#GIVE ME THE DAMN CATHARSIS I CAME HERE FOR

[no-where-new-hero]

if i had a nickel for every time i watched a crime kdrama that ended on a “it doesn’t matter whether or not the good guys triumphed because evil is spontaneously regenerative and eternal and involves some bitch lady taking the place of the former male antagonist in some kind of eve in the garden for a hinted second season” note, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s funny that it happened twice.

[sentfromwolves]

◈—⌈ SENTFROMWOLVES ⌋ writeblr introduction ²⁰²⁴

Hi everyone, and welcome to my writeblr 2024 introduction. My name is Eran (they/he & freshly thirty) and I've been on writeblr for awhile, so you might've seen me around. ( •̀ ω •́ ) This is my yearly post to introduce the projects I'll be working on this year, what I write, and who I am. I'll be keeping it short and sweet.

I'd love to meet more writers this year, so if you write any of the following, or just like these genres, or even just wanna shout about ocs together, come holler and I'll give you a follow!

◈ — sci-fi and fantasy of any kind! cozy fantasy, romantasy, epic fantasy, space opera? this is my bread and butter, and I love shouting about it from the rooftops with others! ◈ — found families, ot3s, complicated soulmates. I am almost always writing about soulmates who have either killed each other at least once in the past or are planning some sort of murder. Complicated relationships, especially found families that aren't all rainbows and butterflies, are right up my alley. ◈ — queer and trans protagonists, large queer casts! all of my wips feature trans/nonbinary leads, and I'm always looking for more queer writer friends to connect with! ◈ — hope at the end of the tunnel, but hell to get to. I write stories with hopeful endings, with the sun on the horizon, with the promise that something better might now at long last be on the way. I love seeing characters get put through hell, but I love it even more when they make it to the other side. (if you write tragedy though, please know I will still cry on your doorstep if you'll have me) ◈ — corruption arcs, redemption arcs, sometimes both! Deeply nuanced characters with messy attitudes, and even messier actions. I'm just as equally obsessed with cool worldbuilding as I am with character-driven things, and I will yell about ocs all day, and maybe draw them too >:3 ◈ — big, epic, and sweeping worldbuilding! I am a huge fan of delving into the worldbuilding aspect of my wips. I love building magic systems, cultures, geographies, and more. One of my 2024 projects is doing a worldbuilding experiment blog at some point. I am always down to clown over worldbuilding, whether to sound board or just holler together!

There's a lot more I could say here, but this post can only get so long! Σ(っ °Д °;)っ my dms are always open, and I will follow back most of the time! But just to get all of the basics outta the way:

◈—« here's a quick and dirty rundown of how I work! »—◈

➺ I interact and follow from @calamityeden, so if you see that username, it's just me.✌️I am most active on discord, and if we become friends, you're more than welcome to ask to add me there. ➺ I am open to being tagged in writeblr games! Just know that I am not online all the time, and might be slow to respond to them. 🐌 ➺ My ask box and DMs are open, just please be respectful. I love meeting new writers and talking about projects! I am happy to chat and make new friends. You're always welcome! 💌 ➺ This is a strictly 18+ writeblr. Please DNI with me if you are a minor and respect my boundaries.

🪄You can find my core tags here under my writing and my graphics, as well as writer reminders, game train and catharsis. (❁´◡`❁) And now onto the fun part! My 2024 main project line up!

I have my main four listed here that you'll probably hear me yelling about pretty consistently, but I've also got a lot of other projects rattling around in my brain. So if you're ever curious about a project that's not here, feel free to yell at me about it! >:3

Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy Standalone.

Status: First Draft Complete (117k)—Revising for beta round one.

There's a clock tattooed on Nemesis's wrist, and when it reaches midnight on his 21st birthday, it will kill him. It doesn't help that his mom is the one that cursed him, and the demon currently possessing his car ate her before Nemesis could convince her to break the damned thing. Thankfully, Judge came prepared with an alternative: help him break into a mythical living city and steal its heart, and in return, he'll shatter Nemesis's curse for free. Accompanied by a three-headed hellhound, a haunted holy sword, and an excommunicated exorcist, Judge and Nemesis set their sights on an impossible heist. But the closer Nemesis gets to the heart, the more he begins to realize that he isn't the only one under a curse. And if he doesn't find a way to break Judge's soon, his own life will be forfeit as well.

Genre: Space Opera

Status: 2024 zero drafting from scratch

Two hundred years ago, humanity expanded to the stars only to find a cosmos filled with graves. But then their children began displaying the strange ability to commune with the alien ruins scattered across the planets, waking ancient, extrasolar mecha from their sleep, and turned the struggling colonies of space explorers into the fledgling galactic nation of Sol Galatea.  Now, Wren Akane is on the run from the whole galaxy, wanted for the strange alien powers throbbing through his veins. His luck runs out when he accidentally awakens an ancient Relic in the desert of his planet, only to be embedded with the memories of its last pilot and the revelation that the war that littered the cosmos with graves is far from over. But no one believes Wren when he tells them that continuing to wake the Relics will bring the hostile alien empire that destroyed them back to Sol Galatea’s doorstep. Only Wren’s rival pilot, Marek Khalid, seems interested in a word Wren has to say. But Marek doesn’t want to save Sol Galatea. He has big plans for what to do when the aliens arrive, a rebellion to lead, and if Wren isn’t on his side, he’s in his way. With time running out, Wren must soon decide how far he’s willing to go to save the people that never tried to save him—or if Marek is right, and he should let the stars burn instead.

Genre: Adult Romantasy

Status: First Draft (1k/100k)

Once a year, Celestials from all across the Lumina Kingdom gather together for Eventide, the season of courtship, hoping to win the hand of the most eligible star at court. Sirius knows the game they play all too well: by day, he is the forgettable, miserable daughter of the Lumina Family, least of his seven siblings and wanted only for the royal blood running through his veins.  By night, however, Sirius is the Starweaver—the mysterious dressmaker taking the kingdom by storm. Everyone wants to know the identity of the one responsible for elaborate outfits that turn even the quietest Celestial in the room into the star of the show, outshining even Sirius’s luminous sibling, Diana. When the infamous King Beyond Midnight arrives with the intent to wed Diana, Sirius finds his secret in jeopardy when the condition for their hand in marriage is a simple challenge: reveal the Starweaver's true identity. There’s no outsmarting Octavian for long, and soon, Sirius will have to make a choice: give up on his passion and stay hidden forever, or risk everything to stay true to who he really is.

Genre: Second World Urban Fantasy

Status: Outlining

Something changes the day that Nakano Touya returns to the crumbling city of Soma Lux. It starts with voices in the radio static, blurry figures caught on camera, always out of focus. When a monster crawls out of Touya's television screen and eats him, the last thing he expects is to find a strange, shadowy otherworld lurking on the other side. But his biggest problem isn't the monsters of the otherworld that want to eat him, or the talking cat that saved him, now living in his apartment without a care in sight. Soma Lux is experiencing a strange new epidemic—one that Touya is completely unaffected by. But when his half-sister falls comatose, Touya knows he has to get to the bottom of it all to save her—and find out why he's the only one immune. Accompanied by his jaded ex-boyfriend, Touya’s nosy classmates, a part-time fortune teller, and a cantankerous old hag, Touya dives into the murky underbelly of Soma Lux, where the realities have begun to bleed together between his world and the next. 

That's all for now! >:3 Here's to an amazing 2024! (also my actual blog is a mess right now please do not mind it ksjndfskfn)

[jaybirdh]

Okay, so I have spent the better part of a year trying to write a Jayroy fic that I thought would honestly take only a couple of months. I was inspired by this other fic, and had gotten full permission, and I wrote loads for it, but nothing ever quite worked out.

What happened was I read That issue of Red Hood & the Outlaws.

I pretty much ignore the whole penguin beatdown thing (I also ignore the titan’s tower attack, but that’s another matter), I always want Bruce to be a good father and I have tended to write him that way.

Same with Oliver Queen.

However, I thought, within the continuity, it was very stupid and unfair that this incident never gets mentioned again and Bruce never encounters any repercussions whatsoever (all this assuming you want to believe that the “fight” was at all canon, which I don’t really), and I wanted catharsis. Sort of.

I wanted a reason for the main premise of the story to happen, and that seemed like the perfect opening for that, in addition to wanting to see some comeuppance.

That was the main downfall for this story. I got way too invested in the toxic familial relationships the New 52 spat out, and it kept going into all the wrong directions. I ended up disliking all but individual bits of it. It was too nasty for me to handle.

Add to that that I couldn’t seem to get a single characterisation right, and in spite of the great inspiration, the story had almost no plot, and I couldn’t figure out how to worm one in.

So I’m scrapping that effort, and starting completely from new.

The thing is, there was one bit I did really like, from Roy’s perspective, and I don’t want it to be completely lost, although I know it wouldn’t have anywhere to go in my new attempt.

It will probably showcase all the flaws I described, and may not be written terribly well, but I still liked the voice (even if it isn’t necessarily in character), and I liked some of the points I made about what I know of how they handled Sanctuary, so I’m putting it out here.

Content warnings will be tagged. If anyone thinks they can expand on this or do it better, feel free. Just remember to credit me or even piggy back on this post. If someone does write more to this, I would like to read it.

Writing under the cut.

Therapy sucks.

That was Roy’s professional opinion as a Therapizee. And his opinion about it mattered, damn it! Customer satisfaction, and all that.

It didn’t help that all his therapizers were robots or holograms.

In a way, it made it worse.

The robots could pretend to care all they wanted, but you always knew they didn’t.

And they were always recording. Roy was sure that was some sort of violation.

But seriously, you might as well be talking to a metal wall for all the good that did (a certain saying about first signs came to mind).

Add to that the fucking holograms.

They were meant to represent the people you had issues with, or who you cared about, giving messages of support and all that sappy stuff.

Roy guessed it was supposed to be cathartic, or some shit, but really it was just frustrating, bordering on maddening.

If he weren’t already in rehab for capes interacting with the stupid fuckers would have certainly put him there.

Really, there was nothing worse about yelling about a problem you had about your adoptive father to his face, then hear him say something you know he’d never actually say to you.

All it seemed to do was increase the issue exponentially, drive you crazy with the knowledge that you might be working through your problems, but the people the holograms were pretending to be sure as hell weren’t.

Roy found himself moving just as roboticslly through his day as his so-called therapists. Sleeping badly, missing his Jaybird, and finding he didn’t have much of an appetite for anything anymore.

He supposed the one good thing about it was that he was so numb he didn’t even feel the need for drugs or booze anymore.

Just…nothingness, really.

And missing Jason, obviously, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. His boyfriend was off being a hero, no thanks to Batman (may he lose the use of his stupid fortune and die alone in a ditch), and Roy had made a commitment.

He’d stick it out for his two months, and if it got better, great! If not? It’s only two months, and then he could go back to out-law-ing with Jason, no problem.

He’d never felt the loneliness, the sadness, that drove him to addiction when he was with Jaybird.

And yes, he knew being dependant on someone else for recovery was a Bad Thing, but it wasn’t that at all.

What he’d realised, almost the first day in this purgatory, was that he’d kept himself sober with Jason, so that he could be the best he could be for Jason.

Jason, who’d always told him—always showed him that he was worth more than Oliver or anyone else had ever treated him.

Jason, who’d always made sure he was okay, made sure he was managing, made sure he knew that Roy as a person was worth more than being wrecked by heroin and alcohol.

And Roy had believed it. Roy could believe anything Jason said about it, even when the other wasn’t there, because Jason was the one who said it. He’d believed it, even through that little…hiccup.

And when they had started working together, when it became apparent that this wasn’t a one-off, Jason had been scared. Scared of hurting Roy, but also scared of being hurt by Roy.

Roy had understood that, resoected that, and gone forward with all due caution, like when you approach a wild animal.

And then came Batman’s beatdown of the Red Hood, and it was only pure luck that he was in the area to save him, god knows the other bats probably hadn’t even noticed.

And that had been horrible, absolutely terrifying.

He had almost lost Jason.

They might never have had the chance to see what they could become, together.

But he survived, and they had their chance.

Unfortunately, Roy was the one with the issues this time.

He and Jason had finally (finally!) made real progress in their relationship, but this time it was Roy who was scared.

He’d gotten low again, the Titans had broken up again (after a rather disastrous attempt at getting together again), and every time he’d tried to talk it out with Ollie something else—not even something more important all of the time—always came up, and he’d left Roy hanging.

So he’d had a bit of a relapse, nothing major, just, y’know, way too many drinks at a bar, no biggie.

But he knew that tended to lead to something more.

That had scared him, badly.

Scared enough that even when he’d been feeling much better, even when he and Jason had come together againm even closer than before, he had gone to rehab.

He shouldn’t have. He should have remembered that recovery wasn’t linear. He’d had a dip, sure, but after, he knew he would have had a rise, he’d have just had to have waited.

But he hadn’t ever wanted Jason to see him that way.

He’d been told everything about Jason’s background by the man himself in an intimate moment, and he never wanted Jason to have to suffer through anything like that again.

So he’d left.

And so, he’d died.

Yeah, therapy sucked.

[merchantarthurn]

all i have to say about the miraculous special aside from incoherent happy noises is that it's exactly like every fanfic i hold dear in that it felt so self-indulgent when it came to fun "what-if" scenarios and also really hit on like. actual fun character beats (okay turns out i have things to say, so here's a spoilery read more)

starting immediately with the alt theme song with gabriel was so inspired i had to immediately pause and lose my mind.

gabriel as a significantly better dude who is just failing to connect with his son during their very different grieving periods is legit so much more interesting than i expected from a "character morality flip" moment

alya and nino being still on the resistance team fills me with a lot of delight for so many reasons - character related, but also for the alt-universe actually not being a 'everyone is a different alignment' universe. the overall universe and characters perceptions of themselves or how they dealt with their grief is clearly completely altered for the ones we see changed. like... gabriel seems to have started off in a similar spot but the specifics of the universe meant he changed teams for the better. emilie seemingly dying much more suddenly and the general turmoil of the universe (and presumably not going to school with the other kids?) leading adrien to not process his grief in the same way. marinette never meeting alya and not finding the courage to stand up for herself without threats and power. damn...

betterfly is a stupid name and i love that. just remember that his name is just "butterfly" and not "hawkmoth" in french okay.

shadybug is also very silly but it's a pretty perfect alternative for 'toxinelle' and also so funny

the only knock i will give the episode is she changed her hairstyle at the end. shadybug's whole look was 10/10, she could have just shifted the colour scheme for the friendly vibe. i also think chat should have kept the green hair and maybe just gone with green eyes.

on cool outfits: the butterfly + ladybug combo looked gorgeous imo i will not argue on this

i was not expecting the episode to make me feel things but it was genuinely very sweet how both AU-duos got a mutual pep-talk. like this was a perfect time in s5 for it to be set - marinette's still struggling to find belief in herself and adrien is freaked out about what his power could do to someone, and his own self-control about that. and their chats with their alternate selves help them settle something (at least for now) in addition to helping the other!! their AU selves definitely have more to deal with given.. everything, but that's for another time im sure >:) i really do like that despite their Attitude they are just treated like kids with problems y'know? honestly i wish adrien had longer to talk about his grief cos i think that's a really valuable bit of telly for young'uns who've lost a parent y'know?

there's some #Logic you could do about identity reveals but honestly i do not care, because an actual fanfic where they're like "hey butterfly man if you told us who you were we could stop monarch way faster" and that resulting in some good!gabriel and chat/adrien chatting with him knowing who hawkmoth is like... ARGH. imagine. i feel like there's so many reasons he wouldn't want to expose his identity even to allies and we didn't need a scene where that was explained and i'll fight anyone who insists it's a ~cinema sins plothole ding~ that it didn't happen. if it's not in the show you get to fanfic it in many flavours. this is a WIN actually.

generally ive been so happy with season 5 and this just. ah. idk i was just very happy the entire time. im sure there'll be a lotta folks bemoaning this that and the other and that's fine! please have fun doing that cos i know people do but man mlb is to me my fun baby show for babies but season 5 feels like it went "what if this show was everything you already loved AND it gave you catharsis on like 30 different things on a show you've been watching since episode 4"

[hermitologist]

My Favorite Records of 2022

Hi. I made another list.

First thing’s first. I apologize for the lack of music recommendations and runs on my Instagram this year. Thrice had a pretty busy touring schedule, and with the kids back in school the local virus carousel was BRUTAL. Seemed like we got to sample a new strain of the crud literally every other week. It’d rip its way through the house, we’d send the kids back to school, they’d bring a new batch of snot home a few days later, and it’d start up all over again. Rinse and repeat. It was hard to get out there and run with all that going on. Also: Blame where blame is due ... I got a little lazy when I wasn’t picking up goopy Kleenex or horking up some crud of my own. I”ll be back next year. (Hopefully.)

An-y-waaaaay ... 

I did manage to listen to a lot of new music despite "the circumstances”, and I have compiled all of my favorites for you here. There's a pretty clear cut Top 5 this year based on play counts, but the rest of the list didn’t really make sense to rank because this shit’s really all subjective anyway. I broke the list into categories that made sense to me, at the time, for organization’s sake. Each record has link to the band/label’s Bandcamp or website, so please please PLEASE support the artists you love beyond just streaming their music.

Playlists with a song from each record are below. I know it’s a lot of music. I know it’s all over the place. I know you don’t have time to listen to five-and-a-half hours of music. At the very least, I’d suggest at needle-dropping through the entire thing and earmarking some stuff to check out. That’s how I find a good chunk of this stuff. 

And please let me know what you dug this year and think I should check out!

Hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season. See you next year!

PLAYLISTS

My Favorites of 2022 Playlist (Spotify)

My Favorites of 2022 Playlist (Apple Music)

My Favorites of 2022 Playlist (Tidal)

THE TOP 5

Elder - Innate Passage

No contest here. This is a clear cut #1 for me. Fifty-four minutes of absolutely glorious, wholly transcendental, life-affirming, dreamy/heavy metal-adjacent prog. As a musician, I can tell you firsthand how hard it is to write a long song that doesn’t *feel* long. These fellas routinely crank out high-quality 10-minute-plus jams that you’ll hope never end. Queue this up and take it for a run, a long walk, or a long drive and you’ll see what I mean. It’s magical. And yes, it came out late in the year, but I haven’t been able to stop listening to it or thinking about it since, and I don’t see that changing for a long while.

Meshuggah - Immutable

It’s damn near impossible to find the right words for this band, let alone this record, but this is absolute wizardry, yet again, from the best metal band that has ever existed. Pure face-melting heaviness. They routinely reset the bar for what heavy music can and should be, and Immutable is no exception. It might even be my favorite Meshuggah record ever.

Museum of Light - Horizon

Ultra-heavy, sludgy, dynamic, meditative, push vs. pull, melody vs. dissonance post-rock in the vein of Kowloon Walled City, Shiner, Traindodge, and Torche. The songwriting is so clean and efficient, and the record as a whole is just a gorgeous, perfectly crafted arc. It’s perfect.

Holy Fawn - Dimensional Bleed

The heaviest, prettiest, most infectious batch of post-rock/metal I’ve heard in a long while. Dynamic shifts that are pure catharsis. A band that has the ability to give you euphoric chills one minute, and bring you to tears the next, headbanging all the while. Their first LP blew me away, and I wasn’t sure they could top it, but they totally have.

The Beths - Expert In A Dying Field

This record was an instant pick-me-up this year. A much-needed salve amidst all the stress and anxiety and depression the world can throw your way these days. Twelve preposterously hooky jams, that will put a smile on your face and a bounce in your step (even when the lyrical content dips into darker themes). It totally rules.

15 OTHER RECORDS THAT STAYED IN HEAVY ROTATION (in no order)

PLOSIVS - S/T

Drug Church - HYGIENE

Tvivler - Kilogram

Birds In Row - Gris Klein

gospel - The Loser

Cult of Luna - The Long Road North

Russian Circles - Gnosis

Conjurer - Pathos

Anxious - Green House

SPICE - Viv

PUP - The Unraveling of PUP The Band

The Smile - A Light For Attracting Attention

Pianos Become The Teeth - Drift 

Cloakroom - Dissolution Wave

Stray From The Path - Euthanasia

OTHER RECORDS I ENJOYED (also in no order)

Architects - the classic symptoms of a broken spirit Pedro the Lion - Havasu And So I Watch You From Afar - Jettison Mass Worship - Portal Tombs Rival Consoles - Now Is  Fleshwater - We’re Not Here To Be Loved Abraham - Debris de Mondes Perdus Norna - Star is way way is Eye Dan Mayo - Greenhouse Silvan Strauss - FACING Vein - This World is Going to Ruin You Author & Punisher - Krüller Black Thought/Dangermouse - Cheat Codes Cave In - Heavy Pendulum Square Peg Round Hole - Reservoir  Kendrick Lamar - Mr. Morale and The Big Steppers Pete Rock - Petestrumentals 4 Pet Fox - A Face In Your Life Swami John Reis - Ride the Wild Night Heriot - Profound Morality  Bastions - Majestic Desolation Wake - Thought Form Descent Inclination - Unaltered Perspective Momma - Household Name Hot Water Music - Feel The Void KEN Mode - NULL Animals As Leaders - Parrhesia Mark Giuliana - the sound of listening Meat Wave - Malign Hex Haunted Shores - Void Blessed - Circuitous Celeste - Assassine(s) Louis Cole - Quality Over Opinion Grivo - Omit Wonder Years - The Hum Goes on Forever A Hope For Home - Years Of Silicon Mountaineer - Giving Up The Ghost Norma Jean - Deathrattle Sing for Me Lamb Of God - Omens Psychonaut - Violate Consensus Reality Callous Daoboys - Celebrity Therapist Easy Prey - Unrest 84 Tigers - Time in the Lighthouse  Codespeaker - S/T Colonial Wound - Easy Laugh Thousandaire - Ideal Conditions

THE NEW BOTCH SONG I LISTENED TO LIKE 247 TIMES IN 3 DAYS

Botch - One Twenty Two

10 FAVORITE EPs

Downward - The Brass Tax  Cult Leader/End - Gather & Mourn  Irist - Gloria  Gleemer - Here at All  GoGo Penguin - Between Two Waves Lockstep - Lockstep 2  Portico Quartet - Next Stop  Be Well - Hello Sun  Chamber - Carved In Stone  Waldo’s Gift - Improvisations Vol. 2 

1 RECORD FROM 2019 THAT DIDN’T “CLICK” UNTIL 2022

Car Bomb - Mordial

2 RECORDS THAT DIDN’T COME OUT IN 2022 BUT GOT A LOTTA SPINS

Low - Double Negative Pile - Green and Gray

3 PODCASTS THAT I COULDN’T LIVE WITHOUT

Office Hours - humor, music, pure joy The Distraction - sports and social commentary/humor Effectively Wild - baseball analysis/humor

[starres-stuff]

FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 24 | Writers Choice: Catharsis

TW: hints at past emotional abuse, difficult relationships between Mother/Daughter, Grief, Death/Loss, and general dark themes.

Viviane visits the family mausoleum and finally vents about a long life of emotional abuse by her Mother.

"I apologize that I haven't been by to visit." Vi's voice was soft, her small hands holding a large bunch of flowers which eventually she laid atop one of the coffins the Jienuex mausoleum guarded. She was the brightest thing in this place, her crimson tresses and void blue coat standing out amongst the cold gray walls where her ancestors were laid to rest.

Of course, she knew they weren't there and what stood before her was just a symbol of the one who had returned to the Sea but there was something about being in a physical place of loss and ending that drove the emotions to an almost overwhelming height, if she let it get to her.

"I have been mad at you for a very long time, you know. You left behind so many secrets to be solved, so many things that made little sense. You were never there when I needed you and I will never believe anyone who tells me you never slept after I was taken by the Lambs. That you spent night and day trying to find where they took me." The truth was she was still angry and she thought to pick up those flowers she so carefully chose and stomp right out of that place, never looking back again. This had to end, she had dwelled too long on this and it had robbed her of her heart and her smile for many years.

"This is not getting us anywhere you and I. Where you needed an heir, I needed a Mother. We never agreed on that and I doubt we ever would have. Well, I need to put you behind me now. You are my past like many other things." Out her gloved hand reached a single finger tracing along the name on the lid Saphelle Jienuex it said, and it was written in gold lettering. A raven stood watch over it. as it did all the Barons and Baronesses who rested here among family and etched along the lid were roses. A symbol Vi kept close to herself as well. She felt her hands clench, she wanted to punch the damn thing with all her might and hope to turn it to dust. Which she knew would result in a broken hand or a few shattered fingers, things she would have to explain later when all was done and said.

"I could dwell upon this and you for the rest of my life." These were solemn words to match the solemn face she wore "Thing is Mother you already robbed my joy and enough of it to leave a hole in my heart until it is my turn to rest my head within these walls. You took, took, took. Always self-centered. Every ounce of love you were ever shown was never returned. Push them out, keep them at a distance, and control them with an iron first your way of handling those who dared to try."

Vi's voice had become louder than the rush of the wind outside and colder than the crystalline snowflakes that danced like feathers from the bleak skies above. There was a profound sadness in her face. The kind came from spending time trying to make other people happy instead of yourself.

"I will never truly know what went through your mind. Why you did the things you did and I will never understand the gaggle of half-siblings you left me to sort through, but it is time for me to forgive you and move on. See it has created this place in my life where I expect everyone to turn into you. Where I don't give others their proper chances and I always expect they will abandon me just like you did. You had no right Mother." She yelled into the space, her voice echoing through the halls of the dead, the rage sending what could only have been some form of a bird that tolerated the frozen wasteland this building was placed in.

"I used to blame myself." Boot-covered footfalls filled the air falling into the rhythm of one pacing an occasional rock soaring off the front of her boot only to slam into the stone wall. "If I had better, if I hadn't reminded you of my Father, if I had been good enough or the daughter you wanted then you would have cared enough to see you were stomping on my heart with your expensive boots. I was a child for fucks sake. Looking for love and guidance. That's alright though. It was long ago." The rawness in her voice brought tears to her sapphire eyes and they swelled to the point that they spiraled down the apples of her cheeks and softly plopped on her coat leaving marks where they fell.

"I have been living in your shadow for so long Mother, I do not think I remember how to see the light. Oh, I can see it in their eyes when they look at me, I know love exists honestly and true in some hearts now. It has helped me to heal, it has mended wounds that I had thought impossible even at the beginning of this cycle. I have learned it is not meant to be perfect but I have also learned even in the darkest moments that love will see us through to white-washed emptiness."

The pacing came to an abrupt stop and once more she faced the stone lid. Part of her waiting for a spirit to rise in answer to all her accusations and another part recognized this was like any other moment in her life where she needed her Mother to notice. Saphelle had been broken just like her. Those wounds drilled down into a soul that had suffered so much that it had lost its light even more than she had. They were the same monster, they always had been. Created by generations before them that had been treated the same way creating the landslide that now rested on Vi's chest when she waited for it to suffocate her.

"You have no power here anymore." Viviane finally said finding her voice again, there was a fire there now as if she had placed kindling on a barely lit spark and it just happened to be dry enough that it became healthy flames that started to reach up from the miserable onslaught of emotion she felt. "In truth, I had the power all along. I let your words and actions make me feel helpless. I let you silence my voice to keep the peace. I am as guilty in this as you are Mother, but no more."

Finally, she hit the bottom of that emotional reserve she had stored up throughout cycles that were now behind her and Vi had come to recognize that she was holding on with dear life to memories that did nothing but hold her back from who she knew she was. Who she had become as she continued her journey.

Surprisingly there was stillness there, the chaos had decreased as if she had found the eye of the storm and in turn, it had helped her find a place of catharsis. A place she had sought for so long to find and she loosened a subtle sigh of relief as the darkness broke right then and there showing her the lands of tomorrow and what she could strive to become. A sudden realization sent a chill through her bones. It was never the end but instead the beginning, her beginning. The ghosts that haunted her had only ever been in her way.

[red-hood-vigilante]

it's so disheartening to watch bc i just KNOW it was bc of the writers seeing audiences hate sam and glorifying dean and playing into that narrative that sam is unreasonable, selfish and cruel to dean when he just... isn't.

YES you literally stole the words right from my brain! I actually saw an article that someone wrote saying supernatural would have been better off without Sam after season 9 or something, and I just stopped reading because it was absolute bull. Sam is one of the only reasons I watch spn, if they'd have dropped him I never would have watched it again

and it sucks to watch bc sam doesn't give the same shit back to dean and there's no catharsis for sam's pent up frustrations and anger so their relationship is so one-sided

Also this. One scene that bothered me was when right before dean left with cas while Sam was doing the trials, he said that Sam of all people needs a chaperone while he's doing the important stuff. And I literally just thought to myself, if there was ever a time for him to stop being a dick it should probably be when his brother is dying and trying to save the world by closing the gates of hell, but no not even then. And worse was when Sam overheard and instead of defending himself, decided that completing the trials and dying would be better than living with a brother who thought so little of him :( until dean talked him out of it of course.

I just couldn't understand why the writers would make Dean such an asshole but still make almost every other character in the show love him while still leaving Sam isolated and lonely. Honestly I would have been very happy with an episode that was just Sam being happy with his own life outside of Dean, without someone dying. It seems like we saw a lot of that with dean but not with Sam. Instead it seems like the writers tried their hardest to make him seem boring just because he didn't like the same music as Dean, didn't eat the same things as Dean, didn't laugh at Dean's jokes and basically just because he was his own person and not dean 2.0

I'm sorry if these asks are too long and rambling I just have a lot of frustrations with what they did to the show 😅

don't be sorry, i love rambles and rants 💗 as you can see my answers are just as rambling

i was genuinely baffled when i saw sam go through the trials and carry this burden for the greater good only for dean has the damn nerve to say something so shitty. again, dean has this ingrained idea that sam is a kid who doesn't know what he's doing - to some extent i can understand this notion bc dean did help raise sam since he was a baby and struggles with letting go of this kid (interesting pseudo-parent and child dynamic here) and accepting sam as an adult (which was what their s5 dynamic was about and it led to some growth on dean's part that regressed since) - but since sam has proven himself perfectly capable of surviving and completing the trials (as well as hurdles from past seasons), it's so utterly condescending and demeaning on dean's part to say something like that (s2 dean would never!).

at the point of s9 in the show dean was so utterly despicable to me i couldn't wrap my head around how he was so respected and loved by side characters (bobby, jo, castiel, charlie) bc the thing is right, that dean was so rarely written to be in the wrong by the narrative when it came to any conflict bc regardless of what he did and who he did it to, there would always be bigger issues going on so his wrongdoings would always take a backseat to the Big Bad of the season and the show would twist his actions be accepted or even 'necessary' at times bc for whatever reasons. it was such a blatant response to major parts of the audience putting dean on a pedestal and declaring him the poor misunderstood bisexual king. AND he was constantly prone to violent outbursts and temper tantrums when he got bad news or you know... somebody just disagreed with him...mans a walking red flag

the more space they gave dean and his emotions, the less there was for sam or anyone else and the writers didn't know how to take dean's mistakes and turn it into a redemption arc/an arc where he realizes how much the people around him have been hurt specifically because of him, his words and his actions, sam in particular. while kripke era isn't perfect, sam still had anger, sass, snark and the ability to stand up for himself even when he felt guilt or shame bc there was to some degree a balance to their dynamic. sam being the opposite of dean was never boring, writers post kripke era just wasn't capable of handling properly him as a character parallel with the storylines, which is a shame i think

[zannies-joestar-hut]

jojolands spoilers for chapter 2

ok. read the chapter and gave it a couple hours. i find the tourists identity fundamentally underwhelming (mostly from a LoRE standpoint), its absolutely nothing new somehow DESPITE also being damn near unheard of (mostly bc of the amount of exposure he’s had via the oneshots) and doesn’t really like. EXPAND or interconnect the sbr-onwards universe at all (well, aside from ‘yep! he’s here!’). BUT. JUST. okay in chainsaw man there was a new ‘primal fear’ devil introduced a chapter ago that wasn’t explicitly named and fucking EVERYONE esp. on the annoying side of youtube was saying with some degree of certainty that it was this one significant lore figure. but then the newest chapter came out and they weren’t even close (whereas i was 😏). and the sheer fucking satisfaction i felt about ‘HA-HA YER WRONG!’ was soooooo exquisite it was downright delectable.

this isn’t on THAT level (the people who turned out to be wrong this time included myself, for one, and also weren’t actually all that certain about it, unlike chainsaw man youtube clickbait assholes. like, the primary theory -coming from a youtuber who is very good at being wrong about jojo in interesting and fun ways heehee- was that Yasuho would be practically guaranteed bc koichi part 5 its obviously a parallel we can predict this by all of 1 chapter. but even still left the door open for MAYBE a higashikata, which as i write this i came up with a fucking GALACTIC concept but shush barring My Cooking its not josuke or joshu or tsurugi or mitsuba as far as we know now) but it still does give that fuckin asshole authorial catharsis feeling in me. i am become lucy van pelt with the football. its fun and while i could SEE this being a narrative disaster if it just turns into This Spoke Rohan Jojokibe i could also see it turning out fine.

anyways fuck that introspective shit heres to Tsurugi using a pseudonym for his mangas that he writes and can use as a vector for an evolved Paper Moon King (paper moons’ door??? heaven’s king???) as he now age 21(?) is staying in hawaii for research on his next subject

also i love Usagi he rules there isn’t much more to say. cool stand adore his vibes love a harry du bois esque individual (<- drugs people)

[tiannasfanfic]

Catharsis: Chapter 4

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Story Summary: Based on true events, a reader insert story. An abusive relationship has finally ended for reader, but the ex soon turns into a stalker. While you're trying to deal with it on your own, your coworkers can tell something is up.

Author Note: The situation in the previous chapter is resolved in this one.

Chapter Word Count: 1,726

CW: Psychological abuse and stalking.

Tag List (comment to be added): @pansinspace @uncle-eggy

Chapter 4: (Crossposted to AO3)

There wasn’t any time to warn Adrian of what was happening. As soon as you realized who it was you were seeing in front of your home, your ex was already in confrontation mode.

“What the fuck is this shit?” he demanded to know.

You were calm. You were very calm, and that really surprised you. While your ex wasn’t yelling yet, his voice was raised, and he had that tone you knew meant the yelling was coming. But outside of the drop feeling your stomach did upon recognizing your ex, you were fine. It was strange. It felt strange considering what your normal reaction to him was. Liberating, but strange. At the same time, you knew this was due to Evergreen’s Most Wanted currently walking beside you, but your ex didn’t know that. You had the brief thought that this gave you two an advantage and felt this gave you both some high ground.

“A beer run,” you said simply, and calmly.

The both of you walked by him, giving him a wide berth. You noticed Adrian switch up his steps a bit, so he stayed between you two as you walked by. It hadn’t taken him long to put two and two together, and you were grateful for that.

“I can fucking see that, Y/N,” your ex said as you passed, then pointed at Adrian. “I meant him. What the fuck is he doing here?”

You both had made it past the truck and were close to the Sebring, which was parked directly in front of the sidewalk leading to your front door. You could hear your ex following but staying a few feet back.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

“Like hell it isn’t!” your ex suddenly yelled.

You stopped and turned around, looking at him in confusion.

“What are you even doing here?” you said. “Have you come to get the rest of your shit finally?”

“No!” he yelled. “I came over here to tell you that I have forgiven you, and I am willing to forget all about this and give you another chance!”

Now THAT shocked you. You didn’t think this man could shock you anymore, but he did. You stared at him. Your ex was dead serious. You could see it all over his face. And you were stunned.

“What?”

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Adrian turn to where he could see both of you clearly. He had to take a couple steps back closer to the Sebring to do this. That put him around six feet away from you, if that. Still very close by. You didn’t look at him directly, not wanting to take your eyes off your ex, but you saw him set the case of beer down by his feet.

“You heard me,” he yelled, his face red. “I wanted to work it out, but not if you’re already being a whore for your coworkers!”

You blinked.

“But I am fucking done! We are fucking over!”

Your ex was actually crying now. He was the very picture of a distraught man who was going through a breakup with someone that was truly a horrible person. Someone you would naturally feel sympathy for if one of your friends came to you like that. But every damn word was a lie. With Adrian here as a witness, he was hoping to appeal to him to make you look bad. You knew this because he had done it so many times before when other people were around. Your friends, old coworkers, family, he had pulled this same thing with everyone.

He turned and started heading to his truck. The next words were out of your mouth before you knew they were there to stop them.

“It’s been over. We’ve been broken up for over a month now. You know that as well as I do.”

Your voice was still calm and collected, Adrian’s presence still working to soothe you, at least outwardly. Inwardly, your heart was hammering in your chest and your stomach was doing cartwheels. But despite your calm tone (or because of it, you thought later), your ex reacted as if you had thrown boiling water on him. Whirling around, the heartbroken ex act was dropped instantly and replaced by his normal, hateful demeanor towards you. Except now he was in a state you hadn’t seen him before. He was much angrier and louder, his fists were clenching and unclenching repeatedly at his sides. But at least now you had a witness. Never before had he done a complete reversal of his personality in front of anybody else outside of you. Now Adrian had seen it and could verify it to anyone that didn’t believe you. You had a brief moment of relief, but it was short lived when your ex strode back over to you until he was in front of you. While he wasn’t quite in your face, he was well within arm’s reach.

Later on, you wouldn’t remember anything that was said during the screaming match that followed. Something in you had finally snapped as soon as his personality flipped, and he started yelling at you. The louder he got, the louder you got. There was still a large part of you inside that still felt meek. That part of you felt sick over what was happening. That part was screaming at you to shut up, that you were just making it harder on yourself, that this was all your fault. But you couldn’t stop. You had let this build up for four years. Once the floodgates were open and the dam ended up breaking, there was no stopping you. You had some things you wanted to say to that asshole, and it was coming out now whether you wanted it to or not.

Dimly, you became aware of a shift in your ex’s body language that was a clearer signal of physical violence. Plus, his hands had been close to your face several times when he pointed at you. It was when he finally took a step forward to close the distance between you that it dawned on you. He was about to hit you.

Adrian said something then. While you heard what he said, you also didn’t hear it since all of your attention was focused on your ex. But your ex did. He stopped his advance towards you and whirled around to face Adrian. With your ex’s attention off you for the moment, you allowed yourself a glance over at your friend. He was still standing by the Sebring, slightly leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. His normally warm eyes were cold and calculating as they stared at your ex, and he had a small, satisfied smirk on his face.

The change wasn’t big enough for the casual observer to catch, so you knew your ex wouldn’t see it. You wouldn’t have either if you didn’t know the man so well. After being around him at least five days a week for over a year, you could identify the small signs. A slight change in stance, the way he held his back and shoulders, the expression on his face, even in the tone you heard him use despite not catching the words. To your ex, you knew he looked like a smug nerd who was starting to run his mouth. But you. You knew that wasn’t Adrian Chase standing there, no matter how he was dressed.

It was Vigilante.

Adrian’s smirk got bigger, and he said something else you did but didn’t hear. Whatever it was, it certainly spurred your ex to action. He quickly made a move towards Adrian, taking a step towards him and was taking another when Adrian pushed himself away from the Sebring and relaxed his arms to his sides. Even though that was all Adrian did, your ex came to a stop so suddenly, he briefly lost his balance, teetered, then fell back a step. Since he was still fairly close to you, you could see half of the expression on his face. It was a mix of surprise and confusion with a hint of wariness, but not at the level of fear. It was as if a long dormant self-preservation instinct had kicked in, alerting him to the sudden presence of an unseen, unknown danger. He took another step back, looking around warily, then he eyed Adrian. Then his eyes went from him, back over to you for a long moment, then back to Adrian.

After backing up a few more steps, your ex tried to get in the last word in the most ridiculous way possible. He cleared his throat, pointed at Adrian, and said, “You better not fucking hurt her!”

This statement was answered with one of the loudest bursts of wild laughter you’ve ever heard out of Adrian. While your ex had just turned to flounce back to his truck, the sound made him whirl back around. He stared at Adrian with opened mouth shock. Your gaze kept darting between them, you were frozen in place by this point.

Adrian was done with the whole thing. He shook his head as his laughter died down, wiped his eyes, then leaned down to pick up the case of beer and came over to you.

“It’s over, Y/N, ” he said to you gently, softly taking you by the arm with his free hand. “Let’s get you inside.”

Adrian carefully guided you to the door, standing close by you and always keeping himself between you and you ex. As you got your keys out to unlock the door, he stood at your side with his back to you, keeping a close watch over the man. It took a moment to get your key in the lock. Adrenaline was surging through your body, making your hands tremble, and you were starting to fight off a delayed panic attack. Being outside of your apartment was no longer your friend and you needed to get inside where you could feel safe. When the door was finally open, you glanced between Adrian’s body and the doorframe as you walked inside. Your ex was standing in the same place, staring at Adrian with that same mixed expression.

Adrian continued to stand there and stare right back at your ex until he finally got into his truck and left.

[editedbywandamaximoff]

Cruel Intentions Part 2

A/N: okay I have no excuse it took me more than it should sorry.

taglist:@vicmc624 @thelaststraw3,@d3m0n8ch1ld

Silence has never been that scary before. The absence of life, the quiescence, everything reminded those few last peaceful moments of absolute nothingness before war and chaos began. Those moments in which you start to reconsider your actions as you can see clearly now their consequences. And it was in those moments when a feeling of escapism fester finally able to acknowledge the catastrophe that will follow. But it's alright because at the end some might even find catharsis in that dead silence.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you jumped into a sitting position, your hand running up from your sweaty chest to your throat. Everything surrounding you was bleak black and no matter how many times you blinked hoping for your vision to clear but it was pointless.

You were in a vast, unescapable abyss of your own creation. One that followed you both in your sleeping and awake state. Unable to run from it, weak, powerless, vulnerable. 

Rubbing your eyes with your hands you tried to stand up from the futon mattress but before you could take one step the silver chains reminded you of their presence pulling you down and causing you to fall on the ground with your face.

‘’Fuck!’’, you groaned in pain and supported on your hands, you sat down, the nightmare never ending. 

It must have been three days or maybe a week. Then again it could be two weeks as well. To be honest you had lost track of time spending all of your days locked inside that cage made of glass. The only thing that indicated the time of day was the agents that walked by, some of them looking at you with an arched eyebrow, others with disgust, some even with interest. 

The interrogations were frequent as you never talked no matter how hard they tried to convince you otherwise, promising you deals, safety, freedom, a fresh start. But you weren’t stupid.. Well you were since they caught you but you weren't enough to start spilling secrets about HYDRA.  So you kept your mouth shut giving them the hardest time. You weren’t going to let them treat you like a monster, lock you in a cage, waiting to be killed. You knew they were soon to come here and kill you - or worse take you back. 

Then there was the scientist. Their visits were weekly and their tries persistent as they wanted to discover what kind of mutation your organism had gone through all those years with HYDRA and their vile experiments. So they ran tests, took blood samples and then they gave you a prescription with pills to keep your powers at bay.

So when you weren't interrogated you spent your time observing them working, or staring on the glass and if you tried really hard you could even see your reflection and damn- you never looked uglier. And things got even uglier after an interrogation with the side-effects of your medication. Then it was as if you were high and started having conversations with your reflection and damn that bitch was mean.

Slowly your vision came back, as it did everytime you refused to eat and drink water in one of  your attempts to make the whole process difficult or how they called it a show of your stubbornness. 

‘’L/N’’

Suddenly the door opened and two agents appeared with your usual wheelchair. Your forehead furrowed as you observed every detail closely to make sure whether they were SHIELD or HYDRA’s agent. Getting used to the process you pulled your hair to the side, exposing your neck for them to inject you, too exhausted to play it hard to get. It wasn’t as if they wouldn't force you. What really scared you though were the side-effects, the drowsiness, the dizziness, the delusions, the blurry vision and then the nightmares. You knew that once they injected you you would stay awake for a couple hours for the interrogation and then once you were back to your cage you would have deep sleep for hours with neverending nightmares and dreams.

Unlocking your legs from the chains they put you again in a straightjacket and forced you to sit before they dragged you out of the room. You frowned as you noticed that they didn’t inject you but you rather not remind them.

‘’A goodmorning would be nice’’, you said but once again they didn't even look at you, let alone speak to you. You didn’t mind though it was nice to even see someone after all those days of isolation. 

‘’It's afternoon’’ one of them said and you sat back quietly hating how unaware you were of such basic things, like what day of the week it was or whether it was morning or not. You didn’t have the sense of the next day anymore. Each day you were here felt like they were all combined. Like a really really long day with no end or break. ‘’You know it’s funny how easy you, people of HYDRA have things’’, one agent broke the silence, causing you to frown unsure whether he was talking to you or not. ‘’Even though you’re an abomination, not human, entirely not even mutant and despite your notorious past as a ruthless assassin you still,somehow, you leave this place without a scar’’, he said and then laughed, deriving from something rather tragic than funny.

‘’You know Mark’’, he spoke again, now referring to his coworker ‘’2009. I was sent to escort a scientist out of Iran. Then someone shot out my tires near Odessa causing us to fall off a cliff, guess who?!’’, he exclaimed as if he was telling the most hilarious joke. From the corner of your eye you show Mark who was walking beside you rolling his eyes, probably because he had heard that story too many times. ‘’James fucking Barnes!’’, he hysterically laughed ‘’Who then worked with HYDRA going by the name the Winter Soldier!’’,he said with  a derisive tone ‘’You heard that pretty girl? Your boyfriend’’,you gasped as he patted you on your shoulder to get your attention and you tried hard not to flinch away from his touch -not that you could.’’A fucking marciless assasin and his freaky-witchy girlfriend are now walking around these rooms, one calling himself an Avenger and the other is ready to get a cloak and fly around’’

Your nose crinkled in disgust. Not because of how he called you-no you knew you were a freak already he didn’t have to tell you- but how he talked about Bucky. How they neglected the fact that he was cheated out of his life. How he didn’t have a thought of his own for years, how he was forced to kill and kept captured. How he didn't have the chance to fall in love, get married, have children, friends, travel, live in his era. And when he did he fell for someone like you. All of that shit he and you had to go through.

‘’And I? I lost 12 people that day. my coworkers, my friends and almost lost my life. My kids would be orphans and instead of punishing him for his crimes he got a title and we who he fought, who he killed have to call him sir ‘cause he’s above us. And now the same is going to happen with this one.’’ You clenched your fist and bit the inside of your lip overwhelmed by anger, not able to bear the bitterness in his tone. Your eyes shimmered with tears and you bit harder your lips, hoping for it to bleed as you fought them back. You understood his sorrowness and how angry he must be with the unfairness of the situation however what you and Bucky went through wasn’t any less painful. Abducted by your families, forced into a series of brutal experiments which by the end you had forgotten your identity, unable to form a thought of your own other than the ones they wanted you to think. 

You couldn’t even remember a day in which you weren’t under the control of HYDRA. You never had any friends, you never had a family, you never had anything. At some point during the endless training you couldn’t even remember who you were. ‘’ They are nothing but filthy, inhuman monsters that deserve to die for their crimes’’

 Suddenly that entertaining ride came to an end with them stopping outside the very same room where everything had started. Even when you hadn’t entered the room you could already feel their glares boring into your flesh full of anger, hatred. God things have gotten messy.

The agent behind you bent closer to you, his filthy breath now hitting your neck as his mouth was right beside your ear ‘’And between us, sweetie I hope you die in that hell they are about to send you. Then your boyfriend might get a taste of loss’’, he whispered and then laughed, pleased. You clenched your teeth, the thought of all the things you would do to him for all the filthy things he said about Bucky somewhat calming you down. 

‘’I wish you’d fallen down that cliff that day. Sweetie’’, you spat back and with the same attitude you faced the Avengers as you and the agents entered the room. You knew from HYDRA that you had to not only keep your calm but push away any type of emotion. You must never appear vulnerable or weak. 

As you entered the room the agent's words repeated in your head but you tried not to give it much thought hoping that he just said it to get a reaction from you.There was no way they would let you free, right? And even if they did, Earth didn't have any type of hell. Right?

"Oh it's you again, our local witch terrorist. Hope there wasn't any traffic in your way here", Tony greeted you with another of his usual jokes causing you to roll your eyes. 

Trying not to make known your interest, your gaze slowly moved around the room, hoping to meet those familiar blue eyes. To your disappointment everyone was there except him. From bored Bruce and cocky Tony, to tired Natasha, even Steve was there watching you from the corner of the room, his eyes boring into you. But he or his friend Sam wasn't there. 

A strong wave of sadness hit you for a second before you tried once again to maintain your facade. 

"So?",  you broke the silence, deciding that it would be better to get over with it. 

"Take a seat", Natasha told you and you looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

"It appears you have already ensured me one", you sneered and suddenly Steve scored having all the eyes on him.

"Take a seat Y/N", he repeated now his tone full of assurance and annoyance as if you were one of the soldiers he got to order.

You rolled your eyes before you stood up, taking that chance. It had been a while since the last time you had walked, SHIELD never allowed you to go anywhere without your wheelchair and in your cage you could either lay or sit down. Slowly trying to find your balance again you sat to a chair opposite from them and wait for someone to explain why you were here.

For a few minutes the room drowned into dead silence. Even Tony, the one that could never shut up with his sarcastic remarks was silent and honestly for a moment you thought they were as clueless as you.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage and your mind ran through millions of thoughts about why the Avengers would have to interrogate you. Perhaps SHIELD had reached a decision about you, finally getting tired of your silly mind games. Maybe that was why Bucky wasn't here; your punishment must have been so harsh he couldn't handle it when they'd tell you. But no. That couldn't be true. You lied saying you loved him only for him to find out after a few months that the only relationship goal you had was turning him back into a ruthless killer. No. He was completely over you and as much as it broke your heart as the only person who would love you in this life is disgusted by you, you can't help but hope that soon he would find someone. Someone he truly deserved not a cliché facade as you.

You squeezed your eyes and took a deep breath but before you could open your mouth Tony spoke. "Where the hell is he! Can't he be here in his time for once?"

Immediately after he said that and before you could think of a thing the doors burst open and you looked to the side to see who was. 

Natasha's eyes lightened up as Bucky and Sam suddenly entered the room.

"Where is he?"Steve asked and your brows drew together as all of the Avengers were already here.

"Oh you know him, he wants to make an  entrance", Bucky explained before Bruce gave him his seat that was opposite of yours. 

"Show-off", Tony muttered mostly to himself but Natasha tried to hide a chuckle when she heard him.

Your gaze scanned Bucky intensively, taking in each of his features, from the dark circles down his eyes to his beard that had grown more than usual. He was a mess. You frozed when his gaze met yours, his eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep; however they still managed to send chills down your spine.

Uncomfortable you quickly looked away, hoping the awkwardness was mutual yet from the corner of your eye you still felt him glaring at you. 

Suddenly orange sparkles appeared out of nowhere and your eyes widened in shock as a person stepped out from it into the room. You looked at the Avengers to see their reaction however no one else seemed to share your amusement.

"Ooff ", the man huffed and fixed his weird clothes before looking at the very annoyed Avengers. "Hello team"

"You're late!", Tony exclaimed with a stern expression.

"Never, you're just very early" His gaze scanned the room till it got fixed on your face "So this is our witch?"

You arched an eyebrow to the odd-looking man 

and then looked at the Avengers asking for help or some kind of explanation. 

"Who are you?!"

"Doctor Stephen Strange?", he told you, confused as to why you weren't aware of it "Protector of your reality?"

"Never heard of you"

"Yeah us neither, before he popped out of one of his sparkly circles and asked to talk to you. Now can we get to the point?", Tony 

‘’Well’’, he cleared his throat and his hands locked together as he started approaching you ‘’Recently and for unknown reasons the Multiverse opened. Fortunately I noticed it quickly enough to manage to close it again and send anyone who managed to enter this reality back to their own without doing any harm.’’, he explained and furrows appeared in your forehead as you tried to comperhead every information he gave you. ‘’Now however, a couple weeks later there has been a crack on the Multiverse as if someone from this reality tried to enter another. Their attempt was unsuccessful of course -otherwise none of us would be here’’, he continued murmuring the last part to himself ‘’But, I need your help. I need you to come with me,-’’

‘’What!?’’Steve exclaimed in shock. ‘’When you said you wanted to talk to her you didn’t mention anything about freeing her. She’s a criminal’’

‘’Let him finish Steve’’, Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s arm who had stood up before sceptical he looked at you and then back at Stephen.

‘’Our reality is in grave danger and only people with her abilities can help’’

You didn't understand what exactly caused Stephen to appear so calm and well-contained even though he had to face a multiversal threat. At some point you stopped listening him but stared at him with an open mouth not believing the words that came out of his mouth.

‘’Yeah, Cap’s right. You can't just burst in here with your prince charming cape, take her and leave’’, Tony told Stephen, the conversation slowly becoming more heated.

‘’First of all is a cloak. And I didn't burst in here. Well to be honest I could, all it takes is a portal, however I’m here to talk about it civilised. Our universe  needs us’’

‘’If you wanted help from someone that one should have been the Avengers not a trained killer!’’Tony yelled, losing his temper. 

‘’Oh so according to you Natasha and James shouldn’t be here either?’’Stephen replied to him in the same tone. 

‘’No, of course not. What Tony meant is that she is a killer by choice and has to be taken in jail. She is no hero, she can't help you! But we can, we are heroes’’, Steve explained and you huffed.

‘’With all due respect Captain, do you also happen to be a witch? Because this time we don't need neither iron powers nor a guy from the 40s. This is a real threat. The guy we’re looking for is a real criminal, she is just-’’

‘’A weapon?’’, you cut him off having enough from everyone talking about you going on a mission you knew would kill you ‘’Because that's what I’ve always been and not by choice. For HYDRA, then SHIELD now you. They've used me for their dirty work for a long time and now that I'm of no use they’re gonna pass me to you only to have me killed in this suicide mission. I’ve been an experiment, I've been a killer now I won’t be some kind of mystic detective. I’m so done with everyone’s bullshit and there is nothing you can do, doctor weird’’

‘’It’s Strange’’

‘’No, it's weird. All of it and I'm deeply uninterested’’, you said and everyone went silent.

"Can I have a moment with you Y/N? Private?" 

Everyone left the room leaving you alone with Stephen, however nothing could change your mind not because you didn’t want for once in your life to do something right but because to be honest you were afraid. For the first time in your life you were afraid of dying. While you were in HYDRA the possibility of death in missions had been nothing but a blessing. There wasn’t anything else but your life that you would lose and that was of no worth. You had witnessed countless people lose their lives in front of your eyes innocent people, guilty people, people with family, friends, people who loved them, people who had experiences but you? You were nothing but empty, you had died a long time ago.

But now? Now you had lived something even if it was all a lie. You had felt how loving someone is, how being loved felt. He had shown you how. The fear in his eyes whenever you came home late at night, how he made sure you had eaten all day, how he remembered all of your favourite songs, or every small detail of your fake life. No one had ever cared for you. So for once in your life you had something you feared to lose, you had something you wanted to protect. You were starving for love and he fed you, was it so weird for you to be hungry again?

"Everything was a lie, Doctor. A mission, a role I had to play to acquire back HYDRA's assets", you spoke.

"Is that so?", he frowned in disbelief  "Come on Y/N.  You expect me to believe that you don't want a normal life? Free from HYDRA, you can learn how to control all those powers of yours, you can actually become that role you played, don't you want that?" ,he asked but you tried to look as uninterested as you could. There was no way that could be achieved. He might be the Sorcerer Supreme however he surely couldn't erase your past mistakes, wipe off all the blood on your hands and even if he could you could never forgive yourself and move on.

"You have the power to help me Y/N.  You have the power to save this reality and the people in it", he continued but you looked away.

"Why would I care about the people?", you scoffed "Why would I help them? Why would I help you?"

"I should remind you that among all those people you will save James too. I know you miss him"

"Oh please! I miss James!?", you laughed "James was my mission I haven't developed any kind of emotional bond with him other than the one HYDRA allowed me to"

To be honest there hasn't been a day you didn't think of him. Everytime you woke up you waited for a few minutes hoping that you would open your eyes only for the nightmare to end. That he would be wrapped around your arms too troubled with his deep sleep after a night full of nightmares to notice you had woken up. And then you would trace sweet kisses from down his neck to his handsome face till he woke up and blaze one one his beautiful smiles at you. 

And then it stroked you; the pain, the hurt, the betrayal. Everything you had caused him. Sometimes when you spoke to him about fresh starts, safety and love there were moments when you actually believed your empty promises, that maybe you had found a safe place, someone who would protect you. For a moment you even forgot HYDRA and your mission, your past and the blood dripping from your hands. You actually believed you were the girl he thought you to be. You tried to be that girl, you needed to be that girl more than anything.

Bucky gave you the kind of comfort and affection you always longed for. Even if it was all part of a well designed fabrication you wanted nothing more than to relish in it, you wanted it to last, you wanted it to be real. You wanted to prove yourself worthy of his love. For he was the first one to ever hold you without hurting you, without wanting something from you. You just wished your motives were as pure as his.

"Tell me why you think I would take part in a mission in which I will probably die. And please don't don't me your only argument was my fake interest toward my target"

"Because you are on the run and have people looking for you and let's say they don't want to have just a talk with you as I do. I can protect you. Help me with this mission and then you'll never have to take part in any kind of mission. Never again'' What he said wasn’t any different from what SHIELD had told you during their interrogations. But there was something in his eyes that made him look trustworthy. You weren't a fool however.

"Will SHIELD or the Avengers allow such a thing?"you asked

"It'll take some convincing however they'll soon realise you are their last resort", he said and you looked at him sceptically "Of course there will be someone from them that'll come with us; make sure you stay safe or-"

"Won't do anything bad", you finished his sentence. You had to admit it was tempting. Freedom, a fresh start, maybe you could have a life now. A real one without missions and murders. Maybe. 

"Well it's good that I don't have anything planned for the weekend", you smiled after a while.

"It's Tuesday"

Bucky had started missing those days he was frozen in ice. No emotions, no problems, things were easy (and frozen) and for someone who couldn’t get drunk the only time he wouldn’t have to think. Of problems like you.

That week he had done nothing but endless pub crawling, hopping from one bar to another till he could feel dizzy to some degree. After throwing away the bouquet he bought you and having to cancel his reservation and ignoring everyone’s call he was trying to drown his sorrow. He was sleeping either at Steve’s or Sam’s or sometimes at Natasha’s, depending on who his wasted self had called to pick him up. He didn’t dare to go back to his place, not when your things were all over the bathroom, your clothes in the bedroom, your books in every table god even the whole place had your scent. So he stayed away, but even then there were moments when he was in that state between solemnity and insobriety that he could hear you calling his name or laugh and then it was when he broke. He tried too hard to push any thought or emotion he had for you away and replace it with all the anger and hate he was supposed to feel. But God how could he do that when he loved you and knew that he would never have the chance to tell you that.

He hated how cursed he was. After being taken from his family, having wiped out all of his memories, ending dozens of people's lives he had for once the chance to step out of this endless circle of hell. And the person he had to fall off not only lied to him about everything but wanted to hurt him, take away his life and drag him back to that hell.

‘’If you need anything just call me and I’ll be there in no time, okay?’’, Steve told him on the phone.

‘’Yes Steve, but you have said this three times already’’ Bucky pressed his phone to his shoulder, as both of his hands were searching in his pocket for his keys. 

‘’Just looking out for you, buddy. I know you care about her, you just have to remember that she’s no good’’

‘’I know that’’

Taking out his key he unlocked the door and then took a deep breath as he looked inside your shared apartment.

"Alright I have to go now. I might call you later" After hanging up the phone he slowly paced inside the apartment before he stumbled on one of your t-shirts that was thrown on the floor, forgotten since last week. Grabbing it he closed his eyes as he brought it near his face inhaling the faded vanilla scent of it.

In the end of the corridor the lights of your room were on, harshly bringing him back to reality. He threw the shirt on on the couch before he walked closer to the light. Hesitantly he opened further the already open door revealing the back of your figure as you put on a clean sweatshirt. Carefully he noticed the bones of your back being more visible than before. You had lost a couple pounds while in SHIELD making you appear thinner than before,  in a very sick way. Now he knew however that it was not only due to your own stubbornness but also HYDRA's special diets.Why did you have to be so stubborn? 

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt?" Quickly you turned around to see who was there before furrows of confusion appeared on your forehead. "Are you ready?"

"What are you doing here?" You asked and fixed your sweatshirt so it would cover your waist.

"Stephen told me to come"

He watched as your once confused face turned into a shocked one with your jaw dropping and your eyes widening.

"What are you talking about?", you asked

"Someone has to keep an eye on you during the mission. You didn't really think we'd let a criminal run around the place, did you?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, pushing aside every kind of sympathy or tendency to grab you and run away, out of this mess. No, he couldn't think of how he wanted to protect you, wrap you around his arms and kiss your forehead, or how he wanted to leave everything behind and start fresh somewhere away from HYDRA or SHIELD because you knew even if they were to set you free you'd be dead by week. And certainly what he couldn't think about was about you scared dove-like eyes in the headlights that had to wait for the car to kill it. No.

"Alright", you said quietly almost like a whisper and turned around to look yourself at the mirror pretending to fix your outfit "I'll be ready in five"

From the mirror you watched as he nodded and walked out of the room closing the door behind. He shouldn't be here. But of course they would choose him to escort you. There wasn't any chance you would do something inappropriate, not when his life would be at stake. That would be a long mission.

[highladydawn]

@separatist-apologist mentioned (to me? on here somewhere? I forget) that she wants to write an Elucien fic set mostly in ACOWAR. I’m going to share with you my particular headcanon for this situation because it’s been stuck in my head! (This turned out to be more prose than headcanon, whoops)

CW: Brief mentions of depressive thoughts & overall angst with some catharsis.

If Elain went to Spring with Feyre and Lucien in ACOWAR

If you asked Lucien where Elain was safest in the world, he’d say right here with him in the Spring Court. Here—with her mate, her sister, and a high lord who owed her a lot to make up for how he’d already failed her. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if she’d been taken by the Night Court, trapped in Rhysand’s Court of Nightmares left to do Cauldron knew what. 

But if you asked Lucien where Elain was happiest...well, right now, he’d say no where. Even with the company of her sister, completely surrounded by the gardens he’d heard she loved so much, Elain was practically lifeless. A shell, void of any true emotions that he could tell. It wasn’t that they weren’t there, either. They were, but they were trapped deep, deep down. Somewhere maybe even Elain couldn’t touch. As her mate, though, he could sense her despair brewing—churning just as sickly and painful as those Cauldron waters they’d dumped her into.

It made him itch. It made him itch that Ianthe was still flirting with him, even though she’d gotten what she wanted that fucking night at Calanmai. It made him itch that the mating bond instilled in him a whole range of emotions that weren’t really his, but were. Emotions that took every second of his training to control and keep under wraps. Emotions that he found traces of truth in. Elain was beautiful and when she came out of herself enough to speak honestly (never to him, only to Feyre), Lucien wondered if there was someone truly intelligent and witty and interesting and kind underneath that broken shell of a person.

Worst of all, Tamlin could see it too. It wasn’t enough for him to have Feyre back after nearly destroying his court in search of her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Feyre slept by herself and refused to let Tamlin touch her beyond the most chaste of caresses, but Tamlin watched Elain. He watched her eat and whisper to Feyre, he watched her move inside the manor with the grace of a ghost, and sometimes...sometimes even reached out for her. 

Lucien was going to break his fucking fingers off.

Finally, Lucien demanded the truth from Feyre. He hadn’t expected her to actually give it. But she did. She admitted that Rhysand was truly her mate and that there were things in the Night Court worth this terrible deception. And damn, if she didn’t sound like a Vanserra while she pled her case—all facts and persuasion, a soul deep honesty that he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. 

“Elain is in it on it too,” Feyre had explained quickly. “I don’t know what exactly she’s feeling, but when I asked her to help me take Tamlin down, she agreed. For now, that’s enough.” 

Elain could’ve asked Lucien to slaughter all of Prythian and he would’ve picked up his sword. But...

“Tamlin is my best friend,” he told Feyre, empty.

“He sure hasn’t been acting like it, has he?” 

Hitting him, forcing him to scour Prythian in search of Feyre, making him take his place in the Rite, siding with Ianthe, lusting after his mate...No, Tamlin hadn’t been acting like it. Maybe a reality check was what the male needed. But Lucien wouldn’t be taken advantage of anymore and would do whatever it took to keep Elain safe and content.

“Alright,” Lucien heard himself say. “What do you need me to do?” 

They were a team then—Feyre, Elain, and Lucien. He found himself finessing Feyre’s plans, offering alternatives and secrets that she could weaponize against Tamlin. And Elain...Elain had agreed to act as though she trusted and liked Lucien, or at least, that’s what Feyre told him. He wondered what that conversation had been like. Had Elain bit her cheek and swallowed her pride to get over her disdain for the plan? She must’ve since none of her charade was even a little genuine. And that pain she felt...it churned and churned and churned down the bond until Lucien forgot it wasn’t his own. 

Until one day, when he found her working in the garden. She was pruning the brown leaves off of Tamlin’s fathers, trimming stems that were too long and needed sheared. Lucien passed her on his way to his perimeter check, but she didn’t even glance up. Not once. Lucien stuffed his hands in his pockets and froze in place. 

Elain’s hands stilled in the dirt. When he didn’t say anything, she looked up from underneath her golden lashes and said, “Yes, my lord?” 

Lucien shivered, but would’ve lied until his death if anyone saw it.

“Is it everything you wished for?” he asked, sharp chin pointed down over his shoulder at her. 

“Is what everything I wished for?” she replied. Lucien cocked a brow. There was just the smallest hint of cheek in her tone. 

“Having a mate.”

Elain—sweet, tender, kind Elain—all but punched her fist into the dirt. It broke through the dirt, still clutching her shears, spilling soil all over the tops of her hands. 

“Perhaps it slipped your notice, but I didn’t have a choice in becoming a fae. I’ve never thought once about having a mate, much less wished.” 

“Don’t humans pine after their soulmates? The person they’re star-crossed and destined to hold in their hearts forever?” 

“That’s not what you are,” she insisted. 

“Isn’t it?” 

“No,” Elain bit primly. “You’re a male that took one look at me and laid permanent claim to me, even though I had already had my choice stripped from me. Even though I was already engaged.” 

“And how’s that working out for you?” he asked slowly, squatting down to her level at her side. 

Elain yanked another weed out of the dirt, a little to harshly, only to smooth out the dirt. Lucien knew exactly how it was working out for her—it wasn’t. Graysen had met Elain at the Wall and told her in the cruelest terms possible that he would never love her now that she was faery.

Elain hadn’t reacted at all. Not even a little. 

“Just so you know, the mating bond isn’t a promise,” Lucien continued, caressing one of the roses underneath its silky head. “It’s holy and revered among our kind, yes, more than anything else. But it’s just a suggestion from the Cauldron.” 

“I’ve heard many of things from the Cauldron,” Elain stated, eyes meeting his. She was haunted down to the very core of her soul, all at what the Cauldron had shown her. At what the Cauldron had taken. “I’m not interested.” 

Lucien pressed his lips together. That dam she kept locked down was simmering, he could feel it through the bond. 

“That’s disappointing,” he prodded, plucking one of the roses right from the ground. Elain hissed sharply through her nose, eyes wide in horror as he took his short dagger from his side and shaved the thorns off one by one. Chunks of the stem disappeared with it, carved away with none of the finesse he really possessed. 

“How sorry I am for you,” she gritted through her teeth, a very pathetic effort at maintaining her composure. 

“Nice of you to care.” 

“I don’t.” 

Lucien yanked on the bond and Elain lolled forward.

“Something tells me you do.” 

“Feyre promised me you would be nothing but a gentleman. My instincts were right in telling me that you’re a brute.” 

“Is that the only thing you think about me?” he pressed. 

“Yes,” she declared, returning to her work. 

“No, there’s more, isn’t there? Tell me, Elain, what is it you feel for me.” 

“Go away,” she begged, fists shaking in the loose ground. 

“Is it lust? Admiration? Plenty of females all over this land have felt raw desire just at the sight of me. But don’t worry, that’ll grow into something deeper with time. Maybe even lo—”

“I hate you!” she screeched, tearing the entire tulip plant by the bulb from the soil and tossing it across the flowerbed. “I hate that I’m a fucking faerie. That my face is different and my hair is different and my life is different. That my own skin seems unfamiliar to me and that all of my senses won’t ever stop and everything is unbearable. It’s too much, too much. I despise the thought that if my life had been any different, I wouldn’t have to be here, sitting next to you and tending to some high lord’s flowers. If my father had cared even a little, we wouldn’t have been poor. I would’ve been married and Feyre wouldn’t have had to hunt and all this faerie shit wouldn’t have happened.” 

“More,” he pressed. He wondered if she saw each flower that suffered with each word, crushed under her strong hands as she pulled them out, tore them to shreds, threw them aside. “Keep going.” 

“I hate that blonde bitch that sold us out. I hate that I have to live here with her and with that asshole that hurt Feyre. It...it disgusts me when I feel him looking at me. Feyre never should’ve loved him. I don’t care if it would’ve doomed Prythian, he’s horrible.” Dirt streaks trailed down the side of her face as she wept, the tears water the soil of the flowers that no longer were there. “I can’t even think about my own sister without feeling like I’m going to throw up because my life is ruined because of her. And now I’m supposed to play nice and act like nothing is wrong when everything—everything—is shattered and I can’t fix it. I don’t know how. And I’ve been seeing these things, which apparently no one else does and sometimes it’s horrifying. It feels like being in that Cauldron again. I just—” She cupped her hands over her face, bending over her knees. “Who even are you? Why do you get to have me? I don’t even get to have me, Lucien. Not anymore. I want to go back. Gods, I wish I were dead.” 

She clutched her hands over her heart and keened, the sound an ash arrow right to the center of Lucien’s heart. 

Without thinking, he swept her up into his arms and let her cry into his lap. He’d never heard someone cry so fully, with abandon, almost as if they feared they’d never weep again. Her fingers dug into his thighs, but he kept his arms firmly around her, rubbing circles up and down her back. The bond would do some of the work for him, he knew, easing her at just his touch. 

Eventually her sobs turned into shaky whimpers and watery breaths, but she didn’t move. 

“Is that better?” he murmured in her ear. “I thought your misery was going to kill you.” 

She pushed herself up, wiping her cheeks and nose, leaving streaks of soil behind. 

“You did that on purpose?” she asked quietly. “You meant to upset me?” 

“Only because I knew it would make you feel better,” he promised, voice tender.

“So all those things you said...”

“All pretend.” 

“And the things I said...” 

“Really needed to come out. I’m glad you let it.” 

Elain moved back until there was a foot of space separating them, then looked around her. 

“Oh my gods, I destroyed the whole garden,” she uttered, terrified. “Tamlin is going to kill me. Lucien, I know how he gets when he’s mad. He’s—he’s—”

“Not going to do anything,” Lucien swore. With a single wave of his hand, the mess of the garden was erased, replaced by healthy flowers that appeared exactly as the old ones had. “I can fix it as many times as you want to tear it apart.” 

She pinched one of the petals between her fingers, appraising it thoughtfully, though she was still frowning. 

“I don’t actually hate you,” she murmured. 

“It’s okay if you do.”

“I know.” She sniffed. “But I don’t.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

Elain jolted as she felt Lucien’s hands cross the distance between them to hold hers. She peered down, only to discover why. Blood was drying across a dozen open cuts, each caused by the thorns, sharp stems, and stones she had tore into with her fingers. Beads of red dripped down the length of each finger, dropping into the soil and disappearing beneath the roots. 

Warmth radiated from Lucien’s hands as the cuts on her skin slowly cleared. Soon, there was nothing left, save for the dirt he’d left underneath her fingernails. 

“Didn’t know you could heal,” she murmured, transfixed on his tan skin against hers. 

He lifted his thumbs and swept them over her cheeks, just once. All the dirt and blood she had smeared there disappeared just as her pain had.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he replied easily, just as quietly. 

“And if I wanted to get to know you?” she wondered. “As friends?” 

Lucien smiled, the gesture dripping in sunlight and warmth. 

“Then you talk to me and let me talk to you. Think you can manage that.” 

Elain mirrored his smile, much smaller, though it still turned Lucien’s insides upside down. 

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.” 

[savannah-5555]

The Big Damn Kiss

A two-fer! Prompt 28, "One (or both) realizing that they're in love" for @jilytoberfest AND Prompt 2 from @theresthesnitch and @mppmaraudergirl "The Big Damn Kiss."

I am deep into ACOTAR and ACOTAR meme Tik Tok and was trying my best to channel chapter 54 ACOMAF, which I just read yesterday.

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

“What do you want from me?”

“What do I want?” His hands both reached up to fist hair as he stepped away from her. He sat on the bench of the window alcove, his voice exasperated, desperately searching for the right words, for any words to voice his thoughts.

“I want everything that you would give me. I want to share every new experience with you. I want to reminisce about our old ones. I want to shout that you’re mine from the tops of the astronomy tower and down the halls of every corridor. I want to show you off to the world, to hold your hand, to show them you’re mine. That you choose me, that you want me. Because I want you, all of you, every part of you. And how could I not? You are the single most brilliant, enchanting, beautiful woman I have ever ever met. I want you to fall asleep in my arms, I want to kiss you good morning. I want to know your secrets and tell you mine. I want you to know that you can trust me with all of you, the parts you love, the parts you hate and hide from yourself. You can trust me, to hold you, to protect you, to lo-” To love you. The words he didn’t need to say out loud hung in the air.

“To what James?” her voice came out as a whisper, she stepped closer to his form. Lily’s hand reached out to stroke his cheek and gently lift his head up to face her. James moved a hand to grasp the wrist that held his face. The golden speckles in his hazel eyes were illuminated by the torches that illuminated the small alcove adjacent to the main common room. In his eyes, Lily saw his soul bared, willingly to her. He was offering her all of him, openly. James, her boyfriend of several months who always wore his heart on his sleeve, shamelessly flirted with her in classrooms, who had made efforts to mature and grow into a person that he hoped was worthy of her. James whose eyes were searching her own for answers, for clarity, as if he did not already know.

That she loved him. That she was in love with him. As the muggle saying goes, it happened slowly and then all at once. It happened when he saved her a seat at meal times. And when he had planted the everlasting hydrangea bush, her favorite flowers, on the Gryffindor terrace. It happened when he sent her a care package of her favorite muggle soups when she was sick. And when he took her to the Room of Requirement after a particularly rude letter from Petunia. The room had been filled with stacks of porcelain plates, ready to be flung against a wall, to be shattered in catharsis as she unleashed her hurt. And then he had held her, unquestioning, as she sobbed into her chest, his arms holding her tightly, lips pressed into her hair. She found herself seeking out his opinion and counsel, to hear his thoughts because what he had to say mattered to her. She had fallen in love with all of the little moments that accrued over time. There was no particular aha moment, no singular grand gesture. James had shown up for her, continuously, time and time again, as a friend and a partner.

She bent and leaned her forehead against his, her free hand holding his head to her. “Lily,” he whispered, lips barely grazing her own, his face uncertain. He needed her to say it first, she realized. He needed her confirmation before allowing himself to be completely exposed to her in this way. The words were there, burgeoning in her mind and throat. Merlin, why was it so difficult to just get them out? To say them aloud. Here was the person who had already in no-uncertain terms, confessed how he felt, where he wanted them to progress. For him, she would take the first vulnerable step. Because of him, she could take it.

“I love you,” the words emerged from her softly, like petals floating in the wind.

And then his mouth was on hers. Lily squealed as James abruptly stood and grasped her forearms and spun them so he was pinning her against the wall. She met his urgency with her own, moving her lips along with his own. They had snogged before, and quite heatedly as well, but this was different. A new milestone, a significant threshold crossed for them to move forward together. Lily opened her mouth to invite in his tongue to dance with his own. James moved one hand to cup her cheek, holding her face fast against his. His other hand was interlaced with hers, pinning her arm to the wall above her head. Lily breathed ragged in shallow breaths, groaning as James’ lips trailed a line of hot, wet kisses across her jawline, and down to the sensitive part of her neck. “Tell me again,” he demanded hotly into her skin which he continued to mark, “Please, I need to hear you say it again.”

The pleasure from his lips and teeth on her skin combined with the delicious pressure of his body against hers was maddening. “I love you,” she whimpered and was rewarded this seductive nip as he marked her as his own, “Kiss me,” she pleaded as James continued his ministrations to her pulse point, “I need you.”

James re-captured her mouth again with his own, this time holding her face steadfast with both of his hands. His palms were large and warm, her own hands clutching his jumper, pulling her closer into him. She surrendered herself to him fully, surrendered to the pleasure that was building up within her. Lily felt herself burning up, everywhere, her lips, her face, her neck, and lower still. Her grip on him tightened, and she felt her fingers begin to ache. She ignored it, the thought of the slightest gap in between their bodies was an unacceptable alternative. Lily felt his tongue explore her own mouth. He had initially begun with tentative dalliances with her own tongue and had progressively moved to consuming her, possessing her. More than that, she wanted him to possess her. She wanted to be his for many reasons, first and foremost because he was hers. The idea emboldened her as her tongue moved to meet his in stride. James groaned, moving on hand from her face to her waist, crushing her to him even further. She’d never get enough, of his body against hers, of his mouth against her own.

Eventually, he pulled away, but only just, pressing small closed mouth kisses to her bruised lips. “I love you, Lily Evans,” his voice cracked, the reverence of his sentiment evident. She leaned in to nuzzle her nose against his, smiling shyly, “I love you, James,” she repeated the words back to him. And then they both laughed together, the weight of those three words lifted from their shoulders. They continued to kiss as they entered a new chapter in their story.

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

Dedicating this one to the entire Jily fandom community, because of you all here, I had the courage to start writing fanfiction. And when I started to try and write just a couple months ago, I couldn't even bring myself to write a hand holding scene. So really thank you all, for continuing to write and post and interact and put yourself out there because it's really hard.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[sunlitmcgee]

teaser 2/? for HWHBH chapter 95!

TWS: Physical/mental/emotional abuse, nonconsensual underaged drug use(it’s a potion, so that’s how I’m counting it), threats of abuse/violence, themes of loneliness/fear of abandonment, intrusive thoughts, parental anxiety, vaguely described gore, implied consumption of raw meat. Themes of dissociation plus psychological horror. Manipulation, memory issues. Generally just exile-typical warnings across the whole board. Also descriptions of spider/insectoid traits for Shroud, but not in a horror context, so hopefully that’s okay!

Please let me know if I missed any! @proudfreakmetarusonniku I have you more of your boys. They damage me emotionally but well, that’s how we get catharsis sometimes. Teaser is below the cut!

 “Mah?” Shroud asked, tilting his head curiously.

 “Hi,” Tommy smiled.

 Shroud’s eyes were eight ruby orbs that sparkled like the rippling blue sea.

 “Mah…” He chittered. His mandibles poked out while he blinked but didn’t look away. His face was completely focused.

 You trust me, Tommy thought, horrified by what should’ve been a warm, tender revelation. You trust me. You love me because I’m your father. Because I’m your parent. You come to me for all the things you need and for help whenever you start to struggle. I love you, really, and I know that I would never do anything on purpose that could hurt you in any way…

 …but…

 Tommy swallowed. Shroud continued to stare as the water touched his little foot. He gasped. “Wah?”

 His eyes all turned to look down at the source of the sudden cold sensation. He looked very surprised. His eyes were all big and it was clear he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to think. Tommy imagined that he’d be very afraid to do this with anybody that wasn’t him.

 “Is it nice?” He asked into the ocean’s windy silence. “Does that feel good?”

 Shroud stopped and took a second to decide. “Mmmm….wah!”

 He kicked and sent up a tiny spray. He stopped. He considered. He lifted his foot and looked at it, took it all in, tracing the lines that marked the bits of fur that covered its wrinkled underside as he blinked and squinted into the blinding, bright sun. 

The fur was actually a bunch of tiny, silvery-colored hooks that could be used whenever he wanted to climb around and be a little goofball. His go-to method involved climbing onto the ceiling late at night before he let go and dropped right onto Tommy’s head. Oh, his boy…

 It wasn’t long before Shroud gave another kick. “Wah-ah! Wah-ah!”

 “Water?”

 Shroud nodded and tapped his mandibles with a pointed click. “Wah-er! Wahhhhh….er!”

 The next splash he sent up was a dazzling spray of iridescent silver. It peppered the sea that danced against Tommy’s waist, and he laughed, because really now.

 Why am I still so damn afraid of being anything like him?

 Turns out that the answer came rather easily.

 Because he ruined me.

 The sun was hot. Tommy’s skin started to itch.

~~~~~~

 “Are they really not coming?”

 “No, it doesn't look like it.”

 “Buh…but why? How?”

 “I guess they just decided not to show because they don’t care or whatever. They’d show up if they cared, Tommy. If they were your friends, they’d be here so we could have a bunch of fun. But they aren’t. So…guess that means that you’re stuck with me since I’m your only real friend ‘cause I’m the only one that’s here!”

 Tommy didn’t know what to say.

 Well…actually, he did.

 He wanted to say bitch, cunt, fuck, shut up, be quiet, don’t say that shit, you’re a liar, you’re lying, that’s all you ever do is lie and lie and lie and lie. He knew that all of that was what he wanted to shout out…but was it worth it, anymore?

 Was it ever worth it?

 Was he ever worth it?

 Tommy���s breath shook as he seized and looked towards the nearest patch of forest. “They…they didn’t come…”

 It sounded like a confession. Like surrender. Like finally giving in.

 Dream hummed a low, hollow drone. “Well, it’s not like they care about you anyway, Tommy��”

 That hurt.

 That made him get upset.

 “Sh-” he stopped, eyes already lowered to the sand that surrounded his feet as Dream’s head cocked with a barely interested tilt. “......I’m done….”

 He said it, and then he turned to mark back up towards the small white tent because he was done with today. He stopped when Dream called out.

 “Tommy!”

 He froze midstep.

 “W…what…?” He asked, vision blurring. He turned his head and felt his muscles wind up tightly at the sight of a hulking, deep green blur. 

 “Stay here,” Dream’s voice ordered. It was said like a suggestion, but Tommy knew it was an order. “Don’t get all pouty just ‘cause you didn’t get your way. C’mere.”

 He beckoned.

 Tommy followed like a dog. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, legs weak as his knees began to wobble and limped his way over. He felt like a dog with a limp that had gone all lame. Useless. Better off dead.

 “Dream…” he started in a familiar, high-pitched creak. He whined. He was in the mood to whine, what with it being a proper blood awful day. “Dream, I just wanted them to come…”

 Dream snapped and shut him up with a single pointed glare. “And they didn’t,” he hissed, the words dark and dreadfully sharp. “They didn’t come. They clearly don’t give a shit. If they cared about you at all, Tommy, then I think they’d probably be here everyday instead of coming by one-by-one once a week to give you some junk or some shit. And you know they don’t give it to you because they want you to take it. You’re a trash can for them. You’re the trash can, this is your dump, and they’re a bunch a fucking losers who think they’re too good for you since you’ve gone and gotten yourself all dirty! Ya get all of that? Need me to spell it out, need me to hammer it all in?”

 He reached for his axe as his voice hitched with something horrific. Tommy scrambled to comply by shaking his head so hard he was sure he gave himself a week’s worth of whiplash. He shouted, words thin as he drew away his fully exposed neck. “N-NO!”

 “Then stop….bitching…”

 Dream relaxed and led Tommy away from the shore.

 They headed back towards the beach party set-up and took their respective spots. Tommy at the front as the table’s lead head, and Dream right next to him across the chair that was meant for…for…for whoever.

 He doesn’t care.

 He didn’t come.

 His breath caught when he remembered something from before. “Di…didn’t you…didn’t you say…Dream, didn’t you say, earlier, when I first gave you all the invites. Didn’t you say you didn’t give Tubbo’s to Ghostbur a-and that you gave it to him yourself? Like…like in person…?”

 Dream nodded. He seemed completely unaware of how Tommy’s entire world shattered.

 “Yeah. I gave it to him at the end of my last visit.”

 Tommy’s fingers twitched as his eyes began to glaze. He couldn't see with the world phasing out of focus. It was all just a blur. Just an off-set mix of gray and emerald green. And white…gods. He fucking hated that stupid mask.

 “And…did he……”

 Dream shrugged, already uninterested. “He said that he looked forward to it. But welp. Guess not.”

 Tommy felt sick. He wanted to go back to bed. He didn’t want to eat cake or deal with any stupid balloons. Not anymore.

 But Dream shrugged, unbothered by any of it. He scooted his chair back to get up so he stood at his full height. He looked at Tommy as the boy shrank and doubled in, knees drawn up as his hands drifted to grip at his thin, boney legs. He studied him for what Tommy swore was barely a full minute, but by the time he returned after he left to go back to the ender chest, his body was so cold and his fingers so numb. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel any of it.

 It only got worse when Dream handed him an oddly colored potion.

 “Drink this.”

 Tommy blinked.

 “Why?”

 The bottle was rammed into his chest so hard it was a miracle it didn’t break. Something did break, however, inside of Tommy as his hair was once again gripped and harshly yanked by a metal-gloved hand.

 “Drink it,” Dream hissed. “Drink it, and I promise you’ll feel better once it kicks in. If you don’t, you’re not gonna get your cake. Alright? Here.”

 Tommy took it. It tasted weird. Bitter, bad, sour. Like raw medicine, but somehow even worse. He swallowed it down in pained, forced gulps. Once it was finished, his face started to feel weirdly numb. Tingly. Like bugs, crawling all over. And inside.

Dream didn’t comment on the way he began to go limp. He just took the bottle and tossed it lazily over, and when it smashed, Tommy jumped up with a sudden jolt and looked at him with wide, stormy-blue pools.

 “Dream…?”

 “Here!” Dream’s voice was as light as a bright summer’s dawn as he handed him a shiny white plate with a big, chocolate cake slice on top.

 It looked really good!

 Had lots of icing and a shiny red cherry!

 There was…something there? Something reddish and a little bit pink? It was crammed inside the middle of the giant, dark brown cake where it peeked out from among the richly colored crumbs. The cake smelled fresh and like thick milk cream plus rich, dark chocolate. The red thing had a smell, too. It was weird. Kind of meaty.

 But Tommy ignored it.

 He was so hungry.

 The potion still tasted a little bitter. It tasted like swiftness from the faintly sugary aftertaste. There was something else there. Something sour. Maybe a bit of strength that’d been sprinkled in to give it that extra kick. It tasted horrible, but oh, it could’ve been worse.

 Today hadn’t been as good as he’d hoped it would’ve gone. No one came. Nobody but Dream.

 But…that was fine, wasn’t it? Yeah. In hindsight, he should’ve expected to be left alone and out in the rain. His friends back in L’manburg didn’t need him. They didn’t care. He wasn’t wanted. Not by them, assholes and wrongins’. They didn’t want him now that he was all weird and sick. The only one who did was Dream, and Dream was right here!

 He took a plastic fork and felt his numb face spread.

 “Thank you!” His voice was slightly hoarse. But that didn’t matter. Dream didn’t care, and just nodded as Tommy smiled.

 “You’re welcome, birthday boy.”

 Tommy liked that. He liked being the birthday boy.

 He loved to eat his special cake. He loved his party. He loved his best friend.

 He loved Dream.

[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out. And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief. A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 2/?: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed

Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.

In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn’t give a damn.

She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he’s given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.

It’s challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one’s vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.

And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.

A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.

She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she’s padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.

Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.

It’s the quickest shower she’s ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can’t actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It’s also the quickest she’s ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.

Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.

It still exists - it doesn’t disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.

It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she’s ever experienced.

It’s unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.

Made for me.

Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.

And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.

And he kissed her.

Sakura doesn’t know how she’s supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she’s going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman’s signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.

She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.

Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.

It’s an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It’s a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.

“I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino’s mother. It’s old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear,” she’d said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She’d brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. “What I wouldn’t give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You’re already such a pretty girl, but someday you’re going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys.”

There’s a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.

When Sakura moved out of her parents’ house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she’d been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.

Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity’s top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.

Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.

She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.

She’ll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she’ll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it’s the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.

No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.

She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography , or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn’t really match the wood out there.

That gets her thinking. We’re... together now, right? He’s kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put the frame on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.

With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she’s finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke’s letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony’s glass door.

She absolutely can’t wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she’s not dreaming all of this.

She is so enamored with it that she doesn’t even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It’s immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.

Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she’s placed them for safekeeping and admiration.

XXX

When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.

It wasn’t. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke’s return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.

She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.

Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.

It is such a lovely morning.

XXX

Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she’s a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.

Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.

She’s sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto’s clones bangs on her window.

Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - “Sakura-chaaaaaaan!” - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.

“Naruto!” A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke’s back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.

Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. “Sakura-chan, teme’s back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday.”

Sakura’s cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.

“Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON’T tell him that, or he won’t agree! It’s a surprise.”

Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystal clear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke’s return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. “Of course, we should! I don’t have anything planned for Saturday night.”

Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. “Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I’m sure if you suggest it, he’ll definitely agree.” Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. “Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back ! I can’t wait to get a mission! It’ll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!”

She can’t help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke’s back. He’s really back. And-

“Well, anyways, I’ll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can’t wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I’ve never seen teme drunk. I bet he’s a lightweight, and he’ll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-” Naruto’s clone’s expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.

“-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn’t fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers. ”

And then Naruto’s clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.

And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.

She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can’t wait to see him at seven.