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bloggerspam · 13 hours ago

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"Sam's going to kill us."

Val mutters, dragging Danny with a firm grip to his arm. He's not eating nearly enough if his arm is this skinny. Val's going to have to call Jazz about it.

"Sam won't kill us,." Danny soothes, letting her plop him into the seat of his own damn motorcycle. Hers is still 'out of commission' so she hops on behind him.

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Sam Manson?" Val snarks, putting on her helmet and feeling jittery as Danny slowly puts on his.

The microphones flicker to life, just as Danny revs up the bike. "We're on vacation, it's not like we're on a schedule and it's not our fault your college administration is literally the pits."

They have 15 minutes to get to the Thai place to grab dinner, and 10 minutes to get back to the hotel before they're irrevocably late. The talk with her professor, and subsequently the talk with the woman at the Bursar's office, ran longer than either of them expected it to. But it's all sorted now, her scholarship is in tact, and apparently she even has a monthly stipend, which will make things much easier on her and her dad.

"Just floor it Fenton!" Val growls, and she can feel his eyes rolling as he digs in.

"You asked for it!" Danny cackles, and does as he's bid.

They make good time on the Thai food, but of course (as all things go with Danny) Fenton Luck strikes again.

They're about halfway back to the hotel, when they get, of all things, pulled over for speeding.

"How did you not see the police car?" Val grouses, texting Sam and Tucker and trying to make sure her hands are visible. You never know.

When Danny doesn't answer her, she leans a little to see what's going on. He's looking through what looks like a small compartment on the side of the bike near the handlebars, frozen like he's just discovered something devastating.

"What's going on?" Val hisses, jabbing Danny in the side and jolting him to look at her. It's hard to tell through the dark visor, but she recognizes the way his body scrunches up. Something's wrong.

"So. Uh." Danny starts, curling his shoulders in and of all things, touching his index fingers together delicately like some kind of sheepish cartoon character, "Remember how I only just finished this bike last month?"

Val freezes. "Danny. Danny don't tell me you didn't—"

A cough to their left has both of them whipping their heads around. The officer who pulled them over, presumably, waits bemusedly with his arms crossed and hip popped like he thinks they're funny. He's tall, lithe but definitely packin' some muscle with dark blue eyes and black hair that reminds her of Danny. Gotham sure has a lot of people of the same coloring—even her boss shares it, though his eyes are more teal-in shade.

"License and registration, please." The officer chirps, looking both apologetic and stern at the same time. She's only ever seen Jazz pull that look off, and honestly she'd be more relaxed at the sight if Danny hadn't forgotten to register his god damn motorcycle. Considering the bike is tricked out to all hell, runs on ghost tech and thoroughly looks as illegal as it apparently is, she'd be surprised if they weren't arrested.

"Uh. So. Here's the thing Officer…" Val face palms as Danny fumbles his way through a shoddy explanation of his own incompetence. Dumbest smart guy she'll ever know, she fuckin' swears—him and Tucker!

She sighs. Sam's definitely going to kill them. At least the bloodshed will have to wait until after she bails them out.

Small mercies.

===

"Tucker, hurry up." Sam hisses, which, easy for her to say. She's not the one with asthma and a propensity to sit at home and do nothing but play games for weekend long marathons.

"I'm trying Sam, I don't even know what you even need me for, you know how to hot wire a motorcycle!" Tucker grunts as he crawls painfully over the crest of the fence. The points of it jab into his kidney, maybe even his gall bladder. Does he even need those things? Is he gonna die? He'll have to ask Danny.

"I haven't read Danny's manual on the new bike yet, dingus." Sam growls, but thankfully catches him when he successfully rolls over to the other side. His hero, really. Danny can take a back seat.

Tucker had hacked the impound's records earlier that day, so they head immediately towards the correct lot.

Except when they get there, they're not the only ones.

If Tucker isn't mistaken—and he rarely ever is—that is Jason Todd and Stephanie Brown, the current crushes Danny and Val are harboring, and they are just as if not more surprised to see Sam and Tucker.

Jason is currently crouched beside the bike, examining the side console meant for diagnosis and looking utterly lost. Stephanie—Steph, he recalls Val saying she introduced herself as—looks like she's breaking into the wheel lock.

Well shit. Can you do the Spiderman meme if none of you look alike?

The four of them stand there frozen, staring at each other and gaping stupidly and each no doubt wondering what the fuck is happening right now.

Sam, of course, is the first to recover. "Jason Todd. Stephanie Brown." She crosses her arms, pops her hip and raises an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

Steph recovers second. "What are you, a cop?"

The sheer offense that Sam adopts over her face would make Tucker laugh, if they weren't standing in the middle of an impound lot trying to steal an illegal ecto-bike at close to 10pm.

"What she means," Tucker opens his arms wide, holding Sam back with one and gesturing towards the bike with the other, "Is if you're not careful, that thing could blow up—literally—in your faces."

Sam huffs, making a sort of well? gesture.

"Oh." Jason carefully stands up from his crouch, snagging Steph by the back of her shirt and pulling them away just slightly, "We just—ahem, wanted to help."

"Help your employee?" Sam challenges, before smirking, "Or trying to impress the boy you like?"

Steph coughs, covering a laugh, freezing when Sam turns her wicked eyes on her, "Or perhaps you were cajoled into it," Sam squints, "Stephanie Brown, right? You seem quite fond of Val, what with all the invitations to spar."

"Not that Val ever realizes," Tucker laughs, "Ignore Sam over here—Tucker, by the way, nice to meetcha, heard a lot about ya'll—She just likes giving her friends' love interests a good once over, y'know?""

Steph and Jason share a look, before looking away with decidedly redder faces. Jason splotchy on the bridge of his nose, Steph burning her neck. Even in the dark, Tucker can see it, hard not to when you're the only one with melanin in the group.

"Listen," Tucker decides to be merciful, "We—I love whatever is goin' on here, big fan of when people love on my friends, real refreshing actually—"

Sam huffs, elbowing him, so he coughs and tries again. "The point is, whilst the thought is nice, I wasn't joking when i said it would literally blow up in your faces."

Sam rolls her eyes as his dramatics, but doesn't disagree. "It runs off highly sensitive and reactive fluids, kept securely in a blast proof container. But if you happened to open it, accidentally or otherwise fiddling with the controls…"

Tuck mimes a little kabloom!

"What?" Steph stumbles back, though all Jason does is eye the bike in a new light. Hm. Interesting. That's certainly a Red Hood expression if Tucker ever did see one. Judging by the way Sam squints at the other man, she thinks so too.

"How did you even know Danny's bike was taken to the impound anyway?" Sam is really doing this whole shovel talk thing at 110% huh. Not that Tuck blames her, with Danny's history of people fucking him over. "Are you tracking him?"

That gets Tucker's hackles up immediately. He knew that Oracle was snooping around Amity Park files, but as far as he knew, she hadn't gotten far. The Fentons are a fairly visible family, what with their patents and unhinged nature of advertising their inventions, but Danny and Jazz are actually pretty invisible on the internet.

They, unlike their parents, took internet safety very seriously.

To be more precise, Jazz did, and Danny learned from her, so.

Plus, Tucker's no slouch at protecting his friends from the perils of the interweb. Especially since he and Technus like to futz around with firewalls every second Saturday of the month.

You don't take down an entire Government Organization's network together and just stop hanging out. It's just not done.

"No!" Jason and Steph yell in sync, whipping their heads towards each other after a moment, "At least, I'm not—"

Before it can devolve into what looks like a sibling fight, Sam stomps her foot down. Childishly, Tucker might add, if he didn't value his life. (Which he does, so he keeps his mouth shut.)

"How." Sam growls. They shut up immediately, going shifty.

Jason, brave man that he is, mumbles something under his breath. Steph, a much more braver woman, shuts her eyes and throws Jason under the proverbial bus in a rush of panicked words.

"His brother is the cop that arrested them!" Her voice echoes in the darkness of the impound lot. Jason slaps his hands against his face, groaning and quietly hissing at Steph about inside voices, dumbass.

Tucker can't help it. Once the words register, all he can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

Sam sighs, pushing Jason out of the way and shoving Tucker, who is struggling to breathe, towards the bike to unlock it. "I need a drink."

"Y-you," Tucker's hands are steady and quick, even through his laughter, "doN't ev-e-n drink!"

"Ice cream then." Sam grumbles. "Why are Danny's love interests always so troublesome?"

"You tell m-me," There's a click, Tucker's laughter just barely dying down as he stands up and allows Jason to start rolling the bike off the lot, "You were one of-of them!"

Jason stiffens, but Sam pats him on the shoulder, hard. "When we were 14 and our only other choice was you, Tuck."

"Hey! That's hurtful, first of all," Tucker feels indignant, "And second of all, you could have been an A-lister from the start if you wanted to. Third of all, Danny had choices! Dash and Wes were right there."

They manage to get out of the impound lot easily enough, and with Steph and Jason's lead they start heading towards the city proper.

"You mean his bully and stalker?" Sam challenges, crossing her arms as they stop by what Tucker assumes to be either Jason or Steph's car.

Jason stiffens up again, grip going white on Danny's handlebars, though he relaxes at Tucker's next statement.

"You and I both know Danny would have brought them to heel." Tucker counters, "Besides, the point was that Danny had options. He just never noticed."

Sam thinks on that, before nodding. "True."

Jason huffs a small laugh, looking charmed beyond belief. "He that oblivious?"

"Sam had to sit him down and tell him she wanted to be boyfriend and girlfriend before he even realized Sam liked him." Tucker shakes his head, grinning, "Still didn't believe her until she planted one on him."

"Better than Val," Sam chuckles, facing Steph, "She's a bad bitch when it comes to men but suddenly a pretty lady talks to her and she's all that's just how girls are, Sam! How am I supposed to tell when they're flirting, Sam! Girls are smarter and if they liked me like that it would be OBVIOUS Sam!"

Steph giggles, hand coming up to stifle it, and her eyes gain a new gleam to her eye. Oh good, so Steph does like Val back. Nice.

"So how was this gonna go?" Tucker says after a moment of silence. "You get the bike, then what?"

Jason and Steph share a look, before Jason's nose gets all red again. "I was gonna wait outside for him, have Dick pull some strings to bail them out and uh, surprise Danny with the bike."

Sam and Tucker look at Steph, who shrugs. "He and Val got locked up together so…I thought Val would appreciate not having to third wheel." She pats the hood of the car, "Was gonna offer her a ride home, after Jason did his thing."

Sam and Tucker perk up then, turning back to Jason. "You gonna ask him on a date??"

"I mean, he's not here for long, right? Just for Christmas?" Jason twitches, like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets, but can't because he's holding up Danny's bike. His shoulders hike up and he pops the bike stand. "I wanted to at least get his number. Get to know him better."

There's a moment of silence, before Tucker and Sam place a hand on each of Jason's shoulders, excitement palpable. "GODS, are we glad you're a bad bitch who gets what he wants. Val was right about you!"

"Uh," Jason's eyes are wide, surprised as if he wasn't expecting that, "Thanks?" He coughs, the red of his nose traveling to his cheeks and staining his ears.

Sam and Tuck let go, though Sam gives him a hearty pat on the back to go with the motion.

"I was gonna bail them out in the morning, let 'em sit in their shame for a bit." Sam turns towards Steph, "You guys know any good ice cream shops open this late in the mean time?"

Steph grins, "Information like that's gonna cost ya." She's clearly joking though, considering she immediately pulls out her phone to bring up some ice cream shops on GPS.

"Will embarrassing stories about Danny and Val cover it?" Tucker cheekily asks.

"Sold, to the man in the beret." Jason deadpans, smirking as he points at Tucker.

It's the start of a beautiful friendship.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes.

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself.

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly?

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition.

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy.

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies.

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance.

All in All? It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all.

It's the little things.

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torasplanet · 3 days ago

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been thinking a lot about frat!toman and being their sweetheart. i have many ideas but the one stuck on me is when they all just can't get enough of you! they all share but it's getting to a point where they're damn near ready to go through a barbaric war for you.

mikey, the frat prez, would treat you like an absolute princess like the most of them but with him you really are. he can do what he wants and say what he wants meaning you get whatever you want but he doesn't particularly enjoy it when you get mouthy. nobody else does either.

the only one who really seems to like it is nahoya, it really gets him going when you tell everyone how it is and make demands. what else gets him going is when he gets you to shut all that shit up. it's funny to him almost. you get a little bit of dick and everything you tried to stand on matters much less than before, in fact you've forgotten about it.

mitsuya is such a sweetheart when it comes to the frat sweetheart. he treats you like fine china, of course he has his moments but he's nowhere as rough as some of the others can be...he's your favorite, for a reason.

draken is also a nice one but don't get him wrong, he's very quick to snap you back into place if you're being too much of a...brat, he'd say. he's also king of casual dominance. he's sort of a mitsuya mixed with a baji. he'll always make sure you're okay while he's treating you and whatever you call that nasty thing between your thighs like nothing but a cumdump.

speaking of him, baji is such a tease. he's mean, to say the least. he likes to show you off, he's not scared of people knowing about the situation going on the frat. in his words, most people already think frat sweethearts get fucked like you. he can be nice, he's a gentleman of course but most of the time, he is such a meanie !!

however, this doesn't make him the meanest. chifuyu, whether you believe it or not, can be pretty fucking mean. he's such a sweetie, he loves you and adores you yet when you get him upset, he's torturing your poor clit for hours to the point you wish that nahoya was the one pissed off !! don't even get me started on how filthy his mouth will get...

kazutora is the real sweetheart though, him and souya both. kazutora is always so gentle with you, he takes you out on dates and treats you before he even thinks about getting between your legs. speaking of, he is a real eater !! he can cum just from eating you out and then he's satisfied for the day. but with the way he likes to cum, you'll be getting eaten out until kazutora has to get rid of his pants because of how much he stained them.

souya by far has to be the best gentleman. he waited so long to fuck you, he knew you were sore from the recent relationships in the frat and he wanted you to really feel him and everything he has to offer. he still does the same. he refuses to fuck you if someone else already had soon before him, the most he'll do is foreplay and enough to make you cum untouched. he hates seeing your pretty pussy all spoiled with someone else's cum!! all he wants is to stare at how his cum is so sheer spread all over your thighs and cunt.

but what they all fight about is who gets to do your aftercare and taking you out. as much as they love seeing you all fucked out, they love seeing that sweet smile when they give you a surprise date. the toman frat boys simply adore you !!

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#torasplanet.ᐟ #tokyo revengers x reader #marls-drabbles.ᐟ #tokyo revengers smut #toman #toman x reader #toman smut #frat!au #frat!toman #college au #tokyo rev #tokyo manji gang

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tetedurfarm · 21 hours ago

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i promised y'all recipes but i forgor

it's ok im fixing it now tho

anyway. hi. hello. i eat a lot of rabbit. i am also blessed by god to be one of the few, the chosen, the descended from the acadians who were blessed with the ability to cook food that doesn't suck. you can trust me. màmaw cécil's ici.

just a fair warning though these recipes kinda assume you have basic cooking skills, and things are measured with the heart as my ancestors intended.

onward to the recipes

the tried. the true. the rabbit gumbo

one whole rabbit

half an onion

one package of andouille sausage (or other spicy pork sausage)

a bell pepper if you like

some okra if you like

some garlic

a jar of dark roux (savoie's is my go-to)

tony chacherie's

tabasco

filé

a good long-grain rice

debone the rabbit and cut into chunks, or pressure cook until it falls off the bones. you can also cook the rabbit IN the gumbo but this method takes a long time and is a PITA, but you do get all the good rabbit grease in the gumbo.

fill a large stock pot about 3/4 the way up with water and set to boil. add salt until it's salty to the taste. add about five to seven heaping spoonfuls of roux and let it dissolve while the pot comes to a boil.

while you wait, chop the onion and bell pepper into a rough dice and add it to the pot. i'm sure someone's màmaw will tell you what to do with okra, but i don't like it so idk. i just know some people put it in their gumbo. not me tho. tbh i don't even like bell peppers but it's traditional. anyway you can put some garlic in too. and tony's. lots of tony's.

cut the sausage into about quarter inch rounds and throw 'em in too. if you did not precook your rabbit, add it now. if you did precook, you can add it once the vegetables and sausage are cooked. around this time is also when i put the rice on.

once all the meat is done cooking, taste for seasoning and adjust as desired. it should be salty and a little spicy (or a lot, if you aren't a coward.) now all you have to do is wait for the rice to finish.

when everything is done, scoop some rice into a deep bowl (a soup crock is ideal) and pour gumbo over, making sure you get a bit of everything. top with tabasco to taste, and a healthy dash of filé.

some variety of sausage

1 - 2lbs of ground rabbit

soy sauce

garlic rice wine vinegar (if you can't find it, normal RWV works just add more garlic)

rubbed sage

garlic powder

minced garlic (if not using garlic RWV) (or if you just want it)

brown sugar

drizzle a little oil (i like using sesame oil) in a saucepan and put in ground rabbit. as it cooks, cut it up into small chunks with your utensil. once it's cooked, throw in all the rest of the everything and season with salt and pepper and a little msg if you got it. measure with your heart and taste as you go. you are shooting for a sort of savoury-sweet thing going on. it should be closer to a breakfast sausage in taste.

this goes really good in a dumpling, fried into a patty, or turn it into a white gravy with some milk and flour and put it over rice with creamed corn for a nontraditional but still delicious rice and gravy.

german rabbit stew

this one is just a link because someone else made it up but it's real good: https://honest-food.net/german-rabbit-stew/

alfredo mushroom rabbit pasta

roughly one cup per person's worth of cooked, shredded rabbit

as many portobello mushrooms as your heart desires

minced garlic

a jar of alfredo (or make your own i ain't your mom)

your pasta of choice

pretty straightforward. put your pasta on to boil (we like penne.) chop up your mushrooms and sweat them out in a saucepan. when they're cooked enough, toss in the alfredo, the minced garlic, and your rabbit. season with salt/pepper/whatever else you like to taste. when the pasta is done, combine pasta and rabbit mixture and enjoy

just the filling part of pei wei's lettice wraps but on rice instead

1lb ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic

hoisin sauce

teriyaki sauce

hot chili oil

green onion (grunion)

sesame seeds

short-grain rice

set your rice to cook. when it's almost done, roughly dice onion and set it to cook in a little oil (i like seasme for this.) when it turns translucent, add ground rabbit and garlic. once the rabbit is cooked, throw all the other sauces in to taste. it should be hoisin-forward, a little sweet and savoury. add some cayenne and more chili oil, maybe some gochujang, whatever, if you want more spice. eat it with rice and top with sesame seeds and grunions, i like some shichimi togarashi too sometimes. maybe a lil fried egg if you're feeling sassy.

i made this up from a dupe recipe for a lettuce wrap i liked at a restaurant so you could put it in lettuce too if you wanted. i just don't ever buy a whole head of lettuce.

weird midwestern chili

1-2lbs of ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic

one large can or two small cans of petite diced tomatoes

1-2 habañero peppers (or none if you're yankee)

some sort of stock or broth, or water and a bouillon cube

chili powder

sometimes corn is nice in this if you have it

pasta of your choice

i use my instant pot for this, but you can do it without one in a normal stockpot, it'll just take longer.

brown the rabbit in a little bit of oil with the pot on sauté. while you wait, chop up the onion, garlic, and papper. when the rabbit is browned, throw everything else in the pot besides the pasta. pressure cook for about 15-20 minutes.

in the meantime, set a pot of pasta to boil. we like farfalle.

when the chili is done cooking, season further to taste with more chili powder, cayenne, tony's, whatever you like. serve on the pasta. i know, i know, it ain't chili to me either, but that's what my friend's minnesotan family calls it and whatever it is, it's damn good so i forgive them.

rice that is dirty AND ugly

1-2lbs ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic i guess

about four or five rabbit or chicken livers

long-grain rice

tony's

set the rice to cook. brown the livers in some oil until they are just barely not-raw. then blitz 'em up in a food processer until they are mush. while you do this, brown some ground rabbit and onion and garlic if you want it in a saucepan. when it's browned, add the livers and just. stir it all together. does it look horrible? you're doing it right. season to taste once it's cooked through. add in rice and mix. i promise to god it tastes better than it looks.

for bonus points, mush dirty rice into balls and dredge in egg and seasoned cornmeal and deep fry or air fry until golden brown. ta da, your very own boudin balls.

i guess you can also run the mixture into a sausage casing for 'normal' boudin too.

('but what about the gizzards cecil' i have tried for years and i can't make gizzards palatable. they just end up weird and tough and i don't like the texture in the dirty rice. you know how to make 'em work, you go for it.)

mexican meatloaf that is neither mexican nor meatloaf

1lb ground rabbit

half an onion

garlic

one can of petite diced tomatoes

one can of whole corn

one can of pork n beans

(optional can of kidney beans or other bean you like)

taco seasoning

shredded yellow cheese

sour creme

tabasco

fritos

chop onion into a rough dice and put in a saucepan with a little oil. when onion is translucent, throw in rabbit to brown. when meat is cooked, thrown in everything that comes in a can, and the taco seasoning. i use about half a packet, but you can do to taste. once it's cooked, spoon over fritos and top with shredded cheese and sour creme. i like a dash of tabasco too.

absoutely a 'hear me out recipe' but if you like frito pie you will probably like this. most importantly, though, it makes a TON of food and for very cheap. excellent end of the month meal. also idk why it's called mexican meatloaf that's just what my mom named it and i'm pretty sure she made it up herself lol

rabbit jambalaya that makes my ancestors cry

approximately one half a rabbit's worth of shredded rabbit

one can of petite diced tomatoes

andouille or other spicy pork sausage

half an onion

bell pepper if ya like it

celery if ya like it

rabbit or chicken stock/broth

tony's

long-grain rice

if you are starting with a whole rabbit, either debone, chop into chunks, and cook, or pressure cook the rabbit until it falls off of the bone. set your rice to cook.

chop veggies and toss em in a saucepan with a little bit of oil or butter. sauté until soft, then add your tomatoes, broth, andouille, and rabbit. when it's all warmed through, add the rice in and mix. season with tony's, crab boil, cayenne, whatever, to taste. put some tabasco on that bitch before you eat, and enjoy.

(my ancestors cry because i'm cajun and traditionally we don't put tomatoes in our jambalaya. mais c'est bon, escuse-moi les anciens.)

creme cheese rabbit joes or whatever

one whole rabbit

one block of creme cheese

one packet of ranch seasoning

jar of pickled jalapeños

shredded cheddar cheese

your favourite burger bun

we use an instant pot, i guess you could probably do it on a stove if you had to but keep an eye on the liquid levels. pressure cook rabbit with half of the ranch seasoning packet and as much jalapeño juice as you want (it should have a kick.) when meat is tender, remove bones and drain liquid into another container (it makes a great stock if you want something with a little pizzaz.)

turn the instant pot on saute, and then put meat, creme cheese, cheddar cheese, jalapeños to taste, the rest of the ranch powder if you want, and as much jalapeño juice or the stock you just made until it's the consistency you want. it should be pretty creamy and a little gloopy. toast your buns, slop the goop on, and enjoy.

well these are the ones i can remember off top my head/that i actually eat regularly. we also make burgers and stir fry and curry rice and shit too, but those are like...y'know. don't really need a recipe for burgers and stir fry.

go forth and eat your fuckin animals

#meat rabbits #homesteading #manger #y'all asked. i delivered.#i will say: the temptation to write a weird anecdote about my husband was sooooooooooooooo strong

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shantechni · 3 days ago

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Related to your post about Mikey "accidentally delivering low blows when stressed" (Aug 2023) would you hc that it's related to his emotional awareness of his family? Like when he blamed Splinter for letting them go up to the surface, he would know Splinter was already questioning his decision to let them do that, or he calls Splinter out on not being affected by his mutated appearance (when Splinter looks uncomfortable being seen by humans/Shredder)? Basically, what are your further thoughts on it? Has he done this elsewhere?

The post in question for the curious cats

This compilation video as well because my big brain remembered me doing that and it's related to this topic and I meant to do a part 2

Oh, that behavior is 100% related to Mikey's emotional awareness. I'd hardly even call it a headcanon, it's just canon lol.

After not only botching their first fight above ground but failing to stop two kidnappings on their watch, the boys immediately start playing the blame game by pointing out each other's rash decisions and dumb mistakes that led to such an outcome. Obviously, the idea of Splinter's decision being yet another mistake of the sorts was hanging somewhere in the air waiting to be grabbed at, but no one readily went for it as something that needed to be acknowledged as mistake. That's why it's so fascinating to see the writers establish Mikey right out of the gate as someone who isn't afraid to comment on Splinter's decisions and his emotional state when he's making those decisions.

He was certainly aware of their father's doubts concerning them going above ground for the first time because a comment like that doesn't just come out of nowhere.

Granted, this instance was him speaking his mind in the heat of the moment and only realizing how much his words would sting after the fact (especially since they're the ones who convinced Splinter to send them off with their begging), but this becoming a continuous trend of his throughout the series further proves the fact of him being more aware of things than a lot of people pegged him to be.

In Mikey Gets Shellacne, his remark about Splinter telling him not to fret about his appearance when he could hardly bring himself to do the same can be interpreted as a more apparent example of him knowing more than he lets on. It's made rather obvious from the start of the series that Splinter wasn't keen on roaming the streets looking like a giant rat, but that's more of a show and tell deal where both the audience and the characters are left on their own to pick up on such an important yet minor detail. Splinter never tells anyone about his insecurity, nor does anyone in the series talk about it amongst each other, so a moment like this can be a bit jarring when it's framed as Mikey calling out Splinter's opinion on his own appearance.

Though the intent of his comment was to simply call Splinter old, the underlying insult is there and Mikey regrets saying something like that to their father of all people.

Other than letting his frustrations get the better of him and unintentionally plucking at Splinter's insecurities, Mikey is greatly in tuned with the emotions of those around him and will usually pick up on any changes rather quickly. Take these two moments with, funnily enough, him and Splinter near the start of Serpent Hunt.

I previously posted the first clip as a funny little observation, but the scene is more intriguing than my jestful sentence made it out to be. Mikey's attention is split between hanging his goofy pieces of artwork on the wooden boards and listening to April as she announces how the restaurant is starting to look like a makeshift home. It's not until he turns around to joke with her about his drawings that he finally has Splinter in his sights, and his attention evidently begins to drift to Splinter as April is responding to his question (you can literally see his head following Splinter's movements while April is speaking to him😭). And just look at how taken aback he is by Splinter's melancholic expression being on full display:

While Splinter answers Mikey by stating that he's concerned for Casey, Leo and Raph because they've been gone for a while, it's pretty obvious that's not all he's bothered by, and him not being subtle about his troubled mind like usual had enough flags raising in Mikey's mind for him to hop up from his spot. Once the scene transitions to the second clip, Mikey lingers with Splinter in the front of the restaurant while April ventures to the back in search of Donnie to check on his progress with the retro-mutagen, as well as to see if the others made it back yet. Mikey and Splinter decide to follow April as soon as Donnie utters Karai's name, and Mikey is visibly bracing himself for another look of heartbreak on their father's visage:

Splinter moments aside, Mikey recognizes when something is up with his brothers and friends, as well as whether or not he should step in. Of course the prominent moments of him demonstrating his ability to calm Leatherhead and Raph down count among the times when he steps in, but the times when he chooses not to step in shouldn't be understated either.

Take the pre-intro scene in The Cosmic Ocean for example, when April breaks the silence and questions where Leo ran off to. We understand where Raph is coming from when he says that it can't be healthy for Leo to confide in a simulated version of Splinter since it could just make him miss their father more than ever, but Mikey suddenly pops from his laid back position off-screen and joins the conversation:

He's knows as well as Raph that speaking with a simulation of their father isn't exactly ideal, but he also knows that Leo is used to coming home to confide in Splinter for advice whenever he feels his confidence as a leader beginning to waver. The whole gang knows all of this, but once again, Mikey's the only one to verbalize it. Sometimes people need to hear something so obvious outloud to really understand or remember its importance, and Mikey seems to know that best.

I don't really need to mention how his emotional awareness extends far beyond simply knowing when someone is down, or when he is or isn't in a position to help them, but it makes for a decent epilogue to this analysis so-

Him being the least (read: least) temperamental of his brothers automatically puts him in the position of a mediator when there's tension in the group, and it's common knowledge that he'd often go out of his way to ease that tension in his own ways. He sometimes makes jokes, both corny and intelligent, just to get everyone's minds off of the heaviness of a situation, even if that moment of reprieve only lasts for a minute. He attempts to break up fights before they get too far, which sometimes doesn't work because they're a stubborn bunch of turtles (literally the entire first five minutes of New Girl in Town lol), but his efforts are commendable and genuine.

He's exceptionally conscious of changes in the atmosphere and a swing in someone's mood, which could go hand in hand with his sixth sense for weird Kraang stuff if you think about it. But all of this comes together to paint an undeniably clear image of Mikey having a great amount of emotional awareness, and just all around being one of the most emotionally intelligent characters of the series.

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bokettochild · 3 days ago

Text

Little Soldier Boy, Come Marching Home

I apparently had some Uncle Aflon brainrot (could y'all tell?) and it spawned this monster!

Not sure if I'm actually going to make a story about this, I mean a proper one, but this refused to let my brain rest until I wrote at least this much, so I figured I'd share it for the folks who kept sending me Aflon asks :)

(Yes I am very aware that the title is from a song, I'd recommend listening to the Reinaeiry cover on YouTube, because it's also rotted my brain since I listened to it and I think it suits Aflon and Legend quite well T-T)

The first time he held Link, it was standing on the edge of the wood, away from the eyes of all the kingdom and under a veil of darkness. The forest chattered and whispered behind him, bringing to mind whispers of thieving Kolkiri and fae, and it had made him hold the babe in his arms all the tighter.

His sister-in-law was watching him closely, hands hovering, wary, like she didn’t trust him to hold the child quite right, ready every second to take the positively tiny bundle back from him and tuck that red and fitful face back against her own breast, hushing and cooing softly herself as she’d been when he’d arrived there. She didn’t though, although whether that was due to his own skill or some sort of restraint from the woman, he wasn’t certain.

“What’s the little ‘us name then?” He’d asked, pushing down the swaddling of rough fabric, far too rough for so small a thing, but lined carefully with far finer where no eyes could see. The child within trembled, cold air drawing a wavering wail from a tiny mouth. There wasn’t much to see anyways, he was a baby, same as anyone had ever had. Far smaller than Aflon had ever seen before though; so small he almost could hold him in one hand alone, but by all other means the tiny creature wasn’t much to look at.

Despite that though, Loretta’s dark gaze hadn’t lifted once from the infant, usually stern features awash with pure adoration as one trailing hand lifted the blanket back up to shield the babe once more. “Link.”

“Like the hero?” The dead one?

“Like the star,” her hands lingered so close to the face of her child, and in answer, the tiny one stilled, quieting as though some spell was laid over him. “Like the boy who brought hope to dark countries when Hyrule was at her worst.”

“Sir Raven’s squire.”

She’d nodded. “The same.”

And the child was just, well, a child; a tiny wee thing that felt so fragile to hands accustomed to the sword, and Aflon had shaken his head with a sigh, turning to Loretta with the question that had plagued him since he’d been given his riding orders this morning with the command to meet her here. “Why me?”

Those had been the words to make her draw back, pain welling up behind dark violet eyes that avoided his own. “There’s no one else I can ask.”

“He’s your son.”

“Which is the same as a sentence of death,” she’d hissed, tone harsh as her blade, “you know as well as I how Hyrule sees its crown. You took a vow the same as any other knight.”

He had.

“That child,” her child, “stands no chance, no matter what I do, if I keep him with me.”

Aflon had shifted, sparing the bundle in his arms a glance one more before murmuring, “his chances are pretty slim regardless, ‘Etta. Babes this small-”

“I know,” She’d run a finger along a tiny cheek, face pinching into something bordering on gentle, on sweet, something no one would describe the woman as save with her steads, “But it’s the best I can give him.”

He’d felt the weight of those words, the weight of their expectation, and all the more so when the Queen of all Hyrule had lifted violet eyes to hold his own and given him her final command. “Protect him, Aflon. He’s not just your prince, he’s your nephew, and I swear on hell’s ashes if you fail him, I will flay you.” Typically, he’d have assumed her words to be in jest, but the fire behind her eyes, a furious and dangerous love the likes of which he’s only heard tell of a mother for her babe, had made him take the words to heart.

“I won’t fail you, your grace.”

“No,” she’d stepped closer, pulled his arms down just a bit further so she could duck her head and press a kiss to a tiny cheek, “don’t fail him. All else doesn’t matter-”

“The princess-”

“I will mind the princess,” Loretta’s eyes had darkened, “and failing that, the Impa sent is a good one. Your priority is him,” and both of them had turned to the child, a child so tiny he almost weighed nothing, but yet lay so heavy in his arms with duty set beside him. “He needs you.”

And he did. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t felt it, but even a man made in blood and battle knows the worth of life. And so, somehow, he’d managed.

He’d carried his little charge back to the closest village and taken a room, managing to ignore the curious and lingering gazes of the locals at a young knight in full armor with a tiny baby in his arms.

In truth, he hadn’t been sure where to go from there. Loretta had entrusted him with her child, which meant all other missions, whatever they might be, were out of the question. His duty as a knight, as a soldier, was now changed, which, all considered, wasn’t the worst fate in the world. Still, he’d mused, staring at the tiny creature that slept more than he stirred, it’s not exactly the life he’d imagined for himself.

They’d always been knights, or so his own father had taught himself and his brother. The men in their family take up the sword and the women the plow and reigns of a rancher. Their older sister already is married with her own farm, and goodness knows Banzetta himself, though king consort, still carries his blade as the second in command to their warrior queen. For himself, Aflon has never imagined anything else than to serve as his forefathers, perhaps to marry, although there’s no woman who’s caught his eye as of yet, or at least none he’d be keen to stay beside for all his life. He can’t continue traveling Hyrule though, not with a tiny child in his care, not when the world out there is still so dangerous and dark.

For days, he’d stayed at the inn. He’d had no direction or clue, but he’d done his best to mind the tiny princeling in his care, although his attempts must have been very poorly indeed because it wasn’t long at all before two of the local village women had been knocking down his door and scolding him left right and sideways.

Without the women of Kakariko, Aflon could say for a certainty that neither he nor Link would have made it through that winter. They had though. The ladies of Kakariko nursed his precious nephew alongside their own children, taught himself how to change and clean a child, how to swaddle them up tight against the cold, how to burp and soothe them. He’d listened with care, listened like they were marching orders from a commanding officer, and he’d taken them all to heart, employing every bit of skill imparted to best fulfill his duty to the child in his care.

Thankful as he was for those women, the many mothers of Kakariko, young and old both, there was still, despite their care, a fear that gripped him each time one of them took up Link in their arms. The babe was a prince of Hyrule, and were that known it would be easy to stage some incident to see that the bad omen that was a royal son was no more. The women of the village would laugh, saying that anxiety for a child was normal, but they had no conception how deeply his fear ran each time one of them held the boy, each time he had to turn his back on his helpless charge for even the smallest of moments.

Come spring, he’d settled, bought a piece of land with the money he’d saved over the years and made a home for himself. As it happened, an old orchard had been up for sale, just close enough to the village to keep in touch with those who’d shown them kindness, but with enough distance that he no longer felt the need to be on the defense at all times against neighbors who might seek to harm the boy in his care.

They’d asked, some of the village folk, if the baby was his. For lack of a better response, he’d said Link was his brother’s. No one questioned it. Why would they? He was a stranger to them, and though chatter would sound on street corners wondering what had happened to lead him, ‘a clueless young man who hasn’t the faintest on how to mind a babe’ to have care of Link, but they’d never asked him anything more, just gone on offering advice.

That was fine though. That was better than them all assuming he was the father, because it felt wrong to allow such a misconception. He couldn’t say why, but when a parent still lives and wants their child, there’s no right for another to claim them as their own. Besides, he couldn’t be a father.

As it was, some days he felt he was doing a terrible job of being an uncle.

And he hadn’t thought of himself as such at first, but somewhere amid long nights sitting up, just watching labored breaths from a body almost too frail to take them, somewhere amid whispered words with doctors who’d told him to let go already, with midwives who’d urged him to keep fighting as long as his little one did, somewhere along the line of spending every day forever in the presence of the child, there’d come a day when he’d stopped worrying about his charge, and where he’d started fretting about his nephew.

Maybe it was those moments of clarity and wakefulness when big bright eyes would stay up at him, so curious. When floppy little ears would follow the sounds of his voice, or tiny hands would cling fast to an offered finger, toothless jaws working at its tip with little coos and warbles. He couldn’t say. But somewhere in that first winter he’d gone from a knight with a charge to an uncle with a nephew, and he’d never wanted to go back.

Sure, it was hard some days. Link was a sickly baby from the start, and he grew slowly. He was bright though, so very bright, like a star as his mother had said, and with every passing day those eyes so like the queen’s own had filled up with their own constellations of joy and smiles, tiny hands clapping, little feet stumbling.

Despite all concerns and doubts, his little Link beat the odds.

The child was his sunshine. He’d never been a very social man, so the company of a single boy wasn’t bad at all in his opinion. Granted, with just the two of them it had raised concerns when Link hadn’t learned to speak when he should, and for a time he’d wondered if perhaps it was for a lack of him having used words enough for the little one to know them, but in time he’d accepted that words weren’t to be had, and while some village folk would murmur that a changeling might have been traded for his precious bundle, stolen by jealous kolkiri in vengeance for their own lost little one, he’d never minded too much. He’d learned to speak with his hands from the village elder, and so Link had as well, and by that means they’d gotten along quite well until the wee one had made up his mind to try for actual sounds.

His old friends from the army were company at times, stopping in between missions and runs, catching a drink or a place to stay. He used to worry about exposing Link to the life he’d known among them, but in front of the child they’d all minded well, many even offering help and kindness he’d never dare to ask for. Some had children of their own, they said, others younger siblings. Regardless of the reason though, not a man would enter his home as didn’t have a kind word for his nephew, and while worry still brewed up within to see Loretta’s child among men sworn to prevent his existence, not a one had ever guessed at the truth.

And then everything had changed when Link turned eight.

He’d been talking by then. Belated though it was, words would come to him at times, although he’d prefer his hands over his tongue. Despite the murmurs of locals though, the boy was bright, sitting up more often than not with whatever book Aflon could find for him and positively devouring anything inside of them, big violet eyes near glittering in delight at the world painted for his eager mind, at the discoveries and worlds and words and stories- heavens did his little star love the stories! He had ever so much to say about what he read, and a smile brighter than the sun itself, and small though he still was, weak though he’d likely always be, Aflon adored the boy that ran to his arms at every day’s end and shared home and heart with him.

He’d had doubts, in the beginning, that he could settle to a quiet life, but it never felt quiet with Link so eagerly learning about it beside him, indeed, it felt like he’d only just learned what it was to be alive for himself!

And every day was a new adventure, teaching his nephew something new or finding himself taught some lesson or fact. Every night was settling down before the fire and holding firm against the plea of “one more page!” before smothering his precious Link in mustachioed kisses and tucking him in tight against the chill of the night. Sometimes they were disturbed with guests and his efforts would be in vain, but nine times out of ten when that did happen, Captain Bertram or Major Wilkins would take the lad back to bed and recount enough stories to finally have him dozing off against them, ready to be tucked back in again upon their departure.

He wouldn’t have changed that life for the world though.

Yet, the world seemed to have other plans.

Link had startled awake in the middle of a storm one night, tearfully insisting that something was wrong, that there was danger, that Zelda, the sister he didn’t know was his even then, was in danger and that she’d told him so herself.

To another man, it might have been nothing, just a bad dream, but Aflon had himself woken before to the sound of startled cries sounding through an army camp. He could remember when the queen would awake from a vision while traveling with himself and his brother, and many a time, Banzetta had recounted to him when it happened that he hadn’t seen. It was in their blood, the people of Hyrule would say, that those of the royal line would sometimes be given visions, often of future events and or trouble brewing beyond even the eyes of the Sheikah. That was how all the prophecies surrounding his own family had come about, how the reappearance of a hero had been foretold.

So, upon hearing such strange words from the mouth of his nephew, rather than beg him return to bed or otherwise ignore it, Aflon had taken it to heart. After all, he’d been reminded, looking down at the tear-stained face at his bedside, Link may be his nephew, but he was also still Loretta’s son; still born with the blood of the crown, a prince of Hyrule.

So, although Loretta had told him to leave Zelda’s care to herself long ago, back when she and Banzetta were still alive and before some mission had gone awry and the both were lost forever- despite the fact that the Impa chosen by the sheikah had, indeed, never once failed in her duties, he’d still chosen to attend to the fears of his nephew and brave the storm, just in case. He’d chosen to risk it, even if it did mean he’d strayed from his orders.

He wishes every day that he hadn’t.

If only he’d done as Loretta said and minded Link first and foremost, maybe nothing would have changed. If only he’d promised that in the morning they would go together- although, looking back, he knows the princess would have been dead by that time if he had.

He’s long come to grips with the fact that whatever he had done, there would have been no happy ending, but even so, he still hates himself that he had allowed what happened next.

Rather than tell him to go home, rather than protect him, shield him from the world his mother never wanted him to know, Aflon had looked into the terrified eyes of his nephew, down in the depths of the castle sewers where the boy had followed him against his orders, he’d used his final breaths to push a sword and shield into hands too small to hold them, bidding the child go to save Zelda. He’d known he was dying, he’d known Link was scared, but at that little obedient nod, he’d also known something more:

His death would leave Link the last of their bloodline, and a prophecy given to a queen long ago had once said that it would be the last of them that would face Ganon when next he emerged. Looking at eyes the same as Loretta’s own, albeit far kinder, he’d found himself reminded of those words, and sickeningly certain that he was witnessing the birth of that hero. His little Link who wanted to be a farmer, who didn’t know how to fight and who was still so tiny, so young, was going to become the Hero of Hyrule.

Though he’d been bleeding out as they spoke, he’s rather certain it was heartbreak that had been his undoing, not the wound in his side, and he’d drawn his final breath to the sound of sniffled tears.

Yet, it seemed his eyes had only just closed before they were opening again, pain gone and so too his young charge. At first, he’d thought perhaps he’d struck his head somehow and dreamed the whole thing, but both sword and shield were gone as well, although when he reached the end of the sewer system the prison was quiet, empty of any princess, and when he’d turned back and returned to the outside world, not only was it daylight, but it was spring.

It had been a late autumn storm that he’d traveled through to reach the castle.

He’d thought, hoped, that it was some trick, but when he’d hurried along back towards town, to the house, everyone he passed seemed to think nothing at all of the fact that they were plowing fields and making ready for a planting. They were preparing for a new year of work, as though the winter itself wasn’t supposed to be coming, as though it had already happened! And there were still bits of snow lying about. There was a dampness to the ground of a fresh fallen rain. The world itself seemed insistent it tell him that he was wrong. But if he was, then where had the time gone, and what had happened? Where was Link and why was his side unmarred as though never an ax had plowed through it?

His feet had all but flown down the paths, paying little or no mind to those he passed or the startled shouts they sent his way. His goal had been set; his destination desperately darted towards.

The house looked entirely normal when he’d finally reached it. The orchard was beginning to brighten, not yet blooming, still expecting another snap of cold before the season truly sprung, but they were well along to blossoming. The path was clear, nothing and no one on it, and when he’d come to the door, he’d found it locked up tight. As it should be, as he’d left it, as he’d taught Link to leave it. He still had his key with him even though his sword was missing, and though his hands trembled he’d still managed to fish it out and, with some struggle, had gotten it into the lock.

The house looked the same as it had when he left. Clean as a whistle because a soldier’s training still lingered with him even after eight years and that expectation was one that he’d taught Link to hold himself to as well. Their beds were made sloppily, as though the boy had tried to do it for him after he’d left and maybe given up after, or else simply been unable to see, from his height, how crookedly the blankets had been lain. Most notably though, Aflon had noted, there wasn’t much in the way of dust. There wasn’t much in the way of dirt. The only difference that he found was that the pot, which he kept by the door for spare rupees, was empty.

His breath had evened some at that. A clean house meant someone had minded it, and missing rupees were nothing if it meant Link hadn’t been left to starve in the unidentified period of time where Aflon had been absent.

Or so he had thought.

It was two days later, two days he’d spent searching the whole neighborhood, quite at the end of his rope in fear as Link hadn’t been seen at all in that time, when at last he’d laid eyes on his nephew.

Or rather, when he’d met the hero.

Because the wary creature that entered the cottage door and froze, hand on a sword and dark eyes so large in a thin face, was not his nephew. Because his nephew would have run to him with maybe a few tears or a cheer, jumping into his arms with a hug rather than start and draw a blade the moment Aflon made a motion towards him.

Link didn’t fear him.

The boy who came to him in Link’s stead did.

When he voiced his worries to the women who’d helped to mind the lad over the years, some would say perhaps he’d been taken, changed for a changeling by the forest children, at last getting their hands on a hero to replace their own. Others just shook their heads and sighed, unwilling to explain why.

He’d known though that the child in his home wasn’t a changeling though. No, because that child had eyes every bit as much like the late queen. Eyes that knew war, and battle, that bore the burden of a kingdom which dragged on too small shoulders, eyes that Knew, that Looked, and eyes that Saw people for what they were, not simply what they’d claim to be. There was no doubt, looking at that boy, that he was Loretta’s son.

But he wasn’t Aflon’s nephew.

Link was bright and bubbly, quieter by nature but prone to prattling when the mood took him. The silent little thing that lived in his house, wary like a rabbit hunted and hidden, was a stark contrast. Link liked to travel with him, going to town for any errands and skip-tripping along the path at his side, getting distracted by small creatures and ever full of questions.

Not only did the hero avoid going out of the house when he could, preferring instead to stay inside behind a locked-up door and shuttered windows, but when he did go out, the lad was ever scanning the world, ever watching the sky and the path as though expecting an attack from one or the other. He didn’t stray off towards sudden changes, curious ears cocked, he put a hand to his shoulder and looked for a blade.

The child that came back to him held the manner and look of an old knight, not a child too young to even be a page, and it disturbed him. He tried though. This was Loretta’s son, the prince of Hyrule, and as he’d later learned, the boy had indeed become the country’s hero. Not that the boy had told him that himself. No, the child in his home didn’t speak, tongue faltering and sounds stuttering before hands would lift to answer questions in as few words as possible.

Two of his fingers were crooked, Aflon realized, watching him, heart aching. Two fingers and, in those first days, he’d favor one leg over the other.

He wanted to help, but the boy was wary of touch, starting and panicking as a first reaction if he didn’t see it coming and wincing even when he could. He kept a wide space between himself and anyone, a swords-distance, Aflon realized after a spell, although as for the blade he carried, well, that had disappeared after the first few weeks. It wasn’t the sword he’d handed to his nephew though. The sword that the hero held was unfamiliar to him; radiant, beautiful, masterfully forged so that his own blade paled in comparison. His was absent, and the one time he had asked what happened to it, he’d just watched violet eyes fall and shoulders hunch, and immediately changed the subject.

It was hard. His nephew looked the same as Loretta’s child, same face, same form, same stature, although time had made her changes too. The boy was scrawny, and though he had hoped his lost rupees meant his charge was still fed even with him gone, he’d come to doubt that.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it when, at learning of his own return, one of the neighbors down the road had invited them both for dinner, and the hero child had only stared at his own plate, stirring the food around but not eating. He’d dismissed it at first, but soon it became abundantly clear that the hero would not eat food he couldn’t watch being prepared, not unless it was a meal offered by Aflon himself, and, to his own surprise, Dolly, the village elder’s wife.

Somehow, both she, Dolly, and Sahasralah, the elder, were the only ones who seemed unaffected by how his charge had changed. In fact, more than once, Aflon would find himself watching, wistful, as the two would speak with or even handle the hero with not a thing done to show fear in response. Simple acceptance met their motions, their words, and at times he’d almost been tempted to ask if maybe the boy that wore Link’s face wanted to stay with them instead, as he seemed so much more at peace in their home.

He didn’t though. He’d sworn a vow, a vow to do his duty to his prince, to his queen, and though he wasn’t certain if Loretta’s spirit would haunt him if he failed that, he wasn’t exactly keen to find out.

He couldn’t leave her son with strangers, with people she didn’t know or trust. Still, as the days passed, house silent as a crypt and the boy inside nearly the corpse it housed, he’d found the temptation growing daily.

At night as he’d blow out the lamps, now knowing full well not to approach his charge in the dark and sometimes fearing to even look at him (because what looked back was a slip of a shade with eyes glinting red like a rabbit’s in the low light of the hearth and by all means hardly human) he’d fight his own mind on the matter. Stay or leave, linger with what wasn’t any longer what he’d sword to protect, the child that wasn’t his nephew but was a hero.

Loretta said to protect him, he’d remind himself as he lay beneath the blankets. Yet, small hands knew the touch of blood, and the boy who’d wandered in at his door knew a blade like knights four times his age still hadn’t learned. Lying there at night, he’d wonder to himself, what was there left to protect the boy from? Loretta’s child already had seen everything she wanted to shield him from, so what was even the point, when there was no more innocence to shield?

It was that thinking, after weeks, months, that had led to him gathering up clothing and books, toys left behind because the person who would leave with him wasn’t a child but a young soldier, so what did they matter? He’d packed things up, watched the hero slip to his side to help, dutifully but silently gathering Link’s clothes and folding them up with the same careful effort Link always did, ending with the same misshapen result, and tucking them away like they would do every summer for the trip back to his own childhood home.

He’d locked the door tight that summer. Shut up the shutters and minded that nothing was left untended, no mess within or without. Long ears had cocked sideways, big eyes watching, curious, but nothing was said with scarred hands holding their bags while he prepared the house for their departure.

Most summers, he’d take Link down to Lon-Lon so the boy could stay with his grandparents and Aflon could attend to the heavier tasks of their orchard without worrying over minding the lad or leaving him feeling alone. This year though, after Mother had ushered the boy within the ranch house, shooting him a startled stare over his shoulder, he’d not gone back to the cottage.

Aflon Lon had, instead, taken to the road.

Guilt ate at him, but he’d known there was no going back.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t return to the house. It wasn’t home without the laughter of his nephew, without bright eyes and brighter smiles. It wasn’t home without a presence at his side working away at the trees, muttering and talking at times to the birds who’d stop to watch them in their labor. It wasn’t home without Link, and Link- or at least the boy he knew, was gone.

So, he’d wandered Hyrule. He hadn’t traveled in a long while, but it was easy to take up again, to wander the roads by day and make camp at night. He stopped in old haunts he used to visit as a knight to see how they had changed, and he’d thought nothing of his wanderings. After all, it was summer; the summers were always free for him to do what he wanted. It was when autumn had begun to show her colors that guilt had well and truly began to build up inside of him.

Link would be waiting at the gates of Lon-Lon, watching the road for his uncle to come and bring him home. He knew it wouldn’t be the same eager stare, ears crooked and head rested on folded arms as the boy would perch on the rungs of the fence, leaning his whole weight against it and keeping eyes and ears on the road. The hero child would likely sit with more wariness, but despite all changes there was no doubt in Aflon’s mind that he’d wait all the same.

The difference though, the real one, was that this time, Aflon couldn’t come back. He couldn’t.

He couldn’t go back to that house, that child, he couldn’t live like that forever, with the shade of what should have been.

Mother and Father though, they could handle a soldier boy. They’d handled Banzetta after his first battles, they’d know how to work with Loretta, and if they could manage the parents of his own charge, he was sure theft were the best suited to handling a young hero. Not only that, but they were safe, they were good, and they’d never hurt Link for the circumstances of his birth. They would be better to him than Aflon could be, and given time, he was sure the hero would settle there again, into a life with a knight, a lady, a history of heroes all around him on the walls and swords ready for his hands; the life he’d taken on, but one Aflon couldn’t watch lived.

As for himself, he’d wander. He’d travel, he’d embrace the world he’d had to forsake for a small bundle. By winter, he’d gone further south than he’d ever strayed, gone where word of the hero didn’t reach, where peace and simplicity beckoned. He’d meant to resist, but an evening in a bar with a pretty woman at his side had changed that.

“Here alone, stranger?” She’d asked, voice thick with a drawl and gaze bold as she’d settled beside him.

He’d never been a bold man, quiet by nature, so he’d nodded.

She hadn’t been dissuaded, motioning to the barkeep for a round for them both before striking up chatter, asking where he was from? What brought him here? Where was he going? And his answer of course had been that he was from central Hyrule, seeking his fate and unsure where he’d find it.

“D’ya have a family?” She’d asked, honest and friendly. “Can’t be easy for them not knowing where you are.”

And he’d hesitated, just a moment, before offering a stilted smile and answering “just my parents and a sister.”

A sister who’d left, he told her, to marry a man from across the border, who visited at times but was busy with a farm and a family of her own, much like his own parents were even in their older age. He’d said nothing of a nephew, just the same as he’d left out the dead older brother and sister-in-law.

He’d lingered in that town for a few more days, and she’d been at the pub each night, coming to join him when he entered and striking up chatter until they were both looking forwards to the evening when they’d happen upon each other. Somehow though, that had turned to arranged meetings, to wandering, to talking, to a kiss that left him speechless and a courtship that left him stumbling and eager like he hadn’t been since he was just a boy.

He’d wondered how she hadn’t had a fella before he’d come, but he’d thanked the heavens for it too, especially when he’d proposed, when they’d taken a home together, when they’d made the choice to live life together.

It was easy to forget, for a while, in that early bliss, in the whirlwind of emotions, what he’d left behind to find it. He was reminded though when their own little one was born, when a little boy had been laid in his arms and he’d started when blue shone back at him rather than violet.

Liza would laugh and tease him, calling him a worrywart when he fussed. She’d say it was like he’d never held a child before; he was so cautious. She’d remind him to relax, when she found him sitting up and watching the wee one slumber, because he was healthy, he was fine, they needn’t worry so much because while babies need care, they won’t break if you breathed wrong.

Aflon couldn’t help himself though.

He was used to looking for signs of trouble, for any hint of illness. He’d started when their boy had started babbling, started talking, at only two years old. Liza had said that was normal, that they wouldn’t stay babies forever, that it was part of growing up. Still, he’d found himself signing more than speaking with the boy, and more times than he could count, the wrong name had slipped to his lips.

Their son had dark hair like his mother, blue eyes like Aflon himself, but it always startled him to see them. It was supposed to be strawberry blonde, with starlit skies veiled beneath. He expected a slip of a child who was quiet but eager, not a loud little thing that ran and darted and climbed and made him panic because Link was fragile! …except this wasn’t Link, and his son was strong, like him, like Liza. His son was bold, loud, like a little boy was supposed to be, not timid and wary like the boy he’d left behind.

It never stopped catching him off guard though. Their little Rusl didn’t care anything for books, or reading, or sitting still. He was always off with other children of the village; he was always climbing trees and ‘sword fighting’ other young ones with twigs they’d find on the roadside.

He was a normal boy, all told, but somehow that was more jarring, in so many ways, than if he hadn’t been. Because Aflon had never dealt with a normal boy, he realized. Even Before, his Link hadn’t been normal, he just hadn’t known to see it.

It was strange, how often Rusl would stare, watching people without those hesitant little falters that Link always had when someone met his eyes. He didn’t pay attention to the little details, didn’t care to watch the sky or the sun. He didn’t care about stars or tiny creatures or pouring over books the same size as himself for hours.

The one thing that the two boys did have in common though, was a love for stories of heroes.

Link used to bury his little button nose in the volumes of history that told of the Hero of the Four Sword, the Hero of the Skies: the chosen hero. Rusl didn’t read much, but one day he’d come back to their home with Liza after errands, and he’d had nothing on his mind except some story he’d heard about the Hero of Legends.

Aflon had paused in making dinner, frowning because he’d never heard of that hero before, because Link never spoke of that title.

“Who is the Hero of Legend?” He’d asked, turning to the dirt streaked four-year-old at the door.

“He’s who killed Ganon and saved Princess Zelda!” Had been his answer. “He’s so cool, I wish he’d come to our village so I could meet him!”

He hadn’t realized, until Liza had darted across the kitchen and scooped up the pot, that their meal had boiled over, or that it’d burned his hand when it did.

Rusl and his friends would talk about Link, pretend to be Link, say they wanted to be heroes like him, be knights, be brave. He’d be in the village and stories would sound, gossip between neighbors recounting the latest exploits of the Hero of Legend. He’d killed Ganon twice, he’d traveled the world, he’d saved Labrynna from a witch, he’d fought some tyrant down in Holodrum. Everyone had a different rumor that they’d heard, everyone a different thought on what the hero might be like. Despite all they’d chatter about though, all he could see in his own mind was a boy with heavy eyes and crooked fingers that trembled when he used them to talk.

Aflon had gone home that day, after hearing all the chatter, all the stories, all the news that had come down to them from some merchant who’d strayed to town, and he’d told Liza he was taking a trip.

“Just for a few days,” he’d said, wrapping arms around her and trying to smile, even though he’d known she’d see past it. “Just to see how my parents are doing.” He’d left out the part about his old house, about the child he’d raised inside it. He knew it was wrong, felt guilt eat away each time his mind turned there, but he’d never let slip about the boy he’d raised before meeting her, the child he’d left behind.

Link, as he’d known him, was gone, why speak of what wasn’t there any longer? Why drag everything he’d tried to leave behind into the perfection he’d stumbled himself into?

Still, he needed to know, needed to see, and maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to see Loretta’s boy again, just to assure himself that he was alright, because try as he might, much as he wished, worry still plagued his heart for the little soldier boy he’d left at Lon-Lon.

He’d stopped by the house first, if only out of curiosity for what had become of it. It had been years, had the village elders sold it? Left it be? He didn’t know, so he’d taken the road around Kakariko, hood up as he passed old neighbors, boots stumbling some on a path he knew better than that back to his own wife and child.

The cottage hadn’t changed a bit. Standing on the path, apple trees shivering in a slight breeze, he’d almost felt a decade younger, almost tricked himself into thinking he’d need only open the old wood door, the door whose key still sat heavy in his pocket, and a bright little face would whip around to meet him, gap-toothed grin his welcome home as feet would pit-patter across the worn-out floors. Maybe it was that image that tricked his feet into walking, following a path altered only by shade of trees grown taller in his absence, their fruit hanging heavy but not yet ready to be plucked.

It’d be cider making season soon, he’d mused to himself, hand digging through his pocket for a key he couldn’t name why he still carried. Absently, he wondered if the old press was still down in the basement, if Link- because it must be Link- had minded to keep it oiled and tended, or if he’d left off using it. After all, the former knight chuckled, the boy couldn’t even turn the handle fully on his own, now could he?

His mind had been so caught in his thoughts he hadn’t been minding his surroundings, pushing the door open after a moment’s struggle (the key stuck more than it once used to) and moving to enter his old home. He hadn’t expected to be immediately whacked over the head, nor, when he’d picked himself up again, to find himself face to… face(?) with a masked figure.

“We aren’t open!” The purple clad individual had declared, mallet in hand, and a small creature with wings- which could in no ways be considered a bird- fluttering about at his shoulders, squawking and hissing something terrible. “And if you thought you could break in, you’re dead wrong!”

Aflon had blinked, slowly, and then started, gaze flying about the house briefly.

It wasn’t changed, not really. Pictures were all taken down and boxes were tucked against the walls, but the couch, the rocking chair, the china-cabinet, it was all still there, still in the same places, now with new stains and scuffs, but he could recognize them all the same. Really, the only major difference was the desk near the door scattered over with glittering items and objects, little price tags set before them in poor mimicry of a shop.

He wasn’t sure if the purple clad figure was meant to be here or not, but given that the house still technically belonged to him, he’d been more than slightly caught off guard.

“I’m not here for a shop, I- who are you?”��

“Who are you?” The apparent merchant had demanded in answer, face shielded behind a hood that looked like it was meant to resemble a very, very odd face. “And why are you here?” Their voice was trembling slightly, but they stood firm despite.

“I live- or, well…” he’d paused, picking himself up and dusting himself off, “I used to live here. This was my house- still is actually, I’ve just been away.”

Despite not being able to see the merchant’s eyes, he could feel the apprehension in their gaze, weighty as it was as they looked up at him, one hand on their hip and the other holding fast to their oversized mallet. “You must have the wrong house; this one belongs to Mister Hero.”

Oh.

“You mean Link?”

“You know him?” Their head cocked on one side, hood following with a flap of long ear-like attachments.

Aflon had nodded briefly. “Do you?”

“Of course!” And suddenly the mallet was gone, the figure gesturing about with a cheery chirp now entering their tone. “He’s my housemate! Lets me stay here, keep up the shop while he’s gone and all that lovely sort of thing. Didn’t realize he had a landlord himself though! So terribly sorry if he’s been stiffing you on rent, he’s been out of town for forever now, you see.”

He’d nodded. He hadn’t known what better to do.

The stranger had introduced themselves as Ravio, offered to show him their wares, but when asked about Link had firmly insisted that he knew nothing more than that the hero was off on some mission for the crown or something and that he was just keeping the house in order for him.

It had been all Aflon needed to hear though. Link was still alive, apparently having embraced his role as the hero, and it seemed he wasn’t alone. He must have left the farm at some time, but seeing as he was approaching fifteen it made sense. He’d been rather eager for his freedom at that age too.

The kid would be fine, he’d told himself, walking back to Liza and Rusl. Link didn’t need him; he was getting along fine.

Somehow, even with the whole trip home to convince himself of that, it hadn’t worked. In fact, now he couldn’t stop thinking about it, slipping more with Rusl, drifting off at home. Liza wouldn’t let him in the kitchen anymore, insisting that he was too prone to forgetting what he’d been doing, too likely to hurt himself because he wasn’t paying attention. She’d begged him to see a doctor, or talk to her, but he’d waved it off, saying he was just tired, just thinking, he was fine; he just needed to rest. He knew she didn’t believe him, but she’d stopped asking at least.

If only he could stop himself thinking as easily.

But as the months and seasons passed, more worry had grown, more thoughts.

Link is turning sixteen this winter. Sixteen years since he’d stood on the edge of the wood with the queen of Hyrule and taken her child in his arms, promising to guard him. Only eight of those years were spent keeping that promise, only half, and he’d startled when he’d realized it. Even now, he’s left wondering, as he braves a storm so like that night that robbed him of his precious nephew, has Link changed? What is he like now? Did he ever grow into those too-big ears of his? Did he learn to look men in the eyes when he spoke to them, to steady his voice and hold himself with surety and not simply just skill?

His boy will be becoming a man, and he doesn’t know what that man looks like.

Or rather, he didn’t.

Because when he comes home, drenched to the bone but with a fresh kill in hand, ready for dinner, ready for him to show Rusl how to skin and prepare it, he finds his house full of strangers, his wide smiling and telling him that they’re travelers, more boys than men, and they need a place to stay but the inn is so far. Of course he greets them, of course he looks at men in armor and offers a smile like he would to his old brothers in arms, welcomes them to his home.

He didn’t realize, until just now, how much he missed hosting people fresh off the path he once used to follow, how much he missed their stories or sharing a smoke or a drink with men like himself once in a while, not just farming folk (nice as they are).

He’s midway to offering the a warm welcome when his eyes stray to the fire and he finds himself freezing.

Great violet eyes, shaded heavy under strawberry blonde, plastered down by dampness and the storm that howls just outside the door, stare up at him.

His breath catches.

It’s Loretta’s face, freckled and fine, fae-like features and faint traces of scars, upturned nose and steady jaw, but the galaxies that gaze out from violet pools aren’t the queen, even if everything else about the figure at his fire is. No, those stars are all Link, all his nephew, and the weight of that stare, not sure and stern like his sister-in-law but yet also not startled and wide like that day eight years back when he’d first met the hero.

In the same breath, it’s the dead queen and the young hero that sits before him. It’s Loretta with accusing eyes, fire burning in their depths as his own words ring in his head, sounding a promise, a vow to do as she’d said, to guard and guide her son, to protect him, no matter what. Yet it’s Link, it’s that little boy with eyes that know a demon’s smile and remember him bathed in his own blood.

If his heart had failed him when he’d first put a sword in the hands of his nephew, it’s ache is a thousand times worse as he stares at the result of that action, even as it refuses to cease in an endless flutter inside him as shock touches the face of the little soldier boy he’d left behind eight years ago, but who’s somehow, some way, found his way back before Aflon’s fire, staring up at him with the same startled gaze that shook and broke his world so long ago.

His knees hit the floor even as Liza cries out in concern, hands fluttering about him, but he can’t lift his eyes to look at her. Instead, he’s trapped in an endless expanse of dying stars.

“Link.”

Long ears, still too big for his nephew, turn his way at the sound of his voice, the answer coming out breathless and disbelieving. “Uncle?”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #uncle aflon #Ketto writes #don't come for me I just had a bunch of headcannons #and brainrot #blame the asks #I needed to get it out of my system

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just-aake · 18 hours ago

Text

Everlasting Devotion - Part VIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Warnings: light angst

Words: 4074

At a table in your library, your fingers glide across the worn page of Howard Stark’s journal. The entries detail his ambitious attempts to harness sorcery, each word penned with sharp, precise strokes.

There’s something striking in his handwriting—a tangible trace of the man himself, a stranger who might’ve been part of your life if circumstances had been different.

As you read, you can’t help but wonder about the person behind these words.

Would he have welcomed you into his world, inviting you to collaborate on these projects instead of leaving you alone in the shadow of constant disappointments and harsh judgments?

With a quiet sigh, you pull yourself from the wistful thoughts and back to the task, refocusing on the journal’s contents.

His latest endeavor—a complex project to encapsulate raw energy within a synthetic stone—was left unfinished, his last entry noting how close he’d come but ultimately failing to contain it.

Your gaze drifts to the attacker’s glove lying nearby, the once-bright stone in its center now faded to a dull sheen.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and with delicate care, you pry the stone free, lifting it toward the sunlight streaming through the library window.

Sunlight filters through its transparent surface, revealing imperfections–tiny cracks spidering through its structure.

As you study it intently, a sudden flash of memory grips you: a similar stone, glowing brightly in someone’s hand, its light intensifying as muffled words reach your ears.

Before you can grasp the context of the fragmented scene, a dull ache pierces your mind, forcing your eyes shut against the sharp sensation.

When you open them again, blinking slowly, silence fills the room. The vivid memory fades, slipping further from your grasp.

The familiar unease that follows these unpredictable flashes settles over you. Once again, the thought crosses your mind: perhaps it’s time to let Wanda explore your thoughts.

Maybe she could decipher the meaning behind these visions—or confirm if you were just going insane.

“Quite the collection you’ve got here,” a voice cuts through the quiet.

Startled, you almost drop the stone, quickly pocketing it as you spin around.

Tony stands at the door, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” you snap, shooting him a sharp glare.

Tony glances back at the door, feigning disbelief.

“I did knock,” he insists, grinning. “You didn’t hear me? Practically rattled the hinges.”

You suppress a sigh as he strolls through the room, inspecting the shelves like a restless child. At one point, he pulls a book down, flips through a few pages, then shudders dramatically as he snaps it shut.

“Please tell me you’ve got something more exciting in here than this.”

He waves the book at you with exaggerated disappointment.

Snatching it from his hands, you glare at him. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Tony gives a dismissive wave, meandering toward another shelf.

“We’re waiting on supplies,” he explains. “Besides, Vision’s distracted playing nice with your little sorcerer outside.”

“Playing nice?” you ask, raising a brow in surprise.

Tony gives a lazy nod.

“He’s always been interested in that sort of thing—his family had some traces of magic or something in their line. Not great at the whole socializing bit, though, so this behavior is slightly surprising.”

Tony claps his hands and strides past you.

“It’s good, though. He’s always been the more reserved one of his brothers. You know, that’s why I brought him with me in the first place, to give him more exposure to the—hello—what do we have here?”

You follow his gaze, spotting the journal still open on the table in the corner of your eyes, but Tony’s attention is focused on the armored glove.

Discreetly, you close Howard’s journal and slide it behind a stack of other books while Tony is engrossed in examining the glove with keen interest.

He suddenly picks it up, slipping it onto his hand with confidence.

“Careful, it’s damaged,” you warn, stepping forward. “We don’t know how it works.”

Tony smirks, waving off your concern as he fumbles with the glove’s mechanism.

“Relax, it’s just a tool for defense. Completely harmless.”

Just as he finishes, a quiet click sounds from the glove, and suddenly, a shard bursts from its mechanism, ricocheting off the wall.

You duck instinctively while Tony stumbles back, clearly unprepared for the recoil.

“Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters, brushing himself off.

You shoot him a glare, yanking the glove from his hand. “And how would you know?”

He gives you a smug grin. “Because I designed it.”

The words catch you off guard, your brows knitting in suspicion as you bring the glove closer to your body.

“You…designed this?”

He dusts off his sleeve with nonchalance, oblivious to your growing unease.

“Not this one exactly, but the specs are similar.”

The unease that’s been lingering since Natasha’s news flares up again. With a deep breath, you tap the glove’s surface, your gaze turning serious.

“This is from the Stark Kingdom though.”

Tony leans casually against a shelf, his relaxed stance at odds with the sudden sharpness in his gaze.

“And how would you know that?” he counters.

You choose your words carefully, unwilling to reveal too much.

“I have a source. A reliable one.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, intrigued, but you press on before he can respond.

“That would mean that you’re…” you hesitate, searching his face, as you struggle to face the possibility.

“You’re from Stark, right?” you finish with instead.

Tony scrutinizes you for a moment, then wags his finger as he heads for the door.

“Nope, that’s not what you wanted to ask,” he says, sidestepping your question.

You stiffen, caught off guard by his intuition.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you call, hurrying after him.

“It means you’re not being honest about what you want to know,” he replies over his shoulder, the words hitting a nerve.

You hear him continue, muttering in contemplation.

“This does explain why you’ve been so weird lately whenever I’m near.”

But before you can fire back, he’s already halfway down the hall toward the manor entrance.

You catch up to him just as he exits the manor.

Vision and Wanda stand at the entrance, deep in conversation, pausing as they notice the two of you approaching.

“Vision, I’m heading into town,” Tony announces breezily.

He moves to follow. “I’ll prepare the—”

“No need,” Tony interrupts smoothly, already reaching for the nearby carriage door. “I’ll just take this.”

Before he can open it fully, a flicker of red energy snaps the door shut.

Wanda steps forward with her arms crossed, her gaze unmistakably unimpressed.

“That’s not yours to take,” she says, her voice edged with warning.

Just as Tony groans in frustration, you arrive at her side, nodding to Wanda.

“It’s fine, Wanda. I’m going with him.” You fix Tony with a glare. “We still need to finish our conversation.”

Wanda’s brow arches, her gaze shifting between you and Tony.

“Alright, I can call for Pietro,” she says, moving to get the other twin.

“You two don't need to come along,” you reply quickly.

Wanda’s concern deepens on her face at your unusual response, so you add with a reassuring smile, “Really, it’s okay.”

“Any day now, ladies,” Tony quips with an exaggerated sigh, tapping his foot impatiently.

You shoot him a glare. “Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxious?”

Tony grins, unbothered as ever, shrugging.

“You know, that does sound familiar,” he replies before stepping into the carriage.

Before you can follow, Wanda catches your arm, her expression a mix of worry and confusion.

“Is everything okay?” she asks softly, her tone laced with concern.

Her words make you pause, forcing you to confront the real reason behind your hesitation to let them overhear this conversation as well as let her into your mind.

It’s not just fear of what she might see—it’s the secret you’ve been keeping from her and her brother.

The truth about who you really are. The truth about your connection to the family responsible for their parents’ tragic deaths.

You’re not ready for them to know. You don’t know how you’d face them if they ever found out.

So, with a small, reassuring smile, you nod.

“Trust me, Wanda, I’ve got this.”

Then, leaning closer, you soften the moment with a teasing grin.

“Besides, it looks like you’re enjoying your time with Vision.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, though a faint blush colors her cheeks. She quickly regains her composure and removes her scarlet cloak, holding it out to you.

“Here, wear this. It’ll help keep unwanted attention off you in town,” she says, knowing well from Pietro’s stories how people have been reacting to you.

You accept it gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing into the carriage. You settle across from Tony, crossing your arms as the carriage lurches forward.

Tony doesn’t even glance up, instead examining his hand with what seems like exaggerated nonchalance.

Patience thinning, you let out an annoyed huff.

“Well?”

Tony finally looks up, feigning surprise.

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I wasn’t listening.”

Grinding your teeth, you shoot him a glare.

However, he just raises a brow, daring you to push further.

Taking a steadying breath, you decide it’s time to cut to the chase, dropping any pretense of subtlety.

“Are you Tony Stark?”

For a moment, he stares at you, blank and unreadable. Then, he bursts into an exaggerated laugh, leaning back in his seat with a loud, mocking cackle.

The sudden reaction catches you completely off guard.

“You think I’m Tony Stark? The King of the Stark Kingdom?” he asks between bouts of laughter, his tone dripping with amusement. “Why? Because we share a name? Or because I happen to design a few gadgets from that region?”

You falter, your certainty beginning to waver under his ridicule. “I—it’s just—”

“Well, you’re right,” he cuts in abruptly, his tone now nonchalant, so casual it almost doesn’t register. He spreads his arms in mock grandeur and a slight bow.

“I am the one and only…Tony Stark.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence as the words sink in. The ease with which he admits it is almost more shocking than the revelation itself.

“Just like that?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d just…admit it?”

Tony grins, throwing his feet up onto the seat beside you and reclining with a maddening air of satisfaction.

“Why not? You’re sharp enough to figure it out. Besides, it won’t be a secret for much longer.”

You should be feeling shock, panic—something other than the rising annoyance simmering in your chest. Before you can stop yourself, you shove his leg off the seat, forcing him to sit properly.

“For a royal, you have no manners,” you snap.

Tony laughs, completely unfazed.

“Now you’re really starting to sound like someone I know,” he quips, his tone amused.

Your irritation deepens. The casual way he’s treating this entire situation grates on your nerves, especially with everything you’ve already had to deal with and now with the addition of this.

“Why are you here?” you demand.

“Why should I tell you?” he counters smoothly.

Crossing your arms, you glare at him. “Because you lied to me.”

“Wrong,” he corrects, wagging a finger at you. “I never lied. I just didn’t tell you everything. Big difference. Lying’s more of a Romanov specialty than mine.”

You bristle at his comment, immediately becoming defensive.

“You can’t say that—you don’t even know them.”

Tony’s playful demeanor fades slightly, his expression turning serious as his gaze locks with yours.

“I know what happened the last time my family trusted a Romanov.”

A heavy silence descends between you, the weight of his words filling the small carriage. You don’t miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he turns to stare out the window, crossing his arms in what almost seems like a protective gesture.

“Everyone knows you can’t trust a Romanov or anyone from their kingdom,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

Your hands curl into fists as you glance down, frustration bubbling inside you.

“That’s hardly a fair judgment,” you whisper. “Not without giving people a chance.”

Tony glances at you, his expression unreadable. Then, leaning forward slightly, he meets your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

“Then prove me wrong.”

Your head snaps up, his words catching you off guard. “What?”

He sits back, arms crossed again, and shrugs.

“I’m not supposed to be here yet. If you can keep my identity a secret until the time is right, I’ll reconsider what I said.”

You fall silent, his proposition hanging in the air between you. The thought of keeping another secret from Natasha bothers you, but the idea of Tony meeting her with his current distrust of her family is even worse.

Maybe, just maybe, you could change his mind before that moment arrives.

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice your surroundings until the carriage stops.

Following Tony out, you snap back to reality as you take in the shadowy streets, far from the safer areas of town.

Grabbing his sleeve, you tug him to a stop.

Tony releases an indignant sound of surprise as he’s pulled back before turning to you with a disapproving frown.

“Hey, easy, now that you know who I am, there’s no excuse for this kind of disrespect.”

Ignoring his reprimand, you lower your voice, hissing at him in disbelief.

“What are we doing here? This area is dangerous.”

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh, clearly unbothered by your concern.

“Trying to stay low-key in a foreign kingdom. Naturally, I’d go somewhere less…guarded,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Then he smirks, adding, “You can always wait in the carriage if you’re too scared without your little followers around to protect you.”

Glowering, you push him ahead and lower your hood to obscure your face. You follow as he strides confidently into the alley. He stops at a run-down tavern, the dimly lit entrance as unwelcoming as the rest of the area.

You hesitate, glancing warily at the door.

“Relax,” Tony says, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “Head low, stay close, and try not to look terrified. These people can smell fear.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a sigh under your breath as you move to step inside. Just before you cross the threshold, the sound of barking draws your attention.

Glancing back, you spot two scruffy dogs, their muddy coats giving them a ragged appearance. They’re barking and leaping at a bird perched just out of their reach, the falcon screeching indignantly.

A strange sense of familiarity strikes you, but you shake it off. It’s a ridiculous thought.

Coincidence, nothing more.

Steeling yourself, you pull your hood tighter and slip into the tavern to follow Tony.

The atmosphere hits you immediately—a cacophony of rowdy chatter, clinking glasses, and the sharp, pungent tang of alcohol mixed with smoke.

The dim lighting casts shadows across the rough wooden beams, and the patrons barely glance your way as you weave through the tables, trailing Tony’s confident stride.

For a moment, you think you might make it through unnoticed.

That hope evaporates as a man steps into your path. His leering grin reveals yellowed teeth, and his eyes sweep over you with an unsettling feeling.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he asks, his voice slurred and mocking.

You stand your ground, narrowing your eyes at him, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

Stepping to the side, you attempt to move past him, but he reacts quickly, his face twisting with anger as he reaches out to grab your arm.

Before his hand can get close, Tony’s grip suddenly clamps down on the man’s wrist, stopping him mid-motion.

“Easy there,” Tony says, his tone light but laced with warning. “We’re all here to relax, right? So why don’t you…take a deep breath and do just that.”

The man glares at Tony, weighing his options, but the steady, unflinching look Tony gives him is enough to make him pull back. The man stumbles off, muttering something about it not being worth the trouble.

Tony claps his hands in satisfaction and then turns to you with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows.

“You really know how to attract trouble. No wonder you always need someone around to save the day.”

You glare at him, your voice clipped.

“I can handle myself just fine.”

Tony hums mockingly as if considering your words, then shrugs. “If you say so.”

He turns and saunters toward a booth tucked into the corner of the tavern, his pace purposefully slower as if to ensure that you stay close.

The gesture irritates you further, but you follow anyway.

At the booth, a man sits nervously, his eyes darting around the room with visible discomfort.

Tony slides into the seat across from him, greeting him with the same condescension he’d just directed at you.

“Don’t look so scared, Happy. They can smell fear, you know.”

“I’m not scared,” the man retorts defensively, though his shifting gaze betrays him. “I just don’t like places like this.”

His eyes flick to you, observing you with curiosity. “Who’s she?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Tony waves a dismissive hand in front of your face.

“Not relevant right now,” he answers for you, earning him a sharp glare from you.

“Also, she knows who I am,” Tony adds with a smirk, “so you can talk freely.”

Happy shrugs, seemingly accustomed to Tony’s antics.

Tony leans forward, his tone shifting to one of eager anticipation.

"Well, did you bring it?"

Happy nods, pulling out a cloth-wrapped object from beside him and sliding it across the table. You watch as Tony unwraps it, revealing a glove strikingly similar to the one from your manor—but this one is sleeker, more refined in its design.

“Impressive, right?” Tony asks, shooting you a knowing look as if reading your thoughts. “Unlike yours, mine actually works a lot better.”

You roll your eyes but pause when you notice something.

“It’s missing the stone,” you point out.

Tony’s smirk falters, replaced by a puzzled expression.

“What stone?”

You hesitate, weighing your options, but ultimately decide he’s the best person to ask, considering he’s the son of the one who created the project.

Pulling the dull, cracked stone from your pocket, you hold it out.

“This was attached to the other glove,” you explain. “It glowed yellow with some sort of power before it was damaged.”

Tony takes the stone, his usual flippant demeanor fading as he studies it with uncharacteristic seriousness.

After a moment, Happy breaks the silence, pointing at the stone.

“That looks like something you worked on a few years ago,” he says. “Remember how many times it blew up in your lab?”

Tony glares at him, unamused at the reminder.

“We agreed never to speak of that.”

Turning back to you, Tony gives you a curious look.

“Where did you say you got this glove?”

“We were attacked,” you reply. “It was left behind when they escaped.”

Tony hums thoughtfully, then closes his hand around the stone.

“I’ll hold onto this for you,” he declares.

“Hey, that’s not yours!” you protest, reaching for it.

Tony easily keeps it out of reach. “It’s not yours, either.”

You scoff, incredulous at his childish behavior. For a moment, you wonder how someone like this could possibly share your blood.

Before the standoff can escalate, a hesitant cough breaks the tension.

“The lady did have it first, sir,” Happy interjects, earning a sharp, offended look from Tony.

With backup on your side, you cross your arms and level Tony with a pointed glare, holding your hand out expectantly.

Tony contemplates for a moment, eyes flickering between your hand and the stone in his before releasing an exaggerated sigh, dropping the stone into your hand and then slumping dramatically in his seat.

“Anything else, traitor?” he asks, shooting a glare at Happy.

Unbothered by his words, Happy nods and continues.

“Chancellor Potts wants to know when you’re planning to return. She’s…not thrilled about your sudden departure.”

Tony places a hand over his chest with mock sincerity.

“Aw, does she miss me?”

“It’s not that, sir,” Happy says flatly.

You cross your arms in disapproval, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

“Wait—you abandoned your kingdom to come here?”

“Abandoned is a strong word,” Tony retorts, wagging a finger at you. “With Pepper running things, my kingdom’s in good hands.”

He turns back to Happy.

“And no, I don’t have a timeline. It all depends on how long this takes.”

Happy rubs his temples, clearly exasperated.

“Well, I had to tell Jarvis to speed up his pace anyway, but it won’t matter if you’re still looking for—”

Tony cuts him off with a raised hand, then tosses a small pouch of coins in your direction.

“Do you think you can handle a trip to the bar without starting any trouble? I’m parched.”

You narrow your eyes, catching the not-so-subtle attempt to get rid of you. Still, with no further explanation forthcoming, you roll your eyes and head to the bar.

The barkeep nods as you approach. “What’ll it be?”

Leaning against the counter, you smile politely.

“Whatever you’d make for someone who’s testing your patience.”

The barkeep chuckles knowingly and sets to work.

As you wait, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention—cheers, laughter, and groans of disappointment. Peering past the crowd, you see coins being exchanged as two figures face off in a card game.

The burly man at the table glares at his opponent, his eyes narrowing.

“You should back out now before I bleed you dry, little lady.”

The masked figure across from him leans forward, her voice light and teasing.

“Aww, is the big man scared?”

Laughter erupts at her taunt, but you frown instead, the voice sounding suspiciously familiar. You push through the crowd to get a better look.

The dim light in the tavern doesn’t help much, but as you approach, your eyes narrow.

The masked figure’s darkened hair gives you pause—it’s black, not blonde like expected. Still, the way she moves, the self-assured tilt of her head, sends alarm bells of recognition in your mind.

The burly man, clearly agitated, gestures toward a dagger at the masked woman’s side.

“How about you throw that fancy knife into the pot and whatever your friend’s got strapped to her back?”

Your eyes shift to the figure standing protectively behind her, another masked woman. Her nervous fidgeting is unmistakable, as is the distinct bow strapped to her back—Clint’s signature design, one you’d recognize anywhere with how often Kate brings it with her everywhere.

Crossing your arms, you let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, already knowing whose idea this was.

The masked woman at the table leans forward, her voice dripping with confidence as she responds, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re playing against me, remember?”

There’s no mistaking her now. Yelena’s tone is as bold and unshakable as ever, mirroring her sister’s in every way.

She reaches for the dagger at her side, drawing it out to twirl it in the light. The hilt and blade gleam, the intricate craftsmanship unmistakable—it looks like the one you’d given Natasha not long ago.

You straighten when you realize it is the one you had gifted Natasha.

As Yelena seems to consider the man’s challenge, her smirk widening with the thrill of the wager, you feel your patience snap at the thought of risking something you designed personally for Natasha.

You move to step forward, intent on stopping her from making a reckless decision, but before you can take a step, a firm grip wraps around your arm, pulling you back into the crowd.

Irritation flares instantly. Tony’s earlier remarks about you needing protection flash through your mind, fueling your annoyance.

Without hesitation, you jab your elbow into the person’s side, twisting out of their grip.

Their hold loosens, and as their face tilts into view, your irritation shifts to surprise.

Bright green eyes meet yours, sharp and unmistakable even in the dim light.

“Natasha?” you whisper in a hiss, barely keeping your voice low.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: I’m so sorry for the long delay between the chapters for this series. This one is definitely trickier to write cause there is a lot more components to organize, but I’m starting to get back into it. Again, thank you for reading and for your patience!

Also, I’m going to attempt to be more interactive with you all since you take the time to leave such nice comments on my works, so whenever I have some spare time, you may see me popping around in the replies and responding.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp, @natashasilverfox

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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junos-jrabbles · 2 days ago

Text

How would baking with the mercs go?

Authors note sorry it's all short and possibly unreadable I might do some more of the fellas another time :) I'm am so cold and eepy

Pyro, Sniper, and Scout :)

Pyro

Spectacularly, believe me, it’d go so well, definitely no burning around here! No sir!

Jokes aside, it’d go pretty well!

You guys would bake some cupcakes, maybe some sugar cookies, as they’d probably love all things sweet in the kitchen, and you’d both be covered in flour, eggs, sugar, and god knows what in no time.

You’d get walked in on while jousting with rolling pins, and have to try and make it seem like you were being normal. Impossible.

Pyro would be sat, cross legged on the floor in front of the oven, watching the baked goods through the window.

Only some of the confectionaries would come out burnt, mostly due to you two getting distracted flipping through the recipe book and gawking at all the pretty treats.

You'd point like an excited ape at a towering cake, and Pyro would excitedly drum their hands on the paper and teeter on their heels, squeaking out muffled, joyous sounds under the mask as the cycle continued.

You guys would FEAST on your delicacies in Pyro's room, and have a little picnic/tea party with some old cartoons in the background :)

~~~

Sniper

It’d be a pretty peaceful activity, I’d imagine, an hour or so spent kneading, rolling and cutting pre bought cookie dough before you set it in the oven for as long as it says on the tin while you go spoon in his bed.

He probably wouldn’t have the ingredients for baking (or much fancy cooking) in the camper, and when you guys snuck into the base’s pantry, Lieutenant Bites was paws shoulders deep in the sugar, so.

The cookies would come out pretty perfectly, a little misshapen, (Sniper definitely tried to turn one into a heart, or an animal of some sort, and it came out as a funny blob) but really good!

He'd make sure you were both there ready the second they started turning a yummy golden brown around the edges.

He'd pull out the tray trying not to laugh, “Promise you won't laugh… the dog's gone blobby—” And almost drop everything.

You guys would cook up a batch, put half in a nice big baggy and eat the other half with him on the sofa with a board game in progress on the coffee table in front of you.

~~~

Scout

He's throwing the eggs between his hands like that one cooking mama mini game, and is NARROWLY avoiding splattering them absolutely fucking EVERYWHERE.

He'd absolutely go try and steal one from Archimedes if he dropped one

There's a crumpled sheet of paper with his ma's Boston cream pie recipe on the counter, and flour covering every single surface.

“Look, I don't know what’cha mean by ‘It won't work’— Are you sayin’ my ma ain't a world star chef? Nuh— Nuh-uh, I ain't listenin!”

He's asking you to make it tiered like a wedding cake, and he's adamant that not only is it possible, but that you definitely know how to do it.

He's got his fingers in his ears when you try telling him you don't think you can do that, and only starts listening again when you offer him the whisk to lick when you're done stirring the base cake mix.

The cake comes out okay, you manage to get just about everything put together, though, you guys definitely ate a bit too much of the cream while you were waiting, and only had a small layer to put in by the end.

It's yummy, at least! And when anyone comes into the kitchen wondering why it smells vaguely like burning and moreso like cake, you two link up like a defensive wall in front of it, looking around very inconspicuously, of course.

“What cake? Where? Someone's got cake?” Sloooowly hiding it behind your backs.

#sniper tf2 #pyro tf2 #scout tf2 #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #oh god it's at it again

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intimidating-fettuccine · 3 days ago

Note

I’m so excited because I got out of class early and I had time to make sure this ask was ready to go

Let me know if this doesn’t quite make sense, and I’ll try to clarify, but:

—

Jeff seeing/knowing his s/o died in a fight, but seeing them alive and well two years later, obvious they had been alive those two years, but they have no memory of him or any of the time they spent with Jeff. Bonus sad points if they were married or had some sort of matching thing so s/o KNOWS something was up with the two of them, but they don’t remember.

—

Feel free to use this prompt for anyone else you wanna write for :D

I hope you enjoy! This got super extremely long because I was feeling inspired ^^' I hope you're fine with the direction I took this in :)

It destroyed him. Watching you die that day was the most difficult thing he's ever had to cope with in his entire life, and he still struggles to cope with it some days even two years later. He's spent so long mourning your loss, that when he sees you walking around one day he thinks it must be a hallucination or someone that just looks far too similar to you, and he continues on his way. At least, until he hears that incredibly familiar laugh he first fell in love with all those years ago, and he's whipping back around, eyes locked on you as you converse with the unfamiliar person at your side. His feet move immediately, pushing him forward, but at the same time, you happen to drop something. He picks it up for you and hands it to you, and his eyes land on the ring decorating your finger, the one that matches the one on his hand, the custom-made promise rings the two of you had. You accept the item you dropped without complaint, your eyes also noticing the ring on his finger, but before he can say anything you just thank him and walk away.

He's so shocked by it that he just stands there for what feels like hours, before making a beeline back to the mansion. With Slender and BEN's investigative assistance, Jeff learns you didn't die that day, and he also learns that you have no memories of your time before then. You're still in the Underworld, still wandering around and joyful as ever, but you have no memory of him at all, and that thought alone is destroying Jeff all over again. The years you'd spent together, your promises of being together forever, all of your plans for the future, vanished. He finds himself entering an existential state of limbo in the coming weeks, not sure if he should try to find you and reconnect, or if he should just let you carry on your new life as you presently are. In the end, he decides to let you go. With all of his trauma and issues, with all of the struggles you both experienced gone from your memory, he feels as though it would be unfair to force you to learn how to love him and care for him again. You, however, have a completely different plan than Jeff.

It was eating you alive, the ring he was wearing on his finger, the familiarity in his eyes, the disappointment at your swift exit. You had to learn who he was, and how he was connected to you, you finally had a clue to your life before your amnesia and you weren't going to let it pass. It wasn't hard for you to track him down, with how well known he is in the Underworld and the fact that everyone knows he works for Slender, but you also spent time waiting and wondering what you should do. Eventually, you decided on it; you were just going to have to force him to talk to you. So, there you stood, anxiously on the front porch of a mansion that seemed far too familiar for you having no memory of it, and upon the door opening, a group of faces greeting you that were also far too familiar. Slender calls Jeff down and tells him he has a guest waiting outside, and when he comes out to see you, he feels his world halting once again. You both sit on the front porch in silence for quite a while, but you break the ice first, asking him who he is, and why he has your ring. You have a feeling you already know the answer, and when he looks at you in misery, tears flooding his eyes, you know you were right, without him even having to confirm it verbally.

Jeff explains it all to you, everything. How you met, when you started dating, what your relationship was like, all of your plans for the future together, the significance of the rings he had made for you, and most importantly, the day he thought you died. It's a shock to you, of course it is, but bits and pieces of things he says, you can catch small glimpses of them in your lost memories. A night under the stars, mornings spent waking up together, an exchanging of rings. You can catch small glimpses of him, but it feels so far away. It is, however, enough for you to believe him. It feels right, sitting beside him on the steps. It feels warm, and comforting, like you belong there beside him, and when you shyly move your leg to press against his it feels so oddly familiar and correct that you find yourself being moved to tears. He tells you he didn't want to trouble you, didn't want to make you have to deal with his fucked up life and issues all over again, he thought it would be cruel, and you can only smile at him through the tears.

You tell him you have a feeling the you that he knew would be upset at him for even insisting that, and he laughs, saying that you're probably right. Neither of you makes a move to leave, to end your reminiscing as he continues telling you stories, and both of you are okay with that. It's you who finally asks the question weighing on both of you. If you can try again. If you can try from the beginning, try to love him again and become a part of his life again. He smiles a smile that has your heart racing and cheeks growing warm, and lifts your hand, saying he gave you this ring along with a promise to stay by your side for the rest of your life, no matter what. He kisses the ring on your finger, and the brush of his lips makes you long for more. He agrees easily to start over, saying he'll never give up on you, but he can't help the chuckle that follows as he simply requests that you not disappear again, and there on that front porch you make your second eternal promise to each other, that this time you'll protect each other, and stay together no matter what. A promise you both successfully keep, to the end of your lives.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanon #jeff the killer x reader

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mixelation · 15 hours ago

Text

tori social media au thoughts ->

so the Lore of tori as an online presence is that she starts as a small time channel where she just rants about things in an organized fashion and links a long document of citation, and part of this is that she is resistant to any type of pandering for money. she'll take her ad revenue as a neat little treat when it comes, but she won't do any of the things you're "supposed" to do for views. so she doesn't have an outro or intro. she doesn't tell you to subscribe. she won't take sponsors (she is not getting offered sponsors). she won't clickbait or hop on trends. she is about the ART dissemination and honest discussion of information, which she does with all the energy of a feral chihuahua

this shifts slightly when she starts going on site and obito gets involved. he's sort of like "why AREN'T we doing flashy editing" and at first he just wants to zoom in on a funny detail but as things progress he's like "no but we can make tori's unhinged ranting seem professional. and also i can put giant text of the verbal typo she just made over her face." also now her outro is obito yelling a nonsequitur at her and her yelling something back. some people are like "i miss tori's murder basement :( did tobi free her?" and tori is like WHY DOES NO ONE RECOGNIZE AN OBVIOUS BASEMENT APARTMENT it was in fact a prison cell

obito does a face reveal video but he's just wearing a mask. tori wakes up to way too many fucking comments. obito keeps changing her account password and so now there's a tori2 that just argues with people. there is debate about if tori2 is an imposter or not followed by debate if maybe tobi is holding tori hostage because she seems to have lost access to the main account? this theory is laughed off as conspiracy by most people though

commenter 1: torito is out as a ship. my new otp is tori/tori2 commenter 2: tori and tori2 would rip each other apart

the tori-itachi true crime merger means kakuzu gets involved in production and now they have ad reads. kakuzu tries to get obito to make clickbait title cards and obito creates the most unhinged things of all time. they do a trend video and itachi just keeps going "i do not understand the point of this" and the viewer can watch tori's soul leave her body as her desire to explain things to itachi clashes with her desire to not be so corporate

commenter 1: so tori DOES understand the appeal of the ninja kunai challenge. curious commenter 2: know your enemy commenter 3: i'm convinced tori has committed at least three of the murders she reports on so this checks out

also there's absolutely weird shippers. there's tori/tobi and tori/itachi shippers but ALSO because tori's annoying and a woman and a lot of itachi fans hate her: itachi/tobi

itachi: (stares into space) tobi: what's this? is sempai upset? is it because he has.... home of phobia??? itachi: (stares into space harder)

#tori 'ring that bell' mendoza #toriverse

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supercorpkid · 2 days ago

Text

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Part 2

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers

Word Count: 3010

Previously on part 1. Part 2 of 3.

You start spending more time with Esmé, filling your days with her endless energy and her excitement over everything new on this island. You’d planned on being here for the family time anyway, but lately, it’s become easier to dodge Kara’s concerned glances and Lena’s quiet observations. Esmé, at least, never asks questions you’re not ready to answer.

It doesn’t stop Kara from trying, though. You find yourself slipping out of family dinners early, ducking behind palm trees when you spot her coming your way, feigning sleep when she knocks on your door at night. You know it’s getting obvious—Kara’s face fell when you bailed on last night’s dinner, and Alex’s knowing sigh was almost loud enough to break through the silence you’ve wrapped around yourself. But would they even understand if you told them?

Esmé’s simpler. When you’re with her, it’s just fun, silly games and laughter that doesn’t get weighed down by questions. For now, you let yourself hide behind that. That is until Esmé notices, of course. Kids always do, with that unfiltered clarity adults forget to keep.

It catches you by surprise when the two of you are building sandcastles, the sun heavy and warm, and she says, “I miss hanging out with Aunt Kara and Aunt Lena together. You know, like… like we used to.”

You tense, your hands pausing mid-sculpt. “They’re busy with grown-up stuff. It happens.”

Esmé gives you a look, so knowing it’s almost painful. “You’re a bad liar.”

You sigh, brushing sand from your fingers. “I guess I am.”

“Is it because of that thing you can't tell Aunt Kara, but you can tell my mom?”

It takes you by surprise, the perceptiveness of it, the way she’s pinpointed exactly what’s unraveling between you and your sisters without even understanding why. You swallow, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sort of.”

“I wish I had a sister. If I did, I'd tell her everything! And she would be my best friend!”

"Well, your mom is my best friend and she is my sister too."

She spares a look over her shoulder, to Kara on the other side of the beach swimming alone in the ocean. "I bet Aunt Kara feels lonely."

It’s… whoa. A lot more insightful than you'd expect from a six-year-old.

Kara’s attempts to reach you haven’t gone unnoticed. She’s patient, but only for so long, and it’s clear to everyone around you that you’re holding her at arm’s length. But what's worse is that you avoid Alex too, because you don't wanna tell her what happened. She's gonna tell you that you missed your chance to come clean, which is obvious and yet extremely unhelpful.

It’s so evident you're keeping your distance, that when Lena finds you sneaking behind a bush one evening, she doesn’t even act surprised.

"Hey!" Lena’s voice makes you jump, her warm presence somehow amplifying your guilt. "Why are you hiding behind a bush? And why does it feel like I haven't seen you in days?"

"What? It hasn't been days." It has. She raises her eyebrows, and you smooth your hands over your clothes. "I thought I saw a hedgehog," you lie, forcing a smile. She doesn’t look convinced. "What are you up to?"

"I thought you and I could go on a walk," she says, her smile soft, irresistible. You’re about to argue, but she throws a cheap shot. "You know, you did promise me some alone time."

"Did I?" You try a joke, but, as with the last few attempts, it doesn’t quite land with her.

"You don’t have to come if you're more interested in the hedgehog. I could probably hold my own against the wild animals in the forest."

"Yeah, I’m sure you can, but I’d hate to miss you fighting a snake, so I might as well tag along. Wouldn’t want to miss the show."

"Very kind of you, darling." Lena’s eyes light up with humor, and the two of you start toward the nearest forest trail. It’s close to the resort—too close for any real wildlife, which is probably the point.

The conversation is supposed to be casual, just friends catching up. She asks about your thesis, even a few things about your superhero life. But as relaxed as it should be, you can’t shake the tension simmering beneath the surface. Every laugh, every shared glance, every tiny silence, and you’re swallowing feelings, nearly choking on unsaid words. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, terrified that one slip-up could give everything away.

"Kara is so thrilled to have you to share these experiences with. I bet it’s lonely, having to figure out this superhero lifestyle on your own."

"I don’t think I’m helping that much, to be honest. I’m just… following her lead most of the time."

"I think you're more important than you give yourself credit for." Lena touches your arm, her eyes soft and unwavering, making it impossible to shrug it off. "For everyone, not just Kara."

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You mutter the words with such disbelief that Lena almost flinches.

She doesn’t let it go, though. She stops, making you pause too, her expression puzzled but determined.

"Y/N, darling." Just one word—darling—and your heart is pounding, each beat a tiny betrayal. "You know I mean it, right? We wouldn’t miss hanging out with you so much if you weren’t—"

"So fun to have around!" you cut in, your voice unnaturally bright.

Lena reaches for your hand, her gaze softening in a way that makes it impossible to hide. "If you weren’t so incredibly special."

This is it—the moment you could be honest, vulnerable, bare open like she is. But Kara might be in love with her. And she’s probably in love with your sister too, because who would choose you over Kara? No one. Not even you.

So you bite your tongue, force a smile, and watch the moment slip past. “Yeah, I—I don’t know. Maybe the superhero life just isn’t for me.”

“Oh.” Lena blinks, visibly thrown, and when you realize what you’ve just said, it’s too late. Can’t take it back. You’ve tried so hard to hide how you feel about her, you didn’t even think about the other secrets you need to protect.

“Not that I’ll stop!” you rush to reassure her. “I’d never stop supering and leave Kara to it. I just… wonder, sometimes. But, um, everyone wonders about things they’ll never act on, right?”

You can feel Lena’s gaze linger on you as you stumble through your words. Her silence feels weighty, loaded with questions she doesn’t voice. Instead, she’s watching you with that careful, gentle look she has—the one that makes you feel like she can see straight through every defense you’re barely managing to hold up.

“Y/N,” Her voice is low, softer than usual, and you can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “If you ever feel like talking… Really talking, I mean—I’ll listen, you know that, right?”

You breathe deep, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the way she’s looking is too much; she’s seeing right through you, and every instinct you have screams to deflect, to put distance between you and that sharp, all-seeing gaze.

“I know, Lena. I just—” You pause, forcing the words clawing up your throat back down, swallowing hard against the sting of tears that threaten to break free. “I don’t have much to say right now, but… thank you.”

Her fingers brush down your arm slowly, lingering for a split second before letting go. She doesn’t push, but there’s something in her eyes, something searching, that leaves you feeling bare. She’s not fooled, you know that. But she doesn’t press further, only offers a soft nod.

“I just want to make sure you know that you’re not alone.” Her voice is so gentle, it makes your throat tighten.

Her words land with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of exactly how not alone you actually are—and yet, how impossible it feels to share any of it. You swallow, nodding a little too quickly, desperate to end this before you give yourself away completely.

“I appreciate it,” you mumble, unable to meet her eyes. “Anyway, uh… we should head back before it gets dark.”

A tiny smile curves her lips, one filled with patience, and it only makes the weight in your chest feel heavier. She sees through you, sees the things you’re too afraid to say. And as you walk back, her presence beside you is both comforting and unbearable, the knowledge that she’d listen if you let her like a gentle but relentless pressure against the wall you’re so intent on keeping up.

When you finally reach the resort, you mumble something about needing to freshen up before dinner, ducking away before she can say anything else. But her words stay with you, lingering in the back of your mind: you’re not alone.

Even though you've never felt as lonely and isolated as you do now.

This trip, this whole thing, was a really bad idea.

You throw together your bag in a rush, moving faster than any human eye could see. This trip was supposed to be a break, a chance to breathe—but with each day, it feels like the land on this tiny island is getting even smaller. There’s nowhere left to hide, and the weight of your secrets presses harder, threatening to escape the moment you open your mouth. It almost did with Lena, so you desperately need to leave.

You knock lightly on Alex and Kelly’s door, hoping not to wake Esmé. It’s late, but Alex answers quickly, slipping out into the hall and shutting the door quietly behind her. She gives you a concerned once-over, her expression softening in that big-sister way.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Lena said you two hung out before dinner, but then you didn’t show up—”

“I’m going back to National City.” You say it quickly, barely letting the words settle before you look away, as if that might make it easier. Alex’s eyes shift down to your bag, and she lets out a long, disappointed sigh.

“You can’t keep running forever, you know.”

“No, but I can tonight.” You set your jaw, bracing yourself. Alex is going to try to talk you out of this, and you can’t let her. “I’ll help keep watch over National City with J’onn and M’gann. Say goodbye to Esmé for me.”

“Absolutely not. You want to leave her, you tell her yourself.” She opens the door a fraction, enough for you to glimpse Esmé’s little sneakers by the bed, and you feel something twist painfully in your chest. She knows it’ll be harder for you to look Esmé in the eye, to break your promise of a trip full of fun with her favorite aunt. “Man up.”

“Sexist,” you mutter, half-heartedly, as you step inside. But before you can call for Esmé, you freeze. Kara is sitting on the floor, her gaze sharpening the moment she sees you.

“You’re leaving?” She stands up, arms crossed, and in that moment, she doesn’t look much like your sister—she looks every inch of Supergirl, unyielding. Kelly clears her throat, mumbling something about checking on Esmé before slipping out of the small living room.

“Yeah, I have this… thing.”

“Is this ‘thing’ called a massive crush on Lena that you’re too scared to deal with?” Kara’s voice is quiet but piercing, an eyebrow arching as she studies you, making you feel as transparent as glass. “Or is this ‘thing’ a problem you’ve got with me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot everything has to be about you.”

Before you can get another word out, she’s right in front of you, moving faster than even you expected.

“It’s becoming about me because you keep dodging me and shutting everyone out,” she says firmly. “You have to stop running, Y/N. Why won't you deal with your problems like an adult?”

“Oh my God! Is there a version of this conversation where you don’t sound like my mother?”

“I don't know. Is there a version where you don’t sound like a moody teenager?” She fires back, voice sharp as a blade.

"Go to hell, Kara," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, knowing full well she’ll catch every word. You try to push past her, but she steps in your way, resolute, daring you to challenge her. Fine. If she wants a fight, you’ll give her one.

“Stop acting so tough,” you say, each word sharp and unyielding. “You’re not Alura. You’re not Eliza. You’re not even my oldest sister.” You pause, just long enough to let it sink in, to make sure she feels the sting. "You don’t get to act like you’re in charge."

Kara flinches, just a fraction, but you catch it. And part of you hates that it hurts her—almost as much as the rest of you wants it to.

A hand catches your arm as you make to leave, and you know it’s Alex without even looking. Her grip isn’t harsh, but it’s inflexible, the quiet authority of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

“This has gone too far.” she says, her voice low.

“Alex,” you say, a warning lacing your tone. But your sister doesn’t budge. She’s as immovable as Kara in her own way, and you can tell from her stance that she’s done letting this slide.

“No. You tell her now, or I will.” The seriousness in her voice roots you to the spot, and you stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t test me, Y/N. This has gone on too long.”

“Alex,” you plead, the warning fading, replaced by something that feels like betrayal. “I trusted you.”

But Alex’s stance only hardens. She glances at Kara, crossing her arms in front of her chest, each movement deliberate, telling you in no uncertain terms that this is the line she won’t let you cross.

“You want to know what’s going on?” your voice comes out loud, it's almost a yell in the quiet of the night, voice cracking as you throw the question back at them, your fists clenched so tight they’re shaking. “Fine. Let’s do this. You want honesty? Here it is.”

Kara and Alex fall silent, but they’re staring, eyes wide. You can’t tell if they're surprised or concerned, and for once, you don’t care.

“I’m in love with Lena,” you spit out, practically choking on the words. “There it is. Happy? But it doesn’t matter, because she’s yours, Kara. Everyone is. Everyone who matters, everyone I could ever care about, they’re all yours.”

“I don't—” Kara starts, but you’re not finished. Not even close.

“Don’t!” you snap, cutting her off. “You have no idea what it’s like to be around you, day after day, having to act like it doesn’t kill me. Watching you looking at her like… Like I do. And I just—” Your voice wobbles, a tremor of frustration bubbling up with the tears you’re fighting to keep down. “I just get to stand there and smile and play the part of your perfect little sister, like I should just be grateful to even be a part of your story.”

Alex takes a step toward you, hands up, but you move away, barely holding it together, so you don't hurt her. “Do you know how exhausting it is? How much do I dread putting on the suit, being the hero, pretending this is all I ever wanted? Because it’s not. It’s never been. I hate it," your voice comes out so raw, your throat hurts afterwards. "and I can’t even tell anyone that because you’d all look at me like I’d failed you. Both of you would.”

Alex steps back the slightest, her face twisted in a mix of surprise and sadness. Kara looks stricken, her mouth parting like she wants to say something, but you don’t give her the chance. You’re too far gone, the anger pushing past your better judgment.

“You get to be perfect, and I get to be… what? The second-rate version of you? The one who’s not quite as brave, not quite as good?” You only realize you're crying when you taste your own tears. “The one people don't even glance at because they are too busy looking at you — the super girl. And now you want me to watch you with the person I love too? You just get to take everything.”

"That's not true! None of it is—" Kara reaches out, but you take a step back, hands up like it’s a shield.

“You don't get it! So don’t—just don't.”

Her expression crumples, and for the first time, you see the real hurt reflected back at you. But the ache inside you is too loud, too sharp to ignore. A small part of you feels vindicated, glad that she’s hurting too—at least now you’re not the only one carrying the weight of pain.

You turn away, ready to escape the suffocating atmosphere, but Alex’s voice cuts through the tension, pulling you back.

"Y/N, wait." Alex tries, voice sweet like you didn't even know she could master. "Let's all take a breath and just… talk about it."

"Oh no," You turn to her. "you don't get to do this. I trusted you with this, and you just—” You can’t find the words, the tears breaking free, your voice shaking. "You just chose Kara over me. Like everyone does. So you don't get to ask me for anything." The next words leave from the depths of your core, it shakes the entire room. "NONE OF YOU get to ask me for ANYTHING!"

Sometimes hours can feel like minutes, and sometimes a single second can last a lifetime. "I'm done pretending we're one big happy family." This is it. This is that second. The second you burned every bridge, every connection you've had and flew away from it.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x reader #lena x reader #reader insert #alex danvers #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl imagine #baby danvers

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yushi-ni · 2 days ago

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NCT WISH ᯓ★ and jealousy

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist ✨🎀🩵

wishies reaction to jealousy - how they handle their emotions when they get jealous. just fluff, no extreme situations are mentioned. simple - common things that can cause jealousy in a relationship. ᯓᡣ𐭩 hiiii loves ✨✨🧚🏼‍♀️ here is the ot6 reaction that had the most votes in the poll!!! i accidentally set the duration to a week instead of one day so i just picked the one that had the most votes as of right now. but don't worry, i will also write the other scenarios someday soon!!!! 🎀 I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

오시온 - oh sion ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sion thinks he is slick - nonchalant when it comes to his jealousy. but mans is literally as transparent as a glass door. he doesn't get jealous easily but when he does, he is definitely the type to try and keep his cool when there are others around. with an emphasis on 'try'. depending on the situation and the people involved, definitely has different ways of handling - showing his jealousy. let's say it's something involving his members, something silly as the maknaes claiming all your attention even though sion himself wants to spend time with you as well. he knows you love his younger brothers and just want to take care of them but he cannot help the sort of heaviness that he feels. will definitely first try to just get said members to leave you alone and find someone else to play. if it doesn't work, will sigh out loud and make it very obvious that he is annoyed and almost makes it awkward for the other party involved, making the atmosphere in the room very.. tense. enough for his members to leave you alone.

jealous sion in public is a different story tho, will have his hands on you the second he sees someone else looking at you a bit too long. hand on your lower back, holding your hand in a tight grip as if he was scared you would run off (chill sion) gets super clingy, back hugging you while lowkey glaring at the other person. will never admit that he is jealous tho. brushes it off as soon as he feels like the coast is clear. will play it off as a joke because he will never voice out that he feels jealous, thinks it's a bit childish especially because he knows you are in a very happy and healthy relationship together. even when you tell him it's ok to be jealous as long as he communicates his worries with you, he will still act as if he was never jealous in the first place. will shoot you his famous (pretty) smile while pretending to be super chill and unbothered, quietly giggling to himself as well because both you and him know his little ego would not survive the dent it would make.

you love him nonetheless tho, you lowkey think it's cute when he gets jealous. he will never cross a line especially not when it comes to you. you are his person and he just doesn't want to lose you.

마에다 리쿠 - maeda riku ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

riku is the silent one. silent with expressing his feelings with words tho.. not his facial expressions. won't full on glare at others like sion would, but yk his typical face expression when he puffs up his cheeks and just silently watches his surroundings? yup, that would be him. others might not see that he is jealous but you know your bf better than anyone else, so you can immediately tell when he feels 'uncomfortable' because of someone or something you do. if he would be watching the scene unfold from a distance, he wil pull his 'puffy cheeks - big doe eyes' while fidgeting with his own fingers. just silently hoping you would cut of your conversation with the person that was being a bit too handsy to his liking. but if he was next to you, he would be clinging onto you but at the same time trying to make it seem like he was oh so interested in that wonderful color on the wall. let's say you ran into an old friend or you, being the social butterfly you, get in a fun conversation with someone at a party (or any other social gathering) riku would be standing next to you, arms linked in yours, playing with your fingers or the fabric of your shirt. just waiting for you to focus your attention on him again.

i just don't see riku as an 'childish' or 'unreasonable' jealous person. he trusts you and he knows you won't ever do something to purposely make him jealous, he just doesn't know how to act whenever something happens. confuses jealousy with uncomfortable situations. rather than pure jealousy, riku feels uncomfortable with the thought of someone being too close - touchy with you. not always the most confident especially not because he still thinks you are way too pretty and perfect for him so he might just feel a bit intimidated and exposed to something like jealousy. unsure how to bring it up to you he often just brushes it off to avoid upsetting you with his feelings. he is just in need of your reassurance and affection to calm himself down again. so please, give him the biggest hug ever. he is just so in love with you and needs you to show him you are just as head over heels for him to realize his jealousy is not something to overthink about.

토쿠노 유우시 - tokuno yushi ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

yushi is a little mixture of a lot of different things. depending on the reason behind his jealousy he might act differently. at times, he just feels 'intimidated' by the other person and would be keep quiet and to himself and just see which way the cat jumps. but at other moments; yushi will get super touchy and clingy, with you still unaware of the other person, but soon enough you get the memo of what's going on. yushi is never one to back down from a little pda but when he gets jealous and all he wants is the other person to take his preying eyes off of you; he will not averse to show that you are his. but as soon as the situation has passed, his jealousy will be gone almost as quick as it came in the first place.

but if it's something that involves one of his members he might get vocal in terms of calling out his members and just straight up telling them to leave you alone. quick to jump in as soon as he sees something not to his liking. might come off as an attack on the other person but he just simply can't always control himself when it comes to you. but on the contrary let's say it's sion that for whatever reason got yushi in a battle with his inner demons, he won't be so confident or quick to talk back. not because he is scared of sion, not at all, but he looks up to him as a big brother and somehow cannot bring himself to call out sion regarding such things. rather complains to you and gets a bit whiny or vents to himself with an underlining annoyed tone just needing to let out some (tiny) steam. he is just in need of his gf (you) showing him how much she loves him to be able to calm his tensed heart.

you won't need long to get yushi back to his loving and gentle self because he is absolutely head over heels for you and as soon as his attention is back to you, his jealous and annoyed attitude is long gone.

김재희 - kim jaehee ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

jaehee is a cute little fluff ball but he is very mature for his age. might deal with jealousy the best out of all wishies. definitely the type of person to just voice out his feelings when he gets jealous over a situation that happened. might not use the actual word 'jealous' when expressing himself but he just wants you to know how he feels and thinks the best way to solve uncomfortable situations is to talk it out. he knows what could possibly make him feel uneasy so he also avoids getting himself in such situations as well, so you won't feel the same way when it's the other way around. if he does let his jealousy take the best of him (for a teeny tiny moment) he might come across as a bit mean - harsh to the people involved. a guy very obviously trying to get your attention even though he is right next to you? jaehee will blurt out a (petty) comment loud enough for the other person to hear or will just straight up tell the guy to kindly fuck off because you are with him, your amazing bf and you do not need another guy on his haunting mission to disturb your peace. might make a comment here and there when you two are alone again, not because he is mad but simply because he cannot believe how obnoxious some people are. won't take a lot of effort on your side to get his mind off of it and soon enough he will have forgotten about the thing that caused him to feel jealous in the first place.

doesn't get jealous when it comes to his members. you want to play with saku and ryo instead of watching a movie with him like you guys actually planned to do? that's ok! you can watch the movie later!!!! yushi asks you guys to join their fun basketball match outside? sure! you can have some alone time afterwards too!!! he is very confident and more so comfortable in your relationship so he does not feel the need to question you or his own intentions, ever. (pls i need a jaehee bf)

히로세 료 - hiroshe ryo ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

ryo is a petty one. not in a rude way tho, in a 'why would someone else have to help you out when your amazing bf is there to help out his pretty gf' because yes, you are the most prettiest person he has ever laid his eyes on and he knows others will think the same thing when they see you. not afraid to express his jealousy when it is necessary (in his eyes) especially when it comes to his members. hyung or not, ryo will definitely call out his friends when they do something that he doesn't like. he will never blame you tho, not that you would ever push his buttons to the point of jealousy, but he just never thinks you are in the wrong. he knows how pretty you are and how lovable, cute, funny and kind his perfect gf is so he never points his finger at you. but you being too perfectly you, made ryo quickly realize he might not be the only one feeling that way about you.

won't be too expressive in public settings tho, but you can just see by the way he is clenching his jaw that he is not fond of whatever is happening in front of him. get ready for whiny ryo when you two are alone again. will go on a full rant about the guy and how it was unnecessary (in his eyes) to come ask if you guys were enjoying the food, twice??? one was enough. and don't get him started about the fact that the waiter only asked you if you wanted a straw with your drink. what if he wanted a straw too? will complain all night if you don't stop him right there and then. give him some well deserved kisses and love and he will soon be back to his usual cute self.

후지나가 사쿠야 - fujinaga sakuya ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sakuya is still young. you are his first real relationship and he is still trying to figure out how everything works with this whole bf - gf thing. he knows what jealousy means and trust me, this guy has been jealous plenty of times but he refuses to give in to this feeling. i mean?? you are his gf right?? you like him right?? you still love him.. right?? he knows you do, he knows that at the end of the day, you are his and he is yours but he cannot help but feel jealous whenever you seem to be a bit too close with someone else or more specifically, when someone else is a bit too close to you.

definitely the type to try and play it off as if he wasn't bothered by it. simply because he does not know how to deal with these sudden rushes of emotions and feelings. will get quiet as he tries to convince himself that he is overthinking. is a bit insecure when it comes to this, especially when one of his members is the reason behind his jealousy. starts questioning and doubting his own worth and wonders if you might rather be with one of his cool hyungs. maybe you did like older guys..? will shoot a glare at said member while biting the side of his lip. a bad habit he picked up whenever he was deep in thoughts. even though he tries to keep his cool and hide his feelings, everyone can clearly tell what's going on. the usually bubbly boy, was visibly fighting inner demons as he was just wishing for his older member to leave you alone so he can have your attention again. better said; saku has a hard time sharing your attention. just wants you all to himself ngl. not in a possessive way but in a "i am so in love and i want to spend every minute of the day with you" kind of way.

definitely expect clingy - silently observing saku in public settings. definitely won't speak up or interfere with you and the other person, even if it eats him up from the inside. you will have to show him there is no need to feel jealous. just include him in your conversation with your friend or the person that is claiming all your attention much against his liking. hold his hand and give it a little squeeze, just so he knows you acknowledge him and his presence. won't be able to snap out of it easily, so as the day goes by he will still be quieter than usual. he just needs your reassurance to feel better again. deep down he knows he has no reason to worry about anything but he is just young and in love. he is learning about all these new feelings and things as time passes so please be patient and tell him you love him as much as possible.

#fujinaga sakuya #hirose ryo #jaehee #maeda riku #nct riku #nct wish #nct x reader #nct yushi #nctnewteam #nctwish #yushinini #yushi ni #tokuno yushi #yushi #sion #nct sion #oh sion #sakuya #nct imagines

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moinstar · 1 day ago

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Lesson 54 spoilers

"...So, tell me. What is it you're plotting, exactly?" Raphael eyed Diavolo with mild irritation in his tone.

He smiles apologetically, caught in an act and felt the need to explain now. "So, you can tell something's up, huh? I was afraid of this."

"It's odd enough that we're the only ones here. And then after we were attacked, your response seemed unusually tepid. There are so many red flags..," the gray-haired angel sighs. "Of course I can tell that something's going on."

Moin speaks up. "I'm guessing that has something to do with me?"

"Yes, it does. Though it's nothing you should feel bad about." Diavolo reassures, though it's not bringing relief to the burgundy-haired human girl.

"This is about your magic power, Moin. And what has been happening to it." Mephisto stresses it strongly.

"Yes, your power has been growing greater by the day. And then there was the incident with the hostile demon in Meowcao. That's when we realized that you weren't in full control of it." Lucifer added.

Simeon nods mildly, carefully regarding Mephisto, Lucifer, and Diavolo's statements. "And when Raphael was attacked earlier, it looked like Moin cast a barrier spell of some sort, but without an incantation. I'm guessing that in the heat of the moment, the spell must have gone off subconsciously."

"What exactly is happening to Moin's powers, we need a definitive answer to that question. Then we can take action if necessary. However, we thought we needed to spend a bit more time observing things from afar." -Diavolo

"Right, our theory was built on too many assumptions. They needed to be verified." -Lucifer

"...So you used the SF as a chance to do that." -Raphael

"That's right." -Diavolo

"Ah, that must be why there was a second preliminary test. You presented everyone with a problem that no ordinary student could solve." -Simeon

"In any case, Lord Diavolo, Lucifer, and I were the only ones to pass the second test." -Mephisto

"So, it worked out exactly as you'd hoped, then." Raphael gapes his mouth a little, coming to a realization. "...Unbelievable. You mean to tell me that the fiery rock that nearly hit Simeon and the beast that attacked us were both YOUR doing?"

"No, that was the work of demons who oppose the royal family. We'd never resort to such cheap tricks." -Mephisto

"However, we knew that if we were to hold the SF finals here, those demons would see it as a good opportunity to strike... That I cannot deny." -Diavolo

"Yes. We did know they were here, and we didn't try to stop them." Lucifer sighs defeatedly. "So in that sense, you might be able to argue that it was "our doing"."

Moin's eyebrows furrowed at this. If Diavolo knew about the opposition, why didn't he do something about it? Why did it have to go as far as almost risking their lives since that incident in Meowcao?

"There are still many lower tier demons who think that harming an exchange student would be a good way to damage Lord Diavolo's reputation. They had no idea they were being lured here, the fools," Mephisto scoffs with a smirk.

"Even so, if you'd only told us this in advance-" Raphael notices Simeon who hasn't been talking for a while now. "...Um, Simeon?"

Simeon smiles. It was that frightening smile back when he used to scold the brothers. "Ah. I see... Thank you for making things so very clear." Everyone except Moin pales at the sight. She knew that Simeon would never direct his anger towards her. "For the sake of argument, I'll overlook the fact that you chose to test Moin's powers. Because I can see how that might be the only way to draw out certain aspects of these powers. Tell me though, why was it necessary to lure the Demon King's enemies into attacking us? What if Moin or Raphael had been hurt? What would you have done then, hmm?"

"It's only thanks to Moin that we're okay. Because she protected us, even though it meant putting herself in harm's way," Raphael added in.

"What's more, I'm a human now: weak and frail. Should I assume none of you cared about what might happen to me?" -Simeon

"I wouldn't call you "weak and frail"..." Lucifer mutters.

"Sorry, did you just say something, Lucifer?" Simeon pointedly smiles at him, daring to continue what he has to say.

"No, nothing."

"I didn't know it was possible to project so much anger while maintaining a smile..." Mephisto whispered to Diavolo as he takes a step closer to him.

"I'm too scared to move a muscle. It's been a long time since anyone's made me feel this way..." -Diavolo

Moin turns to Diavolo with an expressionless gaze. "I'd like you to avoid such methods in the future..., Lord Diavolo." His face immediately shifts to the one who's worried and hurt genuinely, sensing that Moin is indeed mad and felt betrayed at this whole discussion they were having. It's spiraling down rapidly that Diavolo almost forgot to consider her feelings and wanted to comfort her. But as he was about to speak his reassurances once again and offers his hand, Mephisto butts in with a disdainful remark.

"Well, I'd like it if you could learn to control your powers. Then we wouldn't be in this situation."

Something snapped in unison. There was a moment of defeaning silence, as if another wrong answer would cause an explosion, figuratively. Simeon could tell that it was the last straw. The revelation hurt her than they thought it would. And there was another person who wasn't helping the situation get any better. He could feel the gears of emotion running around her head and that she's barely holding to what she might impulsively do: tears, anger, or running away. She really wanted to do those three options but before she could react, Simeon shields Moin from them, hiding her behind his cloak.

"...Lucifer, Diavolo, Mephisto. You need to think about what you've done today."

#obey me mc #moin mc #obey me nightbringer spoilers

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luvergirl-866 · 10 hours ago

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fair game

word count - 2.8k

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

c/w - language, smut (kinda filthy but i know yall freaky)(also, i’m a firm believer in vocal!azzi)

a/n - two posts in one day, who am i?? anyway this is completely unedited, i haven’t even read it over once lol, so i will come back and edit later. also written in like an hour. anyway i hope yall like!! goodnight 🙏🏻🙏🏻 (also, sorry i didn’t make them rly fight. the best i can do is tickle fighting lol)

Basketball has always been Paige’s thing.

She knew it the minute she first picked up a ball when she was five. Her dad asked her to try other things, and she did: softball, soccer, tennis. And she was good at all of them—but at the end of the day, she always found herself back in her driveway with a ball in her hands, shooting into the lowered hoop her dad had bought for her.

There are plenty of people who play basketball, who love the game as much as she does. But there are few people who can win against her and even fewer who know the game like her.

Apparently, Azzi Fudd is trying really hard to take that spot.

“Bro, first to 11 wins! That was the rules the whole time!”

“First to 11, win by 2,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes. She’s repeated this a few times now, but Paige still isn’t having it.

“Nah, we never said that,” she says, dribbling between her legs.

“Okay, now you’re just lying.”

To be fair, she is lying. She knows damn well that those were the rules they made up before they started this 1v1. But she refuses to let this win go, considering she’s lost the last two 1v1s and the game of HORSE she and her best friend have played this past week. Honestly, Azzi should just give her the win.

Instead, Azzi sighs, refusing to let this go. “C’mon, Paige. You need one more point to win, just play it.”

“I already won!” Paige insists. But there’s that little voice nagging at her, telling her this isn’t as satisfying as a real win.

The voice sounds suspiciously like a certain curly-haired, caramel-skinned basketball player.

“You know it’s not a good win,” Azzi says, almost echoing the voice in Paige’s head.

Paige falters.

“What,” Azzi continues, “too scared you can’t get another point against me?”

“No,” Paige says, then clears her throat and spins the ball on her finger, “I mean, nah.”

“What is it, then?” Azzi takes a few steps forward, looking a little too distracting in her sports bra and basketball shorts. “You need me to stroke your ego a little bit? Let you win the game even though we both know it’s not fair?”

Paige has half a mind to make a joke about Azzi stroking her, but Azzi’s too close now for her to think straight. (Ironically.)

“I’on know what you’re talking about,” Paige shrugs. The ball on her finger tips, and Azzi catches it at lighting speed, spinning around when Paige tries to grab for it.

“Yo, gimme my ball!” Paige says, reaching around Azzi.

Azzi giggles, dribbling up the court and dodging Paige’s dirty grab for the ball.

“Hey, tech!” Azzi yells, and Paige laughs, right up on her back.

They stop beyond the three-point line, and instead of defending, Paige stands behind her, arms wrapping tight around her bare waist.

Azzi looks over her shoulder and grins, which is sort of the opposite of how Paige wanted her to react. And then, slowly, she lifts her hand to touch Paige’s jaw, tipping their faces together. They’re so close that Paige can feel Azzi’s breath on her lips.

Azzi’s grin changes, becoming a little devious, and then she blinks and looks up at Paige through her lashes, brown eyes all big and innocent all of a sudden, which makes Paige kind of blank out. So when Azzi licks her lips and says, “I make this three, I win,” Paige nods, her imagination elsewhere.

And just like that, Azzi steps out of her grasp, dribbles a few times, and shoots. The shot is beautiful, tear-drop, just kissing the back of the rim before it goes in.

Azzi whoops, turning around to flex at Paige. “Hell yeah!”

“Wha—“ Paige stutters, then shakes her head vehemently. “No, that don’t count. That’s not—you played dirty, I wasn’t even defending, I—!”

“I drained a deep three, in your face,” Azzi says smugly. She brushes past Paige as she heads toward the door leading to the locker rooms. “Once again, I win. 13-11.”

Paige watches her hips sway as she walks before running to catch up with her. “That didn’t count. It wasn’t part of the game.”

“Was, too.” Azzi waits by the door, and Paige doesn’t even think about it before pushing it open for her. Azzi smiles at her like the spoiled princess she is, but Paige can’t really blame anybody but herself for that.

“Bruh, you cheated!” Paige follows Azzi to her locker. “That’s the only way you can win against me, apparently. You just cheat every time.”

Azzi seems too unbothered by this, which just makes Paige more bothered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paige shoves her shoulder. “This why you don’t like us to compete with an audience!”

“Ow!” Azzi says, rubbing her shoulder and pouting dramatically.

“You know if anyone watched us play, they’d call you out,” Paige continues. “So you make sure it’s only us.”

Azzi shoves her back. “I have other reasons for making sure it’s only us,” she says teasingly, before turning back toward her locker, pulling a t-shirt out and making to put it on.

Before she can, though, Paige grabs her and spins her around, shoving her against her locker and staring at her intensely for a few moments before…

Tickling her.

“Ow, Paige!” Azzi yelps, dropping the shirt in her hands to defend herself against Paige’s attack to her rib cage. The onslaught of giggles come within seconds, uncontainable, the best friends having known each other long enough to have learned all their most ticklish spots.

“You cheated!” Paige says, biting back a smile at Azzi’s infectious laughter, even as she tries to fight her off.

“Did…” she gasps for air, “not!”

“You did too!” Paige replies, fingers moving to jab at the pressure points on her waist, making her screech. “I won that game and you know it!”

“Paige!” Azzi giggles, and Paige moves even closer to pull them flush together, moving her hands lower to tickle the backs of Azzi’s thighs, her most secret ticklish spot. And as Paige bends down slightly to reach, Azzi’s hands automatically go to her shoulders, and then Paige isn’t even tickling her anymore because Azzi’s hot breath is fanning right over her ear.

The strangest thing is, Azzi doesn’t push her away when she freezes. Instead—and Paige might be imagining it—she pulls her just that much closer.

They’re like that for maybe a second, Paige’s arms wrapped around the backs of Azzi’s thighs, Azzi’s arms snaking around Paige’s neck, before Azzi whispers her name right in her ear and that does it.

Without thinking about things like the consequences of her actions, Paige straightens up, takes Azzi’s waist, and closes the gap between them.

Their first kiss is how she always imagined it would be—and yes, she’s not ashamed to say she has definitely imagined it. It is electric and butterflies in her tummy and the first drop on a really big rollercoaster.

And those butterflies might be something a little less innocent because when Azzi makes this little noise against her mouth, Paige burns. She burns and she thinks Azzi might be burning, too, so she licks up against Azzi’s lips to test that theory and it’s confirmed when Azzi opens right up for her.

“Fuck, Paige,” Azzi mumbles against her lips before going back in for more, their tongues clashing in the filthiest way. It sends wet heat straight to Paige’s core.

Boldened by the wet sounds of their kisses, Paige moves away, basking in the whine Azzi lets out when she starts trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw.

“Paige, Paige, fuck,” she whimpers. Paige sucks at her earlobe and she keens, and Paige is glad they’re alone in this locker room because these noises are only for her to hear.

“This was what you wanted, huh?” Paige asks gruffly, biting at the shell of Azzi’s ear. “This what you were acting so fuckin’ bratty for?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi whines shamelessly, holding Paige’s head to her neck. But Paige won’t have it. She pulls her head away from her best friend at the same time as she trails her hands down to her ass and squeezes, Azzi looking her right in the eyes as she whines again.

“How you want me, mama?” Paige asks, leaning in close enough that their lips brush.

“Tongue,” Azzi breathes automatically, and it sends a surge of something sweet and hot through Paige at the knowledge that Azzi has thought of this, too.

But Azzi was far too cocky out there. And for that, Paige needs to remind her who’s in control.

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Paige whispers, and she only has time to see Azzi’s eyes fly open in confusion before she’s spinning her around and pressing her up against the lockers, her ass all up against Paige’s crotch.

“Paige,” Azzi moans when Paige attaches to neck again, and if she keeps saying her name like that Paige might just come on the spot. “Paige, stop teasing, I need you.”

“Yeah?” Paige asks, sucking a mark into the skin of Azzi’s shoulder, knowing she won’t be able to wear her slutty little tanks for at least a week after this. “Ask nicely, pretty girl.”

“I don’t…” Azzi sighs when Paige licks over one of the many marks she’s created. “Don’t wanna.”

“No?” Paige asks, not at all shocked at Azzi’s stubbornness. “Mm.” She detaches her lips, appreciating her handiwork, dark marks forming over Azzi’s shoulder trailing to the back of her neck. “That’s too bad, then.” She runs her hands over Azzi’s bare stomach, playing with the band of her basketball shorts. “I really wanted to fuck you.”

And just as her hand dips under her waistband, Paige moves away from her best friend, smiling smugly when Azzi glares at her over her shoulder. “Paige.”

Paige just raises her eyebrows.

“Fuck, even now you need to be annoying,” Azzi sighs, and Paige gets the strong urge to slap her ass, but she gets the feeling Azzi would take more pleasure from that than anything.

“If you won’t use your manners,” Paige says slowly, “I’m gonna go home. I needa shower, for real.”

“Shit,” Azzi says under her breath, leaning her forehead against the lockers. And Paige enjoys the view, the bare expanse of her back, the curve of her back, before Azzi is looking back at her once again and those innocent doe eyes are out for her. “Please, Paige. Please, God, please fuck me.” For good measure, Azzi throws in an adorable little pout. “Need you so bad.”

Paige is back up against her in a second.

Before Azzi can properly react, she’s shoving her hand down the front of Azzi’s shorts and underneath her panties to drag her fingers through her folds, gasping at the slick that’s accumulated there.

“Fuck,” she breathes despite herself, kissing against Azzi’s jaw. “So fuckin’ wet for me, mama.”

Azzi whines out a little hum, and Paige is finding that she really loves how bratty Azzi sounds even as Paige is running her fingers through her pussy.

Paige finds her clit and pulls away to watch Azzi’s face when she starts rubbing tight little circle there. Azzi doesn’t disappoint, pressing her hands up against the lockers to brace herself, jaw dropping open. Paige presses against her hard, and Azzi’s head falls back onto Paige’s shoulder.

Azzi starts grinding against Paige’s hand when Paige abruptly pulls away, fingers leaving Azzi’s slick and underwear as she brings them up to her own mouth.

Azzi looks both turned on by the sight of Paige tasting her and frustrated at the lack of stimulation. “Paige, baby, please, I need more.”

The use of the nickname has Paige like putty in Azzi’s hands, even though she’s supposed to be the one in control here. “I know,” she says once she’s done cleaning Azzi’s arousal off her own fingers. “Be patient.”

Azzi grumbles something about that, and this time Paige does smack her ass, smirking when Azzi bites her lip to contain a noise that’s borderline pornographic. “You little freak,” she teases, yanking Azzi’s shorts and underwear down. “You like to be spanked.”

“Shut up, P,” Azzi breathes, looking back over her shoulder. Paige is too busy staring at her ass to care, though, and then she’s running her hands over it, squeezing it, and Azzi chuckles breathily. “I knew you liked my ass.”

“Fuck,” is all Paige can manage.

And then, without warning, she’s plunging two fingers directly into Azzi’s dripping cunt.

Azzi moans, loud, and Paige brings her free hand up to her neck, pulling her close as she lets her adjust to the stretch. “Good?”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Azzi whimpers, turning her head for a kiss that Paige really can’t resist.

They make out for a second before Paige starts moving, slowly, in and out, scrunching her eyebrows at the feel of Azzi’s hot walls clenching around her fingers.

Paige pulls away from her lips to watch her hand move between them, mesmerized at the way Azzi sucks her in. “Fuck, takin’ me so well, being so fucking good for me,” she murmurs, speeding up her pace. “You like this, huh? Like me fuckin’ you from behind like the little brat you are?”

Azzi’s moving against her now, gyrating her hips to keep in time with Paige’s hand, the sight of her ass moving back and forth soaking Paige’s own underwear.

“Answer me, mama,” she replies, punctuating it with an extra hard thrust.

“Yes,” Azzi moans, all high-pitched and pretty-sounding. “Fuck, fuck, wanna be so fucking good for you, P, fuck.”

Paige may be in the middle of fucking her long-time best friend, but that statement still gives her some satisfaction. “Yeah? Wanna admit I won that game?”

Azzi throws it back against her hand and shakes her head. “Can’t believe you’re—uh!—talking about that…oh my god…right now.”

Paige starts ramming into her, arm moving fast enough that she thanks God she hits the gym so often. “I want you to admit it, Az.” She slides her hand down from her throat to hold her by the stomach.

“Oh, fuckkkk,” Azzi groans when Paige massages that spongy spot deep inside her. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby, right fucking there.”

“Admit that I won,” Paige says, “and I’ll let you come.”

“You wouldn’t—fucking edge me,” Azzi says, trying to glare at her but it falls a little flat considering she’s being fucked into oblivion.

“You wanna find out?” Paige dares.

She’s fucking her hard now, taking her from the back like she’s always wanted, and Azzi is making all sorts of noises that Paige has only ever heard in her filthiest dreams.

Paige slams into her particularly hard and Azzi gushes over her fingers, her slick trailing down Paige’s wrist, which is just so fucking hot. And that seems to convince Azzi that she doesn’t want to test Paige on this because she says, “Okay, fine, you—mm, fuck—you won. You won, now please just let me cum, please, baby.”

Paige smiles at hearing her beg. She scissors her fingers inside as she leans close to her ear to whisper, “Good girl, Az. Sound so pretty begging for me.”

Azzi is so close now, stomach tensing under Paige’s hand as she lets out little ah ah ah’s in time with each thrust.

“You can come, mama,” Paige says, pressing her lips to Azzi’s. “Come all over my fucking fingers, hm? Wanna feel you so bad.”

There are tears streaming down Azzi’s cheeks at this point, and she nods vehemently against Paige. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, so fucking close,” she whines. “Fuck, love your fingers so much. Love you so much.”

Of course, they have said I love you to each other before. They are best friends. But they have never quite said it while one was knuckles-deep inside the other.

Still, Paige is lost in this insane haze of fucking, and so she presses her lips to Azzi’s cheek and says, “I love you, pretty girl,” and then Azzi is crying out, knees nearly buckling as she comes hard.

Paige fucks her through it, holding her tight so she doesn’t fall, pumping her fingers slowly even after Azzi slumps against her, breathing heavy.

“Fuck, P,” she says after a minute. Paige laughs, halting her movements but staying firmly inside her best friend. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Fuck.”

Azzi looks at her through hooded eyes. “You’re really good at that.”

Paige hums, pressing a gentle kiss to Azzi’s shoulder. “So I’ve been told.”

“Shut up,” Azzi teases, voice all scratchy. “God,” she says as Paige finally pulls out, “we actually did that.”

“Yeah,” Paige laughs, a little nervously. “We did.”

Finally, Azzi turns around in Paige’s arms, hiking her bottoms back up as she does, and she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck, resting against her chest. After a minute she says, “Paige?”

“Hm?”

Azzi looks up at her, giving her those damn eyes once again. “Take me home.”

Neither of them sleeps that night.

Okkk I have a one shot prompt for pazzi! So we all know they are super competitive so I was thinking they were playing some type of game and they both think they are right and end up arguing and then like physically fighting with eachother until one of them ends up on top of the other. This basically leads to their first kiss and ya….

i love this, super cute idea! are you thinking fluff, smut, both…?

#paige buckets #the people's princess #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #smut #pazzi #pazzi smut #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb #pazzi fics

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