#wow!!!! people like the little chaos ship!!!
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Hi! Your solnep art is so cute! Ive never considered that ship before, but given nepetas type, i could totally see it working out. Keep up the good art 💚💛💚💛
y'all are making me emotional by the sweet comments 😭thank you guys so muchhhhh!!!
its fair that folks dont consider them really but i think with working them out a little more and actually having them interact more, theyd honestly be pretty good together in any quadrant. even if its just generally chill friends at first and overtime growing a bit closer (which is how i kind of always viewed that working out).
#art#digital art#homestuck#procreate#nepeta leijon#sollux captor#solnep#whenever you guys send me messages i cry little happy tears because its like#wow!!!! people like the little chaos ship!!!#i wholeheartedly believe their relationship works the absolute best in future settings and when older#unless you count like the little bloodswap au but thats a whole different setting and story#truth is these two would have been absolutely killer to see together and i think its a shame we dont actually really see them interact much#like yeah sollux knows shes the weird kitty girl but shes also a mauling machine and i think a reminder of that would be funny#just the eyebrow raise of like “oh yeah she has tea parties but she also ripped a bears throat out with her teeth”#and nep would be a little boost in his pessimism and when she hears him talk badly about himself#:33 < lux if i hear another murmurr about you thinking your work is trash im going curb stomp that frown into a smile
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"I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away."
Got a lot of Q's for this in my inbox. Figured I'd just address them here.
tw: mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation
Re: the ending of S2:
Jinx did not die.
She symbolically killed her old self, and with it, her last ties to the past that imprisoned her. She understood that for her sister to move on and live her life - be happy without guilt - she'd have to renounce the bonds that held them together.
Her talk with ghostly Silco was the 'sign-off' she'd been waiting for, ever his dutiful daughter. Throughout S2, she kept hoping he'd haunt her, and in doing so, offer some impetus given her aimlessness. Maybe just straight up boss her around, and tell her how she's supposed to exist now that he's no longer there to be a (subversive if loving) guiding hand.
But it was the promise of time (as represented by Ekko) healing old wounds, and the courage to feel, as she once had - a hopeful child with a hopeful future - that allowed Jinx to commit impetus to action.
Her blimp-ship in the climactic battle is a tribute to Isha - but also to the child in Jinx's own fractured psyche: Powder. She's letting both little girls have one last hurrah before she takes care of business - and cuts off the last oaths, duties and commitments that bind her to a past whose parameters she's outgrown.
Better still, she knows she's got the capacity to outgrow them.
That was the point of Jinx's arc with Isha, and why, no matter my misgivings on Isha's character herself, I found Jinx's trajectory towards a more nurturing and fun-loving figure more life-affirming and positive than the straightforward 'Daddy's Villain Goes Postal' shtick.
It's even why there's a minigame titled Jinx Fixes Everything. It's Jinx, struggling and stumbling, as she tries to rewrite her narrative, and finds in herself the capacity to do good.
To fix things that seem irreparably broken.
And to understand why she's reached this stage, we've got to let go of our tendency to project our own stuff onto Jinx (precious meow meow, unrepentant terrorist, manic pixie crazypants, edgy hot psycho) and acknowledge the purpose she plays in Arcane's thematic structure.
Jinx's character comes off as a death-seeker, and that's no shocker. She is hounded by terrible guilt and loss. She's got blood on her hands, and ghosts on her heels, and no matter what she does, she can't seem to be rid of them. Her inner mind's fractured, her mannerisms ooze pure chaos, and she seems a creature of pure feral impulse and no mercy.
That's the Jinx we're accustomed to seeing in S1 - except that's also both the front she's most likely to put on during that timeline, and the persona that is necessary for her to inhabit to survive, as Silco's daughter and his top enforcer.
Then Silco kicks the bucket, she symbolically fulfills his dream by shooting at the Council HQ, she accepts that she must inhabit this path of shadows and loneliness (as symbolized by her starkly decorated chair in the tea party scene), she accepts the fragmented push-and-pull between past and present, and...
And now what?
Silco's given her a semblance of direction for six years, and he's gone. Vi, the sister she'd hoped would return, and whom she'd hinged so many childishly idealized hopes on, is herself traumatized, and afraid of what her sister's become.
Jinx has her shadows and her loneliness. Jinx is traumatized. Jinx is suicidal.
But Jinx is still, whatever else, alive.
And all living things need connections.
That's why we as the audience enjoy her little found family dynamic with Isha and Sevika. It's Jinx, taking the first tentative steps to reach out to people beyond Silco and Vi, and realizing, wow, she enjoys the pay-off.
And all throughout S2, we see Jinx growing more and more comfortable in this newfound space - even jealously guarding it at the expense of Zaun's liberty, and Silco's wishes, because she can't bear to lose what she's found.
And what she finds empowers her enough that, when Warwick shows up, she's actually willing to reach out to Vi, and call upon their family connection, because Jinx is learning the value of bonds, not as baling hooks of guilt, but as buoys to carry her forward.
That's the story Jinx's relationships serve to tell in S2. Each one shapes the choice she makes in the finale. Until she learns to accept the past (Vi), to lay the monsters to rest (Silco and Vander/Warwick), forgive herself (Caitlyn) trust that time heals all wounds (Ekko), and hope for happier new beginning (Isha), she'll never trust herself enough to just seize the chance.
Jinx's culminating arc is not about death, much less self-erasure. It's about resurrection, and embracing the sublime chaos of a freed mind, and a lightened spirit. That's what she craves beyond simple death, and what her baptism by fire, blood and riverwater, has been about.
Each trial grinds her down into someone else. Someone new.
Someone closer to who she is meant to be, rather than who she's expected to be.
That's why she's so glad to make the sacrifice for Vi. She's not dying as an act of self-immolation. She's giving her sister - the one who's proven she'll never give up on her - the ultimate gift, and showing Vi that she deserves to live.
She needs Vi to live, so Jinx, the persona, can finally die.
"He (Silco) didn't make Jinx. You did."
She's basically saying, "I love you, I will always be with you, but you are no longer responsible for my actions. Please move forward with your life, and grant me the choice to do the same."
It's two sisters embracing everything they've meant to each other, acknowledging the pain weighing them down on both sides, and welcoming the new so they can each slough off old paradigms and live life as a whole person - or at least take steps to remembering what wholeness feels like.
That's the reason the show's final shots linger on the Hexgate tunnels, Jinx's monkey bomb, and the aircraft.
It's the show's way of reminding us that Jinx has ascended to a different version of her identity - one removed from the past that haunted her. It's Jinx, finally striking out alone, away from the sister whose memory she clung so desperately to, and who was, in turn, horrified by her hand in making Powder a monster (perceived guilt or real, fandom may debate ad nauseum) due to past mistakes and abandonment.
The ending of Arcane isn't tragic. It's deeply hopeful, and serves as a reminder that no matter how damaged you think you are, and no matter how monstrous the world finds you, there are still ways to come back to yourself - or to walk the path toward a new you.
Jinx is symbolized by crows. Jinx is shown with firelights emerging from her mouth. Jinx is depicted holding a torch like Janna ushering in the winds of change.
Thematically, Jinx is change.
And the best way she can embody that change is to write her story, and make it her own.
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#arcane vi#arcane violet#vi#violet#arcane jinx#jinx#arcane ekko#ekko#arcane vander#vander#arcane warwick#warwick#arcane season 2#arcane s2#tw: suidice#tw: sucidal thoughts#arcane timebomb#timebomb#jinx x ekko#arcane season two#league of legends
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part one
Despite attending dozens of premieres, the flashing lights momentarily stunned you. A firm squeeze of your hand brought you back to reality. “Amor, are you ready?”
You glanced over at the man sitting beside you. His face lit up with joy, clearly relishing the moment they were sharing together. It was one that you both would remember forever.
The moment you both stepped out as a couple for the first time.
“I’m ready.”
Pedro, being the gentleman he is, stepped out of the car first and made his way to your door. With a warm smile, he opened it for you, extending his hand to you to help you out.
As soon as you got out of the car, you heard the crowds of fans cheering your name. You waved in their direction and blew them a kiss.
Pedro intertwined his fingers with yours and guided you. Both of your publicists were present at the commencement of the red carpet. They provided you with a brief overview of the journalists you needed to interview.
They led you both to the designated area at the carpet’s beginning where photographers had already begun lining up.
Before stepping out, Pedro gave your hand a quick squeeze.
Once in the spotlight, you were surrounded by the shouts of your name and the rapid rise of flashing lights.
Pedro released your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, making you smile.
“You’re a little biased, Mr. Pascal,” you retorted.
After a few moments, your publicist had to separate you to allow both of you to do interviews. Pedro gave you a chaste kiss on the forehead before he went to one media outlet and you the other.
Once the interviewer had asked the standard questions about the movie and your outfit, she practically buzzed with excitement to inquire about Pedro.
“I must ask, you attended this premiere with Pedro Pascal and even walked the carpet together briefly. Is there a romantic connection between you two?”
You couldn’t help but grin, “Yes, we’ve been dating for quite some time now. I’m very happy.”
She looked shocked, exclaiming, “Oh my! What an exclusive! We need all the details.”
“I’m not sure how much time I have left with you, but we’ve been together for almost two years and were introduced by mutual friends.”
You felt your publicist gently nudge your arm, indicating that it was time to move on. You quickly bid farewell before proceeding to the next interview.
After a few interviews, Pedro caught up with you. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing better now that you’re here.”
“What a line,” he teased, gathering your hands with his.
“I’m so glad we did this,” you thought back to the other premieres in the past two years that you had wished Pedro could be your date for. You were overjoyed that both of you could publicly support each other.
“Me too, Amor,” he winked. “It seems like the rest of the world is too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently, we’re already trending online, and people have been shipping us for years.”
“Wow, trending already? That’s quicker than I thought.”
“I thought it would at least take a few hours,” Pedro chuckled.
It was amusing how, amidst the chaos of the premiere, with the constant shouts of your names and the flashing lights, you and Pedro managed to create your own little bubble of peace.
He gently kissed your forehead, “Shall we continue with the carpet and head inside? My family is waiting for us.”
“Lead the way, my love.”
#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x ofc#pedro pascal imagine
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the oversight part 5? i love that series!
Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Wordcount: 7589
Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.
[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]
[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]
Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests
Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.
You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.
“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”
She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.
“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”
Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.
Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.
“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”
You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.
“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”
“It’s nice to meet you,”
Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.
“So, Monica, what do you do?”
Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.
“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”
“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”
Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.
“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”
Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.
“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”
The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.
On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.
All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.
Monica Rambeau.
It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.
This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.
There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.
You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.
“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”
You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.
“Don’t give me that look, kid.”
Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”
You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.
“How about a sleepover?”
The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.
With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.
Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.
“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”
Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.
Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.
He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.
“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”
You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.
There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.
“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”
You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.
“What are these for?”
“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”
“We’re expected to attend?”
He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”
You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.
There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.
Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.
You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.
“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”
You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.
Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.
Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.
He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.
You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”
“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.
Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.
You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.
It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”
“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”
“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”
Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.
The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.
Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.
You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.
Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.
Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.
Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.
That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”
Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.
She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”
You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.
Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.
“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”
She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.
There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.
“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”
“Briefly?”
“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”
Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.
Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.
Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Does she remember you?”
“It… didn’t seem like it.”
Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.
She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.
“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”
Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.
Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.
“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”
Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.
The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.
“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”
Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.
Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.
“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Yes ma’am. He did.”
She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.
“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”
“My room?” Your words were squeaked.
There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.
“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”
Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.
There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.
Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.
The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.
Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.
Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.
As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.
A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.
Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.
She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.
Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”
“Naturally,”
She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”
“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”
This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.
Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”
You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.
“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”
“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.
“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”
Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.
“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”
“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”
“What?”
“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”
Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.
She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.
“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”
Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.
“Trust fund kid, leave us.”
Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.
Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.
“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”
“Expelled?”
The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.
There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.
“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”
Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”
She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.
“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”
The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”
“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”
“I was never in Moscow.”
“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”
Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.
You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.
“y/n,” she urged.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”
Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.
There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.
She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.
“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.
Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”
“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”
Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”
“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”
“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”
“A bullet through the head, then?”
“No.”
You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.
“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”
“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”
Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.
There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.
“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”
You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”
Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”
Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.
You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.
“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”
Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.
“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”
[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]
#Natasha Romanoff x reader#Natasha Romanoff x you#Natasha Romanoff x y/n#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha romanov#Natasha Romanov x reader#Natasha Romanov x y/n#Natasha Romanov x you#Marvel#Marvel Au#Mafia au#Kate Bishop#Yelena Belova#Clint Barton#bucky barnes
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I watched the episode of House of Mouse where its the Christmas special and Pete's in and that got me thinking-
I cannot remember if you've already made a post regarding Christmas at the HoM, so consider this in September:
Since it's implied Christmas doesn't exist in TW, let's say Yuu starts making gingerbread cookies out of habit. And after that, she is halfway through the pudding when she realises that Christmas, in fact, has never been brought up before amongst her friends.
A quick check later and she leaves the pudding to set while wondering where she's going to find the occasion to give her friends holiday treats.
So sometime before Christmas she brings the cookies and pudding over to the HoM after wrapping them up fancy for her work family-
Only for Pluto to flaunt his special sugar-free gingerbread biscuits in full view of the villains' table.
And then Maleficent calls Yuu over to ask where did Pluto get such cute cookies with pine trees piped all over them-
Yuu, most likely: 'I made them myself for Christmas :). But Christmas doesn't exist in TW, so I couldn't think up a special occasion to give my friends Christmas treats :(. Especially considering all the effort that went into the cookies :( Jamil wouldn't call that cost-effective :(
Jafar is internally cursing out his protege, while Maleficent and the Queen of Hearts immediately start trying to convince her to make their twisted versions cookies :) and only their versions :) no, shove off mal, she's going to make dear riddle cookies that don't break any rules whatsover :) not your grandson :) sod off you hag :)
Anyway, I was going to add something about a kiss under the mistletoe but it's not even November yet so I'll save it until then
Please don't let this ask get eaten-
Hi!
Wow, I am loving these House of Mouse!AU asks. Life has been crazy these past few months so coming back to Tumblr to see that people are still interested in this really makes me smile 🥰
I remember writing something about that special last year that was kind of similar to what you said - I love the fan trope where our/Yuu's world's holidays/traditions don't exist in twst. The angst and fluff potential is just so good (I remember there was this one episode of Winx Club where the fairies try to cheer Bloom up by having a christmas party but they misunderstand everything and Stella interprets 'christmas cheer' as 'a christmas cheer' like the type cheerleaders do and I feel like that's the kind of endearing shenanigans you'd get in NRC)
I think that's what makes the House of Mouse so neat - it's kind of like a best of both worlds situation where there is a mix of both fantastical Disney magic and parts of our world (so Yuu can feel more at home, in a way)
Okay but back when I was in another fandom, I wrote a christmas themed drabble where a character made personalised gingerbread people for his entire class where he decorated each biscuit to look like them and I think that's definitely something Yuu would do (as well as the usual christmas themed ones, of course - she likes to go all out like that)
But yes, I see the shippers using this as a way to sail their ship. Yes, of course they want to throw a christmas celebration as a way to make Yuu happy - but it wouldn't hurt if they indulged in some light trickery now would it. Cue cartoon shenanigans where everyone is sabotaging each other, leading to total chaos and a Yuu that is both frazzled and totally oblivious.
"C'mon, Jaffy - just 'cause your little protege doesn't appreciate Yuu doesn't mean you have to ruin things for us. Where's your christmas spirit?"
"You don't even celebrate christmas!"
"Neither do you!"
Not to mention all of the animal companions that want special christmas treats as well (much to Pluto's irritation and obvious jealousy)
Thanks for the ask ♡
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But also:
-
It’s a little funny how Penacony is intergalactically-renowned as a ‘dream world’ when everything in it is a goddamn nightmare.
The lights? Too bright, flashing, colorful: red and blue and pink and orange and colors that can only exist in the distorted subconscious that the dream realm is built upon.
The sounds? Too loud, too everywhere: cars honking and bands playing and people screaming and advertisement boards chasing you down begging for you to check out their home store because even a dimension entirely made out of dreams has fallen into the immoral clutches of capitalism.
Cellbit hates it. He hates everything about it, actually, down to the strange fluttering in his stomach every time he passes by a sentient traffic cone and the buzzing in his head when he drinks too much SoulGlad.
But the IPC has their eyes on the planet, and so Cellbit is here before Cucurucho and the rest of the IPC Census Bureau can arrive and take stock of the people they’re ready to enslave. You can’t die in a dream, but maybe Cellbit can kill Cucurucho good enough in the dream realm that she’ll wake up in the hotel and have a heart attack at the memory of their own death.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
Cellbit sips at his SoulGlad with a faint smile on his lips. Penacony is supposed to make his dreams come true, right? Maybe the Family can allow him just one little murder before sicking their Bloodhounds on him.
“This stuff sucks,” Roier complains, slumping against the bar with his still-full glass in hand. “Why don’t they just serve water here?”
More important than the IPC and Cucurucho, however, is the Fool by Cellbit’s side. It’s Roier’s birthday, and he wanted a nice vacation to get away from the whole ‘revenge quest’ thing they’ve been doing for the past couple of common galactic month cycles. He wanted his dream vacation, and so Cellbit got him just that: a vacation inside of a literal dream.
“You’re in a dream, and you just want water?” the bartender incredulously asks. She shakes her head and walks away to the other end of the bar to handle a drunk wine bottle complaining about her ex husband the whiskey.
“It’s my birthday!” Roier whines. He smushes his cheek against the sticky bar top and squeezes his eyes shut. “Even the water tastes like shit! It’s all sparkly and stuff!”
Cellbit rolls his eyes. “It’s sparkling water, pendejo. I don’t think they even have water on Penacony. Just alcohol.”
Roier groans dramatically. “I want to go home!”
‘Home’ being Cellbit’s ship, the Ordem. It’s a tiny little thing- so small that he and Roier have to share a bed in the closet pretending to be sleeping quarters- but it sure beats trying to hitchhike between planets. (Cellbit knows from experience.)
Cellbit gently pats Roier’s back. “If you aren’t having fun here, we can go somewhere else. Unlimited dream worlds, remember? There’s gotta be something you’ll like.”
Currently, they’re in Golden Hour. But Cellbit thinks there’s a dream realm that’s one big huge restaurant somewhere, Roier should like that. He likes food, and he likes the natural chaos that comes with a restaurant full of rich entitled people.
But Roier just shakes his head and cracks an eye open to look up at Cellbit.
“Can we just… go back to our room?” he asks. “Maybe we can come back later, but only if they have actual fucking water!”
He sits up and shouts that last bit at the bartender, who just sighs and continues consoling the wine bottle. (Apparently, the whiskey cheated on her with a bottle of champagne from the amusement park realm. Wow, what a piece of shit.)
Cellbit’s face softens, and he nods. “Of course. And maybe we’ll get to kill Cucurucho when we come back.”
Roier smiles at that. “Ay, don’t get my hopes up.”
Because Roier’s best friend and son have been ‘acquired’ by the Census Bureau, and Cellbit’s whole planet was destroyed by the Census Bureau’s actions. Cucurucho needs to die, simple. And they’re going to make it happen, even in their dreams.
#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.#I’m just rambling don’t mind me#it’s very niche but I love it
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Mirror Mirror
Fandom: Double Life SMP
Dynamic: Etho & Joel
words: 1313
Warnings: body image issues, insecurity
Ao3: Here!
Summary: Etho doesn't like how he looks. Joel does not know this. Hurt/comfort ensues. (This is my @mcytblrholidayexchange present for @kyleknight! I hope you enjoy ^^)
— — — — —
Joel likes to think he’s a pretty funny guy in his own humble opinion, thank you very much. People laugh when he starts cracking jokes, and those that don’t are probably just peeved that they’re the subject of his mockery—after all, when there’s a punchline, someone has to be the one to get decked. It’s all in good fun!
It’s… disconcerting when someone who’s supposed to be in on the joke isn’t smiling along with it.
And it’s not like Etho’s even the one on the receiving end! The whole point of the thing is how they—as soulmates—can ruin everyone else’s thumbnails together!
It’s a bit of Etho’s that Joel has always found fun as long as he’s known about it: hiding another layer of visual data in his player code only visible upon lookup is a fantastic prank for messing with one’s friends, since it’ll only show up when they pull his image to build the thumbnail. Etho himself, who doesn’t bother with that sort of menial technicality and just whips out a camera from his back pocket when he spies a good thumbnail, is immune. And sure, sure, Joel doesn’t actually know how to replicate the effect and just went for a plain t-shirt with the face painted on in crooked lines, but it was still funny and would show up on the lookups (And Etho’s pictures, but that’s what hiding the shirt with armor is for).
Joel was grinning like mad as he showed off the creation, hands waving and detailing the concept. Etho gave an affirmation, but he hadn’t seemed particularly enthused with the concept; the mask hiding his face stretched with a smile even as his eyes skittered to the side and hid under knit brows.
So. Joel tries not to let it bother him and simply enjoy the thought of his friends being annoyed with him.
He picks at the hem of the t-shirt as he paces about the Boat Boys (not Small Etho!) base area. The day passes as usual: chaos reigns, problems are caused (all on purpose if asked, mostly on purpose in actuality), and Joel enjoys Etho’s company. Really, the man is a delight—Joel knew of him more than he knew him personally before the latest season, but every new interaction reveals something new about Etho that he didn’t know, and Joel’s actions and mannerisms in turn to him.
Everything seems fine, until. Until, until, until.
Etho removes the secret layer. Joel finds out about it in between sessions and tries (fails) not to take it personally.
It… stings.
The start of the next session and Joel’s ire do not roll in like thunder, but instead stumble in on unsure legs like a fawn. Sure, he’s irritated (and a little offended, and a little hurt), but it’s Etho. So Joel leans on the edge of The Relation Ship and drinks in the sight of the server.
A creaking floorboard from behind him and a gentle wheeze of breath belies Etho’s awaited arrival.
Without turning around, Joel begins, “I see that you’ve changed your skin?” It’s light as he can manage with a slight chuckle of incredulity, but from the tightness in his jaw, it does little to masquerade much of anything.
“I did, yes—”
“You took the face off? Was it because I—”
“Yeah.”
Joel huffs. “Wow, brilliant.” He pushes off and turns in a single motion, and—
Freezes.
…Any plans Joel has for a polite (but frigid, but pointed, but sardonic) questioning evaporate once he gets a look at Etho’s face.
He looks tired, bags like smudges of coal languishing, shifting with every blink. Every step is upheld with an air of casual nonchalance, but the slight tremble in his fingers betrays him. His pale hair is dull and falls over his scarred eye.
“...You look like a wreck.”
Etho scowls for a bare moment but beats it down to a practiced neutrality. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Joel snorts. “Considering that I hadn’t asked but you tried to deflect anyways, say that I don’t particularly believe you.” He grabs Etho by the wrist and slides past, leading him down to their chests. “Did you sleep at all between now and the last session? Because your eyebags have eyebags. Bet we could fit a whole stack of items in there.” Before Etho can respond, Joel pops the lock on a chest and picks out a loaf of bread. He drops it into Etho’s hands with a nod of finality.
“I slept just fine. And I ate too, if that’s what you’re getting at by this.” He gestures helplessly with the bread. “I told you, I’m fine.”
Joel shrugs. “And I said I didn’t believe you. I can play this game all day, especially since your face isn’t helping your argument.”
Etho scowls again. “Stop saying that.”
“Saying what? That you look like you’ve been fighting phantoms? And losing?”
“Joel, please…” His shoulders are drawn in close and his grip on the bread grows tighter, more desperate.
Joel falters.
“Are you… okay?”
Etho makes a face and stalks back onto the ship. “You don’t need to rub it in, you know.”
Joel trails behind him, his sense of assurance drying up. “You’re gonna need to be a little more specific than that, mate. Rub what in?”
He laughs. Laughs. Something dry, something quiet, something brittle. Etho keeps his gaze trained on the bread crust he picks at aimlessly. “I know I’m nothing nice to look at. I’ve known that basically forever. So you don’t need to rub it in; I already know.”
Joel blinks. He stops following Etho’s pacing and stands in place. What does he say to that? “You’re kidding, right?”
Mm. Probably not that.
Etho gives him an unimpressed look. “Why would I be kidding about this? You’ve been saying it yourself all morning.”
Wait, he thought that… and then Joel…
Oh, goddammit.
Joel rubs a hand across his face letting it trail up to drag through his hair. “You look tired, man, not ugly. You’re not a supermodel—so what? Neither am I. And neither is anyone else that we hang out with. You’re in pretty good company.” His feet finally unstick from the floor and he manages to scoot next to Etho, their shoulders brushing. “You’ve been thinking about this the entire break, haven’t you?”
Etho shrugs, as if it hides the way his shoulders droop with the weight of his thoughts. “I don’t… I try not to think about my face too much. Not ever since”—he waves his free hand at the long, ropy line bisecting his face—“that. No mirrors in any of my builds or anything. I guess your silly t-shirt just reminded me that everyone else is looking at me when I talk to them.”
Joel kinda feels bad for taking that personally, now.
He shakes his head. “If you told me what was up, I would’ve ditched the shirt. Here, like this.” He reaches up with one hand and yanks it off by the neckline, tossing it across the ship in the same motion. It hits the wall and slides to the floor in a crumpled heap. “There, now it’s gone.”
Etho takes a minute to gather his thoughts. After a pause, his eyes trail over to meet Joel’s. “Thanks.”
Joel leans over and bumps him, never breaking eye contact. “Bothering people is fun. Hurting them isn’t.”
The moment passes, and Etho turns his attention back to the bread. He slides his mask down and takes a hesitant bite.
— — — — —
Joel leans back and kicks a foot over his leg. “Besides, I can still think of, like, at least three different people who would throw themselves at you in a heartbeat if they thought they had a chance of getting you into bed with them.”
Etho chokes on a mouthful of bread.
#double life smp#trafficblr#life smp#boat boys#ethoslab#smallishbeans#joel smallishbeans#double life fanfic#mcyt#idea writes#idea original post
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If you need a goofy little fic distraction right now, here is 1.2k short and sweet words about surprises, costumes, Jester, Fjord, Beau, boats, bagels, baguettes, buns, breads and more 💙🍞
(Read and comment on ao3)
“Jester, this is an awful lot of bread.” Fjord pushes past the two heavy bags by the door, their canvas sides obscuring what’s inside but the heads of the baguettes peeking from the top are clue enough.
“Hellooo, I'm in the kitchen!”
He can hear her voice despite the well padded room muffling the sound; Jester’s skill at projection is the stuff of legend. He side steps another crate that smells suspiciously like yeast and a large sunflower patterned tote bag of buns as he gingerly makes his way through their house. “Beau is with me, she says she ‘has the stuff’ . Should I be worried?”
Beau’s sigh is audible even though Fjord doesn’t have eyes on her in this carbohydrate jungle. “What part of ‘need to know’ escapes you?”
“Kneed to know!” They’re close enough to the kitchen now that Jester pokes her head out of the doorframe giggling. “That’s a good one, Beau.” Miraculously there’s nary a crumb on Jester’s all-black lace outfit, incongruous to the room behind her piled high with crusty rustic loaves.
Fjord has experience in how to navigate this. “Wow, don’t you look lovely today, also, if you could perhaps tell me what is going on—”
“Can you hold out your arms?” Jester steps towards him and lifts her arms straight, a strange mimic of a hug as if one has never done it before.
Fjord does so, but continues his gentle prod. “My love, would it be okay if I grabbed a snack? It looks like we have plenty extra.”
“Whoa, your wingspan is so wide.” Jester looks at Beau. “You think you brought enough?”
Beau gives Fjord an appraising look. “You working on your traps and lats? Some pre-wedding routine? Looking good.” She grins at Jester. “Yeah, I have enough.”
“Absolutely not!” Jester rounds back on Fjord, taking advantage of his raised arms to wrap her own around his waist. “The bread isn’t for you. It’s not really for me either. It’s the theme , Fjord.”
Fjord knows if he doesn't or if he does asks it's a trap either way, but it’s a risk he must take. “Someone want to clue me in?”
“Fuck man, did you forget?” Beau laughs then covers her mouth to hide it. “He’s all yours, Jester.”
“Should I pre-apologize?” Fjord glances over Jester’s head at Beau. She shrugs but there’s a glint to her eye he doesn’t like.
“It’s fine , like totally, I know you’ve been super busy this week finishing up the whole ‘buying another ship for the fleet and hiring a crew thing’ but you really should look at a calendar once in a while.” She squeezes his middle then quickly shoves her hands under his shirt. Jester tickles like it's her mission to seek, destroy, and cause the most giggles.
“Mercy!” Fjord laughs. “I concede! Do I need to wave a white flag above my head?”
“Depends, are your undies white today, and can you take 'em off and wave those?” Jester pats his stomach and pulls her hands back out with a smile.
“Absolutely do not forget I am in the room right now.” Beau speaks from behind the safety of her hands shielding her eyes.
“Pbbfft, you’re no fun.” Jester sticks out her tongue but does take a step back. “It’s the costume party today! The neighborhood contest? All the kids are going to be stopping by for treats ‘cause I’m trying to bribe them to vote for us?”
“Oh.” Fjord inhales; some part of him knew it is today and that part of the chaos of this week had been decorating every surface with fall leaves, gourds of all sizes and painted face persuasions, and Jester’s insistence of sampling a strange but bountiful variety of baked goods. He knows it doesn’t look good that he forgot, but to be fair his makeshift panel for hiring new crew had included Marius for ‘reading people to see if they’re the right fit’— whatever he meant by that– and Kingsley who in their words ‘think the newbies need a bit of a test first’ which Fjord learned the hard way was just skirting the lacey edge of unethical. He is feeling exhausted after a week of too much peopleing and too little fire extinguishers on board a wooden ship.
“The party is tonight.” He says simply.
“And you, my lovely to-be, are just in time for the costume fitting. Have you been practicing your bat screech?”
“Ah.” It all comes back to him in a buttered bread scented rush. The half-conversation he heard Jester and Reani having. The craft night with Veth and Yasha. The suspiciously full bag Beau is currently carrying. “I’m not good at animal voices the same way I am with accents.” Fjord tries to shrug like he isn’t afraid of what is in store.
Jester sighs. “Just promise me you’ll do your best. I heard the best themed house on the street gets free cinnamon crunch rolls for a month .”
“Darling, my love, we are surrounded by rolls right now.”
“And that’s for the bribe! Keep up!” Jester smacks his arm lightly.
“Yeah, keep up, Captain.”
Fjord sends a lukewarm glare Beau’s way but he is intelligent enough to know when the battle is lost. He has to keep his eyes ahead on the war.
“Are our friends joining us?”
Jester takes the bag from Beau’s arms. “Duh, of course! Caleb is helping Reani teleport over and she’s bringing the headbands. Veth says she’s gonna try and get Luc to be a baby bat but he’s been really teenagery this week so who knows. Yasha and Caduceus picked up their costumes this morning so I bet they’ll be here any minute!”
“Do you need me to run out and get anything?” Fjord eyes the distant door, half-walled off by baked fences.
“Nope!” Jester pops the ‘p’ with her mouth. “Just put on the sexy bat costume and we can start the night with a bang!”
“I am right here. ” Beau repeats.
“Surely Beauregard, you’d want to be the sexy bat instead? Yasha would love to see you…” Fjord tries to think but it’s like the flour has seeped into his brain. “Flap around sexily?”
“I don’t need any help there.” Beau flexes and sends a wink to Jester. “No, this bat costume is made. Just. For. You.” She pokes his arm with each word like deflating a balloon with a barb.
“Captain Tusktooth, won’t you do it for me?” Jester’s voice lilts up and Fjord knows what he will see when he meets her eyes. Glossy, round, perhaps a little magically enhanced to be utterly convincing, but that may just be Jester’s natural charm.
“Just for tonight?” His willpower is crumbling like the pastry crumbs below his boots.
“Yes!” Jester hugs him again. “Just for the party!”
“It’s only a couple hours?”
“Maybe like four or five or maybe six,” Fjord’s sudden cough sounds strangled. “It might go past midnight, but yes just for tonight! My sexy little flappy Fjordy bat, please do it for me.”
“For you, always yes.” He doesn’t have it in his heart to say no. Fjord can suffer the embarrassment for a few hours. He knows the smiles and laughing kisses from Jester will be worth it. Plus, who are they to pass up free cinnamon crunch buns for a whole month ?
#fjorester#fjord stone#jester lavorre#beauregard lionett#mighty nein#critical role#the mighty nein#critical role fic#mighty Nein fanfic#my fic
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Scylla 2.0
We added a few details here and there so enjoy the reread :)
@thesfromhms @sombrathedragon @myfairkatiecat @imnotskyguy-remake @bookwormgirl123
@ham-cheese-toastie @justalunaticfangirl
This is our only way home, Fitz reminded himself. He couldn't be having second thoughts. If he did, he'd hesitate when it mattered.
"You've been very quiet," Keefe mentioned beside him. Fitz looked over and for a short second, was enraptured with awe.
He shook it off, a well of guilt growing at what he was about to do. "Not much to say." he muttered.
Keefe would forgive him, right? He will. Fitz told himself.
He found it hard to believe. Six people would die—oh. Six people would die because of him.
"And-oh, wow, that's a whole lot of guilt you're throwing at me." Keefe paused, fanning the air around his face. "And, um, there's something I need to tell you."
Fitz looked over at him, wishing for the hundredth time he still had his telepathy. Keefe looked very jittery, his ice blue eyes missing their usual mischief.
A quiet thought wisped through his brain. What if Keefe likes... Fitz roughly shook his head. Nope. Not going there, thank you.
"I opened the bag of wind, Fitz." His voice came out shakily quiet. Fitz froze, a stab of betrayal going through him. "I'm-I'm so sorry."
Keefe. Keefe was the reason he wasn't home. Keefe was the reason they were still out at sea—Fitz suddenly felt a lot less guilty.
After all, this was partly Keefe's fault. RIght?
Fitz took a deep breath and sighed, shrugging. "We do what we need to to survive." If Keefe noticed he was stiff-or was feeling his emotions-he didn't comment on it.
He's going to be angry at me anyway, Fitz thought. After Scylla, I don't think he'll ever forgive me.
Not that it mattered. Penelope was so close.
So close, and he could finally be rid of these confusing feelings regarding Keefe.
And he could finally get rid of this guilt.
Fitz looked away and muttered, “Keefe, light up six torches.”
His first mate ran off, shouting orders at the crew. Fitz's head was spinning. Keefe opened the wind bag? He couldn’t believe it, but he knew Keefe would never lie. His disbelief morphed into anger after a moment, and he gazed at the starry sky, cursing his best friend. He could be home with Sophie and Marella right now if it weren’t for his crew.
When Keefe returned, he said, “Captain, the torches have been lit. What do you want us to do with them?”
“Send six men out ahead in the rowboats. Make sure they each have a torch.” Fitz knew he was voluntarily sacrificing his crewmates, but he could barely focus on that. He was so close to getting home. Keefe looked unsure but did as he was told.
The ships and smaller boats rowed forward uneasily for a while, then they came to two massive walls of stone in the middle of the sea. It was like a giant cave with no ceiling, but the stars were so far away….
They sailed into the ominous place, and Fitz noticed the walls on either side of them were slimy and little glowing things stuck to the cliffs.
About thirty minutes later, a low, rattley voice whispered from the water.
“Hello.”
Fitz stood in shock while his crew screamed in fear. Then he jolted back to reality and yelled, “Row for your lives!”
Giant reptilian snakes, coated in greenish scales, shot down from the tops of the walls. The heads snapped up Fitz’s sailors while they stood defenseless. A few of them tried to jump, but the beast caught them and devoured them.
Scylla was here.
The voice continued to speak through the chaos and Fitz caught a few words. “Drown in your sorrow and fears… I must do what it takes to survive… Die in the blood where you bathe! We must do what it takes to survive…”
Fitz knew that Scylla was just trying to survive, same as he was, so when the last sounds of battle ended, he whispered, “You and I are the same.”
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Lights.... Camera.... EDD-TION... huh!!!! huh???... was that?? was that funny???......
Ok I'll leave. Whoops, it seems like our boys have been subjected to the hell that is community theater all for their individual reasons. Follow them on their many misadventures as they put together a nondescript play run by none other than EVIL- I mean normal director Bing Bingbong! (And his bodyguard Larry).
Here YOU can get some behind the curtain information on how the production is going, how cast and crews are doing and many other things of asking nature by pressing that little button at the top!
With that out of the way let's do a little role call for our cast here! Wait what do you mean only one (and a half) of our guys act in this?
more below! (*RULES AT VERY END!*) (sorry)
Edd (CREW • PROP/SET DESIGN)
Looking for a little extra cash one day Edd comes across a TV ad about a few spots open in the theater for an upcoming , unnamed production. Naturally his friends sat close by also watching. Together they decided they'd go in, try their hand at it and once the show was over put together all the money they got and split it equally. Edd easily got into props and set design because Bing knew he was an artist and for a director he's fairly lazy when it comes to assigning jobs and roles. Edd doesn't really struggle all too much with props and sets due to his prior painting experience. But the behind the stage activities and chaos get to him a bit. Needless to say he's just a inch more tired than his usual self
Matt (ACTOR • UNDERSTUDY)
Matt got assigned as an understudy for the lead role which he was pretty bummed out about at first! But as time went on the lead had fallen ill. Matt was the temporary lead! Good for him. Bing didn't really think about the repercussions of having Matt as an understudy for the lead but it's already pretty far in the show to change things around in Bing's eyes. He's just a bit stuck up... stuck up enough to make everything about himself and to be fair his, his well everything skills are a bit subpar. But not many people are signing up for this production he'll do!
Tom (BACKGROUND CHARACTER • AUDIO)
You would think Tom would just take one job but unfortunately just a week prior to this his guitar Susan had fallen apart (wow so unexpected amiright--.) In order to make enough money to fix her Tom had taken a background role. Should be easy, he has to say only one line! Well Tom doesn't know this yet but uhm! He has horrible stage fright, he freezes the instant he's made to act and this is just one miniscule line before he can just go back up to the sound stage and get that done but this one line stumps him. Will he be able to act by the end of pre-production??
Tord (LIGHTING)
Tord took lighting because it was there. Bing didn't care just as much as Tord and he could use a few dollars. Though he's the only one who openly finds it a bit weird that Bing is making a play that isn't even titled... and seemingly has little to no plot aside from a few things pulled from other movie scripts of Bing's past. He slacks off a lot and spends most of his time doing odd tasks and just floating around (occasionally causing mischief) (ok what am I saying he has purposely made stage lights fall on people before). He doesn't really like that the sound studio is right in the same room as the lighting booth. This will be fun.
Now that all the fun stuff is out of the way let's glance over at the rules and regulations!
----
-No proshippers or NSFW accounts allowed here!
- The people behind this account are both minors and would rather not have sexual asks or comments made about the au
- No ships are really present at the moment for right now this is mostly focused on the guys misadventures
- The main tag for all the tasks goes under "EDD-tion asks". Some non ask drawings and events will be shown under the tag "#EDD-tion comic". Occasionally art that isn't a ask or event will be under "#EDD-tion art." And for all who wish to draw fanart (would be very awesome!!) you can tag this account and or post under a fanart tag (#LCE fanart, #Lights, Camera Edd-tion (fanart/art) etc)
- As for non art related tags. "#Off-stage" is for out of character posts, "#Important" is for announcements.
---Enjoy the show!
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HI i'm a tommyinnit factive and this is where I go feral !!! I have a misce submission sideblog called @justomegathingss as well but it's mostly inactive because no one ever submits to it lol
I co-host with my in system husband @septiccoffeefreak so we're in front 90% of the time, we're v clingy so we're always co-con or co front lol. I also write septicinnit fanfic w him and I draw fanart so,,,, both posts w us specifically and the general septicinnit RPF ship will be here. u've been warned!!
I have no DNI but I block freely!! I also am pro RPF and proship ("ship and let ship") so like,, if u wanna block me about that u should do dat- I don't post dark content really or consume it because I don't like to personally?? so that won't be on my blog!!! But it's worth noting I support people's right to MAKE that content, and i don't think someone making or consuming dark content means they condone it IRL.
BLOG NAVIGATION (these links may not work on mobile- app users can use search instead):
#i made a textpost
#asks
#tommy's og art
OTHER (these links are fine on mobile lol):
Portfolio and Comissions
Me and Seán's Ao3 account
Linktree
my old pinned (colourful!!! silly!!! beloved!!! but hard to read and even longer than this one) is under the cut for preservation
OK INTRO POST WHEE!!!!!!
Hewwo besties. hello girliepops. hello boys, hello gamers, hello homestuckers and evil little creatures it is me!!!! hi!!! HELLO hi hi hi!!!! a million hellos forever and ever and....
okay fine sorry, just one last hi: hi!! I'm a Tommyinnit factive in a system and I do art sometimes!! I also play a lot of animal crossing like way too much animal crossing like my autism has me in a chokehold i play it everyday. I use he/him pronouns :3. and I am MARRIED.
My husband, Seán, is a Jacksepticeye factive in the same system as me!! we cohost/cocon together and I love him SO MUCH and I infodump about him and his source sometimes so. BE WARNEDED!!!! his acc is @septiccoffeefreak if you want to go acknowledge how fucking cool and awesome he is which you SHOULD!!! We came up with the septicinnit shipname actually!!! And write the first fics for it!! So understandably I am absolutely FERAL about it like biting clawing going insane feral. my babygirl...
I don't hold myself to a blog theme but I tend to post a lot of decora and cutesy rainbow things on this blog, as well as memes and videos I found on my feed!!! and sometimes!!! if ur lucky!!! I post an omegaverse post!!! (check out @justomegathingss for more as well) or like an actual hot take on the universe!!! though again usually it is just reblogs of sanrio characters and decora fits lol. I also of course post a ton of my art and some original posts where I go feral about something or other and scream really really loud to my terrified (but intrigued and entranced) followers. expect the unexpected. be prepared for chaos
I have no DNI for my blog, but I will block u if I decide that having you unblocked makes my internet experience sucky in some way. this is my little corner of the internet an i will customize it in whatever silly way makes my brain go brrrr
The Magical Special Poggers Tags, with which you can Navigate my Blog:
#Tommy's OG ART wow - art i made!
#I made a textpost - a combo of original textposts, as well as reblogs I made with text on them!!
#asks - asks i received!!! (asks i sent to someone ELSE and am reblogging the response to would go under #I made a textpost)
If I reblog something without any art or text attached at all, that's gonna be untagged (usefully, anyway)- but I figure if you're hunting through my blog for a post it's probably not a blank reblog anyway.
For more information about me and links to my other socials, look at my Caard, Tommyfactive.carrd.co !!! it has a bunch or really poggers info and links to my pintrest and stuff so like u should totally look at it. U might get coolness poisioning from how cool I am though /j
Commission information Here!!
Printify Store here!!!!!
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4 and 9 from the Namor dialogue prompts? Preferably angst with a happy ending <33
Pairing: Namor x Talokanil!fem!reader
Warning: plot that make no sense and only happen in fanfiction, tiny angst
A/n: Wow so many people want #4; this is the last left-over request.,thank you so much for being patient with me! This one is a little different from my usual writing style; lmk what you think!
Dialouge prompt #4: “When that filthy man lays a hand on you, it’s destined for war to happen” ― “Please Namor-” ― “¡LÍIK’IK TALOKAN!”
Dialouge prompt #9: “Open your eyes, my love, my moon. I’m begging you…please. The war is over; we won… but without you, it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
Summary: Namor can never learn how to control his wrath.
Namor watches as Y/n swims around playfully, teasing him about how he is not fast enough. Her body moves as if it were one with the flow of water, and even if they're surrounded by water, Namor sees Y/n as if she's shining brightly; maybe that's how the nickname was born too.
"Stop messing around, little pearl" he scolded lightly, turning his head quickly to follow Y/n's movement.
Namor often gets what he wants as king, but how strange that Y/n came crashing into his life, breaking almost every rule that he ever set up—not that Namor is upset or anything; how could he be? When she has those big doe eyes and a small pout on her face.
"C'mon, you're no fun" Y/n reply and continue swimming; unlike the stoic king, she enjoys the thrill and joy of exploring everything. There are countless times she has convinced Namora to sneak out without Attuma or Namor knowing; it's not like they can't protect themselves, right?
And yet, Namor scolded Y/n every time he caught her going somewhere without telling him. 'Why are you so strict?' She asked but never expected an answer from the king, knowing that he must be tired of her acting so childish all the time.
But Namor never thinks like that; he also doesn't think he is being strict; a more suitable word would be "overprotective". The thought of something happening to Y/n drove him insane; what was the point of being king if he couldn't protect her?
"Y/n, don't swim too close to the surface... It's dangerous" Namor said and immediately got Y/n's attention; she knows when he's being serious, and that's when she's not "little pearl" but "Y/n".
"But... I wanna see the ship... Please? Just a few seconds, and then we will go back home".
'Home..' Namor thought back to Talokan when Y/n mentioned it; he knows she loves Talokan as much as he does, and it is a place Y/n never jokes about, even in the slightest amount.
"Oka-" Before Namor can even finish his word, a loud splash of water can be heard among Y/n's screams.
It's chaos to the eyes, but Namor can see a man in full gear holding Y/n tight—no, too tight—to the point she's suffocating and thrashing around.
'How dare you... how dare you touch her!?' Namor thinks to himself while swimming at full speed, punching the guy out. He's lucky Namor didn't bring his trident with him today, or he'd have more than a broken nose.
"Are you okay? Pearl...answer me" Namor held Y/n's face to calm her down; it pained him to see how shocked she was by what had just happened.
The king doesn't know why and how the people on land know about them and plan this attack. He is worried their source of virbanium has been exposed to the world, but at the moment, he is more worried about his little pearl.
"There must be a whole crew up there; I will kill them all" Namor brings Y/n closer to him, letting their foreheads touch as a way of reassuring her. "When that filthy man lays a hand on you, it’s destined for war to happen"
"Please Namor-" Y/n tries to stop him, feeling unwell; did the guy do something to her when she was being held? Y/n didn't know, but there is a sharp pain in her back, and there is nothing she wants more than to be safe at home right now.
"¡LÍIK’IK TALOKAN!" Blinded by rage, Namor ignores Y/n's pleas and rushes away, leaving her behind whining in pain.
Y/n has no idea what will happen next, but she feels her body freeze and everything becomes blurry and hazy. In a blink, Y/n closes her eyes and sinks, feeling suffocated by the pressure of the blue ocean she once adored.
===𓆝 𓆟 𓆞===
“Open your eyes, my love, my moon. I’m begging you…please. The war is over; we won… but without you, it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
Y/n can hear Namor's voice speaking to her; she scrunches her face in pain, blinking a few times before opening her eyes. "N-Namor…"
The king breathed a sigh of relief before hugging Y/n close to him. "I'm here, I'm here... Namora said you have been injected with some drug, but it's only a small amount; I'm sorry my pearl, I wasn't aware" He gives her a kiss on the forehead after saying so.
Namor is afraid that Y/n will hate him forever; she begged him to stay with her, but he ignored her; how selfish of him.
"It's okay...Please don't leave me again"
"Anything for you, my pearl"
#namor x y/n#namor x reader#namor imagine#namor fic#namor fanfiction#k'uk'ulkan#kukulkan x reader#kukulkan x you#kukulkan namor#namor the sub mariner#black panther wakanda forever#mcu namor#mcu x reader#mcu fic#mcu imagine
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I'm a little upset that i don't see a lot of David and Frida stuff, not even shipping just platonically. These guys have known each other since they were 5 do u know what kind of chaos that brings??
They know each others deepest darkest secrets and threaten to tell everyone, they bully each other all the time, they'd kill a man for each other. We only got 1 episode with them as the focus, WASTED POTENTIOL. Some people are like "wow Frida is so mean to David" that is what best friends do, did you see David the second he got dirt on Frida? He was ruthless. "A good friend will cheer you up when your mad, a best friend pisses you off more" Genuinely would watch a spin-off of just them fucking around when Hilda is gone
#hilda netflix#hilda the series#hilda the show#frida hilda#david hilda#frida x david#kinda#could be seen as platonic or romantic
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HI HELLO. here to play dolls. love it here. following up on two of the asks so far: obsessed w/ the adventuring party meeting the clones, first of all. perry/j3 hookups......aurora and j2 having a weird little level of mutual respect that definitely does not herald anything chill about either of them....DAGBERT AND J4 GETTING ALONG....it's everything to me. envisioning some sort of world where the party needs jace to tap back in (such as the setup you gave in the prior ask about porter meeting them) but he's busy with The Plan so he goes okay i can't do that but i can do this instead. and sends along either one or multiple of the clones. and chaos ensues.
ALSO. JACEPORTER BONNIE AND CLYDE TYPE MOMENT. i'm gonna lose it i'm so delighted by that. to pull off heists/crimes/whatever you Know jace is gonna go have to be the Face and probably do some flirting and seduction to ease the way. and you Know porter's gonna have Thoughts about that whenever it comes up on a job. (or alternately tbh porter has to be the one to do so if a job goes sideways. that's also fun to think about.)
YAYYYYYY oh my god jace sending the clones out with his old adventuring party. i think maybe this is a j3 special. j2's been with porter. j4's confined to the house. jace voice j3 get out of my sight go do this. if you die you die.
and so like. j3 gets shipped off to the red wastes and introduces himself as a jaceclone. he's made of snow and rubies but don't worry everyone he's just like the real thing in every way ;) some have even told him he's better ;)
and like. aurora is avoiding him bc she wasn't exactly on board with jace's magic on the best of days and she basically considers j3 an aberration of the highest order. but the others are all fawning over him. ysvelde and invidia and dagbert think he's FASCINATING. and then there's peregrine. her husband. who cannot stop looking at this... thing like it matters.
somehow they all end up drinking by a campfire and the question comes up: hey j3, do you have any of jace's memories? and j3 is like, technically yes, all of them, but it's complicated. they come and go, they're usually set off by something. it's kind of scary. and peregrine's hand settles on his thigh. and suddenly it's 10 years earlier and peregrine's doing the same thing, with intent, in a dark corner of a tavern, and he's pulling jace close for a kiss that tastes like ale. and then j3's back with the rest of the group. and he's like "yeah, like that"
anyways. obviously this culminates in an ill-advised hookup between peregrine and j3. which leads to an emotional affair with long, pining letters sent to and from scattered outposts in the red wastes. and jace is like "oh wow you stupid bitch you're in for a real treat when he realizes youre not worth the trouble. have fun though!" and just lets it continue, much to j4's misery.
ALSO speaking to jaceporter bonnie and clyde. god. when porter sends jace out with a vial of poison and his good looks and charms. they have a mark and jace is going to seduce and kill the guy. the poison slips into the guy's negroni with ease and within 20 minutes he collapses at the bar. they go to the guy's hotel room to rob him and end up fucking on the bed. porter's extra possessive bc he both hates and loves seeing jace flirt with other people <3
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Thanks for your posts and metas, @neonscandal .... Before I found your blog, actually I ship tododeku and kiribaku. But thanks to you, I became bakudeku shipper (until now). Your metas are amazing and always based on canon. Sorry, I'm not good with words, but I hope you know how great your blog is (you are definitely one of my favorite tumblr blog). 💐🌷
And WOW these last 10 - 15 chapter, really are the best. Even my mutuals who are anti-bkdk can't deny Bakugou and Midoriya's bond anymore. Also, love Uraraka and Toga's bond....
Do you think it's possible that at the end of BNHA, Bakugou and Midoriya have ambygous relationship (kinda like Tiger and Bunny)....? I know it could be hard to be canon in shounen series.....
P.s Do you think SatoSugu (from JJK) is queerbaiting?
⚠️ Vague spoiler warnings through chapter MHA 410 at best. Covers JJK S2 with a vague mention of a character who pops up later in the manga.
It's funny you say that because I also love a good tododeku or kiribaku situation. Like yea, people have their OTP but... realistically? Characters should be just as messy as people in real life. ✨ They're going to date around before things fit together with that OTP, right? At least that's how I look at it. So I love exploring offshoots.
You are far too kind in these rough times but I appreciate you saying that (and reaching out). The swarm of asks lately have been so funny. I tend to carve out time to address them quicker than some of the other things bouncing around my head (literally, the exact opposite happens with fic updates 🥺) so I'm just happy I'm writing something. If someone else enjoys it then that's the whipped cream and caramel on my sundae.
DUDE. I hadn't read 409 or 410 yet because holiday chaos but I feel like we're beyond allegations at this point haha ALTHOUGH, I didn't see the cliffhanger from 410 coming at all so I wonder what that means for the larger story.. Got any theories?
Regarding endgame... honestly the last two chapters gave me a little anxiety. "This is our tale?" Too good to be true. Especially when we know from chapter one "this is a story of how I became a great hero". Also, I've had some thoughts since 406 about how their connection is being framed up which I haven't had time to write but it feels like a lot of fanservice for Horikoshi (and subsequent editors, etc) to not commit. Additionally, in all the ways this story subverts the typical formula for shonen, it would also feel like a fumbled opportunity to turn everything on its nose with such a wildly popular series. So I'm holding out hope but conservatively preparing for one of them to just... not make it even if we get a confession *shudders in Supernatural flashbacks*.
I hope this makes sense as I struggled to recommend stories where this wasn't the case when asked about BL. In my opinion, good representation in mainstream stories (gender identity, orientation, race, religion, disability, etc.) is when, whatever makes a character different isn't their whole identity. Specifically in the context of more traditional stories (not centered on BL for instance), they should be involved if not just as integral to the plot as any other character wherein their diversity isn't sticking out like a sore thumb. But even that characterization requires nuance which is what makes it so hard to articulate? Maybe it's simpler to say that their character arc shouldn't just be based around identity. As a short answer to your question, I don't think that SatoSugu is queerbaiting. I think they are authentically and intrinsically coded to one another in subtext and out loud straight from Akutami but that, sometimes, relationships don't work out or love is unrequited. They may not have had the same feelings despite their inherent complement to one another and that's okay.
As above, characters should be just as messy as real people and that's what makes what didn't happen between them all the more tragic because it's heartbreaking in how relatable it is (not the cult leading and murder though). Seems like a convenient answer from a delulu shipper unless you take into consideration how Kirara Hoshi's identity is given the same level of subtlety. They aren't defined by their identity nor are the characters jarred by some particularly grandiose reveal nor are they perturbed by the nature of their connection to Hikari. I'm by no means an expert but I think that these characters are executed well in the sense that they have a complexity that doesn't hinge on what would otherwise make them different. They aren't "othered", it's just a fact of who they are and the story continues. It's a facet of who they are without cheaply being all they are. With Gege Akutami's own pronouns not expressly confirmed, perhaps that informs the care around those with differing identities.
I haven't seen Tiger & Bunny yet but now I know what to check out next!
#neon asks#anon asks#deku and kacchan#we are the strongest#bnha#mha#jjk#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#satosugu#stsg#bkdk#ktdk#dkbk#bakudeku#dekubaku#katsudeku#anime#manga#izuku midoriya#katsuki bakugo#satoru gojo#suguru geto#kirara hoshi#deku#kacchan
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Ok I wanna talk more about my OC Mio from my fic Pretty Little Pet where I ship him with Raphael. So under the cut I'll put:
Art!! (mostly picrews and one drawing by me)
Mio's life before Raphael bought him
Raphael buying Mio
How Raphael treats Mio and his motivations
About Mio being Raphael's pet
Art
First of, I intentionally never described Mio's appearance in the fic, because I kinda wanted the reader to imagine their own version of Mio. So if you read my fic and are now going "Wow I thought Mio looked really different!" That's totally valid! He can look however you want! (Also please tell me how you imagined him, I'd love to hear about it!)
The first picture I drew myself, but it's heavily referenced off of the picrew in the second picture.
The second and third pic are basically a timeline of how Mio changes throughout the story (and the different outfits he wears). The other picrews are random outfits and based on vibes haha
Picrew for the second pic
Picrew for the third pic
Picrew for the fourth pic
Picrew for the fifth pic
Picrew for the sixth pic (lost the link, will add later)
Picrew for the seventh pic (lost the link, will add later)
And the 8th pic is my attempt at making him in BG3, he's a half-elf here because I didn't like any of the male elf faces ^^'
Before Raphael
Mio is a male high elf in his 30s, living with his parents. Mio is his child name, as his parents have not yet given him an adult name.
His parents are criminals, although Mio isn’t aware of that, thinking they also work regular jobs. They mostly commit petty crimes but still dream of one day running a criminal empire. Every time something goes wrong they just skip town. The few times one of them gets caught and released for [money] they blame it on their lack of finances, making Mio feel guilty for not working enough.
Mio was definitely not planned and he often feels unwanted. His parents treat him like a child and while they aren’t physically abusive, they will berate him for the slightest mistakes, send him to bed or work without letting him eat and are just generally pretty shitty.
His parents make him work regular jobs like waiting tables, cleaning and other work that requires little education. He’s their only reliant source of income. Despite this, he has no control over their finances, all money going directly to his parents.
He has little contact with other people, working most of the time and leaving town before he could make meaningful relationships with his coworkers.
Mio is generally shy but polite, pretty much in customer service mode at all times. He has learned to just do whatever his parents tell him to, to avoid getting yelled at or going hungry yet again. Since his parents often tell him that he’s still a child by elf standards, his only real aspiration is to reach elven adulthood (generally around 100 years) and receive his adult name, so that he may leave his parent’s household and become independent. (Most elves in his position, living in mixed society and working, would have already left their parent’s household. Mio’s parents intentionally keep this false worldview around him so that he’ll stay and keep working for them.)
Raphael buys Mio
Mio’s parents have the brilliant idea to get the money they need to start their criminal empire by selling their son. They seek out various options until Raphael answers. They sell their son for just a few hundred gold coins (Mio is unaware of this). We know from the game that Raphael has bought people before, so it’s not OOC for him. Mio is still considered a child by elf standards so that’s why his parents are able to legally sell him. (Also Gortash could sell Karlach to Zariel no problem and she just worked for him, so the rules on who can sell people are a bit weird anyways.)
Raphael doesn’t really need Mio, he mostly accepts the offer to see how his parents will fail spectacularly at trying to make a criminal empire and have a bit of fun with that, maybe even profit from the chaos they cause doing this or make another deal for their souls down the line.
Raphael still wants to put his new purchase to work and tries to determine how Mio could be useful for him. While they talk in his office Raphael shows Mio his cambion form. Mio is enamored by his form, and Raphael is not immune to flattery. Raphael also notices that Mio is easily flustered, blushes a lot and is very touch starved.
Raphael enjoys all of these reactions Mio has for him and decides to have some fun with that. He makes Mio the offer to become his pet, with the caveat that only Raphael is allowed to touch him.
Mio is aware he’s dealing with a devil here, who literally owns him and could just decide to torture him instead, so of course he accepts. Generally Mio knows that he has to do what Raphael tells him to and keep him happy, or risk making Raphael angry and getting killed or tortured. While their relationship gets more relaxed later on, Mio is always aware that Raphael is the one in control and he often has anxiety over accidentally doing something that might upset Raphael.
At this point, Raphael doesn’t have any concrete plans for what he’s going to do with Mio, he just thinks he’s cute and wants to see if he can turn him into a loyal and obedient pet by just showing him a bit of kindness. And if that doesn’t work out, it’d probably be still fun to just torture him.
Raphael’s treatment of Mio
Raphael treats Mio generally pretty well, because I believe Raphael can be a reasonable person. Korilla says she likes working for Raphael and the archivist and Nubaldin seem to be at least content working for him. Devils are also lawful evil, so I think they appreciate it when their rules are being followed. Of course, rules can also be intentionally set up to be impossible to follow, so they have an excuse to punish those who break them.
When Mio breaks the “Only Raphael can touch him” rule, it’s mostly because someone else touched him without his consent. He still gets punished for it and Raphael enjoys making Mio suffer, although he only hurts Mio to an extent he knows he can handle, not wanting to actually break him. Raphael praises Mio for accepting his punishment willingly, which gives Mio conflicting feelings about these punishments. He doesn’t enjoy being tortured, but he likes the praise and attention he receives afterwards and he knows that Raphael enjoys hurting him and wants Raphael to be happy.
By Mio’s standards, Raphael treats him pretty well. He gets his own room and new clothes, much better quality and style than his old clothes. He gets access to the servant’s baths and kitchen (I’m making the HoH way bigger than it is in the game btw) and he can eat as much as he wants. Raphael even tells him to eat at least three meals per day (Mio is used to less so he only eats two when he first arrives).
Raphael makes him work at first, telling him to clean the archive. He does this in part because he wants Mio to keep busy but also because he wants to know if Mio is the kind of person who would try to take a look at his things without permission. The archivist has secret instructions to keep an eye on Mio and report to Raphael on his behavior. Mio isn’t really aware of this test and just cleans the archive as instructed. Later, Raphael has him clean the halls and eventually Mio doesn’t have to do any work anymore, as he has other stuff to keep him busy.
Mio being a pet
Raphael is a devil (technically a half devil but whatever) and I think devils generally see mortals as beneath them. So it’s not uncommon for devils to treat mortals similar to how we would treat cats or dogs (though devils tend to be a lot less nice to their pets).
As his pet, Raphael has Mio sit by his side while he reads or works and strokes his hair or touches his skin. Mio enjoys being pet because he received very little affection before. He also can just relax during these petting sessions, he’s technically not doing anything but he’s still being useful, so he doesn’t have to feel guilty about doing nothing.
Raphael enjoys these petting sessions because he likes how receptive Mio is to him, Mio makes a lot of little noises and leans into Raphael’s touch. Also he has something to occupy himself that isn’t too distracting from his reading/work. Mio essentially functions as a fidget toy for Raphael. Also, petting your pet is just nice!!
Occasionally, Raphael will take Mio to parties or meetings. He likes to dress him up for these events, which Mio also enjoys. It’s a way for Raphael to show off his wealth and style, Mio is essentially an accessory in these moments. Raphael will also sometimes ask Mio to do things just to amuse himself or others, to show how obedient his pet is.
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Ok I ended up writing a lot more than I intended and I didn't even get to talk about Haarlep and Mio's relationship with sex yet!! Guess that'll have to wait for another post. If anyone has questions or wants to talk about Mio or Raphael, my ask is always open :)
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