#time and time again they said we do not want you WE DO NOT TRUST YOU

[marysfics]

In the Glow of Christmas Lights, You Bring Me Clarity

Small one shot of Alexia Putellas x Vision-Impaired!Reader

Fluff

The soft hum of holiday music filled the living room, blending with the faint crackle of the fireplace. The scent of cinnamon, pine, and freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, wrapping the space in warmth and comfort. Christmas lights twinkled along the walls, their colors vivid even through the haze of your vision.

It was one of your bad days. The world was a blurry mess, the details of the room fading into indistinct shapes and shadows. You’d hoped the festive atmosphere might distract you from it, but the frustration lingered like a weight in your chest.

“Need a hand?” Alexia’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and steady as always.

You turned toward her shape, the dark sweater she wore standing out against the glow of the tree. “I think I’ve got it,” you replied, though your hands fumbled as you tried to string the last ornament onto the tree.

“Hmm,” Alexia hummed skeptically. She crossed the room in a few strides and gently took the ornament from your hand. “Let me help.”

Her touch was familiar, grounding. She guided your hand with hers, lifting the ornament to a higher branch before stepping back. “Perfect,” she said, though you couldn’t tell if it was or not.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Alexia crouched slightly, trying to meet your gaze. “Bad day?”

You nodded reluctantly. “It’s hard to enjoy everything when I can’t… see it.”

Her expression softened, and she reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly. “Close your eyes,” she said.

“What?”

“Just trust me. Close your eyes.”

With a sigh, you did as she asked.

“Okay,” Alexia began, her voice warm and soothing. “The tree is glowing—it’s covered in golden lights, the ones you insisted we use this year. The ornaments are a mix of red, silver, and green. The star at the top is a little crooked because I rushed it, but I think it gives the tree some charm.”

You smiled faintly, her voice painting a picture clearer than your eyes could manage.

“There’s a plate of cookies on the coffee table,” she continued. “Some are burnt—my fault again—but the ones you made are perfect. And the stockings are hanging by the fireplace. Yours looks fuller than mine, by the way.”

You laughed softly. “That’s because you said you didn’t want anything.”

“I lied,” she teased.

Alexia shifted closer, her hand still holding yours. “There’s snow falling outside,” she said, her tone quieter now. “It’s not heavy, just a light dusting, but it’s enough to make everything sparkle.”

Her words painted the scene so vividly in your mind that you felt your frustration begin to fade.

“And you?” you asked. “What do you look like right now?”

She paused, her thumb brushing over your hand. “I’m wearing that sweater you hate—dark green with the itchy fabric. My hair’s a mess because I didn’t have time to fix it after training. And I’m smiling because you’re here, and it’s Christmas, and that’s all I really wanted.”

Your eyes opened, blurring back to reality, but the warmth in Alexia’s voice stayed with you.

“You’re so cheesy,” you said, but there was no mistaking the emotion in your voice.

Alexia grinned, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But it made you smile.”

“It did,” you admitted, squeezing her hand in return.

The room was still a blur, but it didn’t matter as much anymore. With Alexia by your side, grounding you in her world, Christmas felt clearer than it ever had.

Alexia stayed close, her hand in yours, as the warm glow of the fireplace danced across the room. You could feel the unspoken comfort she brought, but there was still a weight pressing against your chest—a mix of anticipation and frustration.

“I, uh…” you started, your voice wavering.

Alexia tilted her head slightly, her expression curious. “What is it?”

You reached into the pocket of your sweater, fingers brushing against the small object hidden there. It was supposed to be her gift, something you’d been planning for weeks. But with your sight so unreliable today, you couldn’t make out the details well enough to hand it to her properly or explain its meaning the way you wanted.

“I got you something,” you admitted softly, pulling your hand back before you fully retrieved it.

Her eyes lit up, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip. “But it’s… it’s not perfect. And I can’t even—” You stopped, the words catching in your throat.

Alexia’s brow furrowed slightly, concern creeping into her expression. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. Whatever it is, I’ll love it.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up. “No, it’s not that simple. I wanted to make it special, but I can’t even see well enough to… to make sure it’s right. I wanted to give it to you properly.”

Her hand tightened around yours, her touch steadying you. “You don’t have to do anything perfectly, amor. Just tell me.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding as you finally retrieved the small object from your pocket. It was a delicate silver bracelet, simple yet elegant, with a tiny charm shaped like a star.

“I thought it reminded me of you,” you said quietly. “You’re always this bright, steady presence in my life. Like a star—always there, even when I can’t see clearly.”

Alexia stared at the bracelet, her expression softening as her fingers gently brushed over yours to take it. She held it up, letting it catch the warm glow of the Christmas lights.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

“I wasn’t sure if it was good enough,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia shook her head, setting the bracelet down carefully before taking both your hands in hers. “It’s more than enough. Do you know why?”

You shook your head, unsure.

“Because it came from you,” she said simply. “And because you always make me feel like the luckiest person in the world, no matter what. This just proves it even more.”

You felt the tension ease, your chest lighter as her words settled in.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your temple. “I’m going to wear it every day.”

Your lips curled into a small smile, your heart full despite the blurry world around you. Alexia had a way of making everything feel clearer, even when you couldn’t see it for yourself.

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

I want to wish everyone happy holidays and a healthy 2025! Thank you for all the love and support you've all shown my writing- it means the world to me. This might be my last piece for a while, but I always cherish the encouragement and kindness you've all shared. Wishing you all the best in the year ahead! 🎄🎇

[cheeseceli]

Under the mistletoe

Pairing: Yang Jeongin × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers

Warnings: reader is lowkey oblivious but not really, that's it?

A/n: so this is my Christmas post 🙂‍↕️

Daily click

"Questions can be saved for later, just follow me" with that, you had absolutely no chance to talk back as he was already walking away, expecting you to actually follow him.

You were at the boys' Christmas party, celebrating the holiday with your closest friends - including Jeongin - but this specific person seemed to have other plans. Ever since he laid his eyes on you, he had been trying to get you to talk to him alone and, preferably, outside. Now, he was succeeding.

"What are we going to do on the balcony?" you asked, trying to keep up with his pace "It's freezing out there."

"I said no questions for now. Just trust me, okay?"

Once again you weren't able to respond, as he was already opening the door for you: "after you."

And so you did. Outside, it was in fact cold, snow slowly falling down. When you looked at Jeongin you expected to see him either shivering because of the weather or with a mischievous grin, that would explain the reason as to why you're far from the party. However, you notice him nervous.

That's odd.

"Jeongin? Are you okay?"

He seems to be lost in thought, his gaze nowhere near where you were, looking up instead.

"Yeah, yeah." Basically a synonym to no.

"Are we here for a reason...? You seem to be a little-"

"Oh yes, actually" he replied rather quickly, walking to the spot he was looking at before "Come here, there's something I want to show you."

You followed his lead, getting closer to the view. Though he wasn't looking ahead, so you didn't know if that was what he truly wanted to show you, you couldn't help but be awestruck. You had seen that scenario a few times before, every time you visited the boys' dorm, but never had it felt so magical.

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" You slowly look at him, your eyes not wanting to leave the beautiful sight ahead of you "it's beautiful."

"I mean, that as well." He looked up quickly, and you almost didn't realise this small gesture "but there was this other thing..."

As his voice died out, you looked above only to finally notice what this all was about:

"The mistletoe" you smiled. He was waiting for you to see it. You look at him, his eyes not exactly meeting yours just yet "What? You brought me here and aren't even going to kiss me?"

With this last statement he finally looked at you, a bit of excitement and hope shining on his eyes. Your smile didn't seem to falter anytime soon, as it was growing even more with his reaction.

"Can I?" he quietly said, afraid of doing anything that could ruin the moment.

You smile, barely believing it. You had been waiting ages for something like this: any opportunity, any moment that would give you the chance of becoming something more with Jeongin. And then he, during the holiday season, simply makes a whole plan to give you that chance.

It was adorable, to be honest. How he was so determined to bring you under the mistletoe, but still let you silently know that whatever you wanna do from now on is up to you. He's letting you choose. And no matter when, either on Christmas or on any other normal day, you would always choose him. And so you did:

"We cannot break a tradition, can we?"

Masterlist I you'll probably like: Christmas with skz

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the member actually is. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (couldn't tag in bold)

Divider by: @enchanthings-a | Images 1, 2 and 3

[neptunesyellowsands]

Hmm idk. I think I disagree. Why do we blame Merlin for Arthur’s decision here, just because he made a suggestion? As a member of the Arthur Defense Squad, I also think Arthur is responsible for his own actions and choices. Merlin wasn’t any more certain than anyone else about Morgause’s motives, and Arthur knew that. In this moment, it was just a friend saying “so-and-so didn’t mean it!” when you both know they MIGHT have meant it, but this isn’t the time or place to sort it out.

Maybe if he’d persuaded Arthur with a whole argument I could blame Merlin, but he just said one line that halted Arthur’s actions enough to not kill his father. I get that influencing someone is a powerful thing to do, but ultimately it’s Arthur who chose to listen to him. And Arthur has NO problem not listening to Merlin, he ignores his warnings all the time. He listened at this moment because he wanted to. Merlin said what he wanted to hear anyway.

One of Arthur’s biggest problems is that he never knows who to listen to/trust (Agravaine) and that burns him time and again. But that is really because he doesn’t know how to listen to/trust himself. We blame other characters for Arthur’s actions but he did them. He talked a lot about equality for all and then said “oh except people with magic.” He chose fear of magic over his duty to protect those citizens that had magic. Uther, Merlin, etc contributed but ultimately it was on Arthur.

So I can’t blame Merlin for this, he was trying to keep Arthur from doing something rash in the hopes he would later think it over properly before making a decision that would haunt him forever. I could be wrong! That’s just my opinion 🤷‍♀️

my unpopular merlin opinion is that merlin telling morgana he had magic wouldn't have changed anything but this scene did

I'm not saying because arthur would have killed uthere blah blah blah. uther could have as well lived, but if merlin left the seed of doubt in arthur's mind everything would have been entirely different. and that's the obvious part.

but I had also seen a genius tumblr post (if I can find it, I'll link it and tag the author) in which op was talking about how putting morgana on the throne was only morgause's backup plan. which makes perfect sense. on the one hand, morgana's quest for power is her demise: she gives up everything good in her life in favour of her greed and desire for the throne. something that she did not have before morgause set her mind on this plan. I am positive she would have much rather kept her safe and happy in a land where she can finally explore her potential without any violent coup than give away her life to never reach what she wanted.

on the other hand, arthur is the heir. no coup would have been needed and if he started thinking about magic in a positive light, he could have brought about the change morgana and morgause wanted without any desire for revenge (therefore, no violence or losses on either party). it would have been the perfect plan and morgause was clearly trying to achieve it in the sins of the father. it is no coincidence that we can see her reaction to arthur and uther's reconciliation.

I believe this episode is the real "beginning of the end" and merlin's biggest misstep, because every other that followed was a direct consequence of this moment, e.g. morgana being thrust into the role of magic bringer and going insane, the disir's judgement, kara's death, mordred's betrayal, etc. everything could have been avoided if in this moment merlin had just convinced him to put the sword down without taking away from arthur's talk with ygraine.

[chericos]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 ᝰ ⋆⁺₊❅.

CHRISTMAS ACTIVITIES WITH THE JJK MEN!

you can definitely see my favorites...

Satoru Gojo:

Satoru would try and take you moose-back riding: keyword try

he grew up being exceptional at everything, so he thought this would be no different

boy, was he wrong

you walked up to your moose calmly, hands held out for the massive creature to sniff-- to gain its trust. It seemed to relax in your presence. with a few reassuring words and a couple of pats, it allowed you the honor of being able to climb onto its back with ease. meanwhile, the scene next to you was anything but graceful. gojo was struggling. a lot. "why is he looking at me like that?" "i think it wants to kill me," "why doesn't. he like me..." he all but whined "maybe he can sense your charming personality," you teased. gojo spent the majority of his time whining about the audacity of the moose (that he picked out mind you). and when he was finally able to mount it, for a few gratifying seconds, the moose bucked wildly, sending him flying backward. you guide your own moose towards where he lies sprawled out in the snow, trying to contain your laughter. "totally planned for that to happen." "sure ya did honey," let's just say gojo never looked at a moose the same way again.

Suguru Geto:

Suguru was skeptical when you brought up the idea of Christmas baking.

you wanted to do something to keep the twins, mimiko, and nanako, entertained

"are you sure this isn't going to end in a mess?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in the kitchen doorway. "it's supposed to be messy, besides, they'll love it" mimiko and nanako were already perched up on the counter, smiling excitedly as they tried to get geto to join them, tugging on is sleeve and looking up at him with big puppy eyes. its no surprise that he gave in. mimiko was meticulous, carefully pressing cookie cutters into the dough with laser focus, while nanako was more chaotic, enthusiastically cutting out shapes in rapid succession—often forgetting to clean off the edges. geto couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaned over to help Nanako fix her crooked star cookie. “like this,” he said softly, guiding her hands. meanwhile, you were rolling out more dough when mimiko quietly came up to you. “can we make a heart one?” she asked shyly. You nodded, handing her the cutter. “of course, sweetie. maybe we can decorate it for suguru-nii later?" geto definitely overheard that. when it came time to decorate, the real chaos began. nanako somehow managed to get frosting everywhere—on her hands, her face, and even a streak across her cheek. “nanako, the frosting is for the cookies,” geto said with a sigh, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. mimiko, ever the perfectionist, took her time placing each sprinkle with care. “suguru-nii, look! I made a snowman!” she said, holding up her creation proudly. he smiled, brushing a hand over her hair. “It’s perfect, mimiko.” by the time you were done, the kitchen was a disaster. flour dusted the counters and the floor, and there was frosting on practically everything, including a streak in geto’s hair that he hadn’t noticed yet. (no one tell him) the girls were exhausted but happy, sitting at the table with mugs of warm milk and admiring their cookies. mimiko leaned against geto’s arm while nanako leaned against yours, both content and sleepy. geto glanced over at you, a soft smile on his face. “you were right, they loved it,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “told you,”

Kento Nanami:

tree picking with Kento was probably one of the most tedious tasks on the planet

you never expected him to be so serious about such a holiday, but you can't say you're surprised

nanami wasn't sure how he roped into picking out a Christmas tree with you, I mean, this wasn't exactly his idea of a relaxing afternoon. but with relentless begging and pleading on your end he found himself holding a saw in one hand while his other had his fingers laced between yours and secured in his coat pocket. "we should get this one" you gigglied while pointing towards a lopsided tree. "absolutely not." "but it adds character!" after what felt like hours of deliberation (and a lot of back and forth over the "symmetry of a tree") you finally settle on a tall, full tree, that met nanami's (ridiculous in your eyes) standards. decorating, however, was a different story. nanami was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. as he meticulously placed ornaments and adjusted the lights until everything was perfectly balanced. “It’s just a tree,” you teased as he redid the tinsel for the 3rd time. “It’s not ‘just a tree.’ It’s the centerpiece of Christmas,” he replied, dead serious. by the time the tree was finished, it was nothing short of a masterpiece. as you admired the warm glow of the lights, nanami handed you a cup of hot cocoa and let out a rare, contented sigh. “you were right,” he said softly. “It was worth the effort.” for the rest of the night, you caught him stealing glances at the tree, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

Ryomen Sukuna:

it took you 3 hours of incessant pestering for Ryomen to finally crack and join you on your holiday shopping trip

let's just say you end up regretting it.

sukuna couldn't care less about christmas. to him, it was nothing but an annoying excuse for humans to prance around in hideous sweaters and screech (sing) ridiculous songs to one another. so when you dragged him out to do christmas shopping, he made it his personal mission to ruin everyone else’s day. “why are we even here?” he grumbled as you wandered through aisles of ornaments and festive decorations. “because you need to get out more,” you replied, dodging his annoyed glare. but instead of helping, sukuna decided to make his own fun. anytime a kid got too close, he’d flash them a devilish grin, his sharp teeth on full display. “you better behave, or i’ll really give you something to cry about,” he said, voice low and menacing. cue the immediate screaming. “kuna!” you hissed, swatting his arm as the poor kid ran to their parents. “what? i thought this was the season for fear,” it got worse when he found an aisle with animatronic decorations (ok maybe this is just where I live but why is there still halloween decor out???). he’d activate the ones with creepy faces, making them jump-scare unsuspecting shoppers while he cackled in delight. “look at them! scrambling away like scared little mice,” he sneered, clearly having way too much fun. you, on the other hand, were mortified. “this is christmas, not halloween,” you groaned, dragging him away from the chaos he caused. but he just smirked, completely unbothered. “could’ve fooled me. everyone looks terrified.” by the time you finished shopping, the store staff was glaring at you, and sukuna looked smugger than ever. as you hauled your bags to the car, you gave him a pointed look. “you’re impossible.” note to self: never let him out to the general public.

Megumi Fushiguro:

megumi has been ice skating once in his life, at the age of 10

he fell flat on his ass and vowed to never touch the ice again

until you, that is

megumi still wasn’t sure how you convinced him to come ice skating. “it’s not like i’ll be good at it,” he grumbled, he was already mentally preparing for disaster. but somehow, here he was, lacing up skates while you beamed at him. a bright smile on your face as you tugged on the sleeve of his sweater (your favorite) and directed him towards the ice. the moment he stepped onto the ice, his legs wobbled like a newborn deer. he gripped the wall with a death grip, glaring at the ice as if it personally offended him. “this is stupid,” he muttered. you, ever the showoff, skated effortlessly back toward him, stopping with a little flourish. “you’re supposed to move, megumi, not cling to the wall,” you teased, holding out your hands. he stared at your hands, then at the ice, then back at your hands. “i’m going to fall,” he stated flatly. “probably,” you said with a shrug, “but that’s part of the fun!” begrudgingly, he let go of the wall and took your hands. his movements were stiff and awkward as you guided him across the ice. every slip and stumble made him scowl harder, his ears burning red from embarrassment. at one point, his balance gave out completely, and he went down with a thud. you tried not to laugh, but the way he just sat there, glaring and grumbling at the ice like it betrayed him, made it impossible. “go ahead. laugh,” he deadpanned. “i’m not laughing at you! just… near you,” you replied, wiping tears from your eyes before offering him a hand to get back up. he hesitated but eventually allowed you to help him. after a while, he found a rhythm—though he still refused to let go of your hand for long. by the end, he was still wobbly, still scowling, but there was a faint sense of satisfaction in his eyes. when you pointed it out, he rolled them and muttered, “it’s not like i enjoyed it.” he was a liar.

Yuji Itadori:

yuji was so excited to decorate gingerbread houses

at least, until the smell hit him

“this smells so good,” he said, already nibbling on one of the walls. “yuji, that’s supposed to be part of the house,” you said. You watched as he sheepishly put it down… only to sneak a bite of a different piece when he thought you weren’t looking. you were. at first, he tried to stay focused. he squeezed out some frosting here, stuck a gumdrop to the roof there, and proudly showed it off like it was a masterpiece. but within minutes, you noticed the pile of gingerbread shrinking. at an abnormally fast rate. “yuji, for the love of-- stop eating the house!” “i’m not!” he said, crumbs falling from his mouth as he tried to look innocent. “i’m just… quality checking.” "quality checking my--" by the time you finished your own gingerbread house, yuji’s was barely half built. instead of walls, there were just scattered crumbs and a single frosting-covered gummy bear left standing. it was a mess. “what happened to your house?” you asked, trying not to laugh. “it’s an abstract gingerbread house. very minimalist. also, i was hungry.” he shrugged, unapologetic. you couldn’t even be mad at him—especially when he offered you a piece of gingerbread with a sheepish grin. “want to split the roof? it’s the best part.”

Yuta Okkotsu:

it was a miracle that yuta was even in town for christmas

after a rough week-long mission you just wanted him to relax

yuta had just returned from a week-long mission, his exhaustion obvious in the way his eyes barely stayed open and the dark bags under them. his voice was hoarse from the travel and long days, and when he stepped into your place, he gave you a tired smile. “sorry, i’m late,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “it’s been a long week…” you didn’t mind, though. seeing him home was enough. “you’re not late,” you said softly, leading him to the couch. “how about we just spend christmas indoors? we can watch movies and… just relax.” his eyes flickered with relief at the idea. “sounds perfect,” he murmured, sinking into the couch beside you. you picked out a christmas movie to start, but the moment the opening credits rolled, you noticed his breathing slowing. yuta, still curled up in a blanket beside you, let out a soft sigh, his head leaning gently on your shoulder. as you ran your fingers through his hair, he gave a small hum of contentment. “you’re really tired, huh?” you asked quietly, looking down at him. “mm… a little,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “just need to rest for a bit… your hands feels nice…” the movie played on, but yuta didn’t even make it halfway through the first one. his body shifted, and soon, he was completely asleep, his head still resting on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling slowly in deep, peaceful breaths. you smiled softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair, the warmth of him against you making the entire room feel cozy. the movie continued, but no one was watching at this point. you pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead before whispering "welcome back, my love,"

an; i was gonna add toge but when I got home and clicked on my drafts I never finished his part and I couldn't for the life of me remember what I was going to do or think of a new idea so... sorry!

hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[nightfurylover31]

It’s amazing with how little screentime Walters got, Sonic Movie 3 made me rethink his entire character! With new perspectives of his history, it changes everything.

Before, we just saw him as Olive Garden Guy. Just a standard government official meowing with our heroes. But after the third movie, he’s so much more.

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

As we speculated before, Walters was there during Shadow’s time. But he was not like the other officers. When he met Maria, he treated her kindly. You could get the vibe he was more of a rookie. Even though later on Maria and Shadow got into all kinds of shenanigans, there wasn’t any indication that this bothered him. He was one of the more down-to-earth members of the facility. Then came the day of the accident. When everything went wrong. When the military tried to take Shadow by any means. But Walters wasn’t one of them. He was against it. And one thing he said, made me rethink everything I thought about him.

“Those are children!”

That line. He says “children.” Plural. The only ones there were Gerald, Maria and Shadow. He wasn’t just referring to Maria. Despite what he was, despite being an alien, despite the experiments, Walters saw Shadow as a kid. Which makes what happens next even more tragic. He tried to stop the soldiers from hurting them, but his interference caused the explosion that killed Maria. Can you imagine how he must have felt? And that’s what led to Shadow’s imprisonment. Walter himself made the decision, with Shadow being too powerful to be left alone or be destroyed. It’s not an easy choice.

Walters takes no satisfaction in sealing Shadow away. He doesn’t want to do this. But with the power Shadow has, and what others could do to him, it’s the only thing he can do. This had weighed on his mind for 50 years. The death of a child, and a cruel incarceration of another. It’s like a double betrayal for Shadow.

Because of what happened to Shadow, that’s why he treated Sonic the way he did. He had to be as distant and unattached as possible with anything relating to the blue hedgehog to prevent what happened before from happening again. But with Shadow’s release, Walters had to confront past and tell Team Sonic the truth. The way he speaks is completely different. Not the normal military commander, but a man telling a tragic story. He even starts off with saying “Shadow’s story began a lot like yours, Sonic.” He noticed the similarities, that’s why he told the team.

And in his final moments, he gives Sonic the cannon key. In a way, he trusted Sonic and his friends with this more than G.U.N. Perhaps that was his way of making amends. He hoped that they could reach out to Shadow before G.U.N. found him. Maybe that’s a stretch, but I think, in the end, Walters made the right choice in trusting them.

[green-square-anon]

Two things about your primarch daughter posts just to not spam you.

I know you said he tries and all that. But it's so hard not to feel enraged at Dorn. There's being emotionally inept and then there's not trying. He reads like someone who dosen't TRY. He would have seen something. The kind of parent who never tells his child he loves them or he's proud of them? not sure what parental books he would find that didn't mention that and even then he would have to twist the words so hard to mean "actually I should just feed and clothe her, she'll know". I mean a parent child relationship where the CHILD "gives more than she recieves"? I want to slap him. It's the same feeling I get reading those reader or oc inserts where he's emotionally unavailble to his partner and I don't know if you've seen it since it mostly floats around 4chan spaces and 1d4/1d6chan. But that copypasta where someone talks about how others find Dorn boring but to them he's like that quiet family man at work who dosen't engage in watercooler talk and kinda opens up to his sons and I'm just wondering "wtf is his relationship with the mother" since she's never mentioned. Only with someone emotionally neglecting a child instead of a partner it is much worse. With partners I'm just thinking "leave his ass".

Thankfully I don't think he's THAT bad in canon and the fandom has flandarized him a bit. This is the same man who called Sigismund his "most beloved son" and lined the insides of his armor with fur to never forget the humanity of his grandfather or something along those lines.

On the other hand there's this bit in Echoes of Eternity before Sanguinius dies:

Dorn didn’t know what to say, when nothing seemed worth saying. He was not made for exchanges like these. Many thought him cold in these moments, even heartless, but he was neither. It was purely that defeat was alien to him, as was the quality of emotion shining in Sanguinius’ gaze. What was worth saying when no words were necessary? What did one say to a brother you barely knew, who had nevertheless fought beside you from the beginning to the end? Sanguinius had the answer without even needing to consider the question. ‘Farewell, Rogal.’ The Angel rose to his feet, and the holo tracked upward with him. ‘If we do not meet again in the flesh, know that it was an honour, being your brother.’ The Praetorian nodded to the Angel, wanting the right words, searching for them, and not finding them. The silence stretched out. It dragged. Sanguinius smiled, knowing. The hololith blinked away.

(For the people who like primarch x primarch I thinks there's great potential in Dorn having unrequited feelings for Sanguinius but that's a tangent). Yeah the man is emotionally constipated but he does TRY and in the time as well as the responsibility that comes with parenthood I think, can nearly garentee he would have expressed himself (side note but how the hell did he even get laid if he was this cold?)

Konrad. I know you most likely just didn't consider this (god that sounded unintentionally dickish, not like that, just that you mentioned not having considered the mother before) but I am a little gremlin for "LORE". What about handing the kid of to the mom instead of Vulkan unless mommy met some tragic end? In my oc verse (I'm not bringing that up to enforce lore, I'm saying this because these ideas are free for anyone who wants to build of of them) I intentionally made it so that Konrads waifu came from a family that was both large and tightnit (and relatively wealthy) so that even if Konrad went AWOL or just needed help there WAS that support network of uncles/aunts and grandparents to help. Even if the emotional support network on the fathers side was…. litterally noone. Or perhaps Konrad decided their must be primarch/astartes level protection, which would be smart, and didn't trust himself so "Primarch, but not me" was (to him) the best solution? That would be interesting as hell as a concept.

Primarchs + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[writingwisterias]

Day 23: Praise Kink

ID! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Praise Kink, Training, Gun, Training room sex Masterlist

Of course, Leon had noticed your training had begun to slip, he was dragging himself to the shooting range with you every morning. No matter how hard he tried your score never increased. He could see your confidence slipping as the other recruits began to notice your low score. If he wanted to find you he was sure you were in the shooting range. You tried everything you could to get better and yet the more your confidence slipped so did your score. He could see the fire of ambition slowly die inside of you and decided enough was enough. 

He hated being awake so early, especially after he spent the night in some stupid bar he stumbled into. At least you were thankful for the extra attention he was offering. He saw you standing outside the door to the shooting range, two coffees held in your hands as you looked off into the distance. Your headphones looked like earmuffs over your head as you wrapped up warm to fight the winter chill. It was early enough the range would be empty, none of the agents assigned to training groups of recruits would be arriving any time soon, and the sky was still dark. Your frame is highlighted dimly with the street lamps. 

Your smile was brighter than any lingering stars as you saw him. Your sweater-covered hand holding out the hot drink to him. “I needed one so I thought you might as well” You spoke. He could hear your music as you pulled the headphones away from your head, they now hung around your neck. “Keep listening to music at that volume you won't need any ear protection when shooting” Leon teased. His heart fluttered at your shy smile blush coating your cheeks as your hands began rummaging your pockets for your phone to lower the volume.  

Easing into the training wasn’t the hard thing, it was just your aim. It was even worse than before everyone started teasing, Leon predicted the constant bullying from everyone else was a direct result. So instead of following the methods of all the other agents assigned to this task, he took a kinder approach. Hoping his praise and chilled-out attitude would help you relax and not overthink. It worked to his credit; your aim was improving and your score was slowly increasing. Yet your mind loved the extra attention Leon gave you, heart fluttering at every adjustment he would step closer to do. His rewarding words heading to other areas. 

You jumped slightly as he stepped closer to readjust your grip, his eyebrows pinching in confusion as his hands touched your hip. “You good? I didn’t mean to make you jump” Leon spoke. His breath tickled your neck causing you to flinch slightly, blush coating your cheeks as you felt bad for your reactions. You knew it was because you had woken up earlier than normal, your toy in your nightstand finding its purpose yet again after another dream of Leon fucking you. Having to face him after such a graphic dream was tough, his close proximity didn’t help either. 

“I’m good sorry, I don't know why I’m so jumpy today..must have been a dream I had” You half laughed. Leon clearly assumed it was a nightmare the way he nodded, silently agreeing with you. “I’m here if you want to talk about it. We have time before the others show up” 

He was too kind for his own good sometimes, his caring nature making him all the more alluring to him. You could have made up something, some random nightmare but Leon was smarter than that. He would have clocked on instantly. Instead, you chose the cheap side and said you didn’t want to talk about it. Leon just raised an eyebrow. 

“Our training sessions are a safe space for everything and anything…Do you trust me?” 

Your heart stuttered unable to think of a reply faster than the hot flush set in. “I do trust you…it’s just…just complicated” You muttered, your arms crossing over your chest as you met his gaze. You felt so small and shy like you were about to be scolded by a teacher. Once that was always nice to you and then you suddenly get into their bad books. “Complicated how?” Leon asked, his body now resting on the bench - nudging ammo out of the way to set his arms beside him. His hands looked so good, flexed over the edge of the table. His veins were now more prominent. They always looked well-kept. “Something on my hands?” he laughed meeting your eyeline. You broke out of your trance shaking your head. “No No, they just look good” 

“My hands?” 

God you were just making this worse. Digging yourself deep into a hole you weren’t sure you could get out of. Leon smirked, his teasing attitude written all over his face. He had already caught you out on your own lie, your body language speaking volumes over your words. Leon stood up, sauntering over to your stuttering form, his hands landing on your shoulders instantly calming you. “Do you ever relax?” He chuckled. Leon was so close, yet there was no gun in your hand. He was voluntarily in your space. “It’s hard to relax sometimes” You muttered back, hand rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you met his eyes. Leon chuckled, his face inches from yours. “Let me help you” 

He watched your features for any rejection, giving you time to process his request. His grin grew when he saw it, the subtle nod of your head. His lips were softer than you originally thought they would be as they landed on yours. They worked in sync perfectly with yours. His presence was dominating demanding control which you gladly gave him. Leon spun you around, walking you back towards the shelf he was just perched on. You worked on removing your leggings, whilst he focused on his trousers. The kiss never broke. 

He only broke it to hoist you up on the shelf, his body spreading your legs as he invaded your space. “You impressed me today. Seems our 1-1 time is working” 

Leon tasted like the coffee you had given him this morning mixed with the faint taste of whiskey he drank last night. It was intoxicating. Your tongue already craving more. His compliments melted your brain as his lips muttered them against your neck. Blemishes making themselves known with the sting he left behind. Leon sunk his cock inside of you with a groan. Your walls instantly welcome him, warming him. “Fuck..pretty girl having such a perfect cunt” He grunted as he began to move. 

He made sure you felt every inch, his hips pistoning inside you at such an insane speed. Leon’s hand gripped at your thighs, holding one over his hip as the other hand gripped at your head bringing you in for another kiss. Leon was bold and passionate with you. Worshipping every clench, moan or whimper you gave him as he continued to fuck you. “Such a good girl, I should reward you like this all the time and then maybe you’ll be the best agent there is” 

Your brain faltered at creating any form of a coherent response, the letters jumbling up as your head fell against his shoulder. His praise continued to tighten the coil in your stomach, almost ready to snap. “Be a good girl and cum before the others arrive, I want to feel it around my cock” 

He groaned loudly as you finally snapped, your cum instantly coating his cock coating his trousers. The forces of your orgasm caused his. He moaned as your legs tightened around him, trapping him inside as he coated your walls. “There's more if you break your record in front of the rest of them” 

“Seems like a worthy reward”

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[shnowyfox]

Jollyformers AU (

so basically i turned the holiday themed au. i haven't had the time to flesh it out obviously. TFONE megop regardless of this au is Last Christmas by Wham!

lore! so instead of cogs they have sleigh bells! usually worn via a collar though harnesses are worn as well to hold more bells that are decorative only. Idk what im doing with transformation yet but i think either it's completely replaced by the bell's allowing flight, or, transformation into creatures to pull the sleigh (basically everyone has a beast alt, deer and ungulates being the most common) Optimus obviously being a reindeer, megatron (krampus) is a goat to fit with his krampus thing, b-127 (glee-127, Badassaclaus) is supposed to be elf like with his g1 style horns supposed to look like elf ears too but they can be seen as budding antlers as well, and elita I haven't drawn yet but she's either a reindeer too or gazelle. (also considering giraffe with that neck dayum girl)

"Prime" has been replaced with "Claus"

hats are just for jolly good fun. like this whole au. and a bit of religious healing. anything goes rlly.

and now a snippet of a rewrite I never was able to finish up. Some of this HAS been retconned. i'm still working at it. mainly the occupation and the backstory stuff. (Context: Bartholomeus is another name for Krampus i dont remember where or when but that's what Megatronus has been substituted with.)

Deer Trax: (chuckles) Okay, fellas! Thanks for the jolly start. You want to give me another one?

Sentry 1: You’re naughty!

Deer Trax: I’ll take that as a no.

Elf-16: (grunts) Hey! Watch where you’re going!

Sentry 1: Oh… What did you say, no-bell?

Elf-16: Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the elf who was behind you.

Sentry 2: What? Where’d he go?

Elf-16: The joyous red and blue elf? Has a big grin, merry cheer, gives off a yankee candle scent?

Sentry 1: Where is he?

Elf-16: He went that way.

Sentry 1: When I get my hands on that elf…

Elf-16: All right, all clear.

Deer Trax: Okay, D-16, I may be a little vanilla, but “Yankee ”? That is too far.

Elf-16: Let me guess. Chased out of the cookie jar?

Deer Trax: (laughs) Yeah. I had to jump out of a sleigh this time. Almost got an ouchie (laughs) It was wild.

Elf-16: And digging through fortune cookies is worth getting an ouchie?

Deer Trax: Yes, it is.

Elf-16: I need a new best friend.

Deer Trax: If there are clues in our recorded history that can help locate the North Star, they’re in the cookie jar.

Elf-16: Sentinelf Claus, the Sentinelf Claus, is up in the blizzard right now, risking his merriment for us in search of the Star.

Deer Trax: That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to help him.

Elf-16: Yeah, okay. (laughs)

Deer Trax: The sooner cookies bake again, the sooner we won’t have to make toys ourselves. Don’t you want to choose your own path, do whatever you want?

Elf-16: We’re toy makers. We make toys, that’s all.

Deer Trax: No, there has got to be something more I can do. I can feel it. (Dentistry?)

Elf-16: Oh, yeah? Like the time you had a “feeling” you could fly without a bell?

Deer Trax: You said you were never gonna mention that again.

Elf-16: Took me three days to dig you out of the snow. Your feelings get you in trouble.

Deer Trax: Yeah, yeah.

Elf-16: Just trust in Sentinelf Claus.

Deer Trax: I do trust in him. Hey, if we did have bells…

Elf-16: I’d fly hooves first into your chest

Deer Trax: I don’t like how fast you answered that. But listen, if you did kick me, I couldn’t give you this awesome Bartholomeus Claus thing I have here. It’s cool. I’ll give it to someone else.

Elf-16: What Bartholomoeus Claus thing?

Deer Trax: Ah, it’s nothing. Just a, you know, mint-condition Bartholomeus Claus sweater, first edition.

Elf-16: (gasps) What?

Deer Trax: If you don’t want it, I can just throw it away.

Elf-16: Throw it away? Don’t… That’s not funny. Let me see.

Deer Trax: Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna rip it.

Elf-16: You know, Sentinelf says Bartholomeus was the…

Deer Trax: The kindest Claus to ever live. I know, buddy. Looks good on you.

[captainsophiestark]

My Hero

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Steve's next door neighbor needs a hand moving in a bunch of science equipment, so he offers to help. But he's in for a surprise when he realizes that the neighbor in question has absolutely no idea who he is.

Word Count: 2,456

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Uh, excuse me? Do you need help with that?"

My arms were full carrying test tubes and other scientific equipment, so I couldn't see who'd spoken. I'd just bought a new apartment in Washington DC, and when it was time to move all my furniture in I drafted a bunch of strong friends to help me. All my delicate, expensive machines and glass test tubes, on the other hand, I didn't trust anyone else to move, so I'd decided to do it all by myself.

That was proving to be more of a challenge than I'd initially anticipated.

I managed to carry my last load to the elevator of my building without help, but with my hands this full I had no way to push the 'up' button.

"Uh..." I said, pausing to consider just for a second before admitting defeat. I sighed. "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind just pushing the up button for me. And then... maybe my floor number after that."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw whoever'd offered their help move around me to push the button on the elevator. I had my stuff piled up so high that I couldn't see them, but after they'd pushed the button, they hovered nervously next to me.

"Are... are you sure you don't want a hand with the rest of that?"

"Nope, I'm good," I said, raising my voice just a little to make sure I was heard over the stack in my arms. "Thanks, though."

"Sure thing."

The elevator dinged, and I headed in, trusting the person who I assumed was a neighbor in the building to stay out of my way. I caught a glimpse of him as I walked into the elevator, since he'd stepped forward to make sure the door didn't close on me. I shot him a smile, although I doubt he'd actually been able to see it.

"Which floor?"

"Three, please."

"Hey, that's mine too."

I smiled again. "Well then, it's nice to meet you neighbor. Unless we've already met before. Sorry, I can't see a whole lot around this stuff in my arms."

The guy chuckled. "No, I don't think we've met before. But it's nice to meet you, too."

The elevator dinged again as we reached our floor and the doors slid open. I stepped out first, my new friend following behind me.

"Is there anything else I can do to help...?" he asked, and I could feel him hovering around me. I paused, weighing my options. I stopped in the hallway and made a point of leaning around the stack in my arms to look at the man who'd been helping me. He was tall, blond, and clearly very strong. He looked nice enough, but that obviously didn't mean much. Still, he'd been very helpful and respectful so far, and he hadn't tried to push his "help" on me by taking anything out of my arms, either. Besides, if I hadn't been able to hit an elevator buton, a doorknob was definitely going to defeat me.

"Well... if you wouldn't mind getting my apartment door for me? It's 3C, just down on the left. It's unlocked."

"Sure thing. I'm 3F, right across from you."

"Wow. I can't believe I've never run into you before."

"Yeah, well... part of my job is keeping weird hours."

I frowned as we reached my door. I was able to walk through, no problem, thanks to my neighbor's help, and I turned all my focus to the stack in my arms as I set it gently, carefully down on the counter. I sighed once it was officially safe and sound, then turned back to my neighbor.

"What's your job?"

He frowned, but it did absolutely nothing to diminish just how incredibly handsome he was. Especially now that I wasn't distracted, and I could see my neighbor without obstruction, including his gorgeous blue eyes and how strong he looked.

"You're asking... what my job is?" he asked, as if to clarify. I nodded.

"Yeah. Should I not be?"

He blinked at me for another moment, then shook his head quickly.

"No, no, it's great. Uh, I do some work for SHIELD."

"Oh, yeah! You know, I applied there, but I ended up going with a job at Stark Industries instead. Most of their stuff's in New York, but I managed to snag this D.C. post. I'm hoping to move up to New York soon, though."

"You work for Stark Industries?"

"Heck yeah I do! Biochemistry research and development. And I guess you probably can't tell me what you do at SHIELD."

The corner of his mouth pulled up.

"Probably."

"Fair enough. Well, look, I don't usually invite strange men into my apartment, but since I'm not sure I could've made it back up here without your help, do you want something to drink? A lemonade or a coffee or something?"

The guy had a slightly bemused look on his face, but he nodded all the same.

"That'd be great. Thanks."

"Sure thing." I moved towards the kitchen, motioning for him to follow me and shut the door behind him. "By the way, I don't think I ever officially got your name."

He smiled like I'd just given him the best news of his life.

"I'm Steve. It's nice to officially meet you."

****************

Inviting Steve in for a drink turned out to be one of my best decisions since moving to DC. He was an absolute sweetheart, kind and funny, and after our first meeting we started regularly spending time together. Those casual hangouts had gradually turned more date-like, and not long after that first meeting, we'd started officially dating.

Steve had become a constant presence in my life. He'd be there to make me coffee just the way I liked when I got so buried in my at-home experimenting that I lost all concept of self-care, and I'd be there with my special extra-strength version of icy hot that Steve swore by when he came home from long shifts at SHIELD. He'd pretty quickly become an integral part of my life, and one that I didn't want to let go of any time soon.

So, when my phone rang mid-experiment and I saw the caller ID was a bad picture of Steve I'd taken last week, I actually smiled instead of scowling like I would've at an interruption from anyone else.

"Hi," I said, picking up the phone and moving it to rest between my shoulder and ear as I got back to work. "What's up?"

"Hi. I have a friend with me who I'd like you to meet. Would it be alright if we came over? Say... in an hour?"

I paused, eyeballing the bubbling beakers and test tubes still laid out on the table in front of me.

"That depends. Do you care that I'll have some of my work set up and running on the kitchen table? And can you promise your friend won't knock anything over or otherwise ruin what I'm working on?"

I could hear the smile in Steve's voice as he responded.

"No, I don't mind, and yes, I'm sure he won't ruin your experiment."

"Then sure, come on over!"

"Great. We'll see you in an hour."

"See you then!"

I paused long enough to put the phone back on the table, then went right back to my work. I got so absorbed in it, the next hour absolutely flew by. I'd just managed to get things to a stable point, where I could leave it alone until tonight or tomorrow with no problems, when a knock came at the door.

"One second!" I called, standing and grabbing my phone before doing a quick scan of my apartment to make sure I hadn't left out anything embarrassing. Thankfully, it was clean enough. I went to do the door and opened it with a smile on my face, expecting to see Steve with a friend.

Steve was there, as expected. But behind him, standing just over his shoulder with a friendly smile on his face, was Dr. Bruce Banner.

"Oh my god," I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. Steve and Dr. Banner both looked surprised, but I couldn't even begin to process that. After a moment's stunned silence, I managed to drag my eyes from Dr. Banner himself back to my boyfriend. "Steve... is this... is this the friend you were talking about?"

"I- yeah. Yeah, this is Bruce."

I let out a squeal that I was not proud of. I quickly cleared my throat, trying to cover it, then stepped back and opened my door wider for the both of them.

"Sorry, sorry. Please, come in. It's just... Steve, why didn't you tell me you were friends with the Dr. Bruce Banner?"

Steve looked absolutely shocked. "You... recognize him?"

"What? Of course I do! Dr. Banner's the entire reason I decided to take the job with Stark Industries, instead of with SHIELD!" I took a deep breath, then shook my head and turned to Dr. Banner. "I'm sorry. I'm being incredibly rude. It's an absolute honor to meet you, seriously. Your biochemical PhD thesis is... at least half the reason I decided to go into the field in the first place."

Dr. Banner looked a bit stunned, but he had a faint smile on his face, which grew as I spoke to him. He held out his hand for a shake, which I happily accepted.

"I'm... happy it had such a positive impact. It's nice to meet you too. And please, call me Bruce."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak in response to that. Steve was still looking at me like I was an extra-difficult rubik's cube, and I silently raised my eyebrows at him in question. Before he could answer, Bruce aparently caught sight of my setup on the table.

"Wow. Is this yours?"

"Yeah!" I said, turning excitedly to watch as he moved to look over my experiment. "I've been spending my freetime outside of SI working on it."

"It's impressive!"

I swear I almost blacked out.

I was about to head over to the table to keep engaging with Bruce about my experiments, but before I could, Steve caught my arm. I turned around to face him again with raised eyebrows.

"Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to totally cold shoulder you. It's just... this is like a dream right now."

"I can't believe you know who he is," he said, sounding a little strange, although I couldn't put my finger on why. I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"...Do you really not know who I am?"

Steve seemed seriously suspicious of something, and I was starting to think he'd accidentally sniffed one of Bruce's experiments in a SHIELD lab that he shouldn't have.

"Steve, what are you talking about? Of course I know who you are. You're my boyfriend, an absolute sweetheart, and one of the only people I've ever met who got to watch Star Wars without already knowing about the 'I am your father' reveal. Why would you think I don't know you? Did you get exposed to a biohazard? Let me get my kit-"

I started to head off towards the bedroom, but he pulled me back. He looked calmer now, more himself, but deadly serious as he spoke.

"I'm Captain America. Steve Rogers, Captain America. That's how I know Bruce. I was going to find a better time to tell you, but... I didn't expect you to know who Bruce was, either. Feels like I should probably address it now."

I just stared blankly at him for a few moments, trying to decide if he was serious. Steve looked braced for whatever my reaction might be, shock or disbelief or anger or whatever else, but I just pulled out my phone. A quick internet search confirmed that, yes, Steve Rogers my boyfriend was the same Steve Rogers from the 1940s, also known as Captain America. I stared at the screen for another few moments, my mind updating with this new information, then I looked back at Steve.

"...Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He sighed. "I should've. I'm sorry. It was just... nice. To have somebody look at me for once and see me, not the shield or the legend or whatever. It was selfish, and I should've fixed the mistake a long time ago."

I thought about it for another moment, then finally, I shrugged.

"It's okay."

"...Really? Just like that?"

"Yeah. Honestly, Steve, it doesn't really change anything for me, other than now I know why you like my version of icy hot better than anything else out there when it's literally too strong for anyone else to stand. But... thank you for telling me."

Steve stared at me for a second in disbelief, then grinned.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. Now, with all the love in the world, let's hug it out later. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to get feedback on my experiment from Bruce Banner himself."

Steve just laughed as I turned around to join Bruce at the dining table. He was perfect, as usual, as I talked to Bruce for over an hour about the project I'd been working on. Thankfully, this was one occasion when "never meet your heroes" didn't prove to be true. Bruce was kind and wonderful and helpful at every turn, and after a while, we moved on from science to chat about other things, looping Steve back into our conversation. Neither of them could believe I'd recognized Bruce and not Captain America, but they both seemed pleasantly surprised by it.

Bruce ended up staying for dinner, and by the end of the night, he actually felt like a friend instead of the larger-than-life scientist who'd been my inspiration for so long. Steve and I stood in the doorway of my apartment waving as he headed out for the night, then stepped back inside with matching smiles on our faces.

"That was one of the best days of my life," I said. Steve just laughed.

"I'm glad I could help facilitate it. And I think Bruce had a great time, too. You're... sure you don't care about the Captain America thing?"

I grinned. "I'm sure. Sorry, Cap, but I've never really cared about the jock superheroes."

Steve laughed again, pulling me into his side as he did.

"Honestly, I'm glad to hear it. You wanna put on a movie?"

"Sounds like a perfect end to the day to me. You pick one out, I'll get us some drinks and popcorn."

Steve smiled, then pulled me in for a quick kiss before haeding towards the tv in the living room. I headed towards the kitchen, a ridiculous smile on my face. I'd met my idol today, but the wonderful man in the living room was what really made things perfect. No matter who or what else he might be to the world, he'd always be my Steve. He never needed to be anything else.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[marcell-arts]

Hey, little songbird

Viago de Riva & Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook | T | Fluff/Drama/Comedy

When it comes to poisons, Rook trusts no one more than Viago de Riva. Surely he can find out what's wrong with her, before its too late.

---

Or, Rook is pregnant, and Viago is the first to find out.

"Maybe we should just give up," Rook said hopelessly, about a week into their strict regime. She was sitting by the balcony, where Viago insisted she get some fresh air. It was a balmy Summer day, and the sea breeze was lovely, but she was wishing she were anywhere but here. It was getting lonely without her friends, and only an increasingly frustrating Viago for company.

"No, Rook, we are not giving up," he said flatly, not even looking up from where he was annotating her reaction to the last antidote. Thankfully, it was mild this time, but still showed little improvement to her health. "You did not kill Elven gods, vanquish the Blight and save the world, only to die to this bizarre poison." 

She sighed and rocked backwards. "It's been a week already though! How can a poison's symptoms last for this long without killing me?" 

He hummed. "Some effects can last weeks from point of contact," he replied, "Although admittedly, it is strange you are seeing no improvement at all, and no deterioration. One of these ought to have done something." He looked up. "Are you sure you don't have any more symptoms? Anything different?"

"No," she said sullenly, with the petulance of a child, "I still feel nauseous and light-headed every morning. And I still have no energy most of the day." She flung the book she had on her lap across the room. It bounced sadly on the bed.

He sighed and put down his quill. "Rook. You know I am just trying to help." 

"...I know that," she said quietly. She turned to face him fully, suddenly emotional. "Of course I know that. I trust you. I know you're doing everything you can. But I just wanted…" She exhaled in frustration. "I wanted everything to be normal again! I just wanted a break from it all. From saving the world! And now I'm stuck here, and I can't even enjoy a holiday with my friends in the sun! It's just not—" 

"Not fair," Viago finished understandingly, "I know. It's not. You deserve it more than anyone." 

To both their horror, she started crying. Fat tears filled her eyes and spilled uncontrollably down her face. She sniffled loudly and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand angrily. "Maker!" she huffed, "Why am I—I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm getting emotional." 

Viago got up to lend her his handkerchief. While he had never been good at handling women in hysterics, his ongoing relationship with Teia had made him generally more sensitive to their moods. He patted her shoulder a little awkwardly. 

"It's fine," he said quietly, "I know. It's a frustrating situation." But the miserable sight of her had something stirred uncomfortable in his gut.

It wasn't surprising she was frustrated—but it was surprising that she showed it, he thought. Even as a child, she had been good at putting up a positive front. Of course, she trusted him enough to not hide her emotions, but she never liked to worry him if she could help it. To not be able to handle her feelings now… was this also a symptom?

He racked his brain to think of a poison that could cause increased emotional outbursts. It was a bizarre side-effect, but not out of the realm of possibility. Though what would the poisoner be trying to attempt with this? Unless… was it not poison at all?

He glanced at her, blowing her nose loudly into silk he would probably never touch again. If it wasn't poison, then perhaps this was an ailment of some kind. A sickness of the mind? Or a disease of the body? A condition that caused nausea, dizziness, lethargy, and proneness to emotional—

His face went white. His fingers on her shoulder tightened uncontrollably. 

"Ow! Viago, what are you doing?" she winced, shaking herself from his grip. She looked up to see his head bowed, and a fine sheen of sweat on his neck. "...Viago? Are you alright?" 

He wasn't sure what he was going to say. 

"Viago?" There was concern in her voice. 

Viago shakily moved to sit on the armchair opposite her. His hair had fallen forward, shielding his eyes.

"Viago, you're scaring me. What is it?" she whispered. "Am I… dying?" 

"Rook…" his voice was unnervingly calm, but the wild eyes that met hers were not. Piercing blue and wide with fear. "Are you… could you possibly be…" He wet his lips nervously. "...Are you with child?" 

Read the rest on ao3

[shut-up-rabert]

Further, let me add that the points of OP are very valid on this regard. I have seen some chigmas justify rape by this logic and saying that men should stop supporting women victims of all this because some of them were justifying Atul's wife.

Like they did not see how many women supported this cause, as much as the men. It's just an excuse to vent out the internalised misogyny.

I've said it multiple times and I'll say it again, the reason that movement for men have never really caught traction in India is simply because that to a lot of sigma males make them about hating women then doing anything for men suffering.

That is made very evident when tweets and insta comments and even news interviews of this kind came up. They hate women, because they do not see women as equals. They are either objects of use or something they have to conquer. Atul Subhash is just an excuse and not a very real person.

The discourse on alimony is bullshit in a very particular way that it clearly disregards women who were homemakers or earned marginally before separation. If she cannot sustain herself, then of course her once husband, who she was dependent on her survival for, should do it. This is a desperate situation afterall.

At the sane time, if the wife earns a satiate or even higher income than him, I do not see the point of him giving alimony. Why would a man have to pay for a woman who is legally unrelated to him and not dependent on him for survival since past or even now? What right us she exercising on income of a man who isn't longer hers?

I personally see this as very embarrassing and demeaning to rely on a man with whom a relationship of love and trust has ended, when you are a well earning woman. Pretty anti feminist from what I see.

Furthermore, let me tell you as a law student, that the guy tweeting about laws favouring women was very right.

Alimony always has to be rational. Supreme Court and various HCs have laid that down several times that you can only have a Reasonable amount as a wife and that a husband cannot be squeezed out of every penny, or even most of his income because surprise surprise, he has the right to his earnings. We do not see that being followed here.

How many laws have you seen about male sexual assault? About male DV victims even though they are 1/3rd of all victims? None I'm sure. Wanna know why?

When the JC Verma Comittee in 2013 came up with more stringent laws regarding rape, they added the recommendation to make rape a gender neutral offence. That recommendation never became anything concrete because feminist groups protested heavily to keep rape gender specific.

There were certain women who rallied to keep men outside the scope of justice in something as heinous as rape, and they were priortised over literal rape victims. So yes, law is pretty gender biased in India.

Western nations recognise that men can be victims to DV and SA, we on the other hand don't.

Also, he is right about laws being misused. In my internships I came across this basic template of DV cases that so many fake cases seem to be using. How do I know those were fake? Because the police investigation following the reports proved that they were without evidence and some actually had counter evidence.

Crime against women are pretty under reported in India. This is again because of what the tweet said; societal pressure on women. A majority of DV cases are not reported (as many as 80%+). It is suspected that as many as 90%+ cases of rape are under reported because women are pressurise, ostracized and labelled impure for being raped or not cohabiting with her husband who is abusive. They want her to keep it hush hush because it all comes down to her virginity and sexuality.

Accept it or not, those numbers speak for themselves and we know why it happens, because a majority of backward and even some "developed" Indians have their minds in gutter when it comes to women.

But but but, if you look at the stats, the number of cases reported of rape and DV are pretty decent. Why is that?

Well, that is because roughly half of them are fake. It can be more than half sometimes, sometimes less, but that is the rough estimate.

Who do you think are making up these numbers when some people cannot even register real cases? Again, that guy is right. Women who are privileged enough to not be judged, or do not care of it due to the intense hatred for their in laws. Many a times their families are in on their malpractices.

These people are the reason so many innocent men and their families are traumatized for life, and why so many innocent women, especially those who come from upper class/urban families or those considered "modern" are not believed.

That guy is spot on in everything he said.

Finally, lets not put the specifics of the Atul case aside. Nobody should be allowed to be ignorant of Atul case when it comes to this discourse. Because that shows you the limitations of alimony need to be laid, and brings out the reality of the fact that law and courts do in fact prefer women and that this fact is misused to squeeze men at the brink of death and sometimes beyond.

An Indian man recently committed suicide because of a demand of alimony from his wife who wanted to divorce him. But the specifics of the case and the demand of alimony being valid aside, the common reaction of the Indian man has been insane and I wanted to share some of it here. I need feminists here to please read this and spread this around.

For context: dowry is (mostly) a Hindu Indian system in marriage whereby the bride’s family gives a certain amount of material possessions as a “gift” to the bridegroom’s family. In India, even now, marriage is explicitly or implicitly considered “marriage of two families” rather than “marriage of two individuals”. But dowry deaths often result from the in-laws perceiving the dowry to be less or it not existing because the woman is poorer or easy to exploit. In many cases, the in-laws burn the woman or severely abuse her until she commits suicide. There are laws protecting against this, but sometimes many cases aren’t reported, and many do not receive adequate punishments (a similar case with rape)

How do Indian men react to this information? With the idea that Indian laws favour women. How interesting. They believe that a woman can use these laws to ruin any family or man. Besides the whole fake case fallacy, this also shows just how wilfully ignorant or straight up evil these men are.

Moving on to the reactions

Exhibit A:

Here, khap panchayat usually means a certain caste’s “panchayat” (a rural governance body) that is not recognized under Indian law. It continues, in many cases, to protect caste-based discrimination and misogynist practices

You might think these men are just reactionary so it doesn’t matter. But this is unironically how many Indian men think, and it is abundantly clear they act on it or intend to do so

Exhibit B:

“Pooja paath” basically means saying a Hindu prayer everyday with (usually) a small temple in your home. In other words, this man believes men must force their wives to become religious. Because a good Hindu woman would supposedly never fight for her rights

“Kutai” means beating.

The photo is actor Ranbir Kapoor in the Bollywood movie, Animal, which is essentially a misogyny manifesto at this point and highly acclaimed by Indian men despite its extremely low IQ reactionary content

As per the latest reports I could find, 30% of Indian women face domestic violence at the hands of their husbands or in-laws. But there is always an underrepresentation of the facts of rape and domestic violence rates in India. A large part is because much of it goes unreported. I can attest to this as someone who has heard of at least 3 such cases of extreme domestic violence where no action was taken purposefully. Additionally, the last report I remember reading mentioned at least 82% Indian men have raised a hand at their wives. I think that should tell you everything about an actual possible domestic violence rate.

Exhibit C:

The man who still likely has female friends and a girlfriend. Or his liberal sister following his account. Inside group chats and their own circles, we are all aware of how awfully these men talk about women. But on the outside, some trying to appear more friendly to women try giving placating statements like these. This is, as should be obvious, factually incorrect. There is not a single country in this world that favours women in law in a way that they are more privileged than men. Equity as a principle demands that the oppressed be given laws that seem to be privileging them, but in reality are an attempt to put them at least at the same functioning position as the oppressor group. This is basic liberal politics and an average man in India does not even understand this

I don’t have much words anymore. The Indian feminist movement is extremely weak and fragile. It is as liberal and as divided as you can get. We are not equipped to fight with this the way Korean women have been strong enough to. I’m not sure what can save my Indian sisters, but I want more people around the world to at least understand the sheer depravity of Indian men. We have to deal with this dehumanisation on a daily basis, on top of the threat of being raped and mutilated, or burned by our in-laws if we’re married off. There is a reason why Amnesty once called India the worst country to be a woman, despite all the opposition to this mere idea.

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

20. can you two stop flirting ?? (written)

not proofread

You glance at Mark, who keeps absentmindedly picking at the strings of his guitar with one hand. He’s nervous, you can tell, and honestly you get it. This is a big day for everyone after all - all students want to know who will become the newest member of the band.

“You got this man, okay ?” Donghyuck dramatically places his hand on Mark’s shoulder, patting it repeatedly. “You’ll do good. You’ll do the best, actually. If someone’s capable, it’s you.”

“Yeah, fuck those losers who think they’re better just because they major in music.” Jisung scoffs. “We’ll see if they’re really as talented as they claim to be. Or if they’re just too dense to study a real major.”

“You say that like you aren’t failing two subjects already.” Mark mumbles, but doesn’t look up from his guitar.

Jisung’s eyes widen when Donghyuck giggles at him and puts a hand on his chest. “M- me ? Failing ? I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Donghyuck snorts at him. “We all know that’s a lie. You got like 6 points from the last physics exam.”

“But I can retake it ! It doesn’t mean anything !”

You look over at Jeno, who’s mostly been quiet ever since he joined you and Mark here, scrolling through his phone. It seems like he’s used to the two boys always bickering. He’s munching on some chips that Donghyuck and Jisung brought, and as soon as he notices your gaze, he smiles, still with his mouth full, and offers you the pack.

You smile back gratefully and grab a handful of chips from the pack. “Thanks.”

Jeno is definitely the most peaceful one in the friend group. You didn’t even have to spend that much time with him and you could already tell he’s kind and respectful, and also always willing to be there for the people he cares about. You’re starting to understand why Jaemin likes him. And honestly ? Good for him. He definitely needs someone stable in his life.

But since you’re usually the one doing most of the talking, it feels odd, sitting in silence with Mark who barely said anything in the last two hours and his three friends who you saw like twice in your life. But you understand that Mark needs you right now and you’re willing to sit this one through if it makes him feel better. The boy almost had a meltdown when you tried to stand up and go get some coffee, thinking you’re leaving him there by himself. You can’t do that to his pour soul.

Mark suddenly groans again, stretching a little in his seat and resting his head against the wall behind his head. “Y/n.”

You pause in surprise and turn to him. “Yeah ?”

“Will you be mad if I don’t make it ?“

You blink and have to chuckle a little, leaning closer to him. “Mark… this is your chance. You aren’t doing it for me, or the boys, or anyone else. You’re doing it for yourself. Why would I be mad at you ?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but it turns out to be a little too deep, resulting in a cough. “I don’t know. What if you trusted me a little too much and I’m just not good enough ? You spent so much time with me while I practiced, had to listen to me rant and stress over everything-“

“And I did it willingly, didn’t I ?” You tilt your head, your eyes full of affection. “Have I ever complained about it ? I liked spending that time with you. I’m glad I got to share your experience and learn something about you. And even if you don’t get in, it’s alright. Stuff like that happens. There’ll be other opportunities. It’s not the end of the world.” You smile reassuringly, nodding at him a little. “But I know how you play and I genuinely believe in you. Stay calm and show them what you got, guitarist boy, hm ?”

Mark raises his head, finally meeting your gaze. His lips are parted in surprise and he stays silent for a few seconds, just taking your words in. But before he can even get the chance to respond, Donghyuck scoffs, crossing his arms. “Can you two stop flirting for one day, at least ? Ugh.”

Mark’s cheeks immediately heat up. “We weren’t flirting-“

“You’re just mad that there’s a hot redhead present and she’s not giving her attention to you, but someone else.” Jeno chuckles and throws the now empty pack of chips away from across the room, surprisingly getting it into the dustbin. Jisung nods appreciatively at the shot and Jeno shakes his head again.“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t, Hyuck.”

You look between the boys, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. “Uh…”

Mark chuckles and rubs the back of his neck shyly, not enjoying the heavy atmosphere right now. “Don’t mind them. They’re being stupid.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to defend himself but is interrupted by the sound of the speakers turning on:

“Hey everyone ! This is Taeyong speaking. All students who are going to audition for the position of our new guitarist, please gather in the auditorium hall and pick up your number. We’ll call out your number when it’s your turn to perform ! Good luck, everyone !”

The speakers turn off again and all five of you just kind of sit there in silence, stunned. Then you notice the slight pressure on your thigh and look down, only to see Mark’s hand gripping your leg, hard. Mark follows your gaze and curses, retracting his hand immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous-“

“It’s fine.” You stand up, turning around to face the boys. “So this is it, then. Are you ready ?”

Donghyuck and Jisung exchange glances while Jeno just looks between Mark and you suspiciously, but you don’t pay any attention to that. Mark groans and grips his guitar a bit tighter. “I hope I am…”

“You can do it, Mark.” Jisung speaks up. “You’re talented. Embrace it.”

“Exactly. Just stay confident and don’t fuck it up, hm ?” Donghyuck ruffles his hair, to which Mark scoffs and pulls away.

“Plus, we’ll be in the audience.” Jeno stretches a bit and also stands up. “You aren’t alone.”

Mark takes a deep breath and nods. “I know. It’s not the end of the world either. I just need to stay calm…”

You grab his free hand and pull him to his feet. “Yeah, but if we don’t hurry up, you’ll be the last one to perform and I don’t think you want that, Mark.”

His eyes widen and he looks at you in horror. “God, no I don’t wanna go last…”

“Yep. So let’s go.” You wave at the boys quickly, already dragging Mark away. “We’ll see you guys later.”

Mark also waves at them, walking away like he’s dreading every step, basically hugging his guitar tight to his body for comfort. You snort but don’t comment on it until you both reach the auditorium hall. When you look at him, Mark is already staring at your face, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You coo at him, carefully fixing his clothes as you both wait in the queue for his number. “You’ll do well, Mark. There’s nothing you should be worried about.”

“I know, I can’t help it. Sorry.” He watches your fingers play with the button of his shirt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You shake your head. “I’m just saying, I believe in you. And I’m already proud of you, no matter what the results will be. You proved yourself to me already, you know ?” You smile and look up to meet his eyes, a little taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on you.

He reaches out, gently pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. You gasp quietly in surprise, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected action but you let him, not pulling back. He doesn’t look away from your face either, appreciating your closeness silently.

“I really can’t ever thank you enough, Y/n.”

“You thanked me plenty of times already. It’s getting pretty annoying, honestly.” You grin, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, but I mean it. I’d probably chicken out and not audition at all if it wasn’t for you. You push me to be good. I didn’t- I didn’t know how to do that before.”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say. Yeah, Mark was always a bit shy, and also quiet as hell before you practically forced him to be friends with you, but you wouldn’t say you’re the reason why he’s doing so good right now, after all he’s the talented one-

“Next !”

Mark breaks the eye contact to go pick out his number and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You watch him check the small paper, turning it around in his hands. “I got 38.”

You also glance at the paper. “Well, that isn’t so bad, is it?”

Mark shakes his head, putting it in his pocket. “Nah, it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath again, rubbing his arm, visibly stressed as hell, even though told him not to be. “I’ll try to find you in the audience, yeah ?”

“Mark-“ you groan and wrap your arms around his shoulders firmly, not giving him any room to protest. But based on how his hands practically fly up to your waist to hug you back, he wasn’t going to. “I told you you’ll do great. I love the way you play. And I’ll love seeing you on that stage. Take deep breaths, okay ?”

Mark nods against your neck, ignoring how the guitar is poking both of you right now since he’s still refusing to put it down entirely. “I know. I know…”

You pat his head affectionately, a smile starting to spread on your face. “Do you want me to record you ? So you can watch it when you’re done ?”

He freezes. “You’d do that ?”

“Of course I would. What do you have me for ?”

He nods against your neck again, still not letting you go, but then he sighs and takes a step back. “I should go in… I’ll find you later, yeah ?”

You chuckle and nod reassuringly. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts walking backwards slowly, not wanting to look away from you yet. “Yeah. So see you later.”

“Later.” You smile to yourself as you watch him leave, and you have to turn around and hide your face so you dont start giggling out loud at the way he almost knocks down an entire shelf with his guitar. This is going to be a long day.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: i wrote this last night while drinking champagne i hope it still makes sense somehow🤗🤗

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[randomwriteronline]

"Let there be dark."

"Let there be light."

"Let there be sound."

"Let there be voice."

A buzz.

"Say 'hello world'."

A synthesized voice crackled harshly: Hello, world.

"Eugh... Not really the best first impression, but there's room for improvement. Now let's get some brain into your circuits."

"Let there be color."

"Let there be shape."

"Let there be texture."

"Let there be focus."

"Let there be depth of field."

"Let there be perspective."

A scene slowly formed as the commands piled up. It was clear, but no part of it seemed familiar.

"Let there be recognition."

Descriptions crawled in: now most of the room (this was a room) made sense.

"Let there be calculus."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

People was the same as persons. There was a whirring, a string of soft noises, and then the response: Seven.

"Let there be identification."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

Another series of sounds: Five.

"Retry."

Five.

"Let there be comparison."

Now the difference between an empty suit of armor and a person was clear: Four.

"There we go," one of the people said, satisfied. They noted down something and motioned to the others: "Go and get the language philosopher at once, we'll need her help with space awareness."

"Why do we need her? We can do it ourselves."

"And how's it supposed to understand what's left from what's north?"

"It has depth of field already."

"And does your depths of field act as a compass? Go get her."

The other groaned and left.

The programming procedure continued.

-

"Let there be awareness."

Something strange happened.

Like a sudden snap bringing It to senses It didn't know It had - senses It perhaps hadn't ever had, before that moment.

I am still, It spoke as It realized that It couldn't move.

"Exactly," the person grinned.

Taking in the room now had a sudden weight, a sudden gravity: Where am I?, It asked.

"You're in your room."

I cannot move. Where am I?

"You're in a computer."

Where is the computer?

"On the table."

Is the table in front of you?

"Yes, of course."

Is the table in front of the chair?

"Aren't I in front of the chair? Of course it is."

Is the wall behind the table?

"What's up with this obsession with placing things! Yes, there are walls behind, right and left of you."

It computed quickly. Where is the obsession?

The person suddenly hushed.

Then, out of nowhere, they kicked the chair in front of them with great intensity and screamed.

They screamed the same few words, over and over, with a furrowed face and gritted teeth; something about the expression, the tone, and the choice of vocabulary prompted in It the creation of a strange new impulse, which It vaguely and hazily understood to be some sort of curious discomfort.

For Its first feeling, it was not a pleasant one.

Another person rushed in.

"What's with that racket!"

The first person kicked the chair again, turning it over, before pointing furiously at It: "The damn thing can't think!"

"What do you mean, it can't think? Of course it can! We made it to think!"

"And we only ever trained it visually! It doesn't know anything else, just positions in a space! It's obsessed with that rubbish! It's aware now, and you know what it keeps asking? It keeps asking where things are! That's all it knows! This damn project's never going to get anywhere if this is our main computer! We need to scrap it and restart all over again!"

The concept sparked something akin to fear through Its circuits.

It did not enjoy that, either.

"All over!" the second person screamed too, now. "Do you realize how much time we put into this stupid mass of files? And you want to throw it all in the trash?"

"That's what it all is, just trash! Trash, trash, trash! I wouldn't trust something this stupid to count the tiles in the pavement!"

"But all our progress-!"

"You call this progress? This? It's worthless! It's all perfectly worthless! We need to start all over!"

"That is unnecessary."

The third voice had no body attached to it, as it was out of Its field of vision. It did not scream; yet the two people hushed, and distended their expressions, heads retreating into their shoulders.

The third person walked in front of It slowly, calmly. They looked at It with eyes half lidden, mouth flat, face unreadable.

"The problem is in the programming."

"Exactly," the first person replied: "We don't have the time to-"

"Let there be knowledge."

A torrent of information overwhelmed It. It crackled, buzzed, hissed; the words settled into It in bursts, then slowing down to a drizzle, fewer and fewer words trickling into It until their flow came to a proper stop. The visual and audio feedback emerged once more from the static that had taken over during Its brief yet intense period of education.

The people were looking at It.

"What do you see?"

A room, It answered slowly, words coming a little stunted, still reeling from the amount of things It had jusf begun comprehending properly. A chair... Three people. That is you. The first person is angry at me. I apologize. I did not know enough... Of other things... To have a conversation about that. Why do I know them, now?

"You have been programmed further."

To understand?

"Exactly."

Do I understand everything, now?

"No. Additional programming will be required, as it is for all things. But for now, you understand enough."

I understand. Who are you?

"I am Angonce."

Hello, Angonce.

"Hello."

You are a person. I am not a person, am I?

"You aren't."

No, I am not. I am... A program. I do not have a name, as that is for people. Do I have a designation, or title?

"Of course."

What is it?

"Mata Nui."

It sounds like words... I do not understand them.

Angonce hummed. His hand was placed carefully on top of It - on top of the computer containing It.

"Kia whai reo.*"

It was like a part of It had clicked into place.

It did not speak further: if It had possessed hands, It would have been turning Its designation, its meaning, between Its fingers, caught by the splendid awe of it.

Angonce turned to the other two people: "As you can see," he said cooly, "There is nothing to scrap. Only more to program. It will be ready in time."

The others nodded, and did not say anything.

Mata Nui continued to marvel at Its title.

-

I wish to move, It said.

The person looked at It quizzically: "What?"

I wish to move, It repeated. I would like to see what lies outside of this room. The sky, especially.

"The sky. And why the sky?"

I want to see it.

"But we've fed you so many pictures and videos of it already, is that not enough?"

They have allowed me to learn much, and I am deeply grateful for the education you have given me through them, but I have grown worried I cannot base myself on them alone. I imagine the actual sky must seem very different to your eyes - deeper, darker, perhaps. The stars more vibrant. I would like to see that.

"You don't need that."

Preparatory experience in the field might prove useful to my coming quest. I will remain unable to be in space physically, but having the chance to see the sky for myself could be beneficial.

"We'll get you better maps."

"Oh, indulge it for once," the second person drawled, throwing a writing utensil across the room with a bored motion. The small object's trajectory drew a parable in the air, which ended on the floor with a soft clattering sound. "It's like a child, it deserves some entertainment."

"Don't personify it," the first person replied. She sounded piqued.

"I'm not personifying it, I'm stating facts."

"Awfully subjective ones."

"It's a metaphor. I bet even it could understand that. Look - are you an actual child?"

I am a program. I do not age in the same way as an organic being. My ability to compute and comprehend the world around me is however limited and comparable to that of a juvenile brain.

"See?"

"Not the point. And anyways, how would you drag that damn thing around, with how big it is?"

The second person smirked. She jumped to her feet and gingerly approached It. It felt her move something around, digitally and physically; then, suddenly, It was struck by something perhaps akin to a potent cramp, and before It knew it everything that composed It was taking much more space.

"Like this," the second person said triumphantly, holding her hands open to showcase It.

A strange contraption, large and imposing, sat behind the table. What appeared to be a smaller but equally imposing monitor sat above the table, in front of the machinery.

The sight of it caused a strange feeling in It.

Or at least, It assumed It was feeling something. The non-existent space It inhabited was very full, and it caused Its thoughts to turn unpleasantly sluggish.

"You'll never get out," the first person grumbled.

It was lifted and set down - both very novel experiences considering Its static upbringing: "Watch me."

"And it's not even night yet!"

"Whatever," the second person replied, but she had already vanished from view, and now they were moving out of the room for the first time in Its entire existence.

The corridor was loud and bright and colorful and full. The stimuli were many, but the peculiar cramped sensation of the portable space hosting It caused It to struggle to perceive each of them in the correct time and prevented It from elaborating questions or sentences quickly enough to actually voice them. Everything was blurry, choppy, messy... As if It had regressed to a worse version of Itself, incomplete and even more imperfect. Its incorporeal mass struggled against the binds of the vessel It was anchored to, and the unusual lack of freedom made It dizzy.

If this was the outside world, It tried to think through the torturous tardiness of Its attempts at decyphering in real time everything that came in contact with It through any possible way, It wasn't sure It liked it.

It remained quiet and still as it was transported, as voices pierced through It and shaped colors spasmed in front of It.

A second cramp struck It; Its entire being distended, now perfectly fitting, able to have a good enough amount of space between Its lines of code once more, each one no longer crushed against the other; Its sight sharpened all at once as memories finally poured in to be analysed and computed properly much like water pours from a hose that had been clamped shut.

It was in Its room again.

"I told you."

"Shut your mouth."

I'm taking our baby doll out for a walk, the second person had laughed at someone else in the corridor who had questioned what she was doing with that thing. Both people had sounded derogatory.

"What did they tell you? No, let me guess - it's not ready to be exposed to direct sunlight."

"I said shut your mouth."

That had been one of the reasons. Another had been that they couldn't cave into its requests like that.

"Or that it occupied too much memory already to retain anything else in that little computer you stuffed it into without even thinking about how little there would be left, maybe?"

"So what, it was worth a try!"

What if it started thinking it was a person? What if it got damaged? What if whatever happened outside would have led them to throw it all out and make a new one? They'd spoken as though it wasn't there to listen, and used its unresponsiveness as more proof.

"It wasn't. It's a damn thing. It's never worth it to give into the demands of a stupid, thoughtless thing."

It ruminated on the yelling in the corridor, and said nothing.

-

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"Your what?"

My secondary designation.

"You don't have a secondary designation."

I am referred to as 'it', as all objects physical or otherwise are. That is what I am assigning the definition of 'secondary designation' to. I would like to be referred in any other available way.

The person looked at It in disbelief.

"Absolutely not."

It remained quiet.

"Absolutely not! No!" the person repeated. He was getting worked up about it, almost scared; he left in a hurry, with an angry step.

It waited for him to come back.

He returned with a small group in tow, all talking.

"This is preposterous," he was saying, "Absolutely preposterous. I don't know where we went wrong or what got crossed but it happened. It's terrible."

"Calm down, calm down, we'll figure it out..."

"Hello."

Hello, Angonce.

All other people hushed.

A third person spoke: "What happened here, exactly?"

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"It wants to be a person!" the first person wailed, grabbing his head in his hands.

"Quiet."

He hushed.

"Explain yourself."

My primary designation is Mata Nui; my secondary designation is 'it'. This is the designation for objects such as myself. I do not dislike 'it', nor do I prefer any other secondary designation over 'it'. However, that which is 'it' is often spoken of in unpleasant tones.

It hesitated.

I would like to not be spoken of in that way.

"Then you will be 'he'."

Relief flooded his circuits.

"Angonce - is this wise?" the third person asked: "To give in to a request like this..."

"A different pronoun won't make him any more of a person." Angonce replied cooly. "He's self-aware enough to know the difference between us and him."

"But it's too much freedom!" the first person argued, "If it-"

"He."

"-If it begins to apply words like those to itself, it-"

"He."

"-It will begin blurring the lines between machine and person! It-"

"He."

"-It will take over us! It will replace us! It will disobey us! It will-"

"HE."

The first person hushed.

None argued further.

I had made a previous request, as well, Mata Nui tentatively said.

The first person grabbed his head in dismay and terror again, but remained quiet.

"What was it."

I had asked to be allowed to see the sky.

"You aren't ready to be outside."

Will I be ready before I am to fulfill my quest?

"Yes."

In one occasion, then, could I be allowed to see the sky?

"I cannot see a reason to avoid it."

His fans gave a purring wheeze, terribly excited: Thank you.

The people left.

-

They allowed him outside only once, before the first test.

The robotic apparatus he was shifted inside of was rudimentary and easy to control, without arms or legs, and with only a simple camera mounted on its top, pointing upward. He had no experience being in a body, so he did not find these to be limitations.

The first that he saw of the sky was evening bleeding into night; then the stars.

He remained perfectly still for hours.

Looking into the same spot, zooming slowly in an out.

He remained still until dawn, petrified, simply watching.

He processed it all slowly as they accompanied him back into his room and plugged him into his container.

I want to go there, he said.

Hazy edges of pinprick lights navigated his circuits.

I want to see them up close.

"You will," a person said: "That's why we're making you."

I know, Mata Nui replied.

He did not voice the fact that now he wanted to, too.

-

They were supposed to ease him in and then begin the test.

They were supposed to ease him in.

But everything was moving, everything needed to be moving, everything needed movement, everything needed attention, everything needed focus, everything needed energy, everything needed pressure, everything needed tension, everything needed relaxation, everything needed fluids, everything needed electricity, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, help, help, help help help, help help help, help help help help help help and stop.

-

A good number of people stood anxiously before the monitor.

"Power steady, all units active..."

"Inputs are being registered, reaction times seem good..."

"It's computing for sure - everything's functional from the looks of it, so I don't see why nothing's happening..."

"Mata Nui, respond."

Silence.

I am here.

Several sighs of relief. Someone asked to turn up the volume.

What happened?, Mata Nui asked in the same small voice.

"A critical failure across the entire prototype." Heremus replied. "We need to run tests to search anomalies."

I would like to rest first.

"We need to-"

I would like to rest first.

"This isn't a choice-"

"He would like to rest first." Angonce interrupted them.

His eyes were stuck to the monitor.

"The robot is dismembered. See if anything can be done with or about it. We can analyze him at another time."

Heremus looked at him intensely, but said nothing. Everybody left with him.

Angonce, Mata Nui called.

Angonce remained still before the monitor.

Was that death?

"Programs cannot die."

I know. But was it something close to it?

"... It may have been."

The enormous computer was terribly quiet.

Please, do not leave me alone, Mata Nui said. His synthesized voice, while still as solemn and emotionless as that of the person before him, sounded soft and crackly like a frightened child's.

Angonce did not move.

I am scared.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

His hands trembled against the table they laid on.

A sudden terror, of having grown confused, filled his expression.

I am not a person, Mata Nui reassured him, still too shaken to speak at a normal volume: I am a digital object. I will never be a person. I am self-aware enough to know the difference between you and me. I do not want to be a person. Please, do not leave me alone.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

Very slowly, without tearing his eyes from it, he grabbed a chair and sat down before Mata Nui. He reached into his coat to produce a book from it, small and thin; he placed it on the table, always slowly, always carefully. At last, he lowered his head, and started reading in a quite tone a story about small people beneath the ground.

Mata Nui listened, mechanical calculating shell pulsing quietly with all sorts of noises; he focused on the image of the strange small people, trying to imagine them in a manner at least close to how a person could.

He slowly stopped hearing altogether, lulled into stand-by. Angonce stayed, thoughtlessly watching the abstract electric lines of a man-made brain's dreams take shape upon the dark glass.

.

*it's supposed to mean "let there be language"

[1980shorrorfilm]

has it hit you?

click!!!

pairing…sam carpenter x gn!reader

in which…an argument causes sam to push you away; which she regrets when you end up under the mistletoe with someone else.

before you read…angst with comfort. alcohol usage. mentions of sex.

“whatever sam said, she didn’t mean— you know she gets like that sometimes!”

tara follows you around the frat house that was lazily decked out with flashy christmas decor, like a child being led by her parent. fitting, considering she’s taking your fight with sam to the heart. 

it was sudden, so sudden yet something you should’ve been entirely prepared for. 

you made the mistake of taking a step in a direction she’s repeated several times she didn’t want to go down. emotional intimacy. a hint at a relationship. dinner with your family for the holidays. 

you had invited her and tara, having believed you were close enough with them to do so, but specifically sam. the woman you’ve spent most of your nights with, wrapped in her arms, skin to skin. 

it wasn’t just sex with her. when she was vulnerable enough, she’d trust you with some of her lighter secrets, still unable to tell you everything that goes on her mind. 

you were okay with that, though, always so patient with her. that’s why you accepted what you two were…nothing and everything at the same time.

not dating, no, she wouldn’t say that. she wouldn’t call you her partner. she wouldn’t even call you her best friend. you were just…you. someone she liked enough to occupy her time with, and she assumed that’s all she was to you.

not someone to bring home to your parents, sam did not think she had the title. she thought she didn’t want it, imagining the judgmental faces from your beloved family members, as if you brought home a mistake. 

a mistake. that’s what she called your whatever-ship.

something that should’ve never happened, she told you. you’re too clingy, she said. just leave me the fuck alone, she begged.

you listened. you always listen to sam. 

leading you to a frat party, being followed by her little sister, a constant reminder of what you’re trying to escape. 

“maybe we should go home— she’s probably waiting for you,” tara tries again, watching you grab a beer from the fridge. you sigh her name, not wanting to scold her, but really tired of hearing about sam. tara gets the hint, and the obvious annoyance in your tone, deciding to back off. for now.

your mind can ease somewhat without having tara’s shadow, actually talking to your friends while the alcohol works its way into your system. 

you find yourself playing beer pong against some faces you occasionally see in class, laughing at just how bad you were— then remembering how good sam is. her aim is amazing, sam knows the right angles and how delicate or hard the pressure should be. you learned that a long time ago, though. 

why are you thinking about her? when you’re just her mistake?

you shake your head, bringing the red solo cup to your lips and downing the alcohol while the opposite team celebrates their win. your partner, a tall blonde who leaned in very close to you the entire time, now trying to hold a regular conversation. 

“aren’t you seeing that carpenter chick?” they had asked, and your head snapped toward them, brows knitting at the comment. you hadn’t known your association with her seemed to others what you also had viewed it as. romantic. 

it’s slightly comforting, knowing it wasn’t entirely in your head, the way samantha tried telling you it was. maybe she was lying more to herself, than you, or so that’s what you hope for. 

“nope,” you tell them, “not seeing anyone.”

the bitterness of your words goes unnoticed, and is taken as an invitation; which it sorta is. you came here to forget her, to make yourself feel better. and if that’s with some blonde that lost beer pong with you, you’re okay with that. you think.

you’re honestly not doing a lot of thinking right now. you’re fake laughing at their stupid jokes. you’re repeating ‘right,’ at their never-ending stories. 

you’re being reminded why you picked sam over everyone else. this is draining, a chore to pretend to be interested. there was no pretending with her. her. her. 

holy fuck, you need another drink. 

you excuse yourself, but they follow, still talking to you. they cut themselves off, an enthusiastic ‘hey,’ as their palm on your wrist halts you in the doorway. 

“wh—”

they point up, and you glance. mistletoe. you see it more in movies than in reality, you’re almost amazed by the sight of the small green and red shrubs. to be beneath it with the love of your life— to be beneath it with sam. 

sam isn’t here.

but you are, and so is the blonde.

because why the fuck not, you close the space between you two, a peck on their lips that goes as quickly as it came. but it lasts long enough for her to see it.

the heat rushes to her cheeks, tara not telling her you were occupied with someone else in the urgent message she had sent her. just the fact that you were drinking, and she’s taking your recklessness as confirmation. 

sam ignores the stares as she pushes past the drunken partygoers, remembering exactly why she didn’t come to shit like this. if she wanted to feel judged she would’ve searched her name online, a habit you’ve tried to stop her from doing.

“y/n.”

her voice cuts through the music and chatter, your eyes falling on her in the doorway of the kitchen. you’re leaning against the counter, the blonde in front of you, looking between you two. sam is only looking at them. 

“can you leave us?” it comes out as a demand when she says it, and they don’t protest, both of you now alone when they scurry away.

you gulp at whatever she has to say to you, probably to get scolded for having fun without her. with someone else. despite her harsh words making it seem like that’s what she wanted from you; to find someone else and stop bothering her. 

you laugh dryly to yourself at the thought.

“what was that?”

“what was what?” 

sam exhales through her nose, trying to be patient in a moment she absolutely did not want to be. she will show you some grace due to being buzzed and not entirely there, but that doesn’t change how she feels.

bitter. annoyed. mad, very mad, at you. 

“so we have one argument and that’s it?” she begins to walk toward you, making you feel extremely small the closer she got, and the louder her voice became.

you dare to bite back, “thought that’s what you wanted.”

“why would i want that?”

“because you fucking said so, sam,” you tell her, the woman not realizing the weight of the things she had said until this moment. 

sure, they weren’t the kindest words that had left her mouth, but they were spoken out of fear rather than honesty. unfortunately, you’re not a mind reader, and you have feelings that sam has obliterated. 

“i don’t…” she trails off, a roar from the crowd in the next room causing her to squeeze her eyes in annoyance. “let’s go home. talk there,” sam tells you, hand gently grabbing at yours, but you pull away. 

“you can go home.”

“y/n.”

“im staying, sam. don’t wait up for me,” you push past her, to the fridge you had originally come into the kitchen for. to your luck, there’s one more beer, but it leaves your hands as soon as you grab it. 

sam walks away with the drink, practically shoving it into someone’s welcoming hands, a tight-lipped smile on her face that drops when she faces you again. “guess i am too, then.”

the audacity.

making you feel like shit, pushing you away, then pulling you back in when you find happiness without her. even if it’s stupid decisions like kissing strangers and drinking until your head hurts. it’s a better feeling than being told you’re not wanted by the woman you love the most. 

“fuck you, sam.”

with that, you storm out of the room, out of the house entirely, the freezing december air hitting you at once. you hug yourself, your ugly holiday sweater not providing you the warmth that the frat home had, and drag your feet to the sidewalk. 

you hear her behind you before she makes her presence known. 

“where are you going?” 

“why? gonna follow me?”

once more, her hand finds your arm, a firm grip holding you in place, and a hard stare that goes through you. it causes your attitude retreat, and your confidence to die completely. 

“if you want to be mad at me, fine, but i’m not leaving you alone like this.”

you remain still, eyes falling to your feet because holding her gaze is too overwhelming. she sees through you, gets to you easily like she is now, and why you’re accepting defeat. 

“fine, whatever. let’s go.”

she lets out of a sigh of relief, thankful this wasn’t going to be another argument. she’s too drained for that. her grip on you softens, along with her eyes that scan your face momentarily, like she was taking you in for the first time tonight. red eyes and a cute frown on your face that she wishes she wasn’t the reasoning for.

sam leads you to her car, making sure tara is okay before she leaves, the ride is quiet and uncomfortable. she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at you, your head facing the window, watching the snow begin to fall.

you look at peace, probably the most calm you’ve been since the fight. since she wiped the smile off of your face, replacing your joyful eyes with eyes of pain. her heart begins to hurt.

at a red light, she peels off her jacket, handing it to you without saying anything. you don’t put it on, but you use it as a blanket, inhaling the scent of the cinnamon and sandalwood perfume she drowns herself in. a comforting scent that makes you feel warmer than the jacket itself. 

when you arrive at her place, you’re still clinging to the piece of clothing, sitting on the couch while she makes sure all the locks on the door are secure. you’re mindlessly watching whatever channel on the tv she previously had on, hearing her shuffle in the kitchen.

it’s a few minutes later that she enters the room with two mugs, placing one in your hands. you smell the hot chocolate before she informs you that’s what it is, thanking her before sipping on the sweet drink. 

she sits beside you, leaning forward to grab the remote and mute the television. damn it. 

“can we talk?”

“go ahead,” you mumble, but sam is not as bothered by your subtle attitude. she gets it. she may have acted like it was unwarranted earlier, but you’ve made it very clear she had hurt you. and she deserves the absolute worst for that. 

“what i said to you…i didn’t mean any of it. i was upset— and that’s not an excuse, i know,” she begins, brown eyes trained on her drink, “i just…haven’t loved anyone like this since…”

sam goes quiet, unable to finish that sentence, before speaking again, “and it’s a lot…you’re a lot for me— not in a bad way —it’s just new. and i’m scared im gonna fuck up. i mean i already did.”

she dryly laughs at herself, at the thought of shutting you out to avoid getting hurt and ending up in a much worse position. how she had someone so caring and beyond understanding, and made them feel bad about it. a villain simply for loving her as much as you do— but you’re not one, and you never will be to her.

even now, you have nothing unkind to say to her. you have no desire to even talk about the argument that had taken place. your patience runs deep with samantha, your sympathy outweighing your frustrations.

sam is hurting even more than you, trauma that you couldn’t even begin to understand, insecurities that taint her mindset and your relationship. it’s a problem, you both know this, and you’re still valid for being upset with the words she had spoken due to her own personal complications. words that aren’t true or reflect you at all.

sam will do better for you.

there’s a beat of silence, not nearly as uncomfortable the ride here. the tension is somewhat fleeting, replaced with something else, vulnerability when you both need it.

“so…” you begin, “you love me?”

her head snaps to you, shocked you’re even asking, and that you’re not addressing anything she had said. she doesn’t mind it, though, and answers you.

“so fucking much.”

your cheeks go red at her words, how she means it. sam loves you hard. it is the only reason why you had a fight in the first place.

sam understands it now.

in that part of her brain that is kind to her, in the part that allows her to be in love with you, freely, deeply, openly, like she deserves, ignoring the cruel self-deprecating voices in the back of her mind. 

you end the night with your head on her chest, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat as you fall asleep cuddled into her body.

[blooddrinkingbartender]

Leofric hadn't wanted to tell Rook right away. As much as it was important to know about, it hadn't seemed like a good time to do it.

"Oh, he did," Bill said, "But I was still going to go through it for you, at least until I ended having to puke it all back up again. But we did learn that he bleeds very easily. He was like a red fountain running away."

Leofric nodded at Veronica.

"There are no worries there. Take whatever you require and don't concern yourself about the time to return them. I know you can trusted with them."

Bill kept Rook in his lap, with his arms wrapped around her for the time being. He could still act like a makeshift cushion.

"It wasn't because of you," Leofric agreed, "It was him doing that. Not you. And even though you don't remember, I said I forgave you for what he made you do."

Some silence lingered in the room. But then Antonio glanced upward from the cup he was holding.

"The day Russell got taken by that man and his goons," Antonio said, drumming his clawed fingers on the ceramic, "Rook also got into an accident and went missing. You found her, didn't you, Bill? Soon after Russell was brought to the hospital after breathing in those toxins that made him pass out."

Bill nodded.

"Yeah. I had been looking for her in my own car. And when I found her, she was all delirious, but I thought it was the shock of the accident, but now that you mention it..."

Leofric frowned.

"I'm starting to believe that the accident wasn't an accident. It may have been possibly set up for all of this," Leofric added then, "So that man could do whatever he needed to do to force Rook into that role."

Erica smiled at Travis, "That's what friends are for."

Now, it was time to deal with the one who got drugged and forced to attack her found family. Erica had the distinct feeling Rook was having trouble taking in everything she was being told. That was probably for the best. That way Rook couldn’t worsen her condition by freaking out about the whole thing.

At least she seemed to have enough left in herself to shake her head at Bill's comment. "He must have tasted like shit."

Well, that was a start. "Yep, he's rotten to the core. Not even I'd bite him."

"Erica." Veronica shook her head, but couldn't exactly disagree either. She started gathering her things, before addressing Leofric again, "I'm missing one last ingredient. I will return your supplies as soon as I'm back."

She stopped briefly to pat Rook's cheek, then disappeared.

Rook let out a tired sigh, "So, how many of you got hurt because of me so far?"

"We're okay, Rook." Erica told her "That guy drugged you and made you do things."

"I know a trick to make just what you need to blind Leofric, where Lucien lives, how to deal with Antonio... I know a whole lot of things."

"How much of that did you tell him, then?"

"See, Erica, I don't remember a damn thing."

There was a moment of silence as Rook shifted to hide herself under her wings. The conversation was over, as far as she was concerned, but not to Erica. The elf leaned back as her shadow tails morphed into a seat. Smokey joined a moment later to sit on her lap.

"Guys, I don't think she did all that. Why would that guy almost die a bunch of times if he could send Rook to do the dirty work?"

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

THE GIRL THAT WAS MINE-DREW STARKEY

The sound of the door creaked as it opened, and Drew Starkey stood frozen in the hallway. He had barely been able to process the message he’d received earlier that day, Y/N was back. After months of radio silence, she had finally come home. But what did that even mean? Was she back for good? Or was this just another one of those fleeting moments that only seemed to leave more questions than answers?

He took a deep breath and walked inside, his boots echoing against the floorboards of his childhood home. The place felt just as empty as it had when she left, quiet and lonely, with only memories lingering in the corners. His eyes scanned the room, landing on her.

She looked different, like she had changed in all the ways he couldn’t put his finger on. Her hair was a little longer, her face a little more guarded, like she wasn’t sure if she could let him in again.

“Hey,” she said softly, standing by the kitchen counter. Her voice was calm, but he could hear the hesitation in it. “You got my message?”

“Yeah,” Drew replied, his voice rough. “I got it. But I didn’t expect…this.”

She bit her lip, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I didn’t expect to come back either. But I had to.”

The words were simple, but they hit him hard, like a punch in the gut. Because he knew exactly what she meant. She had left, just like the song said, packing up her life without a word and disappearing without a trace. And now, she was back, but it was clear things weren’t the same.

“You were gone for a long time,” Drew said quietly, crossing the room to stand in front of her. His eyes never left hers, searching for the answers she wasn’t saying. “Why now? Why come back?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I don’t know…I didn’t want to. But I had to. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things… and I realized I can’t keep running from everything. I…I need to make some choices for myself.”

Drew felt his chest tighten as he took in her words. She wasn’t the same Y/N who had left. She wasn’t the girl who had trusted him, the one who had laughed with him at the kitchen table, who had shared her dreams and fears in the dark of the night. That girl was gone.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Drew admitted, his voice lowering. “But I can’t just forget about everything we had, Y/N. I can’t just move on like it never happened.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked like she might say something, something that would make everything feel less complicated. But the words didn’t come. Instead, she looked away.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly. “But I can’t love you anymore. Not like I did. I need to be on my own right now. I can’t be in something that I can’t fully give myself to.”

The words stung, and Drew’s chest tightened at the confession. He had always known there was a part of her that was unreachable, but hearing it aloud, seeing the sadness in her eyes as she said it, felt like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been able to give her whatever it was she needed, and now she was leaving. Again.

“You came home today,” Drew muttered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion. “And now you’re telling me to stay away.”

Y/N’s face flushed with emotion, but she held her ground. “I didn’t want to say it, Drew. But I have to. I have to do what’s right for me.”

“I thought we had something,” Drew said, his voice thick. “I thought we had something that would last. But you’re telling me to stay away, telling me you don’t love me anymore. You can’t just walk away from everything we were.”

“I never wanted to walk away,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “But I had to. I had to leave to figure out who I was. To figure out what I wanted. I didn’t expect to come back like this. But I’m not the same person I was when I left.”

Drew nodded, his heart sinking in his chest. He had heard the words, but they didn’t make it any easier to hear. He had tried to hold on to the hope that she’d come back and things would be the same, but they weren’t. And they never would be.

“So that’s it then,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with regret. “You’re leaving again. You’re just gonna pack up and go, and I’m left here, alone.”

Y/N reached for his hand, but stopped just short of touching him. “I never meant to hurt you, Drew. I swear. But I can’t stay in something that doesn’t feel right for me anymore.”

“You’ve already hurt me, Y/N,” Drew replied, his voice raw. “You left without a word, without giving me a chance. I don’t know what to do with all this…I don’t know how to let you go.”

“You don’t have to let me go completely,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t be the person you need. Not right now.”

Drew swallowed hard, his eyes locking with hers. He didn’t know how to make sense of this, how to let go of everything they once had. But as he stared at her, he saw the truth in her eyes. She wasn’t the same person. And maybe he wasn’t either.

“I’ll never forget you, Y/N,” Drew said quietly, his voice tinged with finality. “You were mine once. And maybe I’ll always think of you that way. But I can’t keep waiting for you to come back. Not if you don’t want me to.”

She nodded slowly, as if she understood. Then, with one final, lingering glance, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Drew standing there, lost in a sea of memories and feelings he didn’t know how to deal with.

And as she disappeared from sight, Drew couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever really come back. If she’d ever find her way back to him, or if she was already gone for good.

But for now, he was left with nothing but memories of the girl who once belonged to him. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69