowning before and I took it. I think this opportunity is the hand that’s going to keep me afloat. To get me through this broken heart. I need to take it.”��

For a moment you thought back to the conversation you had with Wanda once on the roof. The conversation that opened your heart to her and revealed your scars. The true beginning of something beautiful. That moment was a thing of your past now, just as she was. Maybe it was time to let go. Time to try and stay afloat once again. After all, there was nothing else left for you to fight for here.

And there is part 6! The paths are beginning to take form. As always, hope you all enjoyed and remember thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

[recoveryfriend]

since there have been a few posts circulating about dental care lately, i think maybe it’d be good to make my own post about dental care for those with eating disorders.

most people in the ed world know how harmful purging via self-induced vomiting is for the teeth, but in reality all eating disorder behaviors are extremely bad for your teeth. those who restrict their calories or nutrients end up weakening the jaw bone through malnutrition, which also weakens teeth and leads to dental erosion. restriction can also have a dry mouth effect, which puts you at higher risk for tooth decay. those who purge via vomiting expose their teeth to stomach acid, which wears away enamel and increases the risk of tooth decay. and people who binge expose their teeth to high volumes of sugars/carbohydrates, which sets up an acid attack that will ultimately lead to decay—which is even worse if the binging is followed by purging.

so, here is some dental hygiene info that could’ve saved me a lot of money and teeth if i had known them before recovery!

disclaimer: i am a recovery safe blog, and do not promote ed behaviors. but everyone deserves to know how to take care of themselves best, even if they’re still engaging in disordered behaviors or aren’t in recovery at all! so this post will not center around recovery, because it is for people in relapse or pre-recovery. therefore, it might be triggering if discussing ed behaviors at all will make you uncomfortable.

a lot of times people with eds fall into all-or-nothing thinking, and rationalize that they’ve already done so much damage to their teeth so it doesn’t matter if they get worse. they’ll get exhausted easily and convince themselves that ending the day with tooth brushing isn’t that important, because they’re so tired. or, sometimes anorexics feel like they can hold off on brushing because they haven’t eaten that day. do not fall into these impulses, and definitely push yourself to brush!

but if you really are too exhausted to brush more than once a day, it’s most important to brush at night. get single use flossers or waterless toothbrushes if fatigue is something you struggle with severely. it’ll help, and you can even keep them by the bed if it’s what you have to do.

most well informed bulimics/people who purge already know that they shouldn’t brush their teeth for at least an hour after vomiting. what not a lot of people consider is that the same is true for brushing in general! don’t brush for at least an hour after eating or drinking anything, but especially acidic foods (and this includes sugars!) because you risk brushing the acid into your teeth.

if you vomit, afterwards swish with baking soda or oil pull with coconut oil to reduce acidity if you don’t have access to mouthwash. even just water will help.

use mouthwash/rinses after vomiting or eating, but not after brushing. mouthwash has less fluoride than toothpaste, and will wash away the fluoride you just applied to your teeth when brushing. obviously, water and other rinses will do the same. don’t swish after brushing at all.

online pro-ed spaces love to sing the praises of black coffee and diet coke. but who knew, bathing your teeth in acidic liquids often is pretty bad for them! so if you drink multiple cups of coffee or any soda a day, drink it with a straw to save your teeth a bit. pour your coffee over ice cubes if you only have plastic straws (or if drinking hot coffee with a straw is weird to you). swish with water when you’re done, if you’re able.

something that might be helpful: because the acidity situation is similar, view consuming coffee, sodas, and high sugar binges similarly to how you view self induced vomiting in terms of aftercare. that means swish with something immediately after, and don’t brush for at least an hour later.

another thing people with eds love: gum. so if you’re a gum chewer, make sure you choose a sugarless gum with xylitol to help your teeth a bit. xylitol gum can be helpful because it promotes salivary flow, which will also help a bit with dry mouth. hard candies are effective with this too.

about dry mouth: dry mouth can expedite the formation of cavities, and dry mouth is an effect of most disordered eating behaviors. if you have dry mouth, swish water around in your mouth a little bit when drinking if you can remember to. if you can swish semi frequently with mouthwash (alcohol free), that’s even better! they also make rinses with xylitol for this express purpose.

don’t use a whitening toothpaste or mouthwashes with alcohol. they’re abrasive, and will exacerbate the sensitivity you likely already feel. use a desensitizing toothpaste if you can, and an alcohol free fluoride mouthwash.

people with eating disorders are often embarrassed to go to the dentist because they’re afraid they’ll be called out for their ed behaviors, because dentists can often notice the affects of disordered eating before anyone else can and are the first line of defense. you might also feel a little guilty at the dentist because of significant effects on the mouth from ed behaviors— like bad breath, sensitivity, and tooth erosion. please don’t let these be deterrents to seeking dental care! especially if recovery isn’t at the front of your agenda, dental care really is extremely important. don’t hide from your dentist, tell them what’s going on so they can help you properly.

lastly! this is just general advice, but if you struggle to remember how long to brush for, something that was really fun and helpful for me was creating a brushing playlist! go through your spotify library, and add songs (or maybe a few stand up comedy bits for zest) that are roughly 2 minutes and some change! then when it’s time to brush you have a timer that isn’t totally boring!

if you can find it in you to care about protecting yourself from health hazards, even if you’re not ready to recover yet—that’s a valuable step towards caring for yourself fully. so if you’re scared of the ways disordered eating has harmed your teeth, and feel compulsed to take care of your health, that’s great! any step towards learning to care for yourself is valuable part of the journey. i hope you’re finding ways to offer yourself love and keep yourself safe, in whatever form they come in. the recovery community is here to support you, no matter what point in process you’re in.